Page 42 of Crashing the Altar
“Would make for a one hell of headstone,” I teased. “Here lies Tripp Sullivan, whose wife sucked the life right out of him through his cock.”
Cupping his balls, I reassured him, “I promise you won’t die from a blow job, baby.”
He hummed his disagreement but didn’t try to stop me when I parted my lips to take him back inside my mouth. In fact, he even gave a tentative roll of his hips, testing how it felt to thrust as I bobbed on his dick.
That’s my good boy.
My lips were stretched to the max as I focused on breathing through my nose and relaxing my throat muscles to take him deeper. When he hit theback of my throat this time, he didn’t pull away, and a thrill of victory shot through me that he was willing to step outside his comfort zone. For me.
I swallowed around the head of his cock, and the deep groan from above had my eyes lifting. I wanted to watch his pleasure, knowing I was the cause.
Tripp’s jaw hung slack, his brilliant blue eyes practically glowing in the darkness as he stared down at me.
Damn, he was beautiful like this, but it was even more breathtaking when he fell apart.
Hollowing out my cheeks, I sucked for all I was worth, dragging my mouth along his stiff shaft. Saliva dribbled from my chin, my motions growing sloppier, messier, with each passing minute.
Come on, baby, take charge.
Like he’d heard my silent plea, Tripp gripped both sides of my head and held me steady while he fucked my face hard and fast.
I moaned around him, loving that he’d turned me into a warm hole for his use, grunting louder as his pace grew punishing the closer he drew to climax.
His thrusts became erratic, and on a guttural groan, his cock thickened as he pushed deep one last time, forcing me to swallow as he unloaded down my throat. Greedily, I gulped down his cum, loving that I was the only woman on this earth who would ever be granted the intimate knowledge of his taste.
Tripp slumped back against the truck, breathing heavily above me. I licked my lips, cleaning them of every last trace of his essence before rising to my feet. Then I tugged his head down to meet mine and thrust my tongue inside his mouth. He groaned when his own flavor coated his tastebuds, and he hauled me closer.
Breaking away when we were both breathless, I pressed two fingers to the pulse point beneath his jaw. It thumped rapidly beneath my touch, and I smirked. “Well, would you look at that? Still alive.”
Rolling his eyes at me, he huffed out, “Barely.”
I pursed my lips. “So grumpy for a man who had his balls drained. Maybe I missed some. I should go back down and double-check.” I dipped slightly, bending my knees like I was about to drop to them again.
His big palm landed on my backside, and I squealed.
“I’ve been wanting to spank the brat out of you for years,” he growled.
“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
“Damn, it’s going to be a full-time job tryin’ to tame you.” Tripp shook his head.
I patted his cheek. “Oh, baby, it’s adorable you think that feat can be accomplished.”
Groaning, he replied, “You drive me insane.”
“The only place we need to be driving is back to the motel so you can fuck me like you hate me.”
There was zero hesitation in him spinning us around so he could wrench the door open and lift me onto the passenger seat.
We were only one day into this marriage, and I was already having the time of my life.
Chapter 11
Penny
Forthenextseveralweeks, we drifted from town to town. It had become routine at this point—unload the horses, unhitch the trailer, check into a motel. The scenic tour of the Great Plains might sound boring to some, but not to me. I was thrilled to be riding shotgun with my best friend, letting our love fuel us.
Late June brought us to northeastern Nebraska for the Prairie circuit’s next competition. Once the horses were fed and watered and settled inside a pen, Tripp drove us to where he’d booked a block of rooms for the team.
