Chapter Six
Trystan
Idon't know what the fuck I'm doing by the time I carry Chloe to her room and kick the door closed behind us. I've been running on pure adrenaline and desperation since I heard her moaning my name last night.
I don't intend to stop now. Wherever this leads, wherever we land…I'm not stopping now. Not after what she said in the kitchen. Not after hearing her crying out for me last night. Fuck what anyone else thinks at this point. The only thing that matters is what we think.
And I think if I'm not inside her soon, I'm going to lose my mind. I know she's right there with me, ache for fucking ache. She's trembling in my arms, her eyes wide and dilated.
She looks like a pretty little firecracker, all smoke and flame, ready to detonate. But when she does, it won't be because of some fantasy of me her mind conjured up. It'll be because of me. Because of my hands on her body, my lips, my tongue. My cock.
She bounces when I drop her on the bed, her arms splayed wide, her dress tangled up around her thighs. Goddamn, she's beautiful. Sexy, too. All rumpled and indecent.
And all fucking mine.
I yank my shirt off, hauling it up over my head. I'm still fighting my way free of the material when I hear her soft gasp.
"Trystan, what…?"
Shit.
I drop the shirt to find her struggling to sit upright, her eyes locked on my ribcage, her lips slightly parted. She crawls across the bed toward me, one hand extended.
I groan softly, my eyes falling closed as soon as she's got her hand on my body, her fingers trembling against my skin.
"When?" she demands softly, tracing the edges of the tattoo I got for her—the one I got of her laughing up at me with a firefly in her cupped hands.
"My twenty-first birthday." I crack my eyes open to look at her, swallowing hard. "You didn't come home from college that year." I missed the fuck out of her, so I inked her into my skin so I could keep her close, no matter how far she went.
Guilt flickers in her gaze. "I didn't think you'd care if I came or not."
"I always cared, princess," I rasp. "Always."
Her finger traces over the delicate wings of the firefly. "You remember chasing fireflies with me?"
"You think I could forget?" I reach for her hand, lacing our fingers together to tug her closer.
She rises up on her knees, planting her free hand against my chest to steady herself.
Her head tips back, her eyes locked on my face like she's seeing me in a way she never has.
Hell, maybe she is. I've kept the ink carefully covered for the last five years; afraid she'd lose her goddamn mind if she ever saw it. Convinced she hated me.
She set me free from that belief today. I think maybe she set herself free, too. I have no fucking clue what comes tomorrow or the day after that or the one after that. But I know what I want. It's not just her in my bed. It's her in every single way.
"I remember everything, Coco," I murmur, sliding my hands down to her waist. I hold her carefully as I lean down, claiming her lips again.
My fingers close around the fabric of her dress, slowly raking it upward as I kiss her, our tongues sliding together in a sinuous rhythm that has my cock throbbing.
Fuck, she tastes so goddamn sweet, like an absinthe-laced dream.
"I remember every secret you ever told me. I remember the way you used to sneak out of your tent and into mine because you were afraid of the dark, but didn't want to admit it."
She shivers as the dress slides up her body.
"I remember the way you always lit up when you saw me at the beginning of summer. Everything."
"Trystan," she whispers against my lips.
I break away long enough to tug her dress off over her head, letting it fall to the floor beside me. And then I nip her bottom lip, gently pushing her backward. She falls with a soft cry, landing on her back in the center of the bed, half-naked and flushed.
My eyes run down her body, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. Chloe has always been beautiful.
Even when we were kids, she was the prettiest little thing, all wild hair, big green eyes, and attitude.
She skipped right over the awkward phase most kids go through and turned into a beautiful teenager.
She used to make me stupid when she smiled.
Now, though? Christ, Chloe at twenty-four is something else.
She's no longer a wild little girl or a self-conscious teen still growing into her changing body.
She's all soft, feminine curves, comfortable in her own skin.
Even with me staring down at her, she doesn't try to cover herself or shy away; she just meets my gaze, confident in who she is. And that is so fucking sexy to me.
"Jesus, Coco," I rasp, kicking my pants off. "You're fucking gorgeous."
"Jesus, yourself," she says, her gaze drifting down my body to the obvious tent in my boxers. Her tongue skates across her bottom lip before she meets my gaze again, hers full of hunger. "My fantasies have not done you justice."
"Guess we'll just have to replace them, then." I crawl onto the bed, desperate to get my hands on her before that look in her eyes has me coming in my boxers.
"Yes, do that. Definitely." She flings her arms out wide, a smirk playing around her lips.
I choke on a laugh, too amped up. My hand lands against her ankle, my touch soft. I watch her face, checking for any signs of discomfort. "Does it hurt?"
"Not really."
I lift her leg, placing my lips against the inside of her ankle. She shivers, melting into the bed beneath me. A soft moan tumbles from her lips as I run mine up the inside of her calf, all the way to her knee. Her skin is so fucking soft and smooth. Christ, I want to worship every inch of it.
I don't think she'd object, not with the way she's watching me like she intends to memorize every moment of this. I nip at her inner thigh before carefully placing her leg back on the bed.
"You tease," she groans.
"No." I run my hands up her sides, all the way to the lacy edge of her bra.
"I fully intend to give you exactly what you want, but not before you're naked and dripping all over the bed for me.
" My teeth close around her nipple through her bra, earning a soft cry from her lips.
"You don't get to rush me now that I finally have you where I want you. "
"Fine," she groans. "Do your worst."
"As if I need permission." I do, actually, but she's already given me that. So I do all those things I've wanted to do for years. I run my hands all over her until she's trembling. Pull her bra off so slowly she threatens to murder me.
I push her perfect tits together, burying my face between them. A motherfucker could die right here and not regret it. But I'll be damned if I die waiting to feel her coming all over my cock.
I turn my head slightly, pulling one hard pink nipple into my mouth.
She cries out, back bowing from the bed.
I lick and bite until she's sobbing beneath me, babbling incoherently and tugging at my hair like she isn't sure if she wants to keep me right there or push me lower.
I stay for a while, tormenting her while my hand drifts down her round belly.
My fingertips slide beneath the waistband of her panties, sliding across her mound.
Jesus, she's bare. Nothing between me and her pussy.
"Trystan!" she shouts, shocked, when I twist the string in my hand, tearing her panties.
I flick my gaze up to her face, holding hers captive while I intentionally do the same goddamn thing to the other side.
"I liked those," she says.
"Too bad. I like you out of them." I rake my teeth across her nipple, earning another whimper from her kiss-swollen lips.
I can tell she wants to argue, though. Chloe always wants to fucking argue.
It's who she is. She was born with her attitude fully formed, unwilling to take orders or bow to anyone.
Even as a kid, she was a handful. And I've fucking loved it since long before I understood why I found her so fascinating.
"You don't get to boss me in bed, Trystan," she finally manages to gasp.
"Boss you?" I smirk, running my lips down her belly. "No, baby. I'm not going to boss you. I'm going to ruin you."
"Trystan," she groans.
"You already ruined me." I nip at her lower belly and then rake my teeth down it as I fit myself between her legs, shouldering my way into place where I belong—on my fucking knees at the gates of heaven.
Her pretty pussy is right there in my face—dripping, pink, bare, and untouched.
I smell her desire, sweeter than the grapes on the vines at home, headier than the finest wine in our collection—and I want to spread her wide and devour her.
Not nice and sweet and slow, but pillage and conquer and fucking consume.
I've waited so long for this. So fucking long.
"I…" Her gaze bounces from mine, her throat working. "Um, I've never…"
Oh, fuck me.
She's been waiting for me, too.
I've always suspected that she'd never been with anyone else, but the confirmation hits my system like a goddamn drug.
I want to thank God and howl at the same damn time. So many years when we could have had this, been this, done this. When she could have said fuck it and chosen someone else. But she didn't. She waited for me, the same way I would have waited for her until my last breath.
There is no holding back or taking it slow now. Hell, no.
I'm a beast snapping his chains, snarling at the feast laid before him. I yank her into me, burying myself face-first in her pussy.
"Trystan!" she shouts, grabbing for my hair with both hands.
As soon as her taste—sweet, tangy perfection—hits my system, it's all over. I want every drop, and I want it now.
I spread her wide, licking and sucking like a madman. She shouts and trembles and moans. Goddamn, the way she moans. I want it to be the last thing I hear before I leave this earth.