Chapter 17
Atta Fucking Girl
Quinn
My stomach flutters as his gaze flicks down to my mouth. The joking tilt to his features fades, replaced by desire, and I find myself caught in the weight of it—fascinated by the stark hunger I find lurking behind his teasing.
The way he’s looking at me is like a lure, pulling me toward him. My body moves forward without a second thought as he keeps talking.
“Those shorts you wore the other day while you were gardening?” he says, voice low and rough. “Pure torture. I was half-hard all fucking day. The second I got home, I fucked my fist to thoughts of you in those tiny things and I still couldn’t get you out of my head.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“So, I went to the bar to clear my head... and what did I find? You dancing on the bar, looking like a fucking wet dream. I wanted you then and there. Hell, so did every other man in that bar.”
He shakes his head, jaw tight.
“And then after what you told me in the back of my truck?” He leans toward me, his voice a rumbling whisper. “Quinn, I swear to God if you were sober, I would have fucked you right there and made sure you left satisfied.”
Jesus Christ.
Why was hearing exactly what had been going through his head so insanely hot?
His knees are spread, and I step between them. My body humming, my chest tight—I want to close the little distance between us—to finally know what it feels like to be touched by someone like Tripp Matthews.
I’m trapped in the liquid heat of his gaze, rooted to the spot, unable to move anywhere but forward. My knees bump the edge of the seat as I take another step closer.
My heart kicks up in my chest as his eyes rake over me, slow and hungry, making my nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric of my bikini where his gaze catches and lingers.
A slow, devilish smirk curves his mouth before his hand slides to my hip, fingers pressing into my skin as he pulls me onto his lap.
He exhales, the sound rough and tinged with anticipation. “Fuck it.”
His lips brush across mine tentatively, like he’s tasting a new flavor for the first time. It’s a wicked tease of what I really want, gentle and achingly sweet.
He pulls back too soon, his forehead resting on mine as his thumb draws slow circles on my hip. The air between us hums—charged with longing, and the moment stretches, thick with tension.
His fingers glide over my spine and my pulse thrums in my throat as we breathe the same air. His breath is laced with the scent of beer—dark and heady as sin. It shouldn’t be this hot, but God help me, I’m completely intoxicated, aching for more of him after just one taste.
I shift, my knee sliding against his cock. He’s already hard, and we’ve barely even touched. The realization that I did this to him drags a tortured whimper from my throat.
Tripp tenses, reacting instantly to the sound. “I want to make you come, Quinn.” His voice is a wrecked whisper, like his restraint is hanging by a thread as he slides me further into his lap until I’m straddling him. One hand cradles my jaw, angling my face to his.
And then his mouth is on mine, setting a spark alight.
This kiss isn't tentative—it’s confident and sure and all-consuming. I’m completely obliterated by the way his lips claim mine. God, I’ve dreamed about this moment, and it’s better than I ever imagined it could be.
An instant burst of heat rushes through my core, and for the first time in years, I stop thinking altogether. His teeth nip at my lip, and I shamelessly grind onto his cock, chasing the pleasure coiling through my belly.
Having his hands on me, his mouth on mine—it’s intense in a way I’ve never felt before, like a chemical reaction, an explosion of desire and need and longing.
A deep raspy sound rumbles in his throat, and my fingers inch to the waistband of his trunks. I’m not sure what’s gotten into me—what switch he’s flipped, but I don’t want to wait another moment to have him inside me.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my mouth. “You’re killin’ me, honey. Give me a minute.” Fingers dig into my skin, halting the roll of my hips.
I freeze, heart racing, breath ragged. My body is so full of pent-up need that the idea of stopping makes me ache.
“Did you change your mind?” I ask, breathless.
He drops his forehead to mine, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to catch his breath. “Hell no. But if we have sex right now, I’m pretty sure I’ll come before I even get all the way inside you.”
A nervous laugh escapes me. “Worried about being a little quick on the trigger, Casanova?”
He chuckles. “Joke all you want, but this isn’t about me. It’s about you.” He pauses, eyes searching mine. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. And I’m not about to be just another guy who lets you down. So, as much as I want to be inside you right now—”
“How long are we talking?” I interrupt, trying to keep it light even though my insides twist.
He gives me a sheepish look. “Long enough that I don’t mind waiting a little longer. Especially if it means making sure this is what you want.”
My cheeks heat. My body still aches for him, but now that his mouth isn’t on mine and my hips have stilled, there’s room for insecurity to creep in. That familiar tightness curls through my chest.
Sex has never been about me.
I’ve never been the focus. And now that I’m not trying to get him off, I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to finish. And what happens if I can’t?
“Where’s your head at, Quinnie?”
I try to swallow down my insecurities, but they get lodged in my throat and fly past my lips unbidden.
“It’s never been about me. I don’t know what to do.
Like... all of a sudden I don’t know where to put my hands.
Or if I’m doing too much. Or not enough.
Or need a mint. Or what happens if I can’t get off? ”
His lips twitch, but he bites back his smile because he knows I’m being serious—that these are the ridiculous things my brain has decided I need to worry about right now.
“Quinn,” he says, eyes connecting with mine. “There’s no pressure here. It’s just me. We’re having some fun. You do know how to have fun, don’t you?” His question is a challenge.
I shoot him a narrow look. “Yes. I know how to have fun.”
“Good. Then, relax.” His thumbs make sweeping arches on the skin of my thighs, inching higher and higher, grazing my bikini line before retreating.
“I want to make you feel good. Just like this. We don’t even need to take our clothes off.
” His fingers brush gently against my bikini bottoms, trailing toward the ache between my thighs. “You okay with that?”
I nod, suddenly unable to speak.
His eyes skate over me, snagging on my peaked nipples.
A hungry look settles over his features, and he leans forward, grazing my nipple through the fabric of my swimsuit with his teeth.
A shock of pleasure shoots through me, and I gasp.
His hand goes to my back, and he draws me further into his lap so I can feel him hard against me once more.
He tugs the material of my top to the side as he alternates between dragging his teeth across my nipple in teasing passes and sucking it into his mouth with deep pulls. My hands thread through his hair, holding him to me as I rock against him, desperation clawing to the surface once more.
He kisses up my throat before claiming my mouth again. His lips feel like heaven, but the way my body reacts says it’s closer to sin. Being good has never felt anything like this.
His hands map out my body, discovering new pieces of me bit by bit.
He nudges my bikini bottoms aside, and I expel a shaky breath as his calloused fingers touch my bare flesh, sweeping over my clit and offering me the briefest moment of contact.
It has my stomach tightening, coiling in on itself like a ball of yarn.
I want more. So much more, but he’s teasing me with light brushes of his fingers and soft nips at my neck instead.
I roll my hips, searching for something to fill the empty ache, for more friction. He smiles, dimples popping as his gaze trails over me. “Atta girl. Use me, honey. Make yourself feel good.”
I moan at the thought of being able to use a man solely for my pleasure. And God, he feels so good underneath me—thighs thick with muscle from riding and working on the ranch, arms tanned and stomach flat as his length digs into my thigh hard as stone.
Tripp Matthews is a fucking masterpiece.
His fingers strum my clit as I grind on him, like we have all the time in the world to learn each other—to explore, like we’re in high school and aren’t in any hurry to get naked.
He slides two fingers inside me, and I see stars.
His other hand is on my hip, urging me forward, and his cock makes contact with my clit through his trunks.
Every muscle in my body grows more and more tense with every stroke of his fingers, every roll of my hips, every slide of his cock against my clit.
My breaths are uneven as my orgasm hovers just out of my reach—so close I can almost grasp it—if only...
“Atta fucking girl. Ride me just like that.”
“Fuck, Tripp, please. Please.”
He moans. “You’re perfect, honey. You look so damn pretty like this, so close to coming that you’re shaking and begging.”
I whimper—my whole body on fire and trembling with how tightly strung I am. His fingers curl inside me, and my vision goes black. Every nerve ending in my body fires as I explode and spasm around him.
He grips my hip, urging me to ride out my orgasm, and I do. The sensations roll through me as I keep moving against him, riding out the waves. Beneath me, Tripp shudders—his hips stuttering, jaw clenched tight—as he drops his head to my shoulder with a rough, muffled curse.
I still on his lap, wrung out and breathless. "Did you just…?"
"Come in my pants like a teenager?" he says, breathing heavily. "Yeah, I warned you."
My breath catches in my throat.
He just came from nothing more than my body rocking against his, from the feeling of me falling apart in his arms. And God, the power of that rushes through me like a tidal wave crashing against the shore and destroying everything in its path.
All my insecurities, all my uncertainty is completely eradicated.
I’ve never felt sexier or more wanted than I feel in this moment, and it’s mind-altering.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah?” I ask, still a bit breathless.
“I think you might just be the death of me.”
I snort and readjust the top of my bathing suit.
“Make me a list.”
I give him a blank stare.
“I want to know every dirty fantasy you have, so I can make every single one of them a reality.”
I have no doubt in my mind that Tripp will fulfill every one of my sordid fantasies, but I need him to know we’re on the same page.
I lift my pinky up between us. “Promise me this won’t make things weird between us. This is just a friend helping a friend check things off a list.”
Something indecipherable flickers behind his eyes, but then his pinky latches onto mine. “Promise.”
My lips curve in a smile. “Saddle up, Casanova. You might be surprised by what I have in mind.”
“I have no doubt I’ll be absolutely shocked and intrigued by the dirty fantasies floating around in your pretty little head.”