Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“You wanted me to find inspiration,” Ophelia purred, “Consider it found.”
Power surged through Ophelia’s veins as she watched Tristan’s expression shift from rage to need to confusion- to even admiration.
It was obvious he had not expected her to turn the tables on him and in truth, she had not expected to do so either.
Yet as she watched the couple before them- watched how lust and satisfaction took over the woman’s face as her counterpart had worshipped her body before sinking to his knees; something had overcome Ophelia.
Something primal. Feral. Something that made her question her previous belief that only men could have the power in those intimate moments.
So when Tristan so cockily guided her hand to his trousers, she made a bold move, and simmered in the satisfaction of making a man like Tristan melt in the palm of her hand.
“My office.” Tristan grit out. “Now.”
Ophelia took another glance at the woman on the bed, and she winked at her from the sated arms of her partner. Feeling emboldened, Ophelia winked back before she turned around and slowly made her way back to Tristan’s office.
She didn’t have to turn around or look over her shoulder to know that Tristan was following right behind her. She could feel the heating rolling off of him in waves, ebbing into her and feeding her own lust.
“I must say,” Ophelia began to taunt as she walked into his office, “I never truly considered”-
The click of lock sounded throughout the room, and Ophelia’s words melted into a gasp as Tristan whirled her around as he slid her mask from her face and kissed her.
Passion poured through Ophelia as she quickly forgot what she was going to say.
Her nipples hardened into peaks as she was pressed against his chest. Her lower belly tightened and filled with delightful spasms as the apex of her legs grew hot and wet.
Giving into those delightful sensations, Ophelia reached up for his mask, shifting it off his face so she could feel that surge of power again.
Before Tristan’s mask could even clatter to the floor though, Tristan captured her wrists and pinned them behind her back.
The strength she felt from his hold made her quiver with anticipation, and she suddenly wondered what it feel like if it were her that gave into him.
Would she like it? Could she like it? Giving herself over to a man?
“What did you think you were doing back there? Hmm?” Tristan’s voice was trembling with a mixture of rage and lust as he demanded answers from her between kisses.
Tristan’s kisses were languid and hypnotic, coaxing her to submit. Yet she fought through the urge, and even with her wrists pinned behind her back, Ophelia managed to pull away from his kisses. Her lips, swollen and sensitive from his mouth, needed more- so she found it.
This time it was her teeth that sank into his throat, and pleasure radiated through out her as Tristan let out a deep, aching groan.
He shifted her hands so that he was holding them with a single one of his own, with the other, he cupped the back of her head and pressed her closer, as if urging her to do her worst.
She obliged. Fire consumed her as she tasted the musky perspiration on his flesh, felt his jugular vein pulse between her teeth.
“I wanted to feel things from your perspective,”she panted once she released him from her bite. She languidly lapped her tongue over the ridges her teeth had left in his throat, and felt another gush of warm liquid trickle down her inner thighs when Tristan let out another tortured moan.
“I can understand now why you like it so much,” she purred into his ear. “It is…intoxicating to feel someone fall apart in your hands.”
With a feral growl Tristan spun her around, slamming her hands on the edge of his desk as he pushed his muscular body tight against her back and nipped at her neck and ear.
She gasped with pleasure when she felt his manhood already rigid yet again, and writhed her hips into him as tiny sparks of arousal shot off of her body.
“You enjoyed that?” Tristan whispered into her ear as he dragged his fingertips up her arms, “You enjoyed having me fall apart in your hands?”
Fall apart? Did Lord Perfect just confess to losing control?
The thought amplified Ophelia’s lust; delighted that of all women, she was the one that made him lose control.
She leaned back, feeling freer than she ever had and whispered in his ear, “I enjoyed it immensely. So much that I almost yearn to do so again.”
Heat spiked through Ophelia’s veins as Tristan’s growl rumbled near her ear as his hands ripped at the back of her dress.
The lace backing split with a satisfying sound, and Ophelia shivered and moaned as he dragged the ripped fabric down her arms as his lips and teeth lavished attention from her neck to her left shoulder.
Thoughts of her real life, of her ailing father, of her impending loveless marriage to stranger, vanished as Tristan took utter control of her mind and body.
His fierce nips and kisses turned soft and coaxing once he spun her around her again.
His lips, possessive and firm, kissed her until her breaths became shallow, soft whimpers.
It was he that was taking control now, and as he laid her down on his desk, Ophelia felt herself give it to him freely.
She could not muster a single care as she heard the lace of her gown rip again, this time down her bosom; nor could she do anything but sigh in relief when he released her from the her tight silk corset, and drew one of her taut nipples into his hot, soft mouth.
Her sharp words dissolved into pleading, keening whimpers as her digging fingernails melted into clinging, soothing strokes along his back and through his hair as he kissed away every ounce of stress she had with the long stroke of his tongue.
She was so lost in the pleasure of his seduction, that when he suddenly stopped and rose up, she let out a startled cry.
Her eyes flew open as his warm mouth and kneading hands moved away from her body, and she was met with Tristan’s blistering stare. A lascivious smirk touched his lips as he met her eyes and slowly lowered his hand back down to her bare sternum.
“You like having the control?” He asked, starting to stroke slow circles over her heated flesh.
Ophelia swallowed; not sure how to respond. Not sure if she could respond. What she did realize, however, was that the tables had turned.
Tristan’s head tilted slightly as his fingers grazed over her right nipple. The slight touch had a delightful shiver traveling up her spine and a whimper leaving her lips.
“I am waiting for answer,” he taunted.
“I…- oh!” Ophelia gasped as his fingertips tightened on her taut nipple.
“Well?” He asked, immediately rubbing soothing circles over the assaulted flesh.
“Tristan,” she breathed, trying to pull herself out of the haze of arousal, ‘I am not playing this game with you.”
She moved to lean up from his desk, but just as she did so his other hand slid from her knee to her inner thigh. Stars burst behind her eyes as his fingertips stroked over the pulsing spot between her legs, and she slid back down onto the desk with a whimper.
“You body seems to disagree with your words,” Tristan murmured, stroking both her nipple and her sex at the same time, “But I am a gentleman. I will stop.”
“No!” The word burst from Ophelia’s lips as her body edged closer to something she did not quite understand.
Tristan raised a devious brow as his hands stilled.
“No?” He asked.
His hands hovered teasingly above the parts of her she wanted him to touch the most; making her want to scream at him.
“Tristan,” she warned through gritted teeth.
“What is the matter, my darling?” His deep voice thick with condescension, “starting to question those liberties you have taken?”
Ophelia’s eyes and head rolled back as his fingers delicately started to stroke rhythmic circles over her mons; making her feel torn between lust and rage.
Her body had never been so close to such pleasure, so wracked with need.
She did not know what to say, what to do, other than pray that he would not stop.
“I am waiting,” Tristan practically hummed as he sank to his knees.
“Waiting,” she said through panting breaths, “Waiting for what?”
“To hear you say it,” Tristan murmured, then kissed the inside of her thigh.
Ophelia shivered at the touch of his lips upon her delicate flesh. Why, why was he insisting on a conversation now of all times?!
“What is it,” she breathed as his kisses drew higher up her inner thigh, “What is you want me to say?”
She was ready to say anything if it meant that he would stop dangling her on that edge pleasure and let her fall into it.
“That you enjoy it” he whispered, his lips brushing against her trembling, dewy mons. “That you enjoy giving me the control.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but as his tongue slid slowly over her most sacred lips, her words melted into a moan and her womb spasmed with need.
“Fine,” she breathed, losing her fighting spirit completely to the need he’d built inside of her.
“I enjoy giving you control! Just please, Tristan!” She cried out.
“Please what?” He asked in a slightly mocking tone.
He then blew softly over her mons, making her spasm and jerk her hips toward his mouth as she cried out yet again.
“Please…don’t…stop…” she panted, her legs beginning to tremble as her buildup of pleasure grew more intense.
Tristan let out a husky chuckle as his warm tongue swept over her mons again, and he hummed as he closed his mouth over her taut bundle nerves.
Ophelia’s eyes rolled back and her mouth opened into a wide O as the lovely vibrations of such seeped into her very bloodstream and made her entire body tremble in response.
“Good girl,” he whispered, sliding his palms over her backside, then flicked his tongue again as he hitched her knees over his shoulders.