Kiltless

by Melissa Blue

  She squeezed her thighs, needing the friction lower. Her need, slick and hot, dampened her mound. She wouldn't thank him for this. Not for the heat building in her stomach and chest without a release. His touch continued to seed an unbearable lust that needed to be sated. His seduction with his mouth and hand felt languid but focused.

  Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but the sound of his unsteady breath whipped a thrill through her. This tortured him too. He had such control she wondered at times if he was unaffected. Touching her, seeing her flushed and moaning, turned Tristan on. He wasn't immune. She loved the flush of warmth from knowing that.

  She reached behind her, between their bodies, and let her fingers find what she needed the most. His cock was sleek, hard and pressed right up against her ass. She tried to guide him, but he gripped her wrist and pulled her arm up. It didn't hurt, but there was no way she could wrest her arm from the hold.

  “No fair,” she said.

  “I'm working up to that.”

  “You don't have to.”

  “I want to.” He ran the tip of his tongue over her ear. “I like the taste of you, the feel of you against me. Makes me rock hard.”

  He let go of her wrist and ran his thumb over the crease of her ass. She hissed but arched back. She wanted him to take her arousal and massage her there again. Slicken the tight hole and then slide his finger as deep as he could go.

  His finger drew deeper between the crease. She tensed, waiting for the slow plunge, but nothing came. She moaned her frustration.

  He said, “If you want me to fuck you there, just ask for it.”

  Her breath caught. “Not with your—um, uh...”

  “Dick. Cock. Prick.” His voice grew heavy with each word. His finger prodded the hole. Her sex clenched.

  “Dick,” she said. He traced the outline and groaned. “Cock.”

  He moved his hand for only a second but when he pressed against her anus, she felt the wetness. He'd licked his index finger?

  “Prick,” she cried.

  “And I'll give it to you after this.” He dipped his finger into her at a slow pace. Her clit tingled. She couldn't describe the intimate invasion or what it did for her. She didn't think she'd ever come from his finger alone, but Tristan was capable. He picked up the pace and stole her breath.

  “Put your foot on my thigh and touch that pretty pussy.”

  Lifting her leg seemed to seat him deeper. Her moan sounded desperate. She pulled her hand from behind her and cupped her mound, not yet ready for direct contact. She'd come. From one touch. Her clit ached from the forbidden soft strokes. She stiffened her finger, doing her best to avoid sliding against the swollen nub. She wasn't quite full but could imagine how thick his cock would feel inside her and his fingers pumping, caressing the tight star.

  She clenched and then inserted a second finger. The position of her arm had pressed her breast closer together. Her nipples had never looked so distended and dark. Oh.

  He whispered, his voice almost intelligible from the lust deepening the gruffness, “I can feel you tightening on my finger.” He paused. “Show me how wet your fingers are.”

  She stiffened, her sex still squeezing her fingers. She turned her face into the pillow and moaned into the case. He cursed and pulled his finger from inside her. She fisted her hand into the pillow when the shudders and quakes hit. He wrapped his arm around her waist, murmuring soft words she didn't hear over the blood rushing into her ears. It couldn't soothe the heat that consumed her, but her heart thudded, ached.

  He shifted for only a few seconds, but the cold started to creep in. Her head was clearing. They agreed on sex, not intimacy. He wasn't answering a call to something deeper within her by caressing the sides of her breast, her waist and hip—he just knew what she needed during sex.

  She sighed, content anyway. If she didn't feel comfortable, at ease and trusting of her sex partner, then she was doing it wrong. Proven by all the men who missed giving her an orgasm like playing a game of pin the tail on the donkey. She stretched, raising her hands above her head and letting out that contentment in another sigh.

  “Pearson, you're killing me.”

  “Side product, but pleasing nonetheless.” She wiggled her ass as best she could while lying on her side.

  His groan made her smile. His cock nudged at her entrance. This wasn't something more than sweat and come. He'd put on a condom. Goose bumps pricked her skin, but her heart still ached.

  “I'm waiting for this incredible experience I'm supposed to thank you for.”

  “I've turned you into a monster.” His fingers dug into her inner thigh. “I shouldn't like it.”

  The tip of his dick prodded her soaking pussy. Her lower lips parted for him and suckled him, until his next thrust drove him farther. The first stroke never stopped making her nipples tingle and then bead. The thrill worked its way down to her toes. How could her chest not constrict?

  She'd started to sweat and his stomach joined the skin of her back. Was it kinky to like the feel of him slicked from her skin? Did it cross a line to crave the way his hips worked behind her?

  She didn't care. His being inside her was enough. The feel of his cock gliding in and out, spreading her, stroking her, built up her next orgasm. She gripped him. Her nails dug into his thigh. When had she grasped hold of him to keep him buried deep? She panted, her vision blurring. Keri tilted her head back, her moans rumbling in her chest and spilling out of her throat.

  His hand suddenly clamped around her neck. His roughed palm held her in his grasp, captive to the thrust of his hips, his teeth grazing her ear and his breath shuddering out. Her climax slammed into her and wrenched out a scream as her pussy spasmed around him.

  He cursed. She was lost in the ecstasy that drew her undertow. She bit into the pillow, his fingernails scraping against the line of her neck as he let out his own shout of bliss. She melted into the bed, him, and tried to fight off sleep. Not tonight. She wouldn't lie to herself and think they had more than one more day. The man had itchy feet for any kind of commitment.

  “Don't fall asleep,” he said tiredly. Pulling out of her, he released the hold on her neck and then shifted Keri under him. “Don't. We're not done yet.”

  She fought against the weights trying to keep her lids closed. She met his gaze. A hit to her gut pushed out a gasp. What she thought she saw woke her like a jolt of caffeine. The emotions swirling in his gray-blue eyes whispered words like I need you, I need this, stay with me—intimacy.

  Keri tried to force herself to look away and deny what he secretly asked for, but one more day didn't feel enough to have all the sex they could have. They shared hurts and that didn't matter. His skin slicked from her sex did matter. His gaze...she ignored, filed it away for months later when he became a wonderful, cherished memory.

  She brushed her fingertips across his lips. “Kiss me.” She demanded what she wanted loud and clear. No shame.

  He smiled, resting his head on hers. “You haven't said thank you yet.”

  She breathed in the scent of their sex, thick in the air. “Well, when you earn it, I'll say it.”

  “I shouldn't like that,” he murmured and then kissed her deeply.

  *****

  A while later, Tristan ran his hands over her hips. Lush. Every part of her. Right now, as she panted, she was his. He could revel in the way her skin brushed against his fingertips. He didn't want to possess her, but there was a comfort in knowing in this moment she'd chose him. She smelled of him.

  What he wanted more than anything was for this to be real. For this to last well past when she woke up the next morning. He wanted to always have her legs entangled with his when he woke up. He wanted her to be the one he confessed to. And she'd be the one who didn't leave him.

  But that wasn’t what they were. He tugged on her bottom lip, introducing a bite of pain to her pleasure. Listening, always listening to her body. He reached down between them and spread the folds of her sex. Wet and ready for him a
gain.

  She turned her head. “Tristan?”

  “Yes.”

  She blinked and laughed. “No. Aye.”

  He feathered a kiss on her brow. “Aye?”

  She balled her hand in his hair. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. “What do you whisper?”

  He knew she meant what was the one thing he was scared of asking for. He'd done plenty of things, but none with his heart. None, never with a woman who made his heart pound with just the way she smiled at him.

  He cradled her face in his hands. Everything about her was his whisper and he brushed his lips over hers.

  “Kiss me,” he said.

  See me.

  “Touch me.”

  Accept me, all of me.

  “Give me your everything.”

  Love me.

  She gasped. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Her fist tightened and she pulled him down to her mouth. He still couldn't suss out her taste, but that didn't matter, because she was kissing him and he could taste the salt of her tears at his answer. She was giving her everything in that one simple gesture. He held her tighter. She was real and his for the moment. That was good enough.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The next day, Tristan wanted to smile down at Keri. She continued her failed attempts with his tie. She needed an excuse to touch him while clothed. Since he decided his heart could go a few more hours without full blood flow, he gave her one. And he shouldn't have.

  “Shouldn't” became a caveat with his every thought since the night before. He shouldn't run his hand over her hair while she slept. He shouldn't kiss her awake so they could go another round. He shouldn't act like they had all the time in the world.

  The borrowed ring she wore glinted in the artificial light, reminding him why they didn't. No matter how much their hotel room had become a haven, how four walls shut out the world, it wasn't real. He could pretend all he wanted the past didn't exist, but it ate at his gut with each passing moment he reveled in.

  He grasped her wrists to still her movements. She met his gaze and the smile she wore died away. He could live out this charade. The coward in him wanted to, but he'd promised himself he'd never lie to another woman about what he was. He made vows he'd broken to help his brother. How could he have ever imagined Keri would turn into this ache in his heart? He couldn't have. How could he have dreamed of this? He wasn't the kind of man who deserved to have a woman like her fixing his tie. So how could he have ever foreseen her walking into his life?

  “What is it?” she asked, running her hands down his chest. “Don't tell me it's nothing.”

  She was trying to comfort him and that twisted in his gut. “Let it go, Keri. We have a dinner to go to.”

  Anger darkened her gaze. “No. You've had that expression all day and I've ignored it. Tell me. Whatever it is, just tell me to get it over with.”

  He brushed his finger over her lips because soon she wouldn't want him to touch her. “My brother calls me a dick for a reason.”

  Her gaze shuttered. She was bracing herself for what he had to say next. She couldn't possibly know, but his tone wasn't flirtatious or teasing. “I thought we'd gone over this already,” she said.

  She'd adorned her ears with dangling clip-ons. After they'd been invited to a dinner at a posh banquet, they'd gone shopping. Currently out of work, she couldn't afford it. He footed the bill. A gesture that... Fuck. Fuck. He didn't want to hurt her or tell her the hard truth about him, but she had to know all his ugly, because despite his warning, she trusted him. He could feel it in the way she leaned into him as he cupped her face. Her earrings bit into his palm. Tristan let go of any hope she'd look past his ugly. No one ever did.

  “When I first started to con, I did it to help feed my family, and then I did it because I was good.”

  He gauged her reaction. She didn't look disgusted yet, but she would. And then what? His heart felt sick. “My specialty was bilking women. I knew the right words to say because after I sent my mother on her way, I made it my life's calling to understand women.”

  He dropped his hands; she hadn't noticed what he'd done. His stomach tightened. “Rich and lonely divorcees were the best marks. I'd sweet talk them and fuck them and make them mine.”

  She jolted back. “What?”

  He opened his hands. Her earrings sat in his palms. “If they noticed what I was doing, they never said. It was almost like a silent arrangement between us. I'd make them feel good, beautiful, desirable, and they'd ignore all the red flags about me. Or maybe they just never noticed what I was doing. They never suspected me because I made them feel good, beautiful and desirable.” He tossed the baubles on the bed and stepped forward. “No amount of reform can take back that's what I used to do.”

  Whatever soft and appealing gaze she held whenever she looked at him died and would never come back. He could leave and she wouldn't hurt over it, because he'd already broken the fragility of what they had. “So, lass, I may be a decent enough human now, but I wasn't always.”

  “I got it the first time.” Her voice didn't waver, but her eyes had a glassy sheen. “Maybe I'm not the one who needed reminding.”

  “There's never a moment I can forget.” He glanced down at her hand and sighed. “You're wearing my reminder.”

  She glanced down at the ring. “Had a feeling it was real. Who did you buy it for?” She laughed and shook her head. “Who did you steal it from?”

  She wasn't running and the tightness in his stomach eased. Maybe she'd stay. Maybe she'd be the first to. “Serena, my last mark, gave it to me. Like I told you, I got sloppy. I got caught. Ian talked her out of pressing charges.”

  Confusion wrinkled her brow. “Why would she give you a ring?”

  “I got sloppy because I started to care for her.” A few years older than him, she was bold, vivacious but lonely. She wanted a boy toy and he happily obliged. Any other time he'd have smiled at the memory of her, because she was the woman who made him change. But his heart twisted at the expression on Keri's face.

  “She wanted me to give it to the woman who I'd want to be an honest man for. A woman who I'd take care of, protect and treat the way I treated her, but for real and with all my heart.”

  She nodded. “Who gave it to her?”

  He blew out a breath. “She was a widow.”

  “And you gave it to me to pull off a con?” Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “If you truly wanted to change, you'd have never given this to me.”

  Tristan flinched. He hadn't given it to her because he never wanted to change, but that he never believed he could. He'd never fathomed it was possible he could ever be or want to be a better man. Not until now, until her. He nodded. “Because I'm not capable of change.”

  From the horrified expression on her face, she probably wanted to walk out the room, not bothering to take her clothes. She swallowed. “We should go or we'll be late.”

  “Keri?”

  She bypassed him to pick up her earrings off the bed as though their conversation had never happened. She clipped on the left one but faced him. “Yes?”

  “You're fine with what I just said to you?” he asked, incredulous.

  “One more day and you'll fulfill your duty to Ian. I'll get his reference, on top of adding what I did yesterday to my résumé. And you had...fun with me.”

  “Had fun with you?” Tristan started to say more but clamped his mouth shut.

  He had no right to get pissed about the way she was handling his confession. He could despair about the fact she'd gone cold on him. But he couldn't tell her she was wrong, to get past it, because that was the one thing he liked about her the most. She gave him honesty, even when it was the last thing he wanted. He tried not to ache at the way she'd filed him away.

  But isn't that what you expected?

  Maybe she needed time to stop looking at him in a way that twisted his gut. He couldn't choose how she reacted to the truth or how long it took for
her to swallow the sharp edges down. She still hadn't answered his question. Time. He could give her that to sift through what she thought were lies. He couldn't have let her keep looking at him with such emotion without being honest. He could give her the truth and time because there was nothing more he could give.

  Keri picked up her mobile from the dresser. Her hand trembled, but she hid the action by gripping it. Fuck. He glanced away, his skin tight from holding himself in place.

  A jazz melody suddenly filled the silence. “It's Jocelyn's ringtone,” she said. “Excuse me.” Her red dress fluttered as she escaped to the bathroom. She didn't slam the door but might as well have.

  He focused on his tie because that was something he could fix. He'd told her the truth. He'd hoped—didn't matter now. She deserved better. Maybe at one time he deserved better too, but he'd... That had been so long ago, back when he was a different boy, not even a man yet.

  He glanced at the bathroom door. Keri had every right to feel what she felt, even if it killed him. He had no one else to blame.

  *****

  The starkness of the bathroom walls seemed so damn fitting. It was the stark truth. Keri had to stop pretending. Did he see through it? Was that why he'd pounded into her that he'd leave, that he wasn't the man who'd soothed her, sexed her and just been the kind of man she hadn't known she wanted?

  He'd bilked women. How exactly should she respond to that? He made her toes curl, her heart flutter, made her giggle and come her brains out...because he'd learned those same traits to con women? Was she easy practice?

  She slumped to the floor in her knee-length dress and tried to get her head to stop spinning. She didn't feel conned, but that was how every mark must have felt. She glanced at the ring on her finger. The woman, Serena, had given up a three-carat ring with a con man's promise he'd give it to the woman he fell in love with. Keri slipped it off and let it clatter onto the bathroom floor.

  He must have been one hell of a criminal.

  Tristan made women love him. Despite all the possible red flags, their safeguards, friends and likely family...he made them love him. They handed over their deceased husband's rings because deep down they still believed a man who bilked women could be capable of love.