Page 51 of Up in Smoke

“I want you to tell me what to do,” I state, revealing my desire for guidance.

He pulls away and nods slowly. Something burns in his eyes. Not a raging fire, exactly. More like embers. Dangerous and waiting for the right moment to fully ignite.

“I can do that if you never stop telling me what you need,” he says, low and direct.

My stomach flips, but I manage a nod.

“And if you do as you’re told.”

17

MESA

The sun has set,but the lamp in the corner of the living room still provides enough dim light for me to track his movements.

The faint smell of dried lavender blossoms still floats through the small space from when I made tea earlier. I wish I could bottle up the aroma to get a better whiff. Then again, I’m not sure its soothing effects are strong enough to calm the surge of flutters I’m experiencing right now.

I hold my breath when Tripp’s hands bracket my hips. In one easy motion, I’m lifted to my feet and standing beside the couch in front of him. His legs spread as he scoots to the edge so he’s no more than a breath away from my waist.

The first touch of his lips as he skims them over the bare skin just above my leggings is chilling. I place my hands on his shoulders to keep myself upright. Looking down at him, as he practically worships the span of flesh between my hip bones like he’s been waiting lifetimes to do it, is nothing short of euphoric.

I inhale a shallow gasp when he opens his mouth to drag his tongue over the tender spot below my belly button. There’s already an unfamiliar, pounding pulse in my core, despite him barely touching me. He might feel it too because he pulls histongue back into his mouth not a moment later and presses his forehead to my stomach with a deep sigh.

My hands slide over his firm shoulders, inching toward the column of his neck. It’s tan from his days spent in the sun, and I run my thumbs up either side just to feel the fluttering underneath.

His eyes are closed, forehead still pressed to my midsection. I trap my bottom lip between my teeth when he finally resumes kissing my skin. My fingers are tingling with the need to continue their search for new places to touch him.

“If your skin tastes this good,” he groans, rubbing a circle with his thumb just above my hip bone, “then I know I’m in for a treat when it’s your sweet cunt under my tongue instead.”

My hum of approval comes instantly. A fact that shocks me, if I’m honest. Iwanthis mouth where the wetness is pooling underneath my panties right now. The visual alone has me desperate for it. Not a single intimidated or self-conscious thought clouds my desire like I thought it might.

“I already know how smart you are.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “But are you a fast learner too, Mesa Kate?”

I lean closer as I contemplate my response. Tripp waits patiently for me to speak. His hands do the exact opposite by pulling the sides of my elastic waistband down.

“I’d like to think so,” I answer honestly. It’s hard to be anything but truthful when I’m currently being stripped of my pants. “Most of the time.”

“Good.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll have you ten different ways by the end of the week until you catch on.”

Don’t scream.

Don’t squeal.

After I step out of my leggings, Tripp tosses them somewhere behind me and scoots back. His shoulders and hips line up with the back of the couch, legs spread. I wonder if he’s going to tell me to get on my knees.

I’m surprised when he reaches toward me, hooks his index finger through the center of my bra again, and pulls. It makes me smile that he’s done that twice now.

My hands instinctively shoot up in front of me. They land on his chest, and I fall forward.

Tripp pulls me even closer with his finger still hooked in my bra. His other hand scoops under my backside, lifting and then setting me back down to sit in his lap once my legs are bent on either side of him.

My fingers curl into his shirt. He smirks and stares down at my chest that’s rapidly rising with little pants.

“What now?” I whisper.

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