Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“What do you want?”
I want Tripp to bring me pleasure, to help me step outside my body and give myself to him. I’ve never done that, not really. I’m always the one in control of everything, and the times I wasn’t, those times had nothing to do with sex; those times I gave up control because I had no choice or felt like I had no choice. But now, in this safe space Tripp has created, I want him to decide. “Whatever you want…just make me feel good. I trust you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tripp
“I trust you.”
Those words hit me hard, dig in deep and don’t let go. It couldn’t have been easy for Rhett to say them. Has he ever trusted anyone in his whole life? It feels like he hasn’t. That makes me sad but also reminds me how fucking monumental those words are.
Rhett wants me, but more importantly, Rhett trusts me.
And he wants me to make him feel good.
There’s not much in my life I’ve ever wanted more, and I sure as shit plan to give it to him. I can’t let myself mess this up.
“I don’t want to go too far,” I admit.
“I trust you,” he says again. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Years. I need this.”
Years? Jesus Christ. I need to make this special for him. “Can we take these off?” I finger the loop on his jeans.
“Yes.”
I’m so fucking thankful he’s open with me, so damn glad we seem to be on the same page, not only with what we want and our concerns, but also, it’s clear Rhett’s like me and doesn’t want to play games—both of us being extremely fucking honest with each other.
“Stand up,” I tell him, and Rhett hesitates for a moment, then gets to his feet. I kneel beside him, taking one shoe off, then the other, before popping the button on his jeans. My gaze never leaves his, watching for any sign that I’m going too fast, that he’s changed his mind or doesn’t like what I’m doing, but all I see is Rhett’s intense stare, only now it’s smoldering with a heat I’ve never seen from him before.
I unzip his jeans, impressed by the massive bulge beneath them. When I look up, Rhett gives me a simple nod, so I pull his jeans down his legs and toss them aside.
“Fuck,” I groan, taking him in. Pressing the side of my face against his abdomen, I rub my cheek against the coarse hair of his happy trail. I love men who are as big as me, love work-roughened skin and furry torsos, hell, furry anything. “I don’t think you know how sexy you are.” I press my lips against his abs, kissing him. “I’m risking my almost forty-year-old knees to kneel on the floor.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m kidding, Rhett. I’m not sure there’s anything that could get me to move right now.” I kiss his golden stomach over and over, enjoying him, savoring him, and maybe driving him a little wild.
“You smell like black birch. Not sure how that’s possible, but it is…even down here.” I brush my cheek against his hard cock. “Only it’s a little headier, mixed with musk.” I breathe in deeply and feel him shudder in response.
“Jesus…touch me.”
“I’m getting there.” With my finger, I tease the edge of his underwear. “Can I take these off too? I’m only going to use my hand on you tonight, but I’d love to feel that hot, hard length against my palm.”
I see him swallow and immediately worry I’ve pushed too far too fast. This moment is too big for me to think with my dick, but Rhett gives me a slow nod, and I press an open-mouthed kiss to his skin again.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Fuck, I’m dying for it.”
Those words fire me up, make my body zing with even more desire for him. “Me too.”
Our eyes still locked, I hook my finger in the band of his briefs and slowly pull them down. The swollen head of his cock peeks free, the tip moist with precum.
“It’s like unwrapping a gift,” I tell him, wanting to take him into my mouth, wanting to suck him to the back of my throat and learn what Rhett Swift tastes like everywhere.
Rhett’s cock is incredibly thick, veins pumping with blood down the length of his gorgeous dick. “So pretty,” I tell him, briefs at his mid-thigh now so I can take in the full picture—heavy, full balls, dark, coarse hair at his groin. His erection twitches under my hungry stare, balls lifting. He’s got dark-golden skin and black fur on his thighs. Every part of him is delectable, so fucking masculine and sexy. “God, I want to devour you.”
“Do it. Devour me. Make me feel.”
I wait for him to continue—feel good? Feel sexy? Feel pleasure? But when he doesn’t, I realize he doesn’t have anything to add. Rhett is simply asking to feel, which both breaks my heart and makes me feel like the luckiest man alive.