Page 24 of Up in Smoke (The Bunkhouse #3)

MESA

“What are you—” I squeal as he stands and lifts me with him.

I’m pissed at first. He said he wouldn’t stop, and yet, he did. My greedy insides ache to have him there again.

My legs are wrapped around his waist, and I cling to his strong shoulders like we might fall off a cliff at any second. Without stumbling, Tripp lifts his foot and kicks a throw pillow in the corner of the couch to the floor. I’m on my back and staring up at him a moment later.

After pulling off my panties and tossing them over his shoulder, he settles between my legs. Before, I was at least slightly composed. Now, my nervous breaths come in shallow spurts, and my stupid head takes over the control my body held.

Both of his hands flatten on my lower tummy. As they roam up my body, I arch into his warm touch. Something in my face or breathing must have tipped him off, though.

“Don’t do that,” he demands. Each of his thumbs run over my nipples, and I can’t prevent the full-body shiver. “Now is when you open your legs and leave it to me. Don’t start thinking.”

“I don’t know how?—”

His hands cup my breasts, but I squirm beneath him, missing the friction and fullness he was giving me before.

“There’s no pressure, Mace. Look at me.”

I’m learning he needs that to keep us both grounded. I oblige, watching as he holds my gaze and scoots his body down at the same time.

His head is between my legs now. I study the unhidden anticipation in his eyes. The fact that he wants so badly to taste me without being prompted is a new feeling for me—one I can only describe as validation. Proof I don’t have to trick him into wanting me.

“Slow down your breathing,” he demands.

I let out the air that’s been trapped in my lungs since his face came within an inch of my center. His fingers resume their previous position, this time as unhurried as my exhale. That same curl makes my fingers claw at the couch cushion beneath me.

“Don’t fixate on the result, okay? Just feel.”

I nod as his fingers run along my upper inside wall, and his open mouth covers my clit.

There’s no taking turns like they’re in competition or fumbling through an uncoordinated dance. Instead, it’s pure harmony the way his mouth and fingers keep their steady pace in perfect complement to each other.

I lift my upper body and try to sit up when a shock wave rattles my body, but he instantly reaches up and lays a flat palm on my chest, pushing me right back down.

It’s torture trying to ignore the sensation building. The hope. The desperate reach.

Remembering his words, I shove my emotions to the side and focus on the zing of numbing tingles that run up the length of my spine as he sucks my clit into his mouth.

It’s relaxing to float on top of the sensations as they come rather than trying to capture them. The flat of Tripp’s tongue moves back and forth while his fingers push in and out. They slightly switch rhythm again a few moments later—this time causing my hips to lift on their own accord.

“Oh my god. Oh my god .”

My hands find his hair—selfishly tugging at his locks and pulling him toward me for more.

His free hand is wrapped around my thigh and digs deep into the soft flesh.

Deeper. Deeper . Until I’m worried he might cut off my circulation.

He groans against me, and I notice his hips pushing down shamelessly into the couch cushion underneath him.

The sight is simply delicious, and it reminds me of how naturally sexy this man has always been. His aura bleeds with it. I knew it the moment I first interacted with him and I know it even more now.

I silently thank the universe for finally—for fin—for— My lungs seize as a bolt of lightning strikes right through the roof of my house and straight into my stomach. At least, it feels that way.

I’m not sure how much more of this I can take as vibrations flood every part of my body. My lips part, and I throw my head back when an involuntary clench turns to contracting waves around his fingers.

It can’t be.

Surely not.

His fingers pick up speed inside of me, he sucks my clit into his mouth hard enough to make my heart stop, and finally . . . it hits.

No sound comes out of my mouth, despite my jaw locking open. I don’t think. It’s tough to hear anything but the ringing in my ears. Splotches of color burst behind my lids from squeezing my eyes shut so hard.

My grip never loosens on his hair. My bones turn to liquid. And after one final shock through my system—a burning explosion of paralyzing heat—I collapse.

His mouth lifts, but he replaces it with the hand that was wrapped around my thigh.

“That’s it.” His thumb traces every sensitive pulse that lingers, slow and light, like he’s coaxing them to stick around for as long as possible. “That’s my girl.”

I try to sit up when he pulls away from me. I swear, I do. But no functional part of my body can take signals from my brain at the moment.

I’m vaguely aware of two arms scooping under me a minute later.

The fog wears off when Tripp walks across the room with me cradled in his arms. I press my flushed cheek to his chest. My nose scrunches, realizing he’s put his shirt back on.

Still, it’s warm and comfortable, and I wish I could stay just like this for a little while longer.

The mattress dips softly beneath me when he lays me down. I open my eyes and blink away the blurriness until I get a good look at him sitting on the edge of my bed.

The couch would have worked just fine for whatever we’re about to do next, so I’m surprised he took the time to relocate here. I lazily reach for the button on his jeans, but he smirks and takes my wrist, placing my hand on my stomach.

“Be right back,” he says.

Snuggling into the pile of pillows is a dangerous choice while I wait for him to come back and take his turn. Tiny tingles still course through my body. My once-quivering legs are numb now, and I could almost drift off. Almost.

My eyes open halfway when a glass of water taps on my nightstand. Tripp pulls the covers up to my chin, then leans down to swipe the hair from the side of my face and whisper softly with his lips against the shell of my ear.

“Pretty girl.”

I giggle, squirming as his voice elicits chills over my skin.

“Go to sleep. I’m going to head home.”

“No,” I whisper in protest.

He chuckles while I yawn, and my eyes drift closed again.