The pain didn’t stop me from rocking.
Tripp’s large hand spanning my hip to pin me in place did, though.
“I want you,” I said, too dazed to feel self-conscious by the admission.
Despite the evidence that he wanted the same, he gave me a similar answer as the night before. “Another time.” Insecurity didn’t have time to clasp its nasty talons in before he added, “You’re too sore. Just pressing against you caused pain.”
Based on the size of you, anything is going to cause pain.
And I’m shockingly okay with that.
I didn’t say that out loud, but I did test my luck. “I want to do something for you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know that.” Even when I felt like I had no control, I knew I did. I trusted that I could say stop, and he would. Not only that, he would do so without hesitation, anger, or whining.
A battle I didn’t understand warred on his tense face, adding stress lines between his furrowed brows. His gaze dropped to my mouth, staying locked there for a stretching moment.
I licked my lips before whispering, “I could go down on you now.”
Fire erupted in his gray eyes. “You wanna suck my dick, baby?”
I did.
Badly.
But I felt I owed it to him to temper his expectations. “Yes, but I’m, uh, not very good at it.”
That got another of his filthy smiles. “Now I know that’s a fucking lie.”
“It’s not,” I tried.
He moved off me and stood from the bed, and disappointment crashed over me. I mean, sure, I’d been the one to warn him away with the truth of my uninspiring oral skills, but I hadn’t expected him to run for the hills.
Only he wasn’t running.
“Undress me,” he ordered.
I scrambled as quickly as my bubble body would move, eager to do as he commanded. And not because I found myself craving the validation he gave when I obeyed.
Okay, not just that.
I also wanted to see him. Not when I was worried he’d been murdered in bed. Not with a blanket barely covering the best parts. All of him. It seemed a cruel injustice that I’d been physically stripped in the window room and emotionally stripped against the wall, and he’d remained fully clothed both times.
My fingers trembled as I lifted his soft shirt over his head. Even on my knees on the tall mattress, he needed to duck to help me. I lowered my hands to his pants and undid the zipper, going achingly slow—partially so I didn’t accidentally snag his straining hard-on, but mostly so I could see his restraint.
The rapid rise and fall of his muscular chest dusted with the perfect amount of dark hair. The way his fingers flexed and clenched, leaving his knuckles white.
“Having fun?” he bit out, his voice gruff.
I tilted my head to smile up at him. “Very much so.”
Torturing him was fun—and karma for all he’d put me through—but quickly forgotten in my urgency to see him. I let his pants fall before shoving his boxers down to join them. Freeing him.
All of him.
Holy.
