Page 65 of Trip Me Up

She shook her head slowly. “No. I don’t.”

I followed her contours with a lazy finger. She squirmed.

“What do you want, Sam?”

“I want you.”

I reversed my hand, delving inside her pajama pants—she wasn’t wearing panties—and finding the hot wetness inside. I swirled a finger through the peaks and valleys I’d just mapped. Then I slipped a finger inside her. She groaned and ground her hips up.

I pulled out my finger, ghosting over her clit, and showed her the wetness on my middle finger. When I popped it into my mouth and sucked, her breath caught.

“You’re not a nice young man at all,” she whispered.

“No. I grew up on a farm. I learned to fuck in haylofts. Sheds. Under the trees in summer. Not hotel rooms. But I’ll make you feel better than any of those society guys ever could. Do you want that, Sam?”

Her eyes were dark, hooded. “I do.”

I shoved the covers off her and tugged down her pajama pants. I flung them onto the floor. Her camisole still bunched at her waist, but I couldn’t wait. I positioned her, knees bent and spread wide enough for my shoulders. Between her legs, she was flushed pink and swollen, her arousal dripping from her and her scent filling my nostrils. But before I dipped my head to her, I asked, “You okay with this?”

She lifted her head and tucked a pillow beneath. “Yes. Yes.”

I licked her, a long swipe of the tongue from her slit all the way to her clit.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy.

I spread her with my thumbs and got familiar with her scent, her taste, what made her squirm, what made her suck in a breath and go still. Sweeping a finger through her wetness, I replaced my tongue with my finger and delved inside, thrusting in the same rhythm I was humping against the mattress. Her hips bucked. I wedged a second finger inside, and she moaned. She was tight and wet, and I wanted nothing more than to push myself inside and feel her, skin to skin. Not yet.

Still working my fingers, I trailed my tongue up along her swollen lips to her clit. I circled it with the tip of my tongue. She clenched the sheets in those delicate fingers, her knuckles going white.

I flattened my tongue and swept over it. She let out a strangled moan, like she’d been holding her breath. I licked her clit once more before I sucked it, gently, between my lips. Her legs trembled.

I checked her face. Her head was thrown back against the pillow, inky hair spilling across it. Her mouth was open, her breaths coming fast, and her eyes squeezed shut. “Look at me, Sam.” I wanted those clear, intelligent eyes on me. Maybe we weren’t permanent, but I was here, now. Giving her pleasure. And the caveman part of me wanted her to know it. “Watch me make you come.”

Her eyes flicked open, and the way she looked down, heavy-lidded, at where I lay, prostrate, on the bed, made me feel like a servant, bowing before his queen. She was beautiful as one of the elf-queens in my books, diamond-hard and glittering. But I’d found a way to her innermost chamber, where she was naked and writhing and earthy. I was the one stretched out on my belly before her, but she’d given me the power to please her tonight.

I grazed her with my teeth, and she cried out. All it took was one more hard suck, and she bowed up, pressing hard into my face. I pistoned my fingers in and out another few seconds and then slowed as her legs went slack and splayed out to either side. I eased off her clit but kept up a series of long, lazy licks until she groaned and touched my head. Giving her one last lick, I laid my cheek on her thigh. Her eyes didn’t leave mine.

“You learned to do that in a hayloft?”

I chuckled. “It wasn’t exactly on the 4-H curriculum, but we’d sneak off sometimes when the meetings got dull.”

“What else did you do in these very educational 4-H sessions?”

“A little veterinary science, a little cunnilingus. A few hours of soil analysis, a literal roll in the hay. We just had to be careful not to spook the animals below. Nothing worse than a braying jerk of a donkey to ruin the mood.”

She smiled and twirled a lock of my hair. “I wish I’d known you then. I think you’d have been a good friend.”

Her downturned lips said she’d needed a good friend or two in high school. After losing her dad, hounded by a mother with unrealistic expectations, with Jackson likely away at college, she’d have been lost and lonely. And high-school kids had a way of sniffing that out and exploiting it.

“Sorry, you’re a little old for 4-H, but we can be friends now.” An idea tickled at the back of my brain. I’d have to check with Mom and Grandpa first, though.

“Friends with benefits, as they say?” One corner of her mouth quirked up.

I trailed a finger up the inside of her other thigh, raising a trail of goosebumps on her skin. “My benefits are a lot cheaper than the minibar.”

Bilbo, who’d evacuated the bed when it had started to shake, whined and scratched at the door.

Sam groaned. “I forgot. It’s time for his last walk. Just a minute, Bilbo Baggins.” She propped herself up on an elbow and tugged up her tank top.

I levered up and laid a hand on her leg, stilling her. “I’ll do it. I’m still dressed.” Though a walk with a hard-on would be uncomfortable at best.

Her eyes widened, like she’d just realized it. “I came all over your face, and you’re still dressed?” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m, like, the worst friend-with-benefits ever.”

“No.” I grabbed her wrist and pulled one hand off her face. I kissed her palm. “I had a good time. And now Bilbo and I are going to have some guy-time. You relax, okay?” She needed it. And she’d needed that orgasm. The prize announcement had been a lot for her. All those people at the publisher’s office. She was probably envisioning the new strangers she’d have to meet at the prize ceremony. Leaning forward, I brushed her lips with mine and then scooted off the bed.

Bilbo’s leash hung over the doorknob. I clipped it to his collar and closed the door gently behind me.

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