Page 78 of Trip Me Up

He was wrong about the hayloft. It looked like it’d been recently tidied with fresh hay. But when I tried to sit on it, I understood what he meant. The hay stabbed me through my cargo pants.Not romantic.

I peered over the side at Niall, who stood, looking up, his hands on his hips. “Toss up a blanket?”

He strode to where we’d dropped our things at the door and returned with a quilt. But instead of tossing it up to me, he tucked it under one arm and climbed, one-handed. The dogs watched him for a minute and then scampered off toward the alpacas’ stalls.

I, on the other hand, watched his every move. His strong fingers gripping the ladder rungs. The flex of his forearm as he tugged himself up. The glint of sunlight on his fiery hair. Romance? Who needed it? I had a big, strapping farm boy who excelled at kissing me breathless. I wasn’t waiting until after chores. I was going to get a good, hard fuck in a barn, andthenNiall Flynn and his forest magic and all those ridiculous feels I’d had earlier would be out of my system.

When Niall reached the top, he handed me the blanket then heaved himself into the loft. “Not so bad up here. The Turner kid must’ve cleaned it out.” He opened the shutters, letting the late afternoon sun stream in. “We have a few minutes. This is a good place to watch the sunset.” He turned back toward me, and even silhouetted as he was by the pink rays shining through the open window, I could see his jaw drop.

I’d spread out the quilt over the thickest part of the hay and wriggled out of my coat and boots. I flung my T-shirt off to the side and unzipped my pants. I shivered when the cool air hit my skin.

“What are you doing?” His breaths were shallow and short.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m about to go for a roll in the hay.”

“We’re not seventeen. There are better places to”—he gulped—“do that.”

“I told you I was bringing my own romance. If you choose not to join me, I’ll take a solo roll in the hay.” I kicked off my pants and inched one hand down inside my panties. I was short on laundry, so I’d worn a lacy pair I hadn’t even remembered packing. His gaze followed my fingers under the lace. He licked his lips.

“We don’t have time.” His voice had descended into a husky whisper. “Or condoms.”

With the hand that wasn’t circling my entrance, I plucked my cargo pants off the hay and withdrew a condom packet from one of the many pockets. I held it up, glinting in the sunlight, and tossed it onto the blanket beside me.See?my smirk said.

I thrust two fingers inside myself, and then withdrew them to spread my slickness around. “Join me?”

Like a zombie, he shuffled two steps toward me. His jaw slack, his gaze tracked my hand moving under the lace. Then he shook his head. “I have a perfectly serviceable bed. Inside. Where it’s warm. We can pick this up after I finish my chores.”

I shook my head. “Here. Now. It’s plenty warm if you keep moving.” With my left hand, I drew down my bra cup and tweaked my nipple. Sensation zipped down my spine, and my back arched.

“Fuck.” At his hoarse whisper, I knew I’d won. Still, I spread my legs to give him a better view.

He dropped to his knees before me and drew my panties down my legs. I kept up the movement of my hand, sliding my fingers from my entrance to my clit and back, driving myself higher. He reached behind me to unfasten my bra. I paused my masturbation for just a moment so he could pull it off me. When I was bare, touching myself, he sat back on his heels and swore under his breath.

He pushed my knees apart and bent so his breath whispered over my hand. I moaned. As much as I wanted his mouth again, I wanted something different this time. I wanted to see him, gilded by the setting sun. “No. Strip.”

“Strip?” He looked down at himself like he was surprised he was still wearing clothes.

“I want to see you.”

He glanced over the side of the loft at the barn door. Then, quickly, he shed his many layers: coat, flannel shirt, T-shirt, boots, jeans, and socks, until he stood before me in a pair of boxers, a bulge tenting the front. The setting sun lit up every hair on his body. He was consumed by light and flame. I licked my lips.

Something settled inside me, like a key into a lock or the last piece of a puzzle snapping into place.

No. He’s not for me.But no matter how many times I said it to myself, that piece inside me, the one that felt complete now, insisted,Mine mine mine.

He wasn’t mine. Not forever. But for today. For the next week until the tour ended. And, selfish bitch that I was, I was going to take what I wanted.

“Condom,” I whispered.

When he slid down his boxers, his cock sprang free, stiff and flushed. He sank to his knees again and reached for the condom. In a moment, he was sheathed.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, low.

“God, yes.” I’d been circling my clit during his unsatisfyingly businesslike striptease, and I was a silicon wafer’s breadth from going off.

He positioned himself at my entrance, nudging me with the broad head of his cock. I rubbed my clit faster. With a few short pumps of his hips, he was inside, and when he slid all the way in, bumping my fingers, I went off with a wailing groan.

He covered my lips with his, consuming my sounds as my spine lit up with pleasure and my legs shook against his.

Thorin gave a deep woof, and Bilbo Baggins yapped. A second later, the door downstairs thunked open, and a gruff voice called, “Niall!”

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