Page 68 of I Blame the Dimples

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Page 68 of I Blame the Dimples

Her words snap the last of my restraint and I turn my attention back to the mission at hand: seeing her misty grey eyes roll back with pleasure.

Sucking her nipple into my mouth, Trip gasps and arches against me, giving me better access to slide my hand down between her legs. Keeping my mouth fused on her breast, I gently stroke the thin material, making Trip squirm beneath me. Switching to her other side to keep things equal, I resume stroking until I can feel Trip’s wetness soak through the lace.

“WES!” Trip’s shout pulls my mouth off her nipple with a pop and I snatch my hand away from her centre.

“What? What’s wrong?” I shift so my weight isn’t on top of her, and Trip slaps me upside the head.

“I didn’t tell you to stop! Get back down there and finish what you started.” Relief collapses onto me, and the furious expression on her face has me laughing out loud.

“I meant no disrespect, madame. I was just making sure you were okay. You’re new to this… aren’t you?” Trip rolls her eyes and the familiar reaction has me smiling from ear-to-ear.

“Yes, I’m a virgin, but quit worrying about me. I’m not going to break, okay?” Her words hit a nerve and suddenly there’s a lump in my throat that wasn’t there before.

Jesus, you would think this ismyfirst time.

Coughing to get rid of the emotion clogging my airway, I ask her one last time, “So, just to be clear… you want me to continue?” The scowl Trip sends my way sums up our relationship perfectly.

Holy shit, I’m in a relationship.

“I don’t know why you are still talking when you have other business to attend to.” She huffs and crosses her arms, snapping my attention back to the body that is mine for the taking. A smirk creeps its way across my face, and I do the only thing I can do.

Head down to finish the business I started.

And in case you were wondering, pun intended.

Lou

Holy mother of…

I cry out as an orgasm hits me, Wes’ face buried deep between my legs. Limbs trembling from the climax, I watch as Wes resurfaces from the edge of the bed and crawls his way back up towards me.

The sight of his glistening lips sends a flush of heat to my face, a forbidden awareness of what he just did sending pleasure rushing through my body.

Planting his lips back on mine, Wes settles himself between my legs, and I moan at the bulge pressing against my bare core. Somewhere in the time of me losing my panties and Wes doing dirty things with his mouth, the situation in his jeans seems to have gotten bigger. A lot bigger.

I wiggle my hips against the ridge, causing Wes to tense on top of me. His eyes scan my face, silently asking the question that’s been bothering him all evening.

Do I trust him? Ever since the first week at Taber, there hasn’t been anyone I have trusted more. Whenever I needed an escape, whenever I needed a hug, it’s always been Wes who was there.

My heart expands knowing even now, when Wes hasbiggerissues to think about, he still puts me first. My comfort is his number one priority, even when his own desires have the potential to be front and centre.

“I think it’s time you took those off.” I whisper the words, giving the permission he’s been hunting for this entire night. Stripping off his jeans with lightning speed, I giggle as his boxers go flying across the room.

Rejoining me on the bed in all his naked glory, my breathing turns shallow as his hard shaft presses into me. Unsure of what to do, I freeze in panic, my body stiffening on the bed. Immediately noticing my discomfort, Wes takes my palm and gently guides my hand down, letting me explore his length at my own leisure.

Wrapping my hand around the smooth skin, I experiment this way and that, watching his reaction range from groans to miniature thrusts against my hand. My initial discomfort wears off as Wes continues to give me free reign, his own fingers tracing random patterns up and down my body.

Finally, after what seems like forever, Wes reaches over to grab a condom from the rickety nightstand. Shifting so he can crawl between my legs, I watch him roll the rubber on and carefully place himself at my entrance.

“This might hurt.” His words serves as a warning but all I see is the tender emotion shining in his eyes. Gripping his shoulders with my hands, I give him a terse nod.

“Ready.” Trailing his hands down to lift my legs higher on his waist, Wes starts to sink into me. The sensation is foreign, the pressure almost overbearing as Wes inches his way inside. It doesn’t hurt per se, but my grip on his shoulders doesn’t ease until he stops moving.

“Okay?” Wes’ voice comes out gruffer then usual, the control he’s struggling to hold on to visibly straining through the tendons on his neck. Unclasping my hands from his shoulders, I give him two thumbs up.

With a laugh, Wes starts to move and my hands fly to the firm cords of muscle running down his back. Given the chance, Wes’ body would make a great climbing wall.

My legs grip his hips tightly as his movements become faster, the earlier pressure transforming from uncomfortable to pleasurable. The friction between us grows and soon I find myself on the verge of yet another climax. Digging my nails into Wes’ back, I hold on as he takes us on a ride, climbing higher and higher until finally his fingers find their way back to my centre and pushes me right over the edge.




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