Page 35 of Crashing the Altar
His gaze dipped between our bodies before lifting to peek at me sheepishly. “I’ve never tried to—“ A heavy sigh wracked his chest. “What I mean to say is, I don’t know if I can get it up for a second round so soon.”
“That’s okay.”
He eyed me skeptically. “It is.”
“Mm-hmm. Because for my next demonstration, your not-so-little friend’s services are not required.”
Tripp’s head cocked to the side, confusion written all over his face. “It’s not? But how?”
Pushing upright, I tapped the outside of his bare thigh. “Sit up, and I’ll show you.”
My obedient husband followed my instructions beautifully, leaning back against the headboard. “Should I cover up?” His chin dipped toward his naked body.
“No, baby. I like lookin’ at you the way God made you.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened in surprise, as if the thought had never crossed his mind that I might enjoy gazing upon his muscular form honed from years spent riding on horseback and performing manual labor.
While he was slightly stunned, I maneuvered over his reclined form, turning around so that my head was toward his feet. Dropping my ass onto the mattress so our hips were side-by-side, I draped one thigh over his lap, spreading my legs wide open.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Tripp’s lids lowered to half-mast, his stare fixed on my pussy.
My fingers trailed up my inner thighs, goosebumps rising in their wake.
“I’m going to show you how I like to be touched. And you’re going to watch while I bring myself to climax so that the next time youget a little too excited, you can be the one to finish me off.” The pad of one fingertip circled my swollen clit, and I bit down on my lower lip to keep a moan from escaping. “Would you like that, baby?”
Tripp cleared his throat a few times before replying roughly. “Yeah.”
I noticed his hands were curled into fists where they rested atop the mattress and said, “Put your hands on me, Tripp.”
Swallowing, he asked, “Where?”
“Anywhere,” I breathed as I increased the pressure on my clit.
Instantly, a calloused palm landed on my leg, the thumb working circles near the sensitive spot behind my knee.
“Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself thinking of you?”
His throaty groan in response settled between my thighs, the throbbing at my core intensifying.
“More than I can count,” I answered my own question. “I don’t want to get off alone anymore. It might be my hand on my pussy, but I want to feel you here with me.”
Tripp’s fingers flexed, his grip tightening. “I’m right here.”
“Good,” I rasped, my neck arching as my body coiled tighter, a knot of pressure gathering in preparation for release.
Clenching my core forced his cum to dribble out of me. Using two fingers, I scooped it up, dragging his sticky spend through my slit. It acted as a lubricant as I began to rub tighter circles over the sensitive bud that sent sparks shooting down my spine.
“It’s okay if I use some of this because you’re going to give me more, right?”
Almost as if on cue, his cock began to harden again. “Uh, yeah. Whatever you want.”
I hummed. His eagerness to please was intoxicating. “That’s right.Whatever I want.”
Shoving two fingers inside me, I began to pump them as my thumb kept strumming my clit. Lewd squelching filled the air the faster I worked myself over, and the filthiness of it only served to spur me on.
My moans couldn’t be contained, spilling out past parted lips. I was right on the edge, every muscle straining in my desperation to fall over that cliff and into the abyss where dark promises of ecstasy taunted me.
The brush of fingers against my thigh broke through my lust-soaked brain. Forcing my eyes to focus, I found that my husband had been unable to refrain from stroking his cock while I put on a show. That was exactly what I needed, and a rush of heat rolled over me a split second before I shattered.
