by Melissa Blue
“Ask me again, Keri,” he said.
She wanted his finger lower. Needed his hands to cup her breasts and then knead them until they were heavy and full. She wanted to know all that she could ask from him without shame. Tristan wasn’t promising her the world, so there wasn’t any confusion about what would happen between them, but he demanded something from her she couldn’t quite give him yet.
“Kiss me,” she said.
He wrapped his fingers around her throat. His bulky frame was taut with tension and he loomed over her. Keri’s mind screamed danger. Yet she could easily break the hold by turning her head, but she couldn’t look away. Not while the gray in his eyes seemed opaque. He had no intention to harm her, but the grasp was a claiming nonetheless. It wasn’t fear that stoked heat in her stomach.
Tristan slid his hand up until the full line of her throat was exposed. Leaving her neck open for the taking was a gesture of prey to show submission. He did look like a predator, just one bite away from devouring her.
She wanted him to.
“Just a kiss?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Tristan leaned forward, brushed his lips across her chin. “You want more than a kiss?”
He was close enough now that she could feel what he wanted. The tip of his cock prodded right at the bottom juncture of her breasts. She closed her eyes. “Yes.”
And then his mouth was on hers, devouring the soft moan that spilled from her lips. Tristan pushed her onto the bed, keeping her legs caged between his. The down comforter molded around her, soft and cool. Such a contrast to the man steeled on top of her. He was heat. He was hard. It wasn’t enough. She wanted him hard and hot inside her.
She attacked the buttons on his shirt. He stopped kissing her long enough to help her get it off. She sighed once his skin was bared beneath her hands. Her fingers and gaze caught on the silver barbell at the same time. The earring pierced his nipple. Such a small thing. Something she didn’t think he’d have but it fit him. He was a bundle of contradictions and surprises. And… it was sexy on him.
“Want to lick it?” he asked, a smile clear in his gaze.
“Maybe. Later.” She sank deeper into the mattress in a hazy bliss. Not the best hotel bed, but it’d do. How many people had done the same thing they were about to do on it? The hotel couldn’t exactly clean a mattress, and body fluids seeped into material. She made a low sound of distress.
Tristan slid back, a frown furrowing his brows. “Am I too heavy?”
It was starting already. Dammit. “No. Keep going. Don’t stop.”
He pulled his legs up to her hips and she hadn’t even noticed that he’d balled his hands on the hem of her dress. She wiggled to ease her outfit up. He let out a hiss and tossed it across the room.
No way could she ever know how he saw her. All she had were facts. She was a woman of medium build. Really, a little on the average side from head to toe. The way he lingered on her breasts, the curves of her hips and legs, average was the last word he’d likely use.
“More?” he asked with a grin.
She laughed at the cheeky smile. “A lot more.”
Within her next breath, he’d captured her nipple between his lips. It hardened on contact and the other followed suit when he lavished the bud with his tongue. She grasped the comforter and tried to inhale, but her breath was lost.
She basked in the sensations that seemed to be concentrated both on her breasts and sex. In no time, his mouth was hot and wet and so was she. Undoubtedly blood had to be rushing to her clit, engorging the hood and outer areas.
No. No. Don’t think. Just feel.
He rested his hands on her waist, but he drew small circles with his thumbs. Touch me like that but lower. If he did, then her brain could stop trying to process everything. She wouldn’t ruin something perfectly wonderful by overthinking.
He cupped her breasts, pushed them closer and licked back and forth between the two. Her skin flushed.
How many nerve endings were in a nipple? She caught on the thought and tried to follow. Because she couldn’t remember, Keri hadn’t noticed Tristan had stopped. She opened her eyes and met his gaze.
“Do tell,” he said, looking amused instead of irritated.
“Hmm?”
“You muttered ‘mammary glands’ and now I’m curious.”
She shut her eyes and hoped like hell she’d die from an embolism. She did sometimes suffer from the rare and unexplainable headache. Unfortunately, he continued to draw small circles on her abdomen, but for the most part he’d stopped trying to seduce her.
Keri would have to confess since death didn’t seem imminent. “I have a problem.” She sighed, opening her eyes again. “I tried to tell you earlier, but it seemed a moot point after the fact.”
He settled on one of his elbows. That was a good sign at least. His cock, still very hard, pressed into her stomach and he wasn’t running in the other direction. “Huh. You thought you wouldn’t come.”
“I normally don’t.”
Pleasure lit his gaze. “I see.”
She snorted. “Is it a man thing to be satisfied in being the first?”
“I’m sure if I told you I never came during oral sex, you’d try to make me. If I did come, you’d feel empowered. Validated even.”
She’d never thought of it like that but had to give him that point. “So, just don’t stop. No matter what I mutter.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t answer my question. Why mammary glands?”
“Well, you were…” She gestured to her breasts. “And then I tried to remember how many nerves were in a nipple.”
He made a noncommittal noise. “The fourth to sixth intercostal nerve runs through your breasts. Don’t know the exact number, but I could tell you how many there are on the head of a dick.”
She blinked, taken aback by his answer. “Oh.”
He grinned and probably knew what she’d been thinking. “Being a con man sometimes meant knowing a little bit of everything. Aside from that, we need to address what you feel is a problem.”
Goose bumps ran up her arms. Here it was. Soon, she’d be in about every position known to man just so he could prove his manhood by making her come again. When he failed, the blame would shift to her for being defective. Even if he didn’t say it outright and no matter how many reassurances he gave, she’d still feel like something was wrong with her. She didn’t feel broken, not with him. She didn’t want to, ever.
“I don’t want to.”
He was slow to react but finally he nodded. “No pressure. I’m a simple man. You being wet is good enough for me. If you can’t remember an answer to a random question, you can ask and I might know it.”
She looked at him, hard. “You’re full of shit.”
He shifted, sliding his hand down her stomach, into her panties without fanfare. She gasped. He spread the lips of her sex and trailed his finger over the hood of her clit.
Tristan whistled low. “Not wet enough. Let’s do something about that.”
“Wait,” she started to say but then he was dipping his finger into her sex.
The move shocked and then aroused her. Already he’d shifted again and his teeth were nipping the crook of her neck. Maybe he spent most of his adulthood proving he was a man and didn’t need to now. From the moment they met Tristan held a self-assured air about him. It was probably why no one questioned them as a couple. Why would he be any different in bed?
She couldn’t begin to speculate, but that confidence was an aphrodisiac within itself. She needed to know just how wet he could make her, more than she wanted to ponder the amount of oxytocin hormone likely pumping into her brain.
This all-consuming sensation of her every nerve coming alive, every inch of her skin becoming sensitive, was no different than when it was just her and her toys. Keri could reach an orgasm on her own just fine. Delving into the world of her mind and creating fantasies helped. Knowing how she liked to be touched bridged the arousal to
something physical.
Tristan was doing the same. He was the fantasy. He touched her without direction and it felt good. His fingers kept exploring and the heat in her stomach continued to build. His mouth lowered back to her breasts. She moaned, searching for him with her hands. She needed to touch him too. Any part of him would do.
Her fingertips brushed his hair. She hesitated and then closed her hands in the thick and silky strands. His teeth closed around her nipple in a light grip. Her hold tightened.
“Bite me,” she said without thinking.
Tristan did. Pleasure sluiced through her stomach. He moved down from her breasts, but every exploration was followed by a suck and then a light bite. Her skin was too sensitive to register it as pain. It only sent another wave of need to settle into her breastbone. Pinpricks followed his next bite—along her hip.
Her hands were buried in his hair. Had she been unconsciously guiding him with delicate pushes to where she wanted him most? But her sex ached and his mouth performed tiny miracles. His tongue too, because she felt a jolt and then a deep abiding warmth whenever he used it. He used his mouth on her inner thigh now and, yes, her hands gripped his hair as though to say, “So good, but right here is where I want you.”
She flushed again because that was so…wanton. Her actions left no real difference in telling him she wanted him to bury his face in her pussy versus lifting her hips so his face would be. Okay. The true difference was that in one scenario Keri likely got what she asked for.
But she hadn’t said the words and Tristan licked his way to her clit. He stopped short of giving her what she wanted. He pressed his mouth against the juncture of her sex, right above where the real action could start. She stilled, although everything in her wanted to lift her hips or tug at his hair to say what she couldn’t possibly speak.
Wait. Where did her panties go?
“I took them off,” he said.
Anticipation built as he dragged her to the edge of the bed and he knelt between her legs. He ran his fingernails over her thighs but shifted so one leg was thrown over his shoulder. When he’d positioned her other foot on the edge of the bed, he kissed right above the crease of her sex. He breathed deeply and the exhale caressed her with the same potency as his lips.
Maybe she would have an orgasm, and then she wondered how many women couldn’t climax. She’d researched the number once and was astounded. Eighty percent? Ninety-five?
He briefly lifted his head and muttered, “Seventy-five percent,” then he closed his mouth over her clit.
Oh.
He was going to have plugs of hair missing if he kept this up, because… Oh. For a man, he had beautiful hair and losing any of it would be a shame, so she let go and dug her nails into the comforter above her head. She had to be wet enough now, but he kept tonguing her, and then he groaned. She whimpered at the hungry sound he made.
He grasped her leg at the edge of the bed and pushed it up, spreading her wider. Again she was exposed, but her mind couldn’t remember any prey other than humans displaying this position as a sign of submission.
His sucks and licks became more fervent but Keri didn’t come. She wanted to, needed to because an ache in her stomach formed and refused to relent. Whenever on her own, and feeling like this, she’d fantasize about something completely dirty.
Sex had so many mores, but Tristan was correct—you liked what you liked. She liked to wonder what a man’s cock would feel like between her breasts. She liked to remember what it felt like to have a man groan or growl and then he’d come. A warm and a bit tangy liquid would fill her mouth.
If she asked for anything kinky how could she meet his gaze later? He’d probably make her and tell her not to have any shame about what they’d done. She didn’t know what to ask for even to demand it in a loud and clear voice anyway. But maybe he’d know something, could hear it in her voice. He knew just how to touch her. He knew that saying “fuck me” again would have filled her with mortification and hadn’t held it against her.
“Tristan.” She moaned and looked at him.
His eyes were the color of blue granite and he had the same expression as before, as though he had to leash back his most primitive self. She didn’t want that for him. Her heart raced and the rhythmic beat pounded in her ears. Keri started to tell him to do something surprising, likely kinky and if ever uttered in polite circles would get him banned.
His eyes lit right before he lowered his mouth. His tongue slipped between her ass cheeks. A jolt shot through her and then the pinpricks of foreign sensations engulfed her. Tristan didn’t stop there. He continued to massage her clit with his thumb, teasing, enticing it, and heat slammed into her.
Her heel dug into his shoulder and she lifted her hips. The actions weren’t intentional but she had to get closer. In the back of her mind Keri could hear herself moaning, practically screaming, but she was too busy trembling, so desperate to reach the orgasm waiting for her to grasp it. His tongue pressed deeper, his finger rolled faster and a euphoria washed over her. Nothing could penetrate through the haze of how wonderful that felt.
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. 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, but this wasn’t a penance. He was 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. But 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, but then 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 nothi
ng 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.