Cherry Pop (Mercury Rising Book 3) Read online

  The feel of their slick chests and stomachs rubbing together ignited something in Tripp that pushed him higher when he thought he’d been as high as he could go. Ben had a light dusting of dark hair on his upper chest that grew heavier on his pecs and around his nipples, and Tripp loved the feel of it against him, so incredibly different from anything he’d known before. He had no idea how erotic it would be to feel that. Ben’s stomach was so ripped Tripp could actually feel the muscles moving against his own stomach as Ben humped him.

  Ben broke the kiss to trail kisses across his cheek and whisper in his ear. “You taste sweet,” he murmured, “like Cheerwine. Is this as good as you thought it would be?”

  “Better,” Tripp said with a gasp. “So much better.”

  “You are so fucking hot,” Ben whispered. “Let me love on you now.”

  Without any more warning, Ben squirmed out from under Tripp and rolled him onto his back. Ben slid his leg over Tripp’s and partially covered him, straddling Tripp’s right leg. Then he grabbed Tripp’s ass again and turned him just a little. He rubbed his hard, muscular thigh right between Tripp’s legs, right on his balls, just as he aligned their dicks again. At the same time he began to hump him again, he leaned over and bit Tripp’s nipple. Lightning zinged through Tripp’s veins, and he felt the first stirring of his orgasm. Every bit of his skin was sensitized excruciatingly so that everywhere Ben touched him burned with pleasure.

  “Ben,” he said in a shaky voice. “I can’t…I’m gonna…”

  “I want you to,” Ben said roughly. “I want to see it. It’s the first time with a guy, right? Like this?”

  “With you,” Tripp said. He couldn’t find the words just then, the right words, to tell Ben that it wasn’t because he was a man that Tripp was so hot for him, ready to come after just a little bit of fooling around. It was because it was Ben.

  It was too soon, though, and Ben was too cynical. But Tripp could wait. He could wait forever for Ben to figure it out.

  “God, bab—Tripp,” Ben said, stumbling over his words too. Tripp was thrilled to hear him use a sexy little name for him when they were like this.

  They were breathing so hard, humping so hard, and Tripp wanted it bad, wanted to come so bad for Ben, and Ben was working him, touching him like he knew exactly what Tripp needed. And then he was there.

  “Ben,” he said in a strangled voice as stars burst behind his eyes and he came harder then he ever had before.

  “Shit yeah,” Ben said breathlessly, and Tripp heard the appreciation in his voice, the wonder, the same wonder Tripp was feeling.

  When Tripp came down from his climax, he collapsed, suddenly exhausted. Ben kissed him roughly as he ground his hips against Tripp, and then he bit Tripp’s lip as he moaned. And Tripp knew a new kind of thrill, the thrill of feeling and watching and making Ben come.

  Eleven

  “So I heard you and Tripp are dating,” Kari Barefoot said as she set Ben’s sandwich down in front of him at Wren’s Diner.

  Suddenly the small, homey diner with its kitschy checkered curtains and Formica tables became unbearably claustrophobic for Ben. He’d come to the quintessential Southern diner for lunch with John and Brian in an effort to get out of his office and stop thinking about what happened with Tripp over the weekend.

  “Knocked me right over when he told me,” Kari continued. Ben barely heard her through the rushing sound in his ears.

  “What?” John said, the picture of shocked indignation. “And you didn’t think you should tell us that?”

  “I thought he was as straight as geometry,” Brian observed, pouring ketchup on his steak fries.

  Ben sat there dumbfounded, staring at Kari. “What?” he finally croaked.

  “Tripp said y’all was dating,” Kari repeated louder. That caused several tables full of people around them to go quiet and stare at him. “I was shocked too. I didn’t know he was gay.”

  “He’s not gay,” Ben said, getting it together. “He’s confused. We are not dating.”

  After Ben’s head had cleared Saturday night, he’d sent Tripp on his way with assurances that they were not a couple and were not dating just because they’d fooled around, and Tripp had gone without protest. Ben had assumed that was that. Tripp had tried it, it had gone well—which was an understatement that Ben was not going to dwell on—but it was a one off and Tripp had come to his senses.

  Even when Tripp had called yesterday to see how Ben felt, Ben had pretended that he thought Tripp was asking about the aftereffects of the race and Tripp had let him. Obligatory day-after phone call out of the way, back to business as usual. But in typical Tripp fashion, he’d lulled Ben into a false sense of security and then lowered the boom with today’s hottest rumor in Mercury.

  “Yeah, he said the first kiss didn’t go so well,” Kari said, nodding sagely. “But Wendy Pate said he must have been nervous because when she slept with him he was awesome.”

  Ben slapped his fork onto the table after he unwrapped it from the napkin. “Good to know,” he said through clenched teeth with a stiff smile. “And I’m sure the next woman he sleeps with will be very happy.”

  “Quit being such a jerk and tell us what’s going on with Tripp,” Brian said. “My entire courtship of Evan was discussed ad nauseum at Wren’s. It only seems fair that yours be treated the same.”

  “I do not have a courtship,” Ben said clearly. “Tripp is young and misunderstood friendship for more. That’s it. He’s. Confused.”

  “So he’s curious?” Kari said skeptically. “I’d think if that were the case he’d of hooked up with Evan or Carver before now. Right? Or one of these two.” She pointed at Brian and John.

  “We were already taken,” John said. “But you’re right. It sounds like Tripp is smitten with our Ben.”

  Ben shoved his chair back and stood up. “I’m not hungry,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Coward,” Brian called after him as he escaped Wren’s.

  Ben could feel all eyes on him as he ran away, which was a personal nightmare for him. He preferred to think of it as a tactical retreat rather than cowardice. There was nothing he hated more than being the center of attention.

  What could Tripp be thinking to broadcast that all over town? It would be different if they actually were dating, but they weren’t. It was a lie. He slammed the car door as he got in. He’d brought Brian in his car, but his boss could damn well get a ride back with John, the pair of assholes. They knew Ben hated having his personal life on display.

  He started the car and immediately hit the button on the steering wheel for Bluetooth. “Call Tripp Lanier,” he said. He was fuming as he pulled out of the parking lot while the phone rang.

  “Tripp.” Was that laughter in his voice?

  “What. The. Hell.” Ben said flatly.

  “I guess that got around faster than I thought it would,” Tripp said. “Wait, did you eat at Wren’s? Is it lunchtime already? That explains it.” He didn’t sound upset at all.

  “We are not dating,” Ben said. “Why on earth would you tell Kari that? And Kari? Really? One of the biggest gossips in town?”

  “Her heart’s in the right place,” Tripp said. “She’s worried I’m making a mistake.”

  “That’s because you are,” Ben told him, taking a corner a little too fast. He slowed down. “Look, Tripp, I told you the other night—we are not dating. We are not going to date. We are not going to sleep together. We’re not even going to see each other again.”

  “Sure we are,” Tripp said. “We live in Mercury. My family is building the place where you work. Of course we’re going to see each other again.” He had a point, which just made Ben grind his teeth.

  “Exactly how do you justify claiming that we’re dating?” Ben asked. “We’ve been waterskiing with your family, out to a bar with your friends, on a bike ride, and we did the Spartan Race together with Luke and Carver. How does that constitute dating?”

  “You’ve been ke
eping track?” Tripp said in a pleased voice. “If you, or me for that matter, were a woman, would that be dating? Especially after what happened Saturday night.”

  Ben caught himself as he was about to answer. His silence was damning.

  “Exactly,” Tripp said. “I guess I should have known when I asked you to go waterskiing. I’ve never taken a girl to meet my mom. I mean, she knew some of them just from around town, of course. But I never took one out on the boat with my mom.”

  “But you take Luke,” Ben said.

  “Well, sure,” Tripp answered. “He’s my best friend.”

  “When I went with you, I was nothing more than a friend,” Ben argued.

  “Nah,” Tripp denied. “That was too personal, you know? I could’ve just asked you to go the bar with us.”

  “You did ask me to go to the bar.” Ben tried again. “To fix me up with another guy, who is gay.”

  “But I couldn’t go through with it,” Tripp said. “Remember? Now I know why I was jealous.”

  “You’re certifiably insane,” Ben said. “We are not dating.”

  “Plus,” Tripp said, “I wanted to stake my claim in case Carver wised up. I don’t want any competition.”

  “I’m hanging up now,” Ben said, exasperated. “Do not call me again.”

  “You called me,” Tripp told him. “I bet you got me on speed dial.” He did, but Ben wasn’t going to admit it. He’d only done that when he was going to Murrell’s Inlet in case he got lost. It didn’t mean anything. He used to have Papa John’s on speed dial back in L.A.

  Ben heard voices in the background. “I’m talking to my boyfriend,” Tripp told someone. Ben heard somebody exclaim. “I don’t think you know him,” Tripp said. Then a pause. “Sure, you can tell Daddy.”

  “Tripp, you are making this harder,” Ben said desperately. “Stop it. I’m not your boyfriend.”

  “I believe in the power of positive thinking,” Tripp said. “Tony Robbins says something like that, right? When you make a decision, you’ve got to act on it. I’m acting on it.”

  “Tony Robbins?” Ben asked, confused. “You mean the self help guy?”

  “Yeah, him. Mama used to listen to his tapes all the time.”

  Ben was back at Turnstiles and sat there in the car, trying to figure out what would dissuade Tripp from making a fool of himself. Everywhere he looked he saw guys working in the light blue polo shirts of Lanier Construction. “Tripp, even if you’re serious, even if you’ve suddenly decided to be gay—”

  “It wasn’t a decision,” Tripp argued. “I just met you and it all fell into place.”

  Ben wasn’t sure how to respond to that. After all, wasn’t that the sort of thing most people hoped to hear from someone one day? The sort of thing Roland had said in the beginning, seducing Ben into throwing away eight years of his life. Stealing all his decisions, railroading him into doing things Roland’s way until he’d forgotten he had a choice. His heart hardened.

  “I’m not going there,” Ben said, suddenly angry. “You’ve made decisions for me too, by telling people those things, and I don’t let others make my decisions for me. Not anymore. I don’t want a boyfriend, Tripp, least of all you, and not here. When this job is finished, I’m going back to L.A. So don’t build pipedreams around me, country boy. This isn’t going to happen.”

  “Uh oh,” Tripp said. “You just went somewhere in your head that you ought not to go. I told you the other night I wasn’t that guy.” Before Ben could blast him again, Tripp continued, “But you’re right. I did take the decision away from you, and that was wrong. So I’ll make the apology tour today, okay? I’ll straighten everyone out. You are not my boyfriend. Yet. But I want you to be.”

  “Tripp,” Ben said, his anger dissipating as weariness took its place. “I’m not boyfriend material. My heart just isn’t in it.”

  “You are exactly boyfriend material,” Tripp said. “Look, we don’t need to have this conversation over the speaker. Can I come over tonight?”

  Ben sat straight up in his seat. “Absolutely not,” he said. He knew his weaknesses, and Tripp was definitely at the top of the list. He wasn’t going to put himself in that position. Again. He physically closed his eyes, as if that could banish the mental images of Tripp under him.

  “Okay. Then you come over to my house,” Tripp offered.

  “Is your mother going to be there?” Ben asked warily.

  “Yep,” Tripp said. “Come for dinner. We’ll talk. She can chaperone your virtue.”

  “My virtue was cast aside years ago,” Ben told him. “These days I’m trying to hold onto my sanity.”

  “My mom isn’t much help with that,” Tripp said. “I’m texting you the address. Be there at six.”

  “Wait—” Ben said, but Tripp had already hung up. Ben was going to have to talk to him about that. Not that they were going to be talking on the phone after tonight. He was going to set Tripp straight, literally.

  Twelve

  Mrs. Lanier opened the door at Ben’s knock. He’d arrived about ten minutes late, just so he didn’t seem too eager to see Tripp, but it wouldn’t be too rude to Tripp’s mother. A lot of thought went into that decision, so he was disappointed when she immediately told him, “Tripp’s not home yet. Something came up at a job site with some inspectors and he had to hightail it over there. But he told me I’m supposed to entertain you and not let you leave under any condition, so come on in and drink with me.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Lanier,” he replied, frozen on the front porch, not sure what the right protocol was in this situation. If he said no, then it might hurt her feelings. She might be lonely home by herself. But if he agreed, then he was more or less promising he wouldn’t leave until Tripp got home.

  “That bad, huh?” she asked sympathetically. “Just come on in and have some wine. Things always look better after wine. And it’s about time you called me Loreene.” She reached out and snagged his free hand and pulled him inside. She pried his fingers off the bottle of wine he held and tugged him after her as she walked back through the house. “Did you have trouble finding the place?”

  “Surprisingly, no,” he answered as he looked around in awe at her house. He’d never expected to find a mansion in the middle of the tobacco fields around Mercury, but that’s what it was. A main house with two wings stretching off to either side, it would fit in on the streets of Beverly Hills. Maybe one of the smaller houses there, but ornate enough not to be an oddity.

  And the inside was just as ostentatious and outrageous as the outside. Marble seemed to gleam everywhere, along with those mirrors that had veins of metallic gold running through them. The whole place seemed very Caesar’s Palace, but it wasn’t uncomfortably formal thanks to the carelessly tossed throws and books and personal items sitting around on the furniture and tables.

  “I know,” Loreene said, clearly observing his reaction. “I went a little crazy with the decorator. I’m thinking of redoing it in a shabby chic, sort of country vibe. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what shabby chic is,” Ben told her, “but I’m sure it’s nice.”

  He followed her into a huge kitchen that looked like it came straight out of a restaurant. The marble island top in the center of the kitchen was covered with food, some in the middle of preparation and some that looked like appetizers that were ready to eat. The whole room smelled delicious and Ben took a deep breath, finally relaxing.

  “How can you be gay and not know what shabby chic is?” she asked. “I thought all you guys were born with the decorating gene.”

  “I’m a mutant gay,” Ben told her. “Sorry. Maybe if you showed me a picture?” He was hungrily eyeing something that looked like mini biscuits.

  “Have one,” she said, gently pushing the plate toward him. “They’re cheddar biscuits.” She blushed as she dusted some crumbs off the counter into her cupped palm. “I may have gone a little overboard. I don’t have guests that often. And I like to cook.”

  Be
n’s eyes crossed as he took a bite. The biscuits were flaky and buttery with a rich, creamy cheddar flavor. They were so good he had to pull up a barstool and grab another one. “These are amazing,” he told her. “My compliments to the chef. You are an artist.”

  She laughed. “How else do you think I keep ’em coming back?” she asked. She turned on the oven light and peeked inside. “My cooking is the only thing that keeps Tripp under my roof.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Ben said. “But if he ever leaves and you need to rent his room, give me a call.”

  “Done.” She opened a couple of drawers, searching for something, until she finally pulled out a wine opener. “Ta da,” she said with a flourish. “Let’s open this sucker.”

  Ben snuck another biscuit while he watched her struggle a little with the opener. He’d learned from his mother not to offer assistance until it was requested. His mom had told him in no uncertain terms that she could do things for herself. Ben applied that lesson to all women, and he hadn’t gone wrong yet.

  Tonight Loreene had on a black pair of cropped cotton pants and a loose-fitting black T-shirt that had a big, gold sequined crown right in the middle of it. Her hair was messy, but it looked good, like she’d deliberately arranged her blonde waves that way. Ben could see how a lot of men would find her irresistibly attractive even in the relaxed, casual outfit.

  “I think Tripp stays here because he worries about you and wants to keep an eye on you,” Ben told her truthfully.

  She looked up from pouring the wine, surprise on her face. “Do you? Well, that’s nice, I suppose. But nothing’s going to happen to me out here. Nobody around but family for miles, and a security system that I can recommend to Fort Knox.” She handed him a glass of wine. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” he said. They clinked glasses and he took a sip. He’d gone with a fruity cab, and he was glad. It went well with the biscuits.