Page 47 of Tripped Up

My eyes flutter closed as I reach for the waistband of her underwear. Once she’s naked before me, it takes everything in me to meet her gaze.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I—I do.”

I shake my head. “Elsy. Tell me you want this.”

She glares at me. “If you don’t fucking touch me⁠—”

Running my thumb through her slit, I trace a featherlight circle around her clit.

“Like this?”

She lets out an aggravated groan. “I really don’t like you right now.”

As much as I want to take her comment at face value, I can’t deny it stings. I want her to like me. I want her to love me.

Whoa. Where did that come from? Love? This is just sex. That’s all it is.

Right?

“I don’t have to do this. I can leave.” I dip my finger lower, putting pressure against her entrance without pressing inside. “Just tell me to go.”

Elsy props herself up onto her elbows, a scowl on her face. “Put your fucking finger inside of me.” A wicked grin paints my lips.

Well, if the lady asks so nicely…

Twisting my wrist, I slip a finger inside her tight, wet heat. Her pussy pulses around me and my neglected cock throbs in the confines of my suit pants.

But this isn’t about me. This is about her.

Sinking lower in the bed, I kiss the lines on the inside of her thighs and the crease of her hip as my finger fucks slowly in and out. When she relaxes enough for me to slide a second finger in, I suck her clit into my mouth.

Her silky, velvety walls flutter around my fingers. And when her hips roll against my mouth, drawing my fingers deeper inside of her as she rides me, my balls draw up high and tight, desperate for release.

She looks so beautiful, her face awash in pleasure. Elsy slides her hands into my hair, gripping the strands tight. She isn’t afraid to take what she needs and I’m more than happy to give it to her, for her to use my body for her own needs. Any part of me, it’s all hers.

My cock throbs, and I press my pelvis into the mattress, seeking enough relief to let me concentrate. Her scent and her sounds and her taste have me on the edge. I’m a live wire, every nerve ending electrified by her.

I focus on her, on the angles that make her moan and the pressure that makes her clench around my fingers. Most of all, I pay attention to her.

Her eyes are closed, her face relaxed as she lets me bring her satisfaction. My free hand touches everywhere—her breasts, pinching her nipples; cupping her ass; stroking her arm. And I let my hand rove over her belly, over the rolls she says she hates but drive me crazy, over the curves and indentations of her body.

She’s absolutely fucking perfect, just the way she is. I wouldn’t care if she weighed a hundred pounds less or a hundred pounds more; she would still be so fucking sexy, no matter the shape of her body. The inside of her body is what draws me to her, the sensitive soul and the smart brain and the quick wit. Her kindness. Her joy.

It’s her.

My cock jerks in my suit pants and it takes everything in me not to shove my free hand into my pants for some relief. This isn’t about me. It’s about her.

It’s always been about her.

Elsy tightens her grip in my hair, pulling almost to the point of pain as she grinds her pussy into my face. I suck at her, my fingers pistoning into her tight, slick channel in a steady rhythm.

And when she breaks, her cunt pulsing around my fingers and flooding my hand, she lets out a scream so loud, I’m sure people can hear it three buildings away.

I lick up the evidence of her release, letting her come down slowly. Only when she pushes my head away, overly sensitive, do I let her go.

My hand smells like her, musky and rich. The scent of her, combined with her subtle jasmine perfume, makes my aching cock leak behind my zipper. I adjust myself, but I don’t go any further.