Page 53 of Wake Me Up
I stop, realizing I’ve been talking nonstop, and he’s just sitting there, listening. Smiling nervously, I surprise myself when I loop my hands around his neck.
“Okay, now that I went on my insane dream tangent, it’s your turn to share.”
“Not so fast,” he says, sliding his hands up and down the fabric of mysuit. “You never did say where this dream farm place would take place. Maine, or … where?”
“Ideally somewhere in Maine or New England because other parts of the country just don’t have autumn the same as we do and it’s my favorite season.” I give him a teasing smile. “Not saying you Southerners don’t have a proper fall. I’m sure you have your own version of autumn. I’m just so in love with ours here.”
“Is leaving Portland in your dreams, or do you like it here?”
I subtly rub my fingers into his neck. “What is this, an interview?” I giggle. “Um … well, I like Portland because my family is here. But truth be told, I’d love to live in a part of Maine that is more rural. Portland’s great and all, but the sound of honking horns all day at work?” I scrunch my nose up. “I could do without that.”
Before he can fire another question my way, I widen my legs, straddling him a little tighter. “And what about you, Tripp Talmage, the infamous coldhearted goalie for the Sharks?” I dip my chest a bit lower. “What’s it like, living your dream?”
His expression becomes unreadable, and I hate that he can do that, making it so hard for me to know what he’s thinking or how he’s feeling.
“It’s, uh … a dream come true.” He says the words, but I’m not buying it. “Just not sure how many seasons I got left in me—that’s all.”
“Really?” I whisper, frowning.
I know Tripp is now in his thirties and has been in the game a long time, but I guess I didn’t realize that he was even considering walking away from hockey. He’s a true staple when it comes to the Sharks. I can’t even imagine the team without him.
“My hips are pretty worn out, darlin’,” he says with a slight chuckle. “I’m practically a dinosaur, really.”
If he’s been in pain, he hides it well. I’ve watched him in a few games recently, and he held himself together like absolutely nothing was wrong. I suppose he has to though because if his opponents sensed his weakness, they’d zero in on it.
I dip my body back slightly and slide my palms down either side of his body, skimming them along his flesh until they land on his hips.
“Does it hurt right now?” I whisper, working my fingers over his hips gently.
“Nah, I’m fine.” His voice is raspy, and he drags in a long breath as a result of my touch.
I continue working my fingers over his hips, feeling his cock harden beneath me, which sends my brain into a frenzy, but I try to fight off the dizziness and carry on.
Scooting almost completely off his lap and sliding my hands a little lower, I rub my palms along his thighs. “What about your legs? They must get so tired after all the work you do on the ice.” My voice is throatier than it probably needs to be, but taking charge like this and having him at my mercy beneath me … it’s doing something to me.
His pupils are huge now, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob while he swallows sharply.
“Yeah, they get pretty sore,” he utters, his lips parting.
I massage his thighs slowly, working my hands over his huge muscles, but making sure not to graze his cock. Not yet anyway.
I move my palms higher and higher, moving them slightly inward, but still not enough to know if he’s turned on or not. Suddenly, his hand slides over mine, and he tilts his chin up slightly as a low growl falls from his lips. He uses his hand to graze my palm over the bulge in his trunks … and I have my answer. He’s definitely turned on. And feeling that … makes the throb between my legs intensify.
“That’s what you do to me, Freya,” he utters, rubbing my hand against his steel dick once more. “Just from one touch, my cock is standing up straight just for you.”
“Tripp.” His name rushes from my lips, and when he drops his hand from mine, I shock him when I reach for the waistband of his shorts and peel them just enough so that his cock springs out. Wrapping my hand around his length, I thrust my hand back and forth. I may have touched him through his pants the day we got married, but this is the first time I’ve had my hand on his huge, bare cock.
“Fuuuck,” slips from his teeth in a hiss. “Just like that, baby. Stroke my cock. Feels so good.”
His palms run up my thighs, and his teeth grind together.
“You’re so hard,” I practically pant, turned on just from watching him fall apart at my touch. “I want to make you come.”
“You keep jerking my dick like that, and my cum is going to fill this fucking hot tub,” he growls before his palms grab my waist. “I need to fucking be inside of you, Freya.”
“Not yet,” I whisper. “Small, sexy steps, Talmage. And that means no sex … yet.”
“Can I at least eat your fucking pussy?” he grunts desperately. “Please fucking say yes.”
