“Tristan, please,” she whispered.
But he didn’t stop, just began caressing the underside of her thighs. His tongue danced from toe to toe as he moved his warm, wet mouth to the other foot, reminding her what he could do with it. Without warning, he firmly pushed her legs apart, and saw her soaked panties. His head lifted from her toes and descended onto her crotch as he kissed her pussy through the pink underwear. She moaned and leaned back, her feet slipping over his shoulders and down his back as he began licking around her moist folds but not touching them directly.
“I love torturing you,” he murmured.
“You’re so cruel,” she said.
“You love it.”
“God, yes.”
Both of his hands slid up to her waist, onto her belly, fingers caressing her sides as his hand slipped under her shirt. The steady progress toward her full breasts and straining nipples was meant to be tortuously methodical, building anticipation that made her lay all the way down and arch her torso into his hands, which finally cupped her tits. He squeezed gently, firmly, engorging her nipples with blood. The motion caused those twin peaks to brush along her cotton shirt again and again, and she knew he was doing it on purpose, turning something as innocent as fabric into a sex toy.
By then, he’d noticed her thong was the rip-away type. He took it between his teeth and pulled toward him, exposing her soft pink folds to his eyes and the cool air. She felt the panties snap away and gripped the table hard. He lifted her shirt over her nipples, exposing aching skin, and she shuddered at the freedom. The fingers of both his hands lightly traced her tits up to the tops of her nipples just as his tongue gently licked her pussy from the bottom to the top. Victoria gasped.
“You taste so good,” he said.
“Oh, I miss your tongue, Tristan!”
She pulled her legs up to surrender her pussy to his mouth. His tongue slid up and down so lightly that it almost tickled. Then he ravaged the soft nub between her folds at the same time that his hands pinched her nipples. She let out a cry. Tristan alternated then, both hands pinching together, then tonguing her clit, then the nipple clench, then tongue on clit, over and over as he worked her into a frenzy. Her hips began to gyrate up and down and he let go of her breasts to put both hands on her ass, preventing any escape as he thrust his tongue into her pussy. But there was no stopping her hips, which pushed her folds against his mouth again and again while she gripped the table for leverage.
Suddenly she sucked in a huge breath and froze. A deep orgasm began to build, gathering from her breasts toward her belly, and down from her still-wet toes up her legs. The calm before the storm left in a rush, as shooting spikes of pleasure coursed toward her pussy, which seemed to gasp in anticipation of the fury about to rip through it. A moment of fear struck Victoria before her pussy erupted, and she screamed out Tristan’s name as she lost control of herself. Stars shot behind her closed eyes and she thrashed on the table, a wave of cum soaking her vagina and dripping down her ass onto the table, except for what Tristan eagerly licked up. She lost all sense of time and place. Tristan had made her cum again, after five long years, and only that mattered. No one else had ever done that to her, and no one ever would. She’d never let them. Her pussy belonged to him.
And he was back. For the moment, she didn’t care how long it was for.
She looked up, dazed and limp like a rag doll, to see Tristan standing between her legs. He’d somehow stripped himself and stood nude, his huge cock proudly straining into the air, the head covered in pre-cum she wanted to taste. He wore a look of such lust on his face that she began panting as he lifted her feet over his shoulders, eagerness making her helpless, and loving it.
“Oh, Tristan,” she moaned.
“My God, Victoria,” he whispered, “you’re magnificent. I have to fill you.”
She shuddered in response. “I don’t want anything in between you and me. I’m on birth control.”
“No condom? I’m clean.”
“Me, too.” She gasped as the head of his penis touched her wet folds. “Please fuck me, Tristan.”
“A half-hearted beg gets only half a cock.”
She smiled and cried out, “Fuck me, Tristan!”
He grinned. Then he slid his cock up and down her folds while his hands moved up to her breasts again. A flick of her nipples sent a fresh jolt to her pussy. Her eyes pleaded with him and he pushed his cock in so the head disappeared inside her. She gasped, stretching to accommodate his girth, gazing up at him to see a sex flush on his red chest.
“So handsome,” she whispered, near to tears with longing. Tristan leaned over her, letting her legs slide down so he could reach her ruby lips. He hovered just above, their lips near to touching, their eyes drinking each other in; lust, adoration, affection, and buried love shone in both of their gazes.
“Time to claim you at least,” Tristan whispered.
She slid both hands into his golden locks with more tenderness than she thought possible. “Yes!”
He consummated the kiss with a softness that surprised her. She pressed back, and suddenly they crushed each other’s lips. And just when she thought she might faint from longing, Tristan rammed his hard cock to the hilt inside Victoria Lane, his heavy balls resting against her ass, his pubic bone against her clit, and the length of him filling her to the brim with burning desire.
Her velvety softness, slick wetness, and furnace-like heat awed him. Their moans and cries sounded like crazed animals. For a moment, they were too overcome to do more than kiss madly at each other, caught between lustful tongue lashing and the sweet crushing of their lips together. All sense of time vanished, but finally Tristan recovered enough to remember there was more to this.
Gathering her in an embrace from which she could not escape, and did not want to leave—ever—he slid his cock out most of the way, then all the way back in, rocking himself back and forth against her with each full entry, each time snuggling her pubic bone. Again and again he did it, all the while holding her tightly as she wildly caressed his hair, shoulders, and back, their mouths more intimately entwined than their privates. Sweat slicked their bodies. Moans and cries filled the air. The windows fogged up and the world disappeared around them.
In the throes of passion, Victoria forgave Tristan everything and anything, clinging to him like the enraptured girl she’d once been, before she was aware of the pain of heartbreak that awaited her. She resented him no longer, waves of love overpowering her. Any last resistance fell away as an intense orgasm built in her pussy and surged down her legs and arms, as though the pleasure might spurt from her hands and feet with the cries of pleasure erupting from her mouth.
Tristan’s body had passed the point of no return and he braced himself. His sac and anus tightened as the orgasm built, frighteningly swiftly, to a crescendo. He cried out as if in pain and burst inside her pussy, thick gobs of cum pumping into her with each pulsating throb. His engorged cock grew even thicker, leaving no room inside her for his seed, which dripped out of her.
Victoria looked up at Tristan’s flushed face, seeing amazement and vulnerability in his beautiful green eyes. The sweetheart she had loved was still up in there. And down in her pussy. She smiled then, eyes briefly teary before she closed them and kissed his luscious lips, pulling him down on her again. Tristan collapsed on her softness as best he could in his position. His cock still throbbed, and her pussy spasmed around his manhood as if the two were having their own private conversation down there, speaking in a language of pulsating throbs they both understood. Their owners kissed tenderly, living in the moment, a heaven made of human flesh, desire, and fulfillment.
Chapter 3 – It Still Burns
Tristan wouldn’t have been surprised if he were, in fact, in heaven, for nothing could possibly feel better than this. He snuggled against Victoria’s neck, noticing her subtle scent, as she wasn’t one for perfume. God, how he missed the smell of her. And everything else. The fire in her brown eyes had been u
nlike anything he’d ever seen. Even on the day he’d broken up with her, that light hadn’t appeared. Only tears. The cuteness of her heart-shaped face and pert nose had only made those tears seem all the more out of place, as if someone so sweet should never know pain. That he was the one causing it had made him feel awful.
But now the only thing he felt was relief to see her again, to hear her voice, to feel that smooth skin, like fine porcelain, a cascade of hair like milk chocolate across white chocolate. She was sweeter than both in spades. His heart ached as the years of missing her caught up to him all at once. He was a fool, he now knew. Longing rapidly grew in the empty hole in his heart.
He propped himself up on one elbow to gaze down on her, seeing the velvety brown hair spread out around her on the maple table, her eyes alight with inner life, and her lips parted. She looked so sweet, warm, and inviting that her softness overcame him. He wanted to protect her, to keep her from anyone but him, and to make her his. She moved beneath him then and the sensation up his cock brought a moan of delight from him. She grinned then with a malicious intent that brought a slow smile to his own face. She rocked her hips against him as Tristan shuddered, his erection having lost none of itself. She didn’t have the leverage she needed for riding him, so he took over, pulling out of her to a cry of disappointment.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not finished with you yet.”
“You better not be!”
He flipped her over so her feet touched the floor, her full ass up in the air. He hadn’t seen such a lovely rear in a long time and caught his breath. Without preamble, he slid his cock up her pussy to the hilt. She purred up at him.
While he thrust in and out, Tristan’s expert hands made a playground of her curves. He gently caressed her ass to heighten her sensitivity before squeezing firmly. He had her breathing hard before he ran his fingers along her back, teasing her by slipping over her sides and brushing the outside of both breasts as if by accident. Her nipples stiffened in anticipation, but he went elsewhere on purpose.
“Oh, you bastard,” she moaned.
“Sorry, honey.” Tristan’s hands went to her belly, one sliding up to near her tits as the other found her dark pubic hair, which was long enough for him to tug at, stimulating her crotch indirectly. Jolts of desire shot down her legs and into her ass as an orgasm signaled its impending arrival.
“No, you’re not sorry!”
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“I’ve waited long enough for this!” She lifted up on her tiptoes and sucked in a breath as the orgasm rapidly built in her loins. Fire erupted in her pussy, which became slick with their cum while she bucked against him.
Tristan grinned sardonically at what he was doing to her. He loved pleasuring her far more than himself. With that in mind, he waited until she stopped shuddering, her pussy twitching spasmodically around him. He reached up with both hands to cup her breasts and she moaned deep in her throat, as if afraid.
When his fingers touched her nipples, she hissed a sharp breath through clenched teeth and began trembling. Tristan went to work on her tits, alternating between firm squeezes, gentle caresses, twirling fingers around the areolas, and pinching the nipples. Bolts of pleasure coursed down her stomach into her pussy as he relentlessly thrust his cock into her so that his balls slapped against her. The sensation was too much for Victoria, who soon erupted in an orgasm so fierce that tears sprang from her eyes and she screamed his name so hard that her throat hurt.
As she thrashed wildly, Tristan groaned louder and louder, his cock stiffening to the point of being painful as his balls tightened and a massive load of cum shot deep into her pussy, which clutched at him involuntarily, milking him for every drop. Nothing but heavy breathing split the air as Tristan reveled in the moment.
Victoria laid her face on the welcome cool wood of the table, smiling dreamily for a few moments, spent beyond her endurance. She lifted up and reluctantly separated from him, his cock sliding out of her pussy. She straightened on legs that shook, eyes bemused and dazed. Almost desperately, she grabbed a handful of nearby clothes in trembling hands, not daring to look at Tristan for fear she’d slide her tongue into his mouth and never pull it back out.
“Well, sweetie,” she began, patting his cheek, where she’d slapped him earlier, “I need to clean up. Stay here.” She felt delirious, hiding her shell-shocked face from him as she left, taking her bodysuit and boots with her to the bathroom.
He cleaned himself up with tissues and got dressed, lost in thought. He felt good. Bemused. Happy. That was it, he realized, smiling peacefully. Being with Victoria just now had made him happier than he could ever remember being, except for maybe the last time he’d been with her. It was no wonder that thoughts of her had haunted him ever since. Maybe that was why he hurtled around race tracks, as if trying to get away from the nagging desire to come home to her.
But now he was here. She was here; the last he’d heard, she’d moved away shortly after he left. After all these years, fate had brought them back here at the same time. That had to mean something. They could be together again, just like old times. Maybe even better. Their lovemaking certainly hadn’t lost any of its zest. His heart ached at the missed years. They had a lot of catching up to do, though this was a good start.
He didn’t know how long he stood in that room waiting for her to return from the bathroom and into his arms again, for another kiss. When he heard the bathroom door down the hall quietly shut, he expected her to appear and was surprised when she didn’t. He went into the entryway of the exercise studio and saw the front door ajar. A glance toward the bathroom showed it was empty, the door open. Just then, his bike roared to life out front, and he strolled outside to find Victoria suited up and ready to go, helmet and gloves on. He smiled, thinking a post-coital ride could be great fun, so he stepped up beside her.
“Hang on a second and I’ll get my gear,” he said over the engine.
“No need,” she said, kicking up the stand.
“Why not?” he asked, still smiling. She looked great on his bike, right where she belonged. He needed to discover how she’d gotten over her fear and learned to ride. This was going to be great.
Victoria answered, “Look, it was a fun tryst, Tristan, but you’ve got your life to live, and I’ve got mine. I’ll see you around.”
His smile vanished. “What? Are you kidding?”
She put the bike into first from neutral. “I loved you once, but I’m over you now.”
His eyes darkened with shadows and she looked away as if unable to handle the effect her words caused. She revved the engine over his protests and sped off, leaving him standing with his jaw on the ground. The motorcycle disappeared around a stand of trees at the first curve. Victoria was gone.
Tristan felt stunned. Her words pierced his heart. She had to be kidding. No one could feel what they had and then just shut it down afterward like it was no big deal. He’d seen his fair share of ploys from women trying to reel him in, but he didn’t think this was one of them. She had to be lying. He just didn’t know why. Maybe something had happened after he’d last seen her. She’d slapped him, after all, and she had been the farthest thing from violent. Time heals all wounds, but she’d seemed more upset now than five years ago.
If she wouldn’t tell him, the gossip mill around Comus might fill him in. Once he knew what was bothering her, he could figure out what to do. Make it right. Prostrating himself was probably a good start. He had to tell her how he felt, even if she destroyed him for it. It was worth any price, any humiliation, any pain for a second shot at a life with Victoria Lane. He would convince her of his sincerity. If this was a game, he’d make sure they both won.
Despite his confident thoughts, her words ate away at him while he paced before her empty studio. Women so often claimed men didn’t have feelings like insecurity, but Tristan knew that was a crock. Men can be hurt just as easily but do a very good job of covering it up. It’s part of being
a man. But when the woman you love blows you off, even if you think she doesn’t want to, you can’t help wondering if there’s some truth to what she’s said.
Maybe she loved someone else. He hadn’t thought to ask. The idea caused such a sharp jab of pain in his chest that he clutched it and forcibly put the thought from his mind. If it was true she was already involved, he’d be the other guy’s problem, not the other way around. He’d see to that. But she wasn’t the cheating type any more than he was, so that gave him hope.
Sighing heavily, Tristan went back inside, looking for a phone. Victoria hadn’t even locked the place up. She must’ve trusted him at least a little then, so maybe all was not lost. He called his oldest brother, Quinn, who’d likely heard the news about Tristan getting suspended from the sport bike racing circuit. That wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to, but now he needed a ride. He punched in the home number and listened as it rang three times, wondering what to say.
“Hello?” Quinn’s deep, booming voice brought a rush of familiarity and homesickness to Tristan.
“Hey, bro,” Tristan began.
“Tristan! How the hell are you?”
“Stranded at the moment.”
“Stranded where? You need money?”
Tristan smiled. He made good money with his winnings, but his brother would’ve given him the shirt off his back. “I’m at the Comus strip mall.”
“What? Seriously? You’re in town?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit! I can’t wait to see you! I’ll come get you. Wait. Why are you stranded? What’s up with your bike?”
Tristan (The Kendall Family #1) Page 2