Chapter Two
“Damn it,” Tripp muttered to himself, rinsing his razor in the bathroom sink and examining the little cut on his neck. Still with half a face of shaving cream left, he felt like he was getting nowhere fast and only blood to show for it.
“Smells like senior year in here,” Bo said from the doorway of the bathroom. “Scratch that, it smells like prom night senior year.” His buddy’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit! Are you gearing up to sleep with Sally Waylon again?”
“Shut up,” Tripp said, and shaved one long stroke from his neck to his chin.
“He’s got a date,” Cash said, joining Bo in the doorway, beer in hand. Like Tripp was the goddamn entertainment for this house. He got cable for a reason. His two friends needed to go examine Animal Planet instead of his life.
He was standing with a towel around his waist, for fuck’s sake.
“Can I get some privacy?” Tripp asked.
“A date?” Bo asked Cash, as if Tripp wasn’t standing right there.
“City girl with car trouble. He met her in town today.”
“Details,” Bo said, waggling his eyebrows.
Tripp opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off, but Cash waved him off.
“It was a coolant issue,” he said over a swig of beer. “Overheating. Easily fixed.”
“Details about the girl,” Bo said. “Jesus, I feel like I’m surrounded by hard-up virgins over here.”
“Compared to you, who has a new girl every weekend?” Tripp asked, rinsing his razor again.
“Hey, I’m on your dicks’ sides. Both of you need to start getting out in the world before those things fall off from depression,” Bo said.
“It’s just a drink,” Tripp countered.
“And yet you’re shaving,” Cash said. “Sounds like more than a drink.”
Tripp glared, and Cash held up his hands.
“He has a point,” Bo said. “You haven’t been with a girl in a while.”
“I’m with a girl every day,” Tripp shot back. “I’m trying to raise her.”
“Which is commendable, but it’s about time you’re going out with a real woman,” Bo said.
“Why are you going out now?” Cash asked. “Is she not sticking around?”
“I don’t know how long she’s here, but my guess is not long. She’s clearly just visiting,” Tripp said, trying to replay their exchange from earlier today, but he kept getting hung up on the woman herself. She was gorgeous. All dark eyes and hair and long legs. And her mouth was full in a way he’d never seen on a woman in person. Like two bee-stung lips that could probably do amazing things to a man…
He tapped his razor on the side of the sink. He needed to get his mind right. Yes, he was meeting a woman. But there would still be boundaries. Like always.
“Well, that solves your getting attached or roped into the PTA dilemma,” Bo said. “Smart.”
“It’s. Just. A. Drink.”
Cash and Bo exchanged a look.
“Admit it, she fits all the criteria you need to get laid,” Bo said, and hung a thumb in his belt loop.
“I wouldn’t treat a woman that way,” Tripp said. But my God he hoped he got his hands on her. In any way. She was beautiful and had just the right amount of sass that drove him wild. And yes, if things got physical, Tripp could actually allow himself to enjoy the night without worrying about small-town side effects. She wasn’t even from Wyoming. He was in the clear.
If, that was, things got that far.
“Look, I’m just going out for a couple hours with a woman. No strings. But very much respectful and cordial.”
Bo cocked an eyebrow. “Wow, keep talking like that and you’ll be sure to melt her panties right off.”
“He still has to be practical,” Cash said, “but the opportunity is prime perfection.”
No shit. Tripp was well aware he had a shot to feel like a damn man tonight. Not just because he was thinking of her thighs or lush mouth.
He loved Gracie. Would do anything for her. But tonight he could just be himself for a couple hours and have a drink with a woman who didn’t know him, didn’t want anything from him, and had no expectations. She had no power to hurt him or to leave him and Gracie. It was surface with no consequence. And Tripp could use some surface tonight.
“Thanks for watching Gracie,” he said to his friends. They were the best a guy could ask for, and Gracie loved them. They’d been there since her birth and weren’t going anywhere. Two guys Tripp could always count on.
“Of course!” Bo said. “In the quest for you to get laid, many a man will sacrifice. Good luck, my brother. May you find your way.”
Tripp rolled his eyes.
Cash slapped Bo’s back. “Someone’s been watching Lord of the Rings on his phone again, hasn’t he?”
“Maybe…” Bo grumbled.
Tripp pushed his friends out of the doorway, shut it, and got dressed. He found his least-worn looking pair of jeans and blue pearl snap shirt. Then he put on his clean Stetson, not the one he worked in that was dirty and smelled like sweat. He ran a hand over his clean-shaven face. Shit, he hadn’t been on a date in a while.
Good thing this wasn’t a date.
“It’s just a drink,” he said to the mirror. But Miss City Charlotte had him thinking of things he hadn’t had the time for in a while. Starting with the taste of those perfect lips of hers.
He made his way out of his room and headed straight for Gracie’s.
“Came to tuck you in, baby girl,” he said to his daughter, already snuggling under her covers.
“Uncle Bo tucked me in. He makes me a bug in a rug.” She squirmed for good measure.
“Well, Uncle Bo is a good tucker,” he said.
Gracie nodded with a sleepy smile. He kissed her cheek and ran a palm over her curls. “I love you, baby girl.”
“Love you, Daddy,” she said.
He reached over to turn off the pink princess lamp and took one last look around the room. Between the unicorn posters and stuffed animals, the tea table and set in the middle of the room, and the Barbie Dreamhouse in the corner, it was an explosion of pink and girl toys everywhere.
Tripp watched her breaths even out as she slipped into sleep, then quietly made his way out and shut the door.
Once again, Cash and Bo were waiting.
“Here, take my truck,” Bo said, tossing his keys at Tripp.
“I can take my own truck.”
Bo grimaced. “You mean the one covered in cow shit that looks like rolling pile of dust when you kick it into second gear?”
His work truck was pretty dusty, and he didn’t want to show up with dirty jeans.
“Fine. Thanks.” He gripped the keys to Bo’s polished, pristine pickup. “I won’t be out late. If she wakes up—”
“We know the drill,” Cash said. “Been doing this for years now.”
“I never leave, though.”
“All the more reason for you to get the hell out of here. Go have fun. For once in six years, Tripp, enjoy yourself. Gracie is fine. We’re all fine. Go let loose.”
Tripp took a deep breath. Fun? He barely recognized the word. Maybe tonight he could relax. He wouldn’t tell this woman anything personal, certainly nothing about his daughter. Not because he was ashamed, but because she was the most precious thing to him and he wouldn’t put her out there for anyone. Nope, tonight would just be enjoying the company of a gorgeous woman. That was it.
With a firm nod, Tripp walked out the front door and into the summer night.
“Remember what I said about your dick falling off,” Bo called after him. “Try using it!”
Tripp took a calming breath and got into Bo’s truck, flipping the other man the bird and making a mental note to leave a cow pie in the bed of the truck later.
…
Charlotte looked around the bar, taking in the small crowd gathering around the scattered wood tables. After staying all afternoon with her grandma in the hospital recovery room, Charlotte had changed and gotten there early, seeking refuge in the bar’s dim lighting, soft hum of conversation, and a much-needed drink.
Grammy had only opened her eyes long enough to smile and say her name before slipping back into sleep. The doctor said that was normal coming out of surgery, and that Charlotte could take her home the following day.
Her chest squeezed. It’d be her first glimpse of the farmhouse. Even though she had the address, it felt wrong going there without Grammy. Like she’d be invading a home she didn’t belong in. Charlotte fully planned to go back to the hospital and sleep in a chair after whatever happened with Tripp.
She’d just ordered her second gin and tonic when she felt a shift in the crowd.
Him.
Tripp.
There was no shortage of men in Stetsons around town, but Tripp was different: strong, imposing, and so incredibly sexy she thought her blood would burn her from the inside out just looking at him.
Damn, Tripp cleaned up nice.
He smiled at her and headed her way. Oxygen caught in her throat, her brain fuzzy and giddy. She couldn’t tell which Tripp she preferred: the clean-cut and perfectly pressed version, or the slightly dirty, scruffy version. Because both were sexy and manly and God, she wanted to know what those straight white teeth felt like against her skin.
She’d never been so instantly attracted to anyone in her life.
But this trip wasn’t about landing a man. One night of fun was all she had on the docket.
“Looks like I need to catch up,” he said, looking at the empty glass next to her full one.
“Yeah, sorry. I got here a little early.” She glanced down at herself. The thin straps of her yellow sundress tickled her shoulders—or maybe it was Tripp’s eyes, because he was looking at her like he’d never seen the color yellow before.
“You don’t have a much of a poker face,” she said with a smile, and took a sip of her drink, kind of liking his bold glances.
“Just appreciating a fine woman. You look lovely.”
Oh, he’s good. Her cheeks warmed. “Is everyone around here so well-mannered?”
He lifted his hand at the bartender, who brought him a beer, then shifted his seat so he was looking at her straight on. Like she was the center of his attention. Goose bumps flared across her skin. Had she ever been looked at so attentively before? Doubtful. It felt like he didn’t want to look at anything but her. And God, did that feel nice.
“Manners are a good thing,” he said, “but I prefer direct communication. Like you had with your car today.”
He winked and she laughed, that heat in her cheeks rising another degree.
“I was hoping you hadn’t heard me.”
“Such a pretty mouth yelling such awful things,” he said with a grin.
She feigned outrage. “Excuse me, I was not yelling.”
“The whole block heard you, darlin’.”
“Well, then I give Cheyenne a four out of ten rating on their response time because if everyone could hear me and you’re the only one who came running, what does that say?”
“That any man with half a brain would run your direction in a heartbeat. Cursing, kicking, or biting.”
That made her flush in a different way. The cowboy was flirting, yet something about his advances seemed serious. Man, he was smooth. Good-looking. He must know his way around a woman—and a one-night stand, for that matter. Probably didn’t have a care in the world beyond that night. Which was fine for her. She didn’t do commitment anyway.
“So the hospitality and manners haven’t convinced you to move to the great state of Wyoming?” He ran a finger down her exposed arm, then pulled away, frowning, like he’d just realized what he’d done.
She lifted her glass to her lips, wishing she could hold it against her now blistering hot cheeks instead. He was either less experienced than she thought or far more affected by her than she expected. Hopefully the latter.
“Um, no,” she said, placing the glass back on the table. “Sorry, this place is very different than where I come from. I’m just visiting,” she said, keeping the reality of her complications to herself. Like her Grammy and the fact that she had a life back in L.A., just not a very fulfilling one. Which was why she was looking for a firm where she could take her career to the next level.
He nodded. “Well, we’re glad to have you for the short time you’re here.”
“You say that like you’re the mayor.”
“Oh, better than that,” he said. “I’m a local cowboy. Yee-haw and the like.”
She laughed. “I bet you are. Watch, I come into town and find you working at a bank.”
He chuckled. “No way in hell. I love the outdoors too much.”
“That explains the state of you earlier today.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend.” Pink tinged his ears. The sexy-as-sin cowboy was…blushing? Excitement vibrated through her like a thick guitar string that had just been plucked. He was definitely affected by her, which gave her the confidence she needed to make the next move.
“I wasn’t offended,” she said, tracing the back of his hand with her fingertip. “I was interested.”
That made him look at her dead in the eye. The heat was there. They both knew it. She could smell it on him, and he sure as hell should’ve been able to read it on her.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked.
She looked over her shoulder at the small area of wood planking in front of the stage, where the band was playing some upbeat song. “I don’t know how,” she admitted.
“That’s all right. I know how to lead.”
She bet he did.
He stood, offering his hand. She took it, liking the way his calloused palms felt against hers, wanting to feel them roam the length of her body.
He led her to the middle of the floor next to an older couple. She smiled at the woman covered in turquoise jewelry.
Before she’d gained her footing, Tripp twirled her out, then brought her back into his arms. Charlotte squeaked, but managed to stay upright. Not that he seemed interested in letting her topple over. With one hand on the small of her back and the other in her hand, he led her around in effortless steps and she followed, stepping on his boot from time to time. Nice guy that he was, he didn’t mention it.
He spun her out again and brought her back. She felt his heat. His minty breath brushed over her lips, filling her with his laughter. She looked up to meet his eyes.
“My Lord, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.
Those words hit her hard, but more jarring was the look on his face. His brows knit and his voice was soft, as if he really meant it. No one had ever made her feel their words before.
But this cowboy she’d known only a few hours already had her spinning. Literally.
“Am I crazy?” she asked, before she could think better of it.
Tripp’s fingers feathered across her cheek, the shell of her ear. “I don’t know…are you?”
Adored. He made her feel adored. How was that even possible? They’d only just met. “I mean…what I’m feeling…you’re just…”—she waved her hands—“really hot.”
He barked out a laugh, then twirled her out and back again. “Why thank you, darlin’. And no, you’re not crazy. I like you, I just can’t fall too hard.”
“Then we’re on the same page,” she said.
He grinned. “But I am happy to be dancing with you.”
“Mmm,” she hummed. “I’ve never been so happy dancing before.”
“I’m glad I can give you a positive first experience.”
His voice thickened, each word washing over her body in waves of need. She knew enough to know A) she wanted this man, B) tomorrow they’d go their separate ways, and C) once she got back to L.A. she’d have to find a way to fulfill her cowboy fetish because something about a man, this man, in a Stetson and boots made her instantly wet.
The song ended, and on the final chord, Tripp dipped her and brought her back up to meet his gaze.
Now or never.
She just hoped he really was on the same page.
“Want to get some air?” she whispered.
His eyes darkened. “Yep.”
He took her by the hand and practically ran out of the bar. It was a clear, warm night, and Charlotte was ready to experience all Cheyenne had to offer, starting with Tripp.
…
Tripp was rusty on the dating scene, but he was pretty sure he was reading Charlotte’s signals correctly. Casual, no attachments. Hell, they didn’t even know each other’s last name. Which was fine by him, because he was enjoying her. Thoroughly.
She smiled up at him, and he instantly felt lighter.
God damn, a man could get addicted to that smile of hers.
It was a warm night and the small town was bustling with people, laughter and music streaming out of all the bars and restaurants lining Main Street.
He wanted to hear her voice a little longer, and looking at her was no chore. He tried to maintain his gentleman status, but his eyes kept straying to her mouth, lingering on her lips. When he tried to look away, his gaze snagged on her perfect, high breasts.
So he looked down, only to see her incredible legs.
His dick was throbbing. He wanted this woman badly.
Keep it casual.
“This is a pretty cute area,” Charlotte said, staring up at the massive Wrangler sign on the corner ahead. The three-story retail store took up a whole city block and was red with white trim. Truth be told, it looked like an old brothel.
“That Wrangler store was built in 1882,” he said.
Charlotte’s eyes went wide, and her smile brightened. “It’s beautiful. All the retail stores I see in the city are modern and boring.”
Tripp smiled. “Cheyenne has its charm. This whole area is considered ‘historic’ but really, even the Starbucks they just put in is in the bottom story of an old bank from the late 1800s.”
“I love it,” she breathed. “And this is the town square, I take it?” she asked, pointing across the street to the open patch of park. At the entrance, a gate made of wrought iron had been bent and worked so that it read “Cheyenne” over the top.
“Town square makes it sounds so hillbilly,” Tripp said.
She laughed. “No offense, but you kind of are.”
“Don’t knock hillbillies ’til you try one,” he teased back.
Her eyes went hooded, and the look she gave him from beneath thick lashes—a look that made him think she might be interested—made Tripp’s dick go to “game on” mode.
Pull yourself together.
He took her hand and led her to the entrance of the park. “You wanna see something really special…”
Only a few paces in, the field opened up to showcase Cheyenne’s pride and joy.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed, staring at the hundred-year-old train station.
It was quiet away from Main Street, but even in the dark, the station still glowed, the stone glistening like gold under the soft lamps that kept the historic site lit.
Tripp moved behind her, his hand on her waist keeping her close. “This was one of the first things built in this town, and over a century later, it’s still a major railway.”
“All the adventurous men coming and going, looking for something better,” she murmured.
Tripp frowned, because there was a hint of something painful in her voice. He may not be an expert on women, but he knew it wasn’t in the words they said but how they said them that a man had to pay attention to. Tripp had learned that the hard way during the great hair-cutting debacle of kindergarten when Gracie said she wanted to have pretty hair. When Tripp took her in and had it cut, she cried for days because she really meant she wanted a new headband.
Tone. It was all in the tone.
Too bad he didn’t know how to interpret Charlotte’s.
“The Frontier Days festival is held here,” he offered lamely, cradling her back against his chest. “Named after all those frontier men and women.”
“There’s always a better stop and another train around the corner,” she said, staring at the station, then shrugged it off and smiled up at him over her shoulder. “That’s what my mother used to say.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “She was a traveler?”
“No, it was what she said when my father left. He hopped a train and never came back. Then she—” Charlotte shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”
Her smile was back in place, but Tripp wanted to know more. To ask. He would throw himself in front of a train before ever considering getting on one and leaving Gracie.
But this was supposed to be casual, so he couldn’t say any of this. Instead, he offered the only truth he could.
“No matter the kind of man it takes to leave his child, just know that you’re his baby, and he thinks of you.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then back at the station.
Her silence was the indicator that this was a subject that was closed.
“It looks beautiful inside,” she said.
“You could spend a whole afternoon just going through the station,” he said, giving in to the need to run his palm down her smooth arm. “It’s huge and has a museum. Then you could go next door to get a real pair of jeans.”
She chuckled and turned around in his arms. “I may have to do that because my jeans selection is more designer and less functional. Do they sell these hats in there as well?” she asked, touching the brim of his Stetson.
Damn if Tripp’s breath didn’t hitch. “Yes, ma’am.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe I should try one out before committing. It’s not really my style but…?”
Tripp slipped off his hat and put it on her head. It looked good on her. Too good.
“Be careful, darlin’,” he rumbled. “You know what they say about trying on a man’s Stetson?”
She lifted her eyebrows and asked way too innocently, “You wear the hat, you better be prepared to wear the man?”
Holy shit. “Something like that.”
When she smiled up at him, Tripp couldn’t hold back anymore. He slid his hands into her thick brown hair, nearly knocking the Stetson off her head, and took her lush mouth. She tasted so fucking good, like sweet juniper on a sunny day, he was instantly drunk on her flavor.
Casual…
Casual or not, one taste of this woman and Tripp knew he was in big, big trouble.
…
My God, the man can kiss…
Charlotte was lost, the painful memories that had set her adrift only minutes earlier gone. And damn if she never wanted to find her way back. Tripp pulled her close, his solid arms and gentle fingers playing tricks on her mind, his kisses hard and soft and consuming her in a way she’d never been before. He tasted like whiskey and mint and man, and his jaw scratched against her chin like fine sandpaper in a way that made her whole body buzz.
His tongue delved between her lips, and she drank it down. He led her through the kiss, just like he had on the dance floor. Dominant, but with tenderness. Like a gentleman. She wanted more. Wanted to drown in this strong man who seemed to have so much control. She wanted to tempt that control. For both their sakes.
“Tripp,” she whispered, scraping her front teeth against his lip.
A low growl rumbled from his chest and vibrated against her breasts.
It was enough for him to pull her closer, those strong hands, strong fingers, digging into her lower back. She gasped, the feel of being taken over turning up the heat another fifty degrees. At least.
Desperate for more, she kissed Tripp harder. Grabbed the back of his neck and took the kiss deep, deep, deep. She wanted the heat, the strength. He met her and then some. His hands slid down to her ass and yanked her against him.
“I want you,” she said against his mouth, this time actually biting his bottom lip. He seemed to like that. If he liked roughness, she was more than willing to explore that with him.
“I want you, too,” he growled, and kissed down her neck. Her head tipped back and his hat almost fell off her head. She reached to cup it and keep it on, leaving her open to Tripp’s mouth. He took full advantage, dragging his mouth to the swell of her breasts.
“Need. You. Now,” she said, her body lighting up like a Christmas tree. But it was the middle of summer, middle of town square…and they were 100 percent alone. Just them. The darkness and the glow of the train station.
“You sure?” he said against her throat.
“Very, very sure.”
He kissed her mouth long and deep, then broke away. Grabbed her hand and led her toward the building.
“I parked just behind the train station,” he said.
When they came upon a lone red truck in the dark shadows behind the station, she grinned. They’d have even more privacy in there, and she was more than ready to take advantage of it.
His hand stalled on the truck door handle and he looked at her. “You sure about this?”
“Never been more sure in my life.”
Grinning, he opened the truck. She leaped into his arms, clawing and kissing her way closer, needing her mouth on him however she could. Her hands went to his belt buckle, and he grabbed them, chuckling dangerously.
“That’s all well and good, darlin’, but you know what’s been on my mind all night?” Tripp asked, leaning her back over the front seat. “Tasting from here”—he lifted her leg and rested her heel on his shoulder, then licked from her ankle up her calf, around to her inner thigh—“to here.”
She shuddered. Yes, please. He lifted her dress and pressed his mouth to the undoubtedly soaked lace, the heat of his breath making her eyes roll back in her head. She moaned, loving the way he nipped at the fabric, teasing her, testing her control. Finally—finally—he slid her panties down her legs and tucked them into his back pocket. The warm summer breeze slid between her spread thighs, tempting her to squeeze them shut, but then Tripp was there.
The look in his eyes was as bright as the stars and as warm as the glow surrounding the train station. She felt wanted. She’d never been able to feel a man through his gaze, but she felt Tripp. Her entire body hummed with anticipation.
The gravel rustled as he shifted, lifting her other leg to his shoulder. Still lying on her back, she was completely exposed. An open offering. For him. And he looked desperate to accept that offer.
It was the sexiest sight she’d ever seen.
Tripp didn’t ask, he just buried his face between thighs and licked her.
Her body screamed to life. “Oh my God, yes,” she cried, shoving her fingers through his hair. His mouth on her sent an instant jolt of lust through her system, filling her straight to her fingertips. They prickled, needing to touch more of his skin. She clawed at his shoulders, desperate to remove his shirt.
He didn’t budge.
Was this how cowboys got their ladies in Wyoming? Lay them out in their truck behind a historic building and eat them for dinner? If so, she could get on board with how things were done around these parts.
His mouth traveled up and down her slick folds, paying attention to every detail. All she could do was arch her back and hold on, because the slow, deliberate assault his tongue lashed out was burning her up from the inside out.
This was definitely one of the best experiences she’d ever had. Tripp was hitting all the right spots, twisting and licking and biting every inch until her skin damn near ignited from pleasure.
Up and down he took her body, and whenever she was on the brink of coming, he’d thrust his tongue inside, once, twice, three times. With each round of torture, he drew her closer to climax.
“My God, you’re delicious, darlin’,” he groaned between her legs, his sexy drawl vibrating her flesh.
He drove his tongue back inside, plunging in and out. She was so very close, her skin tightening, her muscles quivering, and her mind a slave to the white heat just out of reach.
She was…right…there…
He ran his teeth over her clit and she screamed, her body flooding with pleasure as she came apart.
“Tripp,” she cried, gasping. His name was the only word she could muster.
She expected him to pull away, to let her come down gently, but he didn’t. He stayed right there, leading her through every speck of pleasure, drinking her in like a sweet wine as her orgasm went on and on.
She didn’t know what she was saying. Couldn’t hear her own voice, her own thoughts. Blood rushed through her ears as he well and truly took over her body. Needing something to ground her, she reached around, frantically grabbing for anything to hang on to as she rode out the pleasure.
She smacked the seat, the dashboard. The glove box popped open.
She wanted more. Wanted him to fill her. To take her. To feel his whole body over, inside, hers.
“Please,” she begged. “Please take me.”
Tripp rose as much as he could without his head hitting the ceiling of the truck. She grabbed his belt buckle and it easily unfastened. He glanced at something beyond her, at the pack of condoms in the open glove box.
Thank God.
He grabbed one and stood, backing completely out of the truck, devouring her with his eyes. She must look a sight with her legs spread wide and her body arched over his truck seat, but the intensity in his gaze hypnotized her. She reached for him, feeling empty and needy, knowing if she could just feel him surge inside her, she’d be content. Could kick the “hard up” streak she been having and exhaust all her pent-up sexual tension. She needed an outlet, and Tripp was the sexiest outlet she’d ever seen.
“No strings,” she whispered. “Just tonight.”
“Just tonight,” he agreed. He grabbed her thighs and yanked her lower body out of the truck. She shrieked, afraid she’d land on her ass in the gravel, but he held her there, his body wedged between her legs.
Legs that he wrapped around his waist.
He shoved his jeans low on his hips and ripped open the condom, wrapping himself quickly. “Hold on tight, darlin’.”
She’d been about to ask what, exactly, he expected her to hold on to when, with a tight grip on her hips, he plunged into her. Hard.
Her breath stalled and her body struggled to adjust to his thickness. He was solid as stone and felt so amazing, it snapped her still-simmering orgasm from earlier into full gear.
“Jesus, woman, I can feel you milking my cock already,” he said through gritted teeth. “Feels so damn good.”
She choked out a sob, her orgasm leaving her trembling mess. She needed more. Wanted to give him more. Despite his hands still gripping her hips, she lifted each time he surged forward, taking him a little deeper.
He growled, and her sex fluttered around him. Oh, he liked that. His fingers dug into her ass and he fucked her harder.
“Oh my God. Tripp, you’re going to make me come again,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut and reaching above her to grab the steering wheel.
“Good,” he said, and drove faster. Harder. “I want to feel you.”
His hips slammed into her thighs; his belt buckle slapped her ass. The gravel shifted under his feet, and the truck rocked with each wicked thrust. She cried out, so close to giving him what he wanted.
In a move too fast for her to register, he yanked her off his cock and up to his mouth. He grinned and shock crackled through her belly. She’d known Tripp was strong, but holy shit. She was totally at his mercy.
And it made her hot as hell.
He sucked her clit into his mouth and ran his teeth across the sensitive bud. Heat, blinding in its intensity, flashed through her body, and she screamed. “Tripp!”
He growled and impaled on her on his cock. She’d never come so hard in her life. Like a hot coal thrown through a glass window, she burned out from the inside.
“I feel you, darlin’,” he rasped, taking her over and over, fucking her through her pleasure. “I’m there, too…I’m coming…”
He hit her deep and shuddered, flexing his hips, riding out his own orgasm buried to the hilt with his head thrown back and his mouth open on a groan.
She loved the idea, the feel, of this strong man coming apart for her.
She closed her eyes as they both came down, taking in the sound of their heavy breathing and the delicious heat of their connection. When she finally opened her eyes, she blinked at the bright stars shining through the sunroof of the truck.
She definitely wasn’t in California anymore.