I dipped my fingers into her, feeling how dripping wet she was. She cried out, twisting her hips up toward my hand. I teased her clit lightly with my fingers as I licked my way down her neck, her stomach, and her hips.
“Keep saying my name,” I said as I moved my fingers away and moved my head between her legs to taste her. I licked around her, making firm circles and swipes with my tongue, loving the way it made her moan and gasp, loving the way my name kept falling from her lips.
I used my hands to spread her legs wide, and licked her, teasing my fingers at her entrance but holding off, wanting her to come with just my tongue on her the first time. I licked her slowly, and then faster, adding pressure as I went.
“Oh god, Tristan, that’s amazing,” she breathed, and I licked her clit faster in response. I felt addicted to her, like I could do this for hours, could keep her begging and writhing for hours. I wanted to feel her come around my fingers, and around my cock. I felt her tremble under me, her thighs start to shake as I licked her. I knew she was close, so I held her legs steady and licked harder and faster, in firm circles.
“Oh, oh, I--” she said, and then she cried out again, almost a scream, coming hard and shuddering. I licked her through it, holding her still as she squirmed.
I pulled my head back, kissing and sucking on her thighs, hearing her gasps above my head.
“Shit,” she breathed, making my grin against her thighs.
“Did you like that?” I asked, pulling back and pulling off my shirt, “coming for me like that?”
“Yes,” she said, eyes on my chest, my stomach, trailing toward my pants. She leaned up, looking at me with questioning eyes as she reached shaking hands to the button on my pants. I nodded.
“You taste incredible,” I said, licking her wetness off my lips and holding her gaze before leaning down to kiss her so she could taste too, she could know how good she tasted on my lips.
“Tristan,” she said softly, almost a moan, pulling back from my kiss and tugging my pants over my hips. She trailed a hand over my stomach, and placed it on my cock, palming me through my underwear, gasping again at how rock hard I was. I bit my lip and told myself to go slow, to not rush her.
“What else do you want?” I asked, licking my lips again. I wanted to lick her again, taste her over and over until she was spent.
“I want to see you, see your…, feel it,” she said, dipping her fingers again. I rocked my cock up into her hand, letting a moan of my own leave my lips.
“My what?” I asked, swallowing, wanting to see the word on her lips, wanting her to say it.
“Your cock,” she said, “you’re so hard, god.”
“For you,” I said, nodding again, and letting her strip me naked. She gasped again, taking me in as I sprung forward, erect and solid. She swallowed, hard. I didn’t know if she had ever seen a naked man, and I knew even if she had, I was likely much more well-endowed, much bigger. Other woman had told me, in moans, that I was the biggest they’d ever had.
Ella’s eyes were wide, staring at me, so I took one of her hands and guided it around me, so she could stroke my cock. Her hand felt so good on me, so amazing I groaned again even before she started moving her hand. She started up a rhythm right away, stroking me faster, her still shaking hands working over me. I rocked up into her, fucking her hand as she stroked me, eyes staring at her own hand, biting her lip again.
I reached out a hand and ran my thumb over her lips, then slid three fingers into her mouth, in and out, slowly, getting them soaked. Watching her mouth take my fingers, how eager she looked for them, breathing around them as she stroked me was a gorgeous site, one I was sure would burn into my mind. I thrust my fingers in and out of her mouth a few times and then trailed my soaking wet fingers back down her body to touch her clit.
She cried out, still sensitive, and gasped.
“Tristan,” she said, nodding her head rapidly and shutting her eyes. I worked her with fast circles as she stroked my cock, feeling how close I was getting, how fucking turned on I was just from her hands and from watching her. I moved my fingers down her soaking folds to slide one inside her, loving the sound she made when I did.
“Yes, please, yes,” she said, grinding down on my finger. I slid a second finger into her and began to thrust them in and out of her, fast and hard, making her cry out over and over.
“That feels so good,” she said, still grinding herself down my fingers like she wanted more, gasping and twisting as my fingers slid in and out of her. Her hand on my cock picked up its tempo, stroking me even faster like she was trying to keep up with the pace of my fingers inside her.
“You’re so wet, so tight around my fingers,” I said. She felt so good, clenching around my fingers, right and so close to coming again for me.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to fill you up with my cock?” I asked. I was so close to coming I knew I would spill over her hand at any moment.
“Yes, please, please fuck me,” she said. She was begging me, writhing for me, and I wanted to. I wanted to be the first man to fuck her, to be inside her, to claim her. I wanted her to want me to be the first. I pulled my fingers out of her, making her whimper, and started rubbing fast circles on her clit again.
“I intend to,” I said, “next time. I promise.”
She gasped as I came, spurting all over her hand as I did, exploding. Her hand felt so good, felt so amazing on me that the thought of what the rest of her would feel like on and around me was maddeningly hot. I continued rubbing circles on her soaking wet clit as I came down, and she came again around my hand a minute later, calling out my name again. I slid my fingers back inside her as she came, resting them against her walls to feel them shake and clench as she came around me.
I put my fingers in her mouth again after she was finished, wanting her to taste herself again. She sucked them eagerly, making me half hard again at the site. I didn’t want her to have all her firsts in a single night, so I backed away, just a little, pulling my hand out of her mouth and kissing her again, slower and softer now.
For now.
Chapter Nine - Ella
I woke up feeling different than any other morning in my life. All my muscles still felt like they were dancing, and my skin still felt electric. The bed was comfortable, soft and warm, and I wanted to sink down into it and never leave. I felt like a different person here in the palace and I liked it. Next to me in bed, Tristan had left a note, and I flushed just looking at his handwriting, thinking of last night and the way he had made me feel.
Ella,
Good morning, beautiful. I have things to attend to all day, so please enjoy yourself and explore the palace. My servants will bring you anything you need.
I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight.
Tristan
I bit my lip reading it. There was something about Tristan that I couldn’t quite pin down. He was so sexy and powerful, so intelligent and confident. He was not at all what I would have thought, was so different than I was expecting. I felt, somehow, like I already knew him. I had heard that sex can make people feel close, but I didn’t think it was just that. There was something else about him that made me feel strangely at ease, even as he made my heart race, my breath catch, and my legs tremble.
I got out of bed slowly, stretching my arms out and then my legs. There were soft slippers waiting for me beside the bed, and I slipped into them, smiling. They were cushioned and matched the silky robe, left draped over a chair, that I wrapped around myself. It sat on my skin like it was made for me, like nothing I had ever worn before. Two years ago, when my friend Molly had been married, Gretchen and I had been her bridesmaids, and the three of us had spent the weekend before the wedding at a luxury spa. At the time, the clothes and beds there had been the softest, highest-quality things I had ever touched, but these made them feel like rags.
I made my way to the door, looking at the grand room around me, the sun sweeping
in through the high, beautiful windows, the furniture that all looked like it had been handmade by craftsmen. I found myself looking forward to exploring the palace, finding the other beautiful details in its rooms. I wished, for a moment, that Tristan was with me, that he was taking me on a tour, telling me which rooms were his favorites, which ones he’d loved as a child or had fond memories of.
When I opened the door, I was greeted by three servants smiling brightly at me.
“Good morning!” one of them, a pretty girl with her hair in a high, bouncy ponytail, said. “I’m Fiona, and this is Geoff and Melissa. The prince has asked us to take special care of you today.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said, a little overwhelmed at the idea.
“Can we bring you anything? Breakfast? A dress for the day?” Fiona asked.
“Breakfast would be great,” I said, “and I guess I do need something to wear.”
“Great!” Fiona replied, handing me a long, ornately handwritten menu. “Please pick what you want and let us know. Melissa is going to get you a rack of clothing choices.”
Everything on the menu sounded delicious and staring at it, I was suddenly ravenously hungry. I supposed I had worked up quite the appetite last night.
“I’d like the crepes, with extra strawberries, two eggs over easy, and a large coffee,” I said, handing the menu back to Fiona. She nodded, and Geoff walked off in the direction I assumed was the kitchen.
“Please explore while you wait for breakfast and clothes, and we’ll meet you wherever you are,” Fiona said. I nodded and looked around. The hallway was long and filled with paintings that were sleek and modern. I recognized some of them from an art history seminar I had taken and gasped, realizing these were probably all originals. This hallway was practically a museum. I walked up to a large painting that was colorful and abstract, fascinated by it.
“These are wonderful,” I mused.
“They’re new,” Fiona said. “Until a few years ago they were all classical paintings, fields and portraits and bible scenes, but this is Prince Tristan’s wing, and he wanted something more modern. He picked all these himself.”
“He has excellent taste,” I said, moving to another painting, staring at the contrasting colors and surreal elements it held. Prince Tristan had not mentioned caring for art, but the idea that he did, that he had handpicked all these paintings, made me even more intrigued by and attracted to him.
I walked down the hall, examining the paintings, looking at the places where dates and artists’ signatures etched in corners confirmed these were in fact originals. At the end of the hall, there was a bright, sunny parlor. My breakfast and a rack of clothes were waiting for me at a small cherry wood table, so I sat in a soft chair and ate, thinking of Tristan with every delicious bite.
After breakfast, I returned to Tristan’s bedroom to try on clothes. Unlike the festival dresses, these were beautiful, and I felt beautiful in them. There was a red dress that clung to my skin in a way that was flattering and made me feel like an old-time jazz singer. An emerald green dress with long sleeves and an A-line waist that made its skirt swing when I moved made me want to dance the night away. A dusty pink silk dress that skimmed lightly over my body, ending at my knees, made me look elegant in a way I never had before, and a dark black dress with a halter neck and an asymmetrical hem made me feel like a spy, mysterious, sexy and dangerous.
I decided that for exploring the palace, the emerald green was the best, and I grinned when I slipped back into it, spinning in circles in front of the mirror and watching the material flare out and spin with me. This dress felt like adventure and fun, and I felt fun in it. I slipped on the green high-heeled shoes that went with it, delighted at how comfortable they were and how they made my legs look like they went on for miles.
I pulled my hair up on top of my head, loose and casual for now, and put on the mauve-colored lipstick I always carried, pleased with my reflection when I was done. Maybe later, before Tristan came back, I’d ask for some mascara and eyeliner, but for now, I felt like these simple choices were perfect.
I made my way back out of the room and down the hall of art, through the parlor and into the rest of the palace. All day I explored room after room of furniture, paintings, and ornate decorations that were probably worth more than the home I grew up in. There were offices that buzzed with technology, meeting rooms with long tables, dining rooms with lush carpets, and even a ballroom. My heels clacked as I walked into the large ballroom, spinning in circles in my dress, allowing myself to feel delighted at the sensation. I wondered what it would be like to dance with Tristan in this room, to spin in his arms in a wonderful gown.
I could almost see it in my mind: our wedding, the whole country celebrating as we danced, Tristan looking so handsome under the lights of this shining ballroom. Maybe it was still a ridiculous thought, to think about a wedding with a man I hardly knew, to imagine myself married to a prince. Surely, I would soon be back in my house, studying and talking online to Frederick. Still, standing in this room in a beautiful dress, it felt real.
All day I explored, and Rachel, Geoff and Melissa brought me more things, clothes, shoes, jewelry, snacks and coffee, all as lovely and delicious as before. I would not have thought I’d enjoy the palace this much, but it was one of the best days I could remember.
Chapter Ten - Tristan
Peter approached me in the hall late in the afternoon. I waved away the finance committee so I could speak with him in private. I heard a few angry murmurs as they walked away. We were about to discuss an important contract, but Ella was more important. Everything else could wait. All day, I had been able to think of nothing but Ella and how amazing the night before had been, how perfect she was. I couldn’t get the lines of her body, her every curve, the flush on her skin, out of my head. Last night had been better than I’d thought, and I still felt drunk on it, on the taste and feel of her. I couldn’t wait for tonight, to see her again, to touch her again, hear her cry out, make her moan.
“Sir, I have the information you wanted on the girl,” Peter said.
“Well?” I said, impatiently.
“You were correct in your assumption. The profile you have been communicating with belongs to Ella,” Peter said. I felt my heart begin to race in excitement. Ella and Christa were the same. I had fallen for the same woman twice. I suspected she was also falling for me all over again.
“Thank you,” I said, nodding.
“I thought you might also want to know that she has not been communicating with anyone but you using the profile,” Peter said, smiling at me like he knew how I was feeling about Ella. I allowed myself to grin back at him. Peter was one of the few people I trusted, and I did not mind him knowing.
“That’s great news,” I said. Beautiful Ella was the same woman as fascinating Christa. It was Ella whom I had discussed so many things with, whom I had stayed up late into the night for, whom I had talked to so many nights. It was Ella who had made me laugh and think, Ella who had shared erotic desires with me, described them in such detail that I’d jerked off to words on a computer screen, Ella who had told me she looked forward every day to talking to me, who had said I made her days brighter. The same Ella who had melted under my hands and tongue last night, who had begged me to keep touching her. It was Ella who wanted all those things, and I could give them to her, could make them all come true over and over.
Ella hadn’t talked to anyone but me, hadn’t shared so many parts of herself with anyone but me.
Ella, who I was almost certain was already in love with me, was already mine.
“I’ll let you get back to your meeting,” Peter said, nodding and walking off.
I nodded and headed to my meeting, but I couldn’t listen to a single word. Instead, I thought about Ella, about things she’d confessed to me she wanted. I wanted them all at once, wanted to do every single thing she had ever told me she thought about. I spent the meeting thinking about her on her knees for me, like she’d told
me so many times she thought about often. I thought about her perfect mouth around my cock, the way her lips would get red, the way her eyes would get wide. I pictured her face, my hands in her hair, tugging her forward as I fucked her mouth, as she took me between her lips over and over.
I thought about cupping my hand under her chin, making her meet my eyes as she sucked me, holding her gaze the whole time. I wanted to make an absolute mess of her, wanted her wrecked, desperate, and needy for me. It made it even better, even fucking hotter, to know just how much she wanted those things as well. To know she’d thought about them, that she’d touched herself, run her fingers over her own soaking clit thinking of exactly that, making herself come.
I was hard in my pants thinking about it. I couldn’t wait to see her later. It was all I could do to make it through the rest of my day and not go find her in the palace. I thought about it, about taking her by surprise, crowding her into a wall, feeling her against me, kissing her until she was out of breath. I could reach a hand up under her dress and touch her until she was moaning my name.
I didn’t. I stayed in my seat and signed everything I needed to, counting the minutes until I could see Ella. I thought about telling her I was Frederick, but decided to wait, for now. I wanted her to want me, as Tristan, in real life and not just as words on a screen. Frederick was a fantasy for both of us, a name I’d made to disguise myself, a stranger she’d confessed to.
I wanted to make this real. I wanted to be as real for her as possible.
So I’d tell her, but not yet.
Chapter Eleven - Ella
Dinner was served in a different room tonight. I kept the green dress and the heels on, adding just a bit more makeup and a gold clip to my hair. Tristan’s face when he saw me said it had been the right choice. His eyes lingered on my legs and then my neck, making me feel hot and flushed under his gaze. Even just his eyes on me turned me on, making me think of how his hands on me had felt, making me desperate to have them all over me again.
Hot Boss: An Office Romance Page 65