by Lila Dubois
He twisted his hand, and his fingers moved inside her. Melissa jumped, nearly losing her footing as a sudden bolt of pleasure took her by surprise.
“Wha-what was that?”
Tristan looked up at her, his mouth still buried in her pussy, and did it again.
G-spot. It must be her g-spot. Melissa had, very rarely, read popular magazines while at airports. She’d seen articles about “finding your g-spot”, and while she didn’t doubt that there were areas of varied sensitivity within a woman’s body, she’d assumed most of the testimonials were fake.
Tristan started to thrust his fingers in and out of her, each movement stimulating the spot deep inside her, while his tongue simultaneously worked her clit.
Melissa ground her hips against him, shameless in her pleasure, until the orgasm swept over her. Her body clenched around Tristan’s fingers, her hands fisted in his hair. It seemed to last forever, and yet not go on long enough. As she came down from the high, Tristan stood, his fingers sliding from her pussy.
The water was still on, and when Tristan pulled her in for a kiss, the water beat down on their heads, pouring over their faces and shoulders.
Melissa broke the kiss and tried to drop to her knees, but Tristan stopped her.
“You need to sleep.”
“But you…”
“There’s time. We’ll have time.”
Melissa got out and watched Tristan as he quickly washed.
They’d have time? She didn’t know what he meant by that, but she couldn’t help but hope it meant something wonderful.
Chapter 14
Tristan woke as Melissa kissed her way down his chest. They’d fallen asleep wrapped in one another’s arms. Tristan hadn’t intended to stay, and he was sure his throbbing cock and balls would keep him awake until Melissa was asleep and he could slip away. But he’d gotten less than four hours of sleep yesterday, and that had been a nap in the office between prep and the start of dinner service.
Melissa’s hand preceded her lips, and her fingers danced over his boxers. His cock hardened under her palm, his lower body much quicker to wake than his head.
“Melissa.” He threaded a hand through her hair.
“Your turn,” she whispered. He shivered as she pushed the covers off both of them. The only illumination was the light from the bedside clock. It was enough that he could see the curve of her ass as she knelt on the bed beside him.
Her fingers slipped under the waistband of his underwear. Tristan’s jaw clenched as she wrapped her right hand around his cock, stroking him gently.
“More,” he growled.
She shoved his boxers out of the way. Her hand closed firmly around the base of his cock as her lips brushed the tip. He tightened his hold on her hair, pushing her down, forcing his cock past her lips into the warmth of her mouth. He told himself to stop, to be gentle with her, but he couldn’t. He wanted her with a ferocity that bordered on dangerous.
She didn’t balk, didn’t pull away. She accepted him into her mouth, her tongue running over the head. Tristan knew that if he didn’t stop now he wouldn’t have enough control. With gritted teeth, he eased her away from him.
“Am I doing it wrong? I’ve only tried that one other time.”
A fresh surge of lust pounded through him, and he had to take a deep breath to get himself under control. “I would have come if you didn’t stop.”
“I thought that was the point.”
Tristan sat up. Cupping her neck, he kissed her deeply, pulling her naked body against his. He cradled her head as he lowered her onto the bed on her back.
“Enough foreplay,” he whispered against her neck. “Are you taking the pill?”
“Oh, no, I’m not.”
Tristan grabbed his pants from the chair he’d draped them over after the shower. Tugging his wallet out of the pocket, he grabbed the condom he’d put in there.
“Tristan?” she asked.
“I have a condom.” He ripped open the foil and rolled it on, coming back to the bed.
Her only reply was to wrap one leg around his waist. Tristan slid his palm over her thigh to the apex of her legs. Melissa’s finger nails dug into his back as he rubbed her pussy, finally sliding a finger inside her.
“Are you ready for me?” He added a second finger.
“Go slow. It’s been a long time.”
Tristan shifted so he lay between her legs. Bracing himself on his elbows, he positioned the head of his cock. He was so hard, so ready to be inside her, that it took all his control not to slam into her, burying himself in her warmth.
Sliding in an inch, he heard her gasp and stopped. She was tight around him, tighter than he could ever remember a woman being.
“Melissa, are you a virgin?”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s just been a long time. A really long time.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
“Mon dieu.” Tristan withdrew from the sweet heat of her body.
“Wait, is that a problem? Why are you stopping?”
“Not stopping.” Tristan lay down on his back, then urged Melissa to straddle him. After a brief scramble, she was in position, her knees on either side of his hips. He reached between them and positioned his cock at the entrance to her sex. Melissa braced her hands on his chest. She was panting slightly, and Tristan could just barely see the curves of her breasts and hard points of her nipples. Cupping one firm mound, he rubbed her nipple with his thumb.
Slowly, so slowly he thought he would die from waiting, Melissa sheathed herself on his cock. She was moaning softly, her fingers clawing at his chest. When they were fully joined, Tristan propped himself up with one arm and drew her down for a kiss. He couldn’t be gentle this time—he bit her lower lip. She jerked, her hips shifting, her pussy clenching around his cock.
“Ride me,” he demanded, lying back. He grabbed her hips, helped her find a rhythm.
Her little gasps and moans seemed loud in the dark room. Tristan fondled her breasts as she fucked him. It felt good, incredible even, but lying passive wasn’t enough for him.
“This feels so… Tristan.” Her hands wrapped around his wrists, pressing his hands tighter against her breasts.
“You feel good, tight.”
“Am I…am I doing it right?”
Tristan stilled. “Have you even ridden a man like this?”
“No.”
“Merde.”
Her innocence was so unexpected and so damned arousing that he could no longer lie there. He flipped their positions. Melissa groaned. “I’m not going to tell you things if you keep stopping.”
Tristan caged her within his arms and used his knee to spread her legs, settling in between her thighs.
“If I were a good man, I would let you ride me, let you become accustomed to a man inside you.”
She was very still beneath him. “You’re not a good man?”
“Non, mon ange. I am not. Your innocence makes me want to do unspeakable things to you.”
His cock slid between her outer labia, the tip settling against the entrance to her body.
“And I want you to do them to me,” she whispered.
Tristan slammed into her. Melissa gasped, fingers scrabbling at his upper arms and shoulders.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No…maybe… I like it.”
Tristan slid one arm under her back, hooking his hand over her shoulder to hold her in place as he pounded into her. Her legs cradled his hips as he fucked her roughly, almost brutally. When that wasn’t enough, he nipped her neck, her shoulder. He wanted to possess this woman, wanted to own her, body and soul. He wanted to touch her in ways that no other man ever had, and no man after him ever would.
“Tristan, please!”
“What do you want?”
“I…I…” Her nails raked his back, her teeth scraped his jaw.
Tristan rolled off the side of the bed. Melissa screamed in frustration. He smiled, grabbing her ankle an
d pulling her toward him. Using her legs as levers, he flipped her onto her belly and jerked her hips up.
“I’m going to fuck you this way. I want to be deeper inside you.”
*
Melissa tucked her knees under her hips. She was shaking she was so aroused. In the darkness, Tristan was an unseen, powerful presence. He seemed almost feral, and the way he kept changing their positions, each time making her more aware of his power and dominance, was doing things to her that she didn’t want to think about. At that moment, she was sure that she would have agreed to anything he asked of her.
“Spread your legs,” he demanded. Rough hands on the insides of her legs forced her compliance. Melissa grabbed handfuls of sheet as Tristan’s fingers rubbed her pussy. Two fingers settled on her clit, and her whole body reacted. Her right leg slipped off the bed, and she might have tumbled to the carpet if he hadn’t caught her. Hands on her hips held her still and then his cock was sliding into her, deeper than before.
He smacked her ass gently. “Back on the bed.”
Tingling from the spank, she drew her right leg up, opening herself further to his touch.
His cock slid in and out in a maddeningly slow rhythm. A shiver danced up her spine, and her nipples tingled. Sex had never felt like this before—it was an all-consuming thing. There was no room for artifice or doubt. Her body was alive under his hands, a thing of pure feeling and need.
When she couldn’t stand the maddeningly slow glide of his cock, she said, “Faster.”
He growled in what some primal part of her knew was satisfaction. Then he was pounding into her, so hard and fast that her breasts bounced and his hips slapped against her ass. He leaned forward, grabbing a handful of her hair and forcing her head up. Melissa braced her arms, locking her elbows, her back bowed.
His other hand rubbed her belly, catching her breast and pinching her nipple. When he was done with one breast, he went to the other, pinching and twisting the sensitive tip as his cock continued to pound into her.
“Tristan, Tristan.”
His name was a prayer, a curse. She wanted more, wanted him to give her the fulfillment she could feel hovering just under her skin. Yet she didn’t want this to end. She wanted to stay like this forever, under his control, her body his to do with as he wanted.
Fingers released her breasts, sliding down her body to her pussy. The rhythm of his thrusts slowed, nearly stopped.
“Don’t stop!” she demanded, rocking back onto him, fucking herself on his cock.
“I won’t, mon ange.” His fingers pinched her clit lightly, then he started to thrust again. The nub slid from his gasp, only to bump against his hand as he thrust forward. Muscles low in her belly coiled tight.
Melissa nearly pulled away, so unfamiliar and frightening was the feeling. Before her fear and doubt got the better of her, Tristan slammed into her, his cock so deep inside her that her pussy spasmed. That was what she needed.
Melissa screamed, her head still held up by Tristan’s grip in her hair. Pleasure like she’d never known swept over her, turning her into a pulsing ball of feeling. Tristan released her, both hands going to her hips, holding her still as he pumped into her. He groaned her name, his upper body bowing over her, his chest on her back.
Melissa’s body was still pulsing when Tristan stopped thrusting.
They were both panting. Tristan withdrew and helped her roll onto her back before joining her on the bed.
“Is your arm okay?” he asked.
“Mmm hmm.”
“And you, you are okay?”
“Okay? I’m better than okay.” Melissa curled against his warmth. “That was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had.”
“I was rough with you.”
“I know. I liked it.”
“Next time I will be gentle.”
“Next time?”
“Oh yes, pretty Melissa. I need time to recover myself, but you…” His fingers trailed down her stomach to her pussy. Melissa gasped and clenched her legs together, but he wouldn’t be deterred. Rather than teasing her clit with his fingers, he pressed the heel of his hand against her and rotated his hand in small circles.
Melissa screamed again as a little orgasm ripped through her. She tugged at his hand, trying to pull it away, but his fingers merely curled over her, cupping her sex.
“I can’t, I can’t,” she panted.
“You can, and you will, mon ange. But I will give your pussy a rest.” His lips closed over her nipple, sucking.
For the next half hour, Tristan was merciless, touching and pleasuring her in soft, simple ways that nonetheless felt more intimate and powerful than full sex had with her past lovers. He disappeared into the bathroom at one point. He opened the door before turning the light out, and for one glorious moment she could see his naked body—gold skin, hard muscles and a thick cock jutting from a nest of dark hair.
He padded across the room, and she heard foil rip.
“You carry two condoms?” she asked.
“I carry no condoms. I put them in my wallet this morning.”
“Oh.”
“I had every intention of making love to you today.”
The bed dipped, and then he was on top of her. Melissa cradled him with her legs. His cock slid into her, slow and deep. She kissed his shoulder, clinging to him as he rocked in and out of her, his movements slow and gentle. This time the orgasm was soft as spring rain, yet no less powerful. He buried his face in her hair as he came. She loved the way he felt in her arms as he gave himself over to pleasure—his arms shook, his breath panting in her ear.
Satisfied exhaustion stole over her, and Melissa only had time to kiss the corner of his mouth before she was drifting off to sleep.
* * * *
Melissa shut off the light in the bathroom and then padded back to the bed. A sliver of light in the crack in the drapes said it was near dawn, if not past it. She didn’t want to look at the clock, didn’t want to see the passage of time or face the fact that she had things to do today.
As soon as she was under the covers, Tristan pulled her against his side. Melissa pillowed her head on his shoulder. He kissed her head.
She lay that way for a while, watching the line of light between the curtains grow brighter. Her body felt warm and relaxed from the great sex, but her mind wouldn’t turn off.
“Tristan?”
“Yes, mon ange?”
Melissa propped herself up on her right elbow. Tristan opened one eye.
“Why me?” she asked.
“I don’t understand.”
“I think it’s pretty clear that whatever we’re doing here is more than a one-night stand.”
His other eye popped open, and he nodded.
“So whenever all the craziness of the bodies and the graves is done, we’re going to have a conversation to figure out what we are.”
“We don’t have to wait, if you want to talk now.”
“No, that’s not what I’m getting at. We’ve been through things together that most people never experience. I told you I love you, and I meant it. I didn’t say it because I expected you to want to spend the rest of your life with me.”
“I know, and I understand.” Tristan mimicked her posture, propped up on one elbow. “What are you worrying about?”
“You could have anyone you want. You’re gorgeous, you have a hot French accent, you can cook and you’re well read and interesting. I bet that if we went into a bar in London, you’d be able to walk out with any girl you wanted.”
Tristan’s face was impassive, and Melissa wished she could tell what he was thinking. When he didn’t say anything, she barreled ahead.
“Why would you want to be with me? I’m awkward, and sometimes I say weird things. That’s not going to change. I travel for work, so I’d make a terrible girlfriend or wife. My left arm will never work the way it did before.”
“And you think that I should not want you, because of these things.”
“I’m no
t begging for compliments. I know that I’m an interesting, engaging person, but I’m not the type of woman that a man falls in love with. That rose you put on the tray? That’s the first time a man has ever given me flowers.”
“What type of woman are you?”
“I’m the type that digs up dead people and is great at intellectual debates.”
“And who told you this?”
“No one had to tell me this.” She shook her head. “We’re getting off topic. I guess that I just want to know if you really…” Melissa didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “I’m sorry. Ignore everything I just said.”
Tristan tucked her hair behind her ear. “Melissa, I want you to listen to me. I told you I love you because I shared something with you that I never have with another person. You brought light to a dark part of my life.”
Melissa looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
“But now I am falling in love with you.”
Tears formed in her eyes, and Melissa whispered, “Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”
“I do mean it. I’m talking about love that demands roses. Love that waits, and love that heals.”
“But you could have anyone.”
“And I want you. Do you need to know why? I’m falling in love with the bravest person I’ve ever met. You stand for the dead, you demand answers and justice for people who can no longer speak for themselves. Even when you thought I was crazy, you were kind, and you listened to me. You’re smart in a way I know I will never be.”
“Oh, Tristan.”
“Mon ange. Do you know what that means?”
“I think it’s ‘my angel’.”
“Yes. You are my angel. I have never met someone who I so fervently believed is doing God’s work.”
“Me? Tristan, I barely believe in a deity.”
“And I’d lost my faith until I met you. You gave me hope. Hope that Jacques’ soul is safe and no longer suffering. Hope that all the ghosts I’ve seen can be set free of whatever prison they are in.
“It would be my privilege to love you, to be the one who comforts and protects you, while you find justice for the dead.”