What came out was a strangled moan. “Sir.”
He pinched my clit until I cried out. “Not when I’m inside you. I want to hear my name. I want you to knowexactlywho you belong to.”
That didn’t cause a steadily tightening coil that grew too taut and had to release. His words were rocket fuel in my veins, torching through me until there was nothing left. Nothing but unbelievable pleasure that sparked and torched the very fiber of my being.
I was barely aware of Tripp’s harsh breaths over the blood rushing in my ears. His thrusts lost their steady rhythm, growing more chaotic as he plunged harder and harder inside me like he was trying to permanently impale himself into me.
I was surprisingly okay with that. My legs and hands must’ve agreed because they tightened their grasp on him. Clutching him closer to me as he came.
Not with a cry like I had.
Not with a heavy silence.
Not even with a groan.
It was a hoarsely whispered, “Greer.”
Adding yet another memory that I wanted to tattoo into my brain.
I waited for him to instantly roll off, but he didn’t. He kissed me, his tongue forcing in to dominate. Despite the two earth-shattering orgasms I’d just had, a surprising amount of restless desire trembled through me. Tripp must’ve felt the same way because his hips never stopped rocking. His plunges were shallow and slow, but with enough power to force some of his release out of me.
When he finally shifted away, it wasn’t to go far. He didn’t pull free, just lifted his torso and dropped his head forward. His breath fanned across my stomach as he panted, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort. My own breaths were just as labored, like my body was too sated and loose to make the effort.
That didn’t stop me from releasing an unintelligible noise—somewhere between a disgruntled protest and a hiss of tender pain—when he eventually slid free.
My eyes drifted closed, and I hovered in that happy bubble space. It was rudely interrupted by a low, guttural, “Fuuuck.”
When I pried my lids open to see what the problem was, Tripp was still kneeling between my legs.
Myveryspread legs that he was holding apart.
His focus was locked on my sex, and I could tell from the stickiness coating me that I was a mess of arousal and cum. He gathered some that leaked out to trail down my ass before pushing it back inside me. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I thought seeing you covered in my cum was the hottest thing. I was wrong.”
The unfamiliar sensation was odd, but not unpleasant. Temporarily, at least. I would need to clean up.
Afterhe was done looking at me like I was priceless art hanging in a museum.
Okay, after I cut him off from looking at me like that because he seemed settled in to stare for hours.
“Umm…” I started as I fought his hold so I could close my legs. Otherwise, I was going to have to change my bedding, and my muscles were not up for the task of wrestling with a fitted sheet.
He gripped me tighter to keep me in place even as he dragged his gaze up to my face. Slowly. Roving my body as he went.
It seemed like there was a lot we should say. Or at least talk about. Changing the terms of our situation should’ve been a big deal.
But it didn’t feel like it. It was just… natural.
Overdue, sure, but mostly natural.
So rather than overthink—and thereby overcomplicate—everything, I tilted my head toward my door. “I need to clean up.”
“Wait here.”
I sat up. “Tripp?—”
His glare cut to me. “I’m not currently in you.”
It took my brain far too long to realize his meaning, and not that he was pointing out an injustice. “Sir, I can do it.”
