I was flawed.
As if to distract me from such thoughts, my lover lifted me upwards, wrapping his powerful hands around my thighs, and backed me up against the wall. I wrapped my knees around his waist then lowered myself onto his length, a cry lashing at the air from between my lips.
I’d never get over the sweet agony of being torn in two by his thickness. Never would I take this for granted.
When I reached for a grab bar to my right, he shook his head. “I’m in charge,” he growled, raising me up easily with his two powerful arms before thrusting deep inside me again. “I call the shots.”
I nodded. “Yes,” I told him. “You do. So tell me what you want.”
Pinning me in place with his body, he reached for the white t-shirt that was hooked over the glass shower door, wet it, wrapped it around my eyes and tied it behind my head, obscuring my vision.
“I want everything,” he growled. “I want your pussy, your tits, your mouth. But most of all, I want your pleasure.”
“You have it. All of it,” I moaned as his hips rolled in and out, prolonging the delicious agony.
“Good,” he replied. He pulled out of me, setting me down, my feet landing on the slick mosaic tile floor. “Stay there,” he said. “Pull your legs apart.”
I did as he’d commanded, distancing my feet from one another.
A moment later, I felt the delicate pulse of hot water from a hand-held shower head vibrating against my pussy as a rough hand coaxed my thighs still further apart.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. Tristan adjusted the spray, focusing it so that it blasted heat at my clit for a second, then adjusted again to some sort of pulsing massage setting. “That’s so good,” I told him as he slipped a finger inside me, the spray lashing at me like an eager tongue.
“I’m glad.” His lips were on one nipple now, teeth biting gingerly, then on the other, drawing them into tight tips.
“These are the greatest breasts in the world,” he moaned, sucking hard as he shifted the shower head around to further tantalize me.
Then it stopped, and his tongue was slipping over the place that had just been assaulted. My channel tightened with anticipation, clenching, eager to feel him inside again.
His lips wrapped around my bud and he sucked, then pulled away, then the water was hitting me again in a violent blast.
I couldn’t have taken much of the spray, but he knew exactly when to stop, when to soothe me with the sweep of his tongue. He shoved two fingers inside me, kneading me with his thumb.
“I want you to come,” he said, “but not too soon.” Another quick lick. “I want you to feel so fucking good that you can’t stand it, lover.”
“You’re succeeding,” I said. “It’s almost too much…”
“Good.” He altered the shower head’s setting again and sprayed me more gently, rotating the sprayer slightly so that it teased my nerve endings just enough to keep me from surrendering to the inevitable orgasm that wanted to rock me to my core.
“Tell me how this feels,” he said. “Describe it to me.”
I smiled from beneath my strange blindfold and licked my lips. “It feels like heaven,” I said. “Like every nerve in my body’s awake at once. Like the sexiest man on earth wants my pleasure more than anything—more than his own, even—and would spend hours massaging my clit just to see that I get it.”
He kissed my bud, his tongue flicking out quickly, teasing, then disappearing.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’d spend days on you. Years.”
With that he shut the water off and grabbed my hand, pulling me out the shower’s door and across the bathroom until we were standing, dripping, on a bath mat near the counter. He lifted me onto it, splitting my legs apart and driving himself inside me.
Kneading my nipples between his fingers, he kissed me hard, tongue tasting my own as he pushed inside me in needful, desperate thrusts. I could feel myself tightening around him, squeezing, milking his shaft for everything he had.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, breathless, still grateful to have had my sight stolen from me so that my other senses were heightened.
“Nothing, lover, except what you’re doing,” he said, moving down to kiss my neck. His hands slid down my arms, wrapping around my wrists. He pulled them up, pinning them back against the mirror as he drove inside me.
I was helpless. The sensations of my body were all that I knew, the feeling of his heat, his scent in the air, his iron-hard cock devastating me in the most sensual way.
“It’s too good, Tristan,” I moaned.
“Squeeze me hard,” he said. “Lock me inside you.”
I clenched around him as the first wave of my climax hit, and I felt him pulse in response, a shock of scalding heat unleashing inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” he snarled. “Ariana, this is too good…” He cried out, hands still pinning mine, and drove into me hard, his teeth clamping down on my left shoulder.
A shooting pain shot through my body and I cried out, my torso tightening even as I felt Tristan pull back, releasing my hands and tearing himself free of my body’s hold on him.
I lifted away his shirt from my eyes and stared at him, grabbing my shoulder.
“What…was that?” I asked. I pulled my hand away to see a spot of blood on my finger.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, pressing a hand to his forehead, his eyes wide with shock. “Fuck. I got carried away, Ariana…I didn’t mean to…I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry…”
I spun around to look in the foggy mirror, rubbing my hand over its surface only to see the smallest puncture wound in my skin.
I turned back to Tristan, who still looked horrified. But I couldn’t help but let out a joyful laugh.
“It’s funny?” he asked.
“Um, not exactly. But I’m glad you did it.”
“Don’t you know what could have happened? I could have…I nearly…for a second I was about to…” He ran a finger aggressively through his hair then turned back to me. “My fucking wolf…he wanted to make you one of us…”
“He wanted to change me,” I said. I slipped off the counter and moved towards him, pressing both hands to his cheeks. My heart was pounding with excitement at the thought that we’d come so close. I’d never felt so alive, never felt so intimately connected to him. So close to a life I’d only dared dream of. “Do you think I would have minded in the least if you’d done that? Don’t you know that it’s what I want most in this world? To spend hundreds of years by your side, to grow with you? Think of it, Tristan—we could be together to see our great-grandchildren grow up…”
His brows met in an angry frown. He took my wrists in his hands and pulled them away from his face. “You shouldn’t wish for it,” he growled. “You should never want a fate like mine. It’s hell on earth, lover. Put it out of your mind.”
“Why should I?” I asked defensively. “You could give me a long life. We could be together forever. Don’t you think I’d walk through hell to get to that place, to spend eternity with you?”
He pulled back, his eyes flashing bright, lips turning down in a scowl. “Don’t say that. Never say it. You don’t even know what you’re suggesting.”
“But Tristan…”
He pulled his gaze away, as if the sight of my face right now was painful to him. “You don’t understand, lover. I wouldn’t wish the change on my worst enemy, let alone the one person I love most in the world. I would never put you through what I endured.”
“It wouldn’t hurt me like it did you,” I told him. “Kara said those with Valkyrie’s blood have an easy time with the transition…”
“You’re not a Valkyrie,” he replied. “You’re a human who’s had a blood transfusion. You have no way of knowing how much it might hurt you.”
“Well, I wish you’d let me risk it,” I said. “Because I’d like to be with you for a few hundred years, at least. I hate that I’m going to age while you stay young. I hate that we ha
ve such limited time together. What’s the point in getting married ’til death do us part, if death is going to come so soon for one of us?”
He jerked his body towards the door. For a moment I thought he was going to leave the room, to get away from me. But instead he pivoted and came at me in a flurry of speed, banding his arms around me, his hand on my nape, lips pressed to the top of my head. His body was shaking. “You don’t understand, Ariana. I love you so much,” he said. “I would never want to hurt you. Never. It would kill me to see you come to harm. I’d rather die than do that to you. Nothing’s worth that risk to me. Nothing.”
“I know,” I muttered against his skin. I could feel how hot he was now, how alive inside him his wolf was. However much he might have wanted a long life for me, his instinct to protect me was too strong to risk who I was now. He loved me too much in my human form to wish me changed. “I know.”
But the truth was, I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted him to pull me into his world, to welcome me into it open arms. I wanted to become one of his kind, to fully immerse myself into the world of shifters. As long as I remained a mere human, I was vulnerable, a mortal liability who put him in constant danger.
But if he changed me…I’d finally be whole. I’d be strong. We could truly be one.
It was a beautiful fantasy.
But I knew that was all it was—a fantasy.
“Let’s get ready to go,” I said, trying to mask the pain in my voice. “We don’t want to be late for Clarissa’s rehearsal.”
“Of course. I’ll get dressed. Just give me a minute.” He turned to leave the room before pivoting back to me. When our eyes met, he said, “Ariana…let’s just enjoy the lives we’ve been given, okay?”
I nodded. I knew how hard it was for him to deny me anything. But I also knew how much he loved me. “Okay,” I said. “It’s a deal.”
Chapter 4
The wedding rehearsal was to take place at a church just down the street from the hotel. It was a pretty little stone building, with the requisite stained glass windows and short bell tower, set between a couple of Chicago’s tall, glass condominium towers.
Tristan had retreated into a state of quiet since our fraught moment in the bathroom. For the entirety of our ten-minute walk from the hotel, he’d held my hand so tight that I thought he might dislocate a few of my bones. I couldn’t help thinking that he was terrified of what had almost happened. He was disgusted with himself for allowing his wolf to become so aggressive, so possessive, in my presence.
I only wished he could accept how much I loved what he was. I loved the wild beast inside him. I loved the man that he was.
I wanted to feel closer to both sides of him.
For now, though, I pushed such thoughts from my mind. In a minute I’d be seeing my best friend, and there was no way I could let her see what was going on between us. No way to explain the complexities of loving a shifter.
Tristan also seemed to want to force his mind onto other topics, because as we walked towards the church’s front entrance, he muttered, “God, I hate these places.”
“Why?” I asked. “I mean, I’m not particularly religious, but I do think they’re pretty.”
When I looked over at him I could see the strain on his features. I knew that look; it meant that some memory or other was haunting him—something more than our brief conversation earlier. “My family was very religious for a time. We used to go to church every Sunday when I was a child,” he said. “Every Sunday we prayed for our own souls to be saved. And yet…”
“And yet,” I said, turning to him and straightening his tie before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Bad things happened. But in spite of all of it.” I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled myself in for a quick but passionate kiss, “you became the man of my dreams, and now here we are.”
He threw me a smile that told me the words helped, though not quite enough.
“If it makes you feel any better,” I said, “we don’t have to be here long. But do you want to go back to the hotel? I can call the room when we’re done and you can just meet me at the restaurant…” For once I wished Tristan carried a cell phone with him. He hated the things, which meant that the only way to reach him was to call him on land lines or to go to him in person. I had no idea how a successful billionaire managed with no cell phone.
Then again, Tristan was no ordinary billionaire.
He shook his head as we stepped inside. “No. I want to stay as close to you as possible.” He looked tense, but as handsome as always, dressed in a light gray suit and silver tie, his hair slightly unkempt, stubble perfectly trimmed to hover somewhere in the land between five o’clock shadow and actual beard.
I’d opted for a pair of dark gray dress pants and a white blouse, with a pair of red heels that I’d worn just for my top secret fiancé. He’d always loved red on me, which he told me had something to do with what he called my fiery soul, whatever that meant.
My engagement ring was on a silver chain around my neck, concealed in the deep cleft of my cleavage. I’d told Tristan back at the hotel that I liked it there, close to my heart. He’d replied that he liked thinking of it tucked in close to my breasts…and that he intended to go hunting for it later with his lips, adding that it was quite likely that he’d have to examine my nipples thoroughly with his tongue for good measure.
When we’d made our way inside, I saw that Clarissa was standing near the altar with her family members. Dressed in a light blue dress and cream heels, she looked exactly like I’d expect a woman to look the day before her wedding. Scattered, excited, lovely and preoccupied, all at once.
“Ari!” the bride-to-be yelled when she’d spotted me. Leaving her family behind, she came racing up and hugged me tight before shooting Tristan a quick, appraising glare. “Are things good between you two crazy lovebirds?” she asked.
“We’re very, very good, actually,” I replied, my fingers instinctively reaching for the silver ring lying hidden in my cleavage.
“Good. Then I suppose I can be nice to Tristan.” She grabbed him and pulled him in for a bear hug, but instead of wrapping his arms around her he patted her back in a half-assed, semi-cold embrace. No doubt he was recalling their last meeting, when Clarissa had threatened to kick his ass if he ever treated me badly again.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked when they’d pulled apart. “I mean, I feel pretty guilty about being the most useless bridesmaid of all time.”
“Not at all. Just come stand up front with Maria and me, and pretend you’re wearing your special fancy dress. Tristan, you can sit in a pew.” Clarissa gestured dismissively in the general direction of the left side of the church and I couldn’t help but laugh. I’d never seen anyone treat my lover with such casualness; in New York, everyone—including the most powerful shifters—treated him with reverent respect.
“I’ll see you later,” I said, turning and throwing him a smile. He gave me a look that said You SO owe me one and took off for the back of the church, probably to tuck himself away in the most inconspicuous corner he could find.
He was right; I really did owe him. I’d always known human weddings weren’t his comfort zone, but now it had become screamingly obvious. Well, since he was being such a good boy about it, I’d have to make it up to him later with a patented Ariana-style mouth-to-cock massage.
The rehearsal only lasted an hour, and mostly consisted of a minister saying things like, “Okay. You stand here. No, here. No, a few inches to the left. That’s right. Don’t forget it; it’s crucially important. If you move at all, the entire wedding will be ruined. And when we’re done with this part, the small child who’s carrying the ring will carry it down the aisle in a perfectly straight line then hand it over, because as we all know, small children do everything they’re told and—wait, are you saying they don’t? Excuse me, I thought I told you to stand here.”
Clarissa’s groom-to-be, James, seemed unfazed by the whole thing. But the bride and I excha
nged about eighty eye rolls before the ordeal was over, at which point the entire wedding party breathed a sigh of relief when it had finally concluded.
“Ready to head to the restaurant?” Clarissa asked everyone when we’d finished. “It’s just down the road by the hotel.”
I nodded along with the cheers of approval that reminded me that I probably wasn’t the only person here who hadn’t eaten much today.
The only person who didn’t react was Maria, the maid of honor and Clarissa’s older sister. Apparently she was too busy staring towards the back of the church at something utterly fascinating. When I followed her gaze, I almost burst out laughing as I realized she was gawking at Tristan. For a moment I contemplated asking her why she didn’t just take a picture. But as if she was reading my mind, she whipped her smart phone out of her purse and held it up, snapping a long-distance photo.
“Maria!” Clarissa scolded. “What are you doing? That’s Ari’s man.”
“I need new material for my private time with Mr. Vibrator.”
“Seriously?” Clarissa asked in tone that was more than a little disapproving.
Maria shrugged. “He’s super-hot,” she said.
“I’m well aware,” I said, showing my claws just a little. “As your lovely sister pointed out, he’s also super-taken.”
I should have been used to it by now—women fawning over Tristan, throwing themselves at him like they couldn’t wait to get him naked. When we’d first met I’d been insecure enough to assume that he slept with every woman who so much as hinted that she desired him.
But now I knew better. He was mine. He was loyal—more than I could imagine any human man ever being. We were bound to each other by far more than promises. He was my mate, and I was his.
Still, I wanted to smash Maria’s damned phone to pieces.
* * *
When I’d wandered over to tell Tristan that he no longer had to hang around in an appalling church, we headed down the street to the restaurant. It was a dark affair lit by narrow, modern light fixtures. Apparently James and Clarissa had rented the whole place, which was completely empty aside from the wedding party and close family.
Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 38