Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
A moment later, he flipped me back around to hover over me on the couch. He looked deeply into my eyes. “When was the last time you had sex?”
“Two years ago,” I panted.
“That’s a long fucking time. Who was it?”
“A guy from college. It was horrible. I didn’t even come.”
“And before that?”
“Jacob.” I swallowed. “He was my first and the only other person.”
He closed his eyes, seeming conflicted. My heart raced as I waited for him to say something.
Tristan finally opened his eyes again. “I’m not having sex with you. But I want to make you come. I want to watch your face and experience every second of you coming apart. I want to make you forget everything that’s ever bothered you. Will you let me do that?”
Having completely lost my inhibitions, I nodded, desperate for whatever he was willing to give me.
“Are you sure your mother won’t come home?”
“She won’t. She can’t leave work.”
“Can we go to your room, just to be on the safe side?”
“Yes.” I would’ve gone anywhere he wanted just to have his mouth back on mine again.
Taking his hand, I led him down the hall to my bedroom. I locked the door behind us and we tumbled onto the bed. Tristan put his gorgeous, tattooed arms on either side of me. Then he lowered himself to kiss me. Once again, I was lost in his breaths, his taste, the friction of our mouths. His erection pressed into my abdomen as our kiss deepened. Pulling his hair, I felt starved for more.
“You’re so fucking hungry for it, Emily, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, bending my head back as he sucked on my neck.
“Me too. And I can’t wait to devour you.”
Allowing myself to get lost in him was wrong. I’d regret it tomorrow. As far as I was concerned, though, that was a problem for future me. Current me was too damn busy.
Until now, I hadn’t realized how different it would feel to be with a man, how much more my body could react just from kissing him, from the feel of his scruff against my face, from his deep groans. I’d only gotten a taste today, and already I couldn’t imagine ever being satisfied by anything less than this.
Jacob had been practically a kid when we were together. We were both over eighteen when we’d had sex, but very inexperienced. And the guy I’d slept with in college was completely forgettable. Tristan had me practically orgasming from kissing. I didn’t know my body was capable of feeling so sensitized. It couldn’t possibly get better than this.
With our lips still locked, Tristan slid one of his hands down to unbutton my jeans. Even the feel of his hand was enough to set me ablaze. He slid my pants down, and I worked to kick them off. Then I felt his warm palm cup me through my underwear. I jerked my hips, pressing my clit into his hand. He moved his palm in firm circles, never interrupting our kiss.
He slipped a finger into my panties, then another until three of his fingers were inside of me. “Oh God,” he mumbled as he moved his fingers in and out, fucking me with one hand while the other squeezed my breast through my shirt.
“I can’t believe how fucking wet you are.” Rubbing his fingers along my clit, he spread my wetness around. “That feel good?”
I could hardly speak. “Ye…yes.”
While I respected his decision not to rush into anything, I would’ve given anything to feel his cock moving in and out instead of his fingers. But Tristan had drawn a line. I was equally disappointed and grateful, since I was apparently not able to make responsible decisions today.
He fucked me with his fingers faster as he kissed me harder, never taking his lips off mine. My breathing quickened; I felt ready to lose it. But Tristan stopped kissing me suddenly. Cold air replaced the heat on my mouth as I yearned for the return of his lips.
He lowered his gaze to his hand, watching the way his fingers moved in and out of me.
“You have the most magnificent pussy. I wish you could see how beautiful it is.” He pressed the thumb of his opposite hand against my clit as he sank his fingers in as deep as they would go. Then he began moving them. “Listen to that, how wet you are.”
While I never wanted this to end, I felt myself coming undone.
As my breathing became more labored, he rasped, “Let go. Come all over my hand, baby. I want to watch you come.”
Those words pushed me over the edge. The muscles between my legs tightened around his fingers, his thumb pressing into my clit as a powerful orgasm ricocheted through my body. It was euphoric, and he was so right, because in those seconds, not a single thing mattered in the world—not Henry nor Jacob dying, not any of the guilt I knew would come. It was just me and Tristan—his touch and his taste, our mutual desire causing me to lose all sense of reality, all sense of right or wrong.