by Melissa Blue
She shuddered harder, her breath panting out. She would have pushed away from his mouth but his hand was like a vise on her leg. Before Keri could recover he started to build her back up. Oh. Oh. She let go of the comforter and buried her hands back in his hair, because she had to feel his warmth as he made her come again.
And she was soaking wet. So damn wet. How much more did he need? She didn't know, so she gripped his hair and let him get his fill.
CHAPTER SIX
Tristan felt drugged from the taste of her filling his mouth, but he kept his arm like a band of steel around her hips and waist. Otherwise, she'd squirm free as the second orgasm rode her roughly and left her trembling and wetter than before. He wasn't done with her yet.
She came with a rawness that had him one deep thrust away from a release himself. He'd probably lost a few strands of hair if he kept licking her. Dainty foot or not, she had probably left a bruise in his shoulder when she dug it in and bucked beneath him. Not to mention the hotel's carpet was utter shite, as soft as ten-day-old porridge. Tristan's knees would curse him tomorrow but he couldn't stop if somebody paid him.
Other men had made her feel broken. He could see that deep-seated pain in her eyes when she told him to leave it alone. He'd spent over a decade of his life reading people. She probably wasn't an open book to most, but he could see her. Her every tell, every breath hitch, was ingrained into his very being.
Guilt wanted to dig its claws in, but he hadn't hurt her. Not yet or ever—making her come wasn't a penance. He was just a blasphemous son of a bitch and didn't feel an ounce of guilt thinking an orgasm was as close as one could get to heaven on earth. She deserved all she could take.
He spread the lips of her sex, careful not to touch her swollen clit just yet. She shuddered. The slightest of tugs on his hair brought him forward again. He smiled. She'd been guiding him the whole time with small gasps and movements. He couldn't take his eyes off her, or his hands or his mouth, so he'd felt every one.
Keri might have been too shy to demand what she wanted, but her body knew and it whispered all the things it desired.
So he started with stiffening his finger, swirling it around the entrance of her pussy and then deep inside it. She clenched around him. Hot. Wet. Where he wanted to stay.
“You're not wet enough,” he told her, glancing up.
Her breasts jostled with every panting breath. His brain was going to end up blood-starved by the end of this.
She licked her lips and swallowed. “No?”
“No.” He stopped until she looked at him and then he let his smile widen.
She made a noise between a moan and a whimper. Aye. Right there. He focused on what he needed to do next, because if he held her gaze he'd forget about making up for lost opportunities. The dark brown irises would pull him in and he'd want front-row seats to see her eyes glaze over from bliss.
And then what? There was nothing for him to give of himself.
He dragged his drenched middle finger down and massaged the tight star of her anus until it glistened from her own arousal.
It was more than enough lubrication to penetrate, but he took his time working her up, catching more cream with his thumb just to keep her clit swollen. She couldn't squirm, not with his hand holding her still, but that heel dug right into his shoulder again.
“Show me,” he rasped. “Bear down so I can feel how tight you'll be around my cock.”
He loosened his hold and watched her ease forward, tentatively but not with hesitation. That was the difference for him. If she didn't want it, she'd have inched back, her eyes would have filled with a number of questions that she'd never let cross her lips. But now her lids were low, her mouth parted. When she'd taken a little more than half his finger, he tightened his arm again.
He tutted low. “Now let me show you how I fuck.”
He inhaled the redolent scent of her sex before he closed his mouth over her clit. Pursing his lips, he sucked her softly, then harder. He suckled her again but trailed his tongue on the underside of the hooded nub. She shuddered on a long moan. The sound turned his dick into brick material and he groaned.
Each time he drew her into his mouth, along his tongue, he followed it with a gentle thrust of his finger. Soft and hard. Gentle and rough. He hit all the right spots and reveled in the way she grew wetter by the second. He let go of her waist and she slowly pumped up and down on his finger, fervently and recklessly until she stilled.
“Yes,” she screamed.
“Aye, come. I want to taste it.”
The words must have hit the right kind of dirty for her, because she shuddered, hard. Her fist curled into his hair and then she melted into the covers. He placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh and gently removed his finger.
He gave himself a moment before looking at her. His gut tightened anyway. Her chest rose and fell in a rapid pace. Even though she'd tossed an arm over her face, the parts he could see were flushed.
He needed to fuck her. Throw her legs over his shoulders and ram home and let her envelop every sense he had and lose himself. Oblivion would follow until he found all the ways that made her breath hitch, made her scream his name, and then he could come. And then he could...nothing.
This woman was a problem. She was making him want things, to be a different man. One he'd long since accepted he'd never become.
Tristan stood, not moving from between her legs. “Are you done for?” Say yes, he quietly urged.
She heaved a languid sort of sigh. “Give me a minute.”
From the way she said it, full of exhaustion and a little bleary, he knew she was done. He placed a kiss on her belly and the knot in his own eased. “All right.”
She made a soft little noise and rolled over onto her side. Within seconds her breathing slowed. He couldn't even get satisfaction from her being half-sprawled off the bed and well on her way to sleep.
Thankfully that meant he didn't have to conjure up a smile. His dick was too hard to feel anything but frustration. He gave it another few seconds, and when he was sure she'd gone to sleep, he went to the dresser to pull out something suitable for bed. He added boxers and an undershirt to his usual socks.
The bathroom wasn't as bad as the carpet at least. A wide counter with simple amenities took up a good amount of the space. The toilet had arm and leg room. Some places he'd been in didn't consider that necessary. Maybe two short people could fit in the tub. He started the shower, tested the water and gave the hotel a few more points. The spray wouldn't feel like he was standing in front of a firing squad while nude. Good enough for what he required.
He shed his clothes and then stepped into the spray. The methodical beat of water didn't loosen his muscles. Only one thing would. Tristan pushed out a breath, glancing down at his stiff cock. No need to tell himself lies, that this would be better than the alternative. Heaving a sigh, he placed a hand on the cold tile and sat under the showerhead as water sluiced down his body.
In a perfect world Keri wouldn't be an enigma. In his imagination she didn't lose her intelligence, was still a little nervous about him and quick with her mouth. Her mouth. Wet and swollen from his bites. The room would fill with the scent of sex—hers. Covered in sweat, the air would have turned thick and muggy.
He groaned and closed his fist over the tip of his cock, squeezed lightly. He’d been too aroused for too long, and the touch was enough to make his hand fist against the tile. Holding the vision of her lips in his mind, Tristan imagined them pursed and closed around his prick.
Her tongue ran up, down and around his shaft. Nothing shy about the way she tasted him. Hungry for him, taking more and more with each erotic slurp. Her nails dug into his arse as she tried to take all of him.
Tristan didn't loosen his grip on his cock but slid his hand down to mimic the tight hold of her mouth. Slow. He could feel his pulse pound in his hand.
After teasing him, she matched the steady beat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Swirling her tongue around the head with
each suck, suck, suck.
His hips jerked forward and he gasped, matching the phantom pace of her mouth. He could barely feel the water raining down on his skin. He was too hot, too lost in Keri and her mouth. But it wasn't her mouth he craved.
The scene instantly changed in his mind and she sat astride his thighs. His cock was deep, so deep that her arse rested on his balls. Warm. Wet from coming.
Tristan's hand worked faster and just along the tip. His breath panted out, his head tilted back and the water ran down his throat. A husky groan fell from his lips, another and another and then his balls drew tight against him.
“Keri,” he rasped.
Downstroke, up, come spilled out and his head swam. Down, up, more come and his ears rang. Down, up, and he shuddered as the last of his seed slicked his tight fist.
Dazed, he blinked and water blinded him for a moment. He tried to catch his breath, ducking under the showerhead so the water would roll down his back.
Masturbating in a shower like a teen. Over the past five years, he'd learned to extract pleasure while staying distant. The intense way he wanted her, distant didn't seem possible. First thing in the morning he'd call his brother and back out of this insanity. Four days. Four fucking days of walking away from a woman to jerk off. Tristan would have arthritis by the end of it, and even he didn’t owe his brother that much.
*****
Keri did her best not to move an inch in fear she'd wake Tristan. Bad enough she was sprawled across him. No, sprawled would have been a little more respectable. Her hand had found a way beneath his tank top and one leg was wrapped around his thigh possessively.
The last thing she remembered was trying to catch her breath, half on the bed and off. Tristan had risen between her legs and even after two orgasms, she craved more of him. More sex. She wanted to do everything they could do in the span of eight hours before having to spend time with the association again.
Warmth suffused her cheeks remembering how he made her come shocked her. And then she'd just fallen asleep. And now she had every limb clinging to him. Who did that?
His breathing broke its soft, deep rhythm. He cupped her ass and let out a soft groan. Well, at least she wasn't the only one to get grabby while asleep. Keri glanced up and tensed. Tristan had one eye cracked open, gazing down at her.
Her instincts screamed to jump up, make excuses and head to the bathroom, but a smile quirked his lips. Running would ruin her appearance of sexed-up smart mouth. Women like that smiled back.
“Hands.” The word bypassed her brain and she fought the cringe.
He chuckled and closed his eye again. “Back in fine form, I see.”
She wanted to ask a million questions. Did he make her comfortable on the bed? How did he...satisfy himself when she'd fallen asleep? What now? That's when it stopped escaping her notice that he was clothed while she had nothing on. Shit.
Maybe if she acted nonchalant about it, so would he. “What's on today's agenda?”
His fingers started to trail up and down her spine. “What time is it?”
“No idea.” The words whooshed out. “Feels early, though.”
Testing out a theory, she lifted her leg so it would rest on top of his cock. Yup. A morning glory.
“Probably.” His voice darkened. “I'm an early riser.”
She buried her face in his shirt, but the laugh escaped anyway. Yeah. The man was all innuendo. And sex. And hot. His erection refused to ebb. It rested against her knee, a constant reminder of what they hadn't done.
Keri gave herself a few more seconds to get her blush under control before meeting his gaze. “How many years have you waited to say that?”
“Only a few.” He crossed his hands behind his head, breaking the soothing caress.
His expression hardened in slow degrees. Up until now she'd assumed he was a carefree man who did whatever the hell he wanted, but his face, the darkness that lurked in his gaze, jolted her heart. Dangerous. She could believe he'd been one hell of a con man, but what else he could have been rushed to the forefront of her mind.
He blew out a breath and any tension that lined his jaw softened. “If you're curious, go for it.”
The coldhearted man she'd seen flicker in his eyes disappeared. Since she first realized her—for lack of a better word—problem and all the years afterward, Keri had done tons of research on sex. It's what she was hardwired to do and why she loved her job—the research, the studies, the results, theories and discoveries. She understood sex in the basic biochemical way.
Yet his open offer of exploration couldn't be condensed into a presentation and it seemed to shift something inside her she couldn't put into words. She so wanted to believe it, but many men had told her not being able to orgasm with them was fine. They didn't take it personally. Until she started to get the chill.
Wary, she asked, “I explore you and then we have sex?”
“If that's what you want.”
Men had said that before, but they usually didn't mean it. “And what do you want?”
He glanced down. “A bit obvious, I think.”
“So, why did you imply we didn't have to have sex?”
“I can want it. Doesn't mean I'll get it. Doesn't mean I have to have it.”
She tried to puzzle that one out. When she wanted to come, not just have sex or intimacy, she could wait until getting home, but that burning ache couldn't be ignored for long. Only being able to come by herself did skew her perspective, but Tristan didn't have that problem. Hell, she didn't think he had an issue of finding a willing partner five seconds after realizing he was horny. “And you're fine without it?”
“I've done my fair share of fucking. Hasn't lost its appeal by any means. Sex just doesn't mean the same thing to me anymore. It's not a race or something to rack up like points.”
She curled her fingers into his shirt. “So...it used to be?”
He tensed and no answer was forthcoming. She looked up. His eyes were closed, but she held her breath, so scared he'd ignore the question. In context, the answer didn't matter, but up until now it had felt she could ask him anything. He lay open and willing to her exploration, both physically and mentally. She didn't want that to change, not yet.
“I sometimes used sex to get what I wanted.” He exhaled and then his Adam's apple bobbed before he looked at her again.
She expected an honest answer, but this made her want to reel back from him and ask more questions. Sex was different for her. She'd never had one-night stands, because she figured what would be the use? She'd gone for relationships where she could, maybe, feel okay about her condition and, maybe, she'd orgasm.
What did sex mean to a man who had likely traveled the world, conned for a living until he took up a hammer to become a carpenter? What did a man like Tristan want?
She'd have asked, but they had four more days together. What did his past matter to her? Tristan was there now. His hands still cushioned his head. His cock still pressed at his boxers. She could touch him, kiss him, caress him to her heart's content. He needed nothing in return. She didn't have to somehow make up for being defective. There was a power in that.
So much of it, her head buzzed with lightness. And if she was actually the woman she was portraying, she might have taken full advantage. Still... “Are you sure?”
Tristan grasped her hand, pushed it down so it rested just above his pelvic bone and then resumed his position. His brow lifted in challenge. Did she have the balls?
“I'm thinking we should go mingle,” she said, chickening out, but Keri narrowed her gaze on his face to catch his true reaction.
He didn't flinch. “A day out?”
“Sounds ideal. I live in this general area, so I know all the haunts. You're from Scotland so you can play tourist. California must be like a different world for you.”
“Mostly.” He moved a hand to scratch at his five o'clock shadow. “I've worked in America long enough to be here legally. First time near the water, though.”
His confession kept her shoulders tight, but she tried to shake it off. He wasn't using her, right? She had nothing to offer him. Not in a tangible sense. Even if his motives were to just have sex, there was no high horse for her to ride on, was there? No.
Letting go of the anxiety, she ran through a list of tourist spots in her head and then smiled. “I know just the place. It's off the beaten path. We might need to take a cab to it, but later in the afternoon.”
“Aye? Where?”
She smiled. His genuine curiosity eased any nerves and soothed any doubts. He wasn't playing with her. “First we have to do our job and schmooze the association. After that we can play.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“All work and no play makes Tristan an unhappy boy?”
He chuckled. “I learned a long time ago, you have to make the fun wherever you are. Otherwise, it's all work.”
She wasn't sure what that meant—he was never unhappy or he always played. The man was a mystery, a puzzle. She did her best to not wonder what actually made him tick. This was sex. This was something fluffy, without meaning, but she became a scientist, a conservator to plug in the holes in history and tell a story. She couldn't help but want his too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The ice in the cooler sloshed when Tristan faced her. He gave her a quick once-over. “Do you get seasick?”
The second-youngest couple in the association made their way down the dock. After everyone for the conference met up in the breakfast room, it hadn't taken long for their day's duty to be mapped out.
“That’s not why I look queasy,” she answered.
He followed her gaze. The man and woman had that bleached-blond look of having spent their life in the sun. She moisturized and he didn’t, but their smiles were as bright as their platinum hair.
“You'll do fine,” he said. “They're nice.”
Since she was a scientist and not a grifter or a con, she didn't buy his lies. “Just look like I want to bite you?”
He wagged his brows before shifting the cooler onto the motorboat's bench in front of the seats. She knew nothing about boats, just knew it looked like it cost more than the hotel room. Maybe that was where they put most of their money for the conference—the perks.