“Tripp,” I whisper. “What the ever-livingfuckare you doing?”
He smirks. I exhale deeply and don’t bother fighting my brazen smile.Jesus, I’m as insane as he is.
“You’re beautiful like this.”
Every contradicting sensation competes for my attention.
Soft words. Hard glass. Deep breaths.
His hand on my thigh releases its grip, moving between my legs. Our eyes stay locked when he shamelessly parts my center and creeps the tip of the champagne bottle inside of me.
“My Mesa,” he croons, low and intense. “Beautiful, dirty girl.”
He’s pushing a foreign object into your pussy, but he called you his and said you’re pretty, so it’s fine!my heart cries.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, honey. Isn’t that right?”
There’s no way I can speak with the shortness of my breath right now. The forbidden feeling, even just an inch of it, threatens to wrack my body with shakes. I nod, focusing on the assertive edge in his words and the thumb he’s now moved up to massage my clit.
That makes him lower his chin and smirk again. For as long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever recover from seeing that naughty grin on his face at the exact moment he twists the bottle.
Without pushing it farther in, it teases just past my entrance with more languid twists. His thumb presses hard on the most sensitive nerves in my body.
I want to look down to watch. I want to keep watching his expressions, too. But I have no strength left to stop my head from falling back, my eyes from slamming shut, or my repressed moan from leaving my lips.
Tripp pulls his arm back, effectively removing the bottle with no gentle ease or slow retreat, causing my head to snap forward.
“Now your mouth,” he demands. “Come here.”
My arms are numb when I lift them and scoot toward him. It’s crazed, the way my tongue sticks out and I lean forward. My quick response isn’t just to please him. In fact, it’s selfish, because I’m wound too tight to wait much longer.
I’m craving more fullness—the kind I know only he’ll give me.
The bottle was erotic and brought out an untamed side of me I didn’t know I had. I’m buzzing right now, and I hope he never stops surprising me like that. How lucky, to know adventure awaits me around every corner with someone like him. As insatiably horny as we’re both acting right now, those new corners may already be right here in the room with us, waiting to be explored before the night’s through.
My lips wrap around the green glass opening when he holds the bottle to my mouth.
The forbidden taste is wicked and unlike anything else I’ve ever felt on my tongue. Tripp lifts the bottom until a rush of vibrant, fizzy champagne fills half of my mouth.
The bold mixture swirls together as Tripp sits back on his heels and roughly runs a hand over his face like he can barelyhandle the sight without exploding. I’ve swallowed most of it when he crashes our lips together.
His tongue sweeps over mine like he’s desperate for the taste. I’m moaning into his mouth and want so badly to kiss longer. When he’s had his fill, he pulls away and nearly crashes the bottle to the bedside table.
He pulls me to stand. The arches of my feet stretch out as I rise to my tiptoes and loop my arms around his neck. His hands roam over my back and hips. Every touch feels heightened from the last twenty minutes of nonstop teasing.
Our lips fuse together, and I open my mouth to invite him inside again. This time, I focus on how he adds to the mix already on my tongue—my favorite flavor: him. I trail my hand over his neck and down his chest, still not satisfied with the small amount I’ve been able to touch him so far.
Just when I reach below his stomach, he breaks away and spins me to face away from him. One of his hands grips my hip. The other lands flat on my upper back and pushes me face down into the mattress.
He kneels on the bed beside me, and a spark of defiance lights in my chest, sensing he’s got more teasing up his sleeve. He’s showing no signs of urgency when it comes to giving me what I want right now. The edging will never stop if I let him continue to have his fun.
I slap my palms on the comforter and push myself up, but my speed is no match for his ridiculously quick reflexes. Tripp sends me right back down with a knee just above the back of my hips.
“That was hot, and I wish I’d let you spit that champagne in my mouth before you swallowed it,” he says, bending over me and gathering my arms behind my back to clasp my hands together in an impossible grip.
I smile against the bed but pretend to escape by thrashing back and forth. His knee doesn’t budge, and neither does hishand wrapped around my wrists. The subtle weight he’s putting on my lower back isn’t painful, and I could probably roll away if I really wanted to. But my deranged side would never. It’s too tantalizing letting him hold me down like this.
“We’ll be so good together, don’t you think?” he insists against the shell of my ear.
