Cherry Pop (Mercury Rising Book 3)

by Samantha Kane

  By the end of the kiss, Ben had pulled his finger out of Tripp and was laying full out on him. He broke the kiss, breathing hard on top of Tripp. He rubbed his nose against Tripp’s. “Get your redneck on, ’cause I’m coming in.” He grabbed a foil package from the bed and held it up between them. “Open this. My hand is too slippery.”

  Tripp’s fingers were shaking so bad he could barely get it open and had to use his teeth. Ben watched him with a hungry smile that pretty much rang Tripp’s bell.

  “Here,” he said, shoving the condom at Ben. “Put it on and put it in.”

  Ben laughed. “Okay. So sex with you is going to be pretty fun is what you’re telling me.”

  “God, I hope so,” Tripp said. “I want you coming back for more.”

  “At this point you could shove me off and run away and I’d be coming back for more,” Ben told him. “So no worries.”

  Tripp relaxed. “Good. Let’s get it on. Come on.” He spread his legs. “Should I roll over or something? Don’t you do this doggy style?”

  “We can do it any way you want,” Ben said, looking down and rolling the condom on. “Doggy style, missionary, side by side. I’ve just got to find the hole.” He grinned up at Tripp.

  “Nice,” Tripp said drily. “Want me to put a target on it for you?”

  “Shut up,” Ben said, lying down on him again. He grabbed Tripp’s hands and held them to the pillow beside his head and used his knee to shove Tripp’s legs farther apart. “I want you like this. I want to see your face when I fuck you for the first time.”

  “If you get any more romantic, I don’t think I can stand it,” Tripp said, his heart beating fast with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

  “Pull your legs up and back,” Ben told him softly. “I need you now.” That took Tripp’s breath away. That was what he wanted. He wanted to be needed by Ben.

  When Ben finally entered him, Tripp started shaking and couldn’t stop. It stung, but it felt good at the same time, maybe because he’d wanted it for so long. Tripp had never felt so close to someone, so connected. Ben kissed him, a soft wet kiss, and he went on kissing him as he pushed farther and farther inside, until Tripp wasn’t sure where he ended and Ben began.

  Tripp titled his head back, breaking the kiss. “This,” he whispered. “This is why they call it making love. I didn’t get it. Not until right this minute.”

  Twenty-Five

  “Tripp.” Ben couldn’t hold the emotion back as he whispered it. He felt raw, turned inside out, lost in Tripp. He’d never had sex like this either. Never felt this kind of connection with Roland. Sex had been physical, and that was all.

  But with Tripp it was an emotional high. The way Tripp held him, like Ben was the only thing anchoring him, as if he’d be lost without him. Ben hadn’t known how much he needed that. He needed to be needed like that, desperately, with so many strings he was tangled in them, wrapped around Tripp.

  He buried his face in Tripp’s neck, and Tripp ran his hand up into Ben’s hair and cupped his head, holding him there. Ben began to move tentatively at first, but Tripp’s firm counter-moves convinced him he could use him harder, and when he did Tripp moaned with abandon.

  Every detail of the moment was burned into Ben’s memory—the way Tripp smelled like beer and sweat and soap, the slick feel of his sweaty skin rubbing against Ben, the little sound he made in the back of his throat each time Ben pushed inside him. Tripp was shaking so hard, but Ben knew instinctively it wasn’t fear or pain that caused it. It was the intensity of the pleasure, the weight of the emotions coursing through him. The same thing was happening to Ben. He tried to remember if he’d felt this way with Roland, but knew he hadn’t. He couldn’t remember a single time they were together or what it had been like at all because Tripp had pushed those memories out.

  Ben slid his arms down and hooked Tripp’s knees around his elbows so he could help keep his legs up. Even though Tripp was in excellent shape, that position grew tiresome after a while. He could feel Tripp relax beneath him after he did it, and he began to move a little faster, a little harder. Tripp’s hands slid from his back to his butt, pulling him in hard with each stroke as Tripp made that throaty, sexy sound.

  “This is going to be fast,” Ben said, already feeling the warning signs of his impending orgasm. “It feels too good to be in you.”

  “Thank God, not just me,” Tripp panted. “So fucking sexy getting fucked. I need to come.”

  “Jack off,” Ben told him, bowing his back to give Tripp room to slip his hand between them. “I like that. Come on us.”

  “Oh yeah,” Tripp said. He began to stroke his cock fast and hard, and his passage fluttered around Ben, who bit back a gasp at how good it felt.

  Then, with a shout, Tripp came, the tendons in his neck straining as he threw his head back against the pillow. Ben could feel the hot pulse of Tripp’s sticky come as it coated his stomach. Tripp was so sexy as he came, and Ben fucked him faster, through the aftershocks that made him tighter even than before, so gloriously tight and hot and all Ben’s, no one else’s, ever.

  When Ben came, he cried out Tripp’s name like a mantra.

  When it was over Ben collapsed on top of Tripp and Tripp hugged him tight. “Wow,” Tripp said with a breathless laugh. “I like gay sex. A lot.”

  “You’re going to be sore in a little while, after the endorphins fade,” Ben warned, his nose buried in Tripp’s neck again. He loved that spot, loved the way it smelled and tasted. He licked the sweat off Tripp’s skin like a cat cleaning him.

  “That’s all right,” Tripp said in his Southern drawl. “Then I’ll just fuck you. Won’t be too sore for that.”

  Ben shivered at the image of Tripp fucking him. “I like it from behind,” he mumbled. “Deep.”

  “Damn, boy,” Tripp said, rubbing his hand along Ben’s back and then down to squeeze his ass. “I can do that. Shit, you’re hot.”

  Ben rolled away and pulled off the condom. He tossed it in the wastebasket still next to the bed and wiped himself off with the sheet. He had to wash them anyway.

  “You are burning up this bed,” he told Tripp. “I didn’t even know sex could be like that.” He laughed incredulously. “I just discovered that Roland sucked in bed. How about that? Eight years, only guy I was ever with, and he was a terrible lover and I never knew it.”

  Tripp rolled over and cuddled into Ben’s side, his head on Ben’s shoulder. “You were amazing. I don’t need a comparison to know that. You made the top of my head blow off. I’m sure glad you were the one to pop my gay cherry.”

  Ben laughed. “I’m sure glad too,” he said. “But just in case you were wondering, you were great. Better than great. Amazing. Wonderful. Fucking fantastic.”

  “Got it,” Tripp said. “Told you I was pretty close to perfect.”

  “I can’t believe I ever doubted it,” Ben said, squirming so that they were face-to-face, wrapped around each other. “I want to clean you up a bit and then lick every perfect inch of you.”

  “Boy, you got the best lines I ever heard,” Tripp said appreciatively.

  Twenty-Six

  Five Months Later

  Ben opened the door and let another group of people into Loreene and Dean Junior’s house. He was playing greeter today. Part of his groomsman duties. At least that’s what he claimed so he wouldn’t have to help in the kitchen or setting up the chairs under the tent in back. He’d never seen a tent that could hold two hundred and fifty people. They had those standing gas heaters set up in there, and it was pretty nice. No expense spared, of course. Tripp and a crew had even put in a temporary wood floor. Winter had been wetter than usual this year, or so the locals said.

  “It was nice of Tripp’s parents to offer their house for the wedding,” John said from the other side of the door. He was passing out these little booklets that had the ceremony in them and listed all the attendants and other wedding stuff. “There’s no way we could have had this at our house.”

&nb
sp; “Evan wanted a Valentine’s wedding,” Ben said. He adjusted the tight bow tie he was wearing with his plain black tux. Plain or not, it had cost a fortune. Brian had chosen Tom Ford to design them. “What Evan wants, Evan gets. Besides, it was sort of Lanier Construction’s fault their house wasn’t ready in time.”

  “Brian and Evan don’t blame them at all,” John said. “They know it was the historical society and strict preservation guidelines that delayed the construction. So don’t sweat it.”

  “I’m not,” Ben said. “I’m not part of Lanier Construction.”

  “The hell you’re not,” John said with a laugh. “I give you two years before Dean Junior wears you down and you’re running the show.”

  Ben fidgeted with his booklets, not looking at John. Dean Junior had been giving him the hard sell ever since he and Tripp had become open about their relationship. As far as Dean Junior was concerned, it was a done deal.

  “As best man, shouldn’t you be upstairs helping Brian get ready or something?” Ben asked, peering out the window beside the door to see if any more cars were coming. The lawn was full and they were parking down the side of the long driveway. There were two big party buses next to the house for all the out of town guests who were staying in Wilmington.

  “Probably,” John said. “But Kari’s up there taking care of it. She had to sew a button back on or something. I’m no good at that stuff.”

  “Kari to the rescue,” Ben said with a smile.

  “I hear she’s going to take the Realtor’s exam with Loreene,” John said. “And that she and John Junior have been fighting about it. He wants her to stay at the diner.”

  “I cannot believe how my mom and Loreene have bonded,” Ben said in amazement. “They talk, like, every day. She’s mentoring Loreene and talking about coming out here to visit. Mom wants to help her move in on the beach real estate market. Now that some of the houses in the subdivision are almost finished, when Loreene gets her license she’s already got several commissions lined up. And I’ve got a few leads for her from people at Turnstiles who want beach houses. I think this is a good move for her, and for Kari too.”

  “I read in US magazine that they’re calling Mercury Hollywood Heels now,” John said with a laugh. “Not sure if UNC will let them use the Tarheel nickname, though.”

  “Speaking of Hollywood, do you know why Trey isn’t here?” Ben asked. It had been bugging him all day. Brian and Evan weren’t talking, but he knew something was up. Trey had gotten a lot of bad press lately, and his breakup with K.C. had sent him into a tailspin.

  John shook his head. “No. But I’m sure it’s a good reason. They don’t seem too upset about it. Whatever it is, I wish he’d postponed it. He’d have been doing this job instead of me.” He made a face. “My mug shot is going to be all over the tabloids.”

  “Maybe not,” Ben said. “That’s why they sold the exclusive rights to the wedding pictures to People. The money’s going to the Mercury Foundation. So you’ll only be in one magazine. But probably all over the Internet.”

  “Connor won’t come near me all night,” John groused. “He almost refused to stand up with Evan over the pictures. He’s determined not to give them a shot of the two of us together. Said it’s a huge violation of privacy. He’s got some crazy ideas about his past catching up with him.”

  Ben secretly agreed with Connor. He wasn’t too happy about having his picture all over either. But that wasn’t going to keep him away from Tripp.

  “Hey.”

  Ben turned toward the sound of the voice and smiled. “Speak of the devil,” he said. “I was just thinking of you.” Tripp was shrugging into his tux jacket as he crossed the foyer. He’d been setting up chairs.

  “Were you?” Tripp asked with that killer smile of his. The stylist Brian’s team had brought in had cut Tripp’s hair a little shorter than normal. It had turned him from redneck cutie into sophisticated heartthrob. Ben couldn’t wait to get him home.

  “Well, hold that thought,” Tripp said, winking. “The ceremony starts in twenty minutes. We’re supposed to leave the booklets on the table here, go check on the boys, and start lining up. John, you’re walking Brian’s mom in, and Connor is walking Evan’s nana. They wanted my mom walked in too, since she’s throwing the wedding, so I’m doing that. Ben, you and Kari are walking in first, and you’ll go straight up to the altar and wait with Brian. Got it?”

  “We rehearsed it last night,” John said, rolling his eyes. “We’ve got it.”

  “I know,” Tripp said. “But I was given the mission to remind you. My job is done.”

  “Let’s go get them married, boys,” John said, dropping his booklets on the table. “Then we can get back to our regularly scheduled lives.”

  The wedding was beautiful, of course. Evan knew a thing or two about planning one, and he was a master at wedding vows. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when he and Brian read their unapologetically sappy vows to one another. Ben was sure Brian would be quoted all over the Internet tomorrow. He’d had a line about loving Evan for the rest of his days—mind, body, and soul—that had brought the house down. Ben had seen half the Hollywood crowd recording the vows on their phones.

  He, on the other hand, spent most of the ceremony only half-listening, staring at Tripp, who’d stared right back.

  At the reception Brian swung by the head table with a big grin on his face and kissed the cheek of Ms. Priscilla Jones, who was sitting with John, Connor, Ben, Tripp, Loreene, and Dean Junior. The elderly black woman was as close to a mother as Connor and John had.

  “Well, Miss Priss,” Brian said, using Connor’s nickname for her. “I put a ring on it. Happy?”

  “It was the right thing to do,” she said primly, and everyone laughed. She cracked a smile and patted Brian’s hand, and he flitted off to talk to more people.

  “Weddings sure make a body think,” she said after Brian left.

  “They sure do,” Dean Junior said, reaching out and taking Loreene’s hand.

  “Don’t you start thinking about it,” Loreene said, taking the sting out of her words when she kissed him on the cheek. “Right now not being married is doing better for us than being married ever did.”

  Tripp groaned. “You two are an embarrassment. Married, divorced, fooling around, and now living together in sin. It’s a wonder I turned out as perfect as I did.”

  “Well, Mr. Lanier,” Ms. Priscilla said sharply to Tripp. “What are your plans with Mr. Heston?”

  Ben choked on his Cheerwine. After Tripp’s drunken escapade months ago, the two had unofficially giving up drinking. They’d toasted the happy couple with champagne, of course, but neither wanted to be too drunk to have wild monkey sex when they got home. Weddings made a man think about sex, Ben thought, and fought a grin.

  “Well, I thought we might adopt one of those cute little Chinese girl babies,” Tripp teased, winking at his dad.

  Dean Junior put his hands together like he was saying a prayer. “Thank you, Jesus,” he said.

  “Don’t you think we ought to get married first?” Ben asked casually. Tripp’s jaw dropped.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” Loreene squealed, jumping up and running over to hug Tripp from behind. He smiled at Ben, still looking shocked.

  “I suppose we could do that,” Tripp said.

  “Before we move into the new house,” Ben said, nodding. “We should do that.”

  “Did you just publicly propose?” John asked in disbelief. “What if he’d said no?”

  “Well then,” Ben said, “I’ve got my people around me. I guess they would have helped me out.”

  Suddenly Luke bellowed from the other side of the dance floor, “Tripp and Ben are getting married next,” and a cheer went up from the crowd.

  “News travels fast in Mercury,” Tripp said, still grinning. “Now you got to go through with it.”

  Ben winked while he toasted him with his Cheerwine. “Got it. No worries.”

  About the Author


  Reviewers have called Samantha Kane “an absolute marvel to read” and “one of historical romance’s most erotic and sensuous authors.” Her books have been called “sinful,” “sensuous,” and “sizzling.” She is published in several romance genres including historical, contemporary and science fiction. Her erotic Regency-set historical romances have won awards, including Best Historical from RWA’s erotic romance chapter Passionate Ink, and the Historical CAPA (best book) award from The Romance Studio. She has a master’s degree in American History, and taught high school social studies for ten years before becoming a full time writer. Samantha Kane lives in North Carolina with her husband and three children.

  @skaneauthor

  AuthorSamanthaKane

  www.samanthakane.us

  mail@samanthakane.us

  Also by Samantha Kane

  Mercury Rising

  Cherry Pie

  Cherry Bomb

  Birmingham Rebels

  Broken Play

  Calling the Play

  The Saint’s Devils

  The Devil’s Thief

  Tempting a Devil

  Devil in My Arms

  The 93rd Highlanders

  Hamish

  Conall

  Don’t miss the other titles in Samantha Kane’s Mercury Rising series!

  You can go home again—if you can get a foot in the door.

  Mercury Rising, Book 1

  A year after packing and moving from L.A. to Mercury, North Carolina, John Ford still hasn’t adjusted to the heat. Or to life without his long-time partner. As he fixes up the old house he bought, the quiet becomes his only companion, and he’s content with that—until a deep-voiced stranger plants himself under a tree across the street.