Chapter 29
TRISTAN
Tristan’s bear was ecstatic.
Mate! She’s our mate! We’re invited to her den!
Tristan was mostly distracted by peeling Haisley, layer by layer, out of her clothing. Every exposed piece of skin was a new treasure, one he wanted to linger over and adore. Best of all were her hisses of pleasure and sighs of delight when he found something she particularly liked.
They stumbled their way out of the kitchen into the dining room, knocked into the chairs and table, paused in the hallway to kiss more, and crashed loudly into her door when it didn’t open at first.
“Hang on,” Haisley giggled. “I didn’t actually prepare for guests.” She opened the door and stood aside, panting a little. Her apron was off, and her shirt was unbuttoned to her belly button, revealing a plain, pale bra and a lot of hypnotizing curves.
Her room was tidy but cluttered, with bookshelves that at first glance had mostly cookbooks. An open door suggested an en suite bathroom, and the curtains were all pulled tightly closed. A few dirty dishes were stacked on top of a minifridge with a roll of paper towels and an insulated flask.
But the only thing Tristan really cared about was the double bed, which looked rumpled and inviting. Several of the missing couch cushions were leaning against the wall, as if Haisley had been trying to block out the sounds from the dining room.
“It’s not much—!” Haisley said, her voice rising at the end in surprise as Tristan gathered her up into his arms to carry her to the bed.
He kicked the door shut behind them, which was louder than he meant it to be, but they’d already been far from quiet.
He wondered briefly if they had made more noise than he could explain away to the others the next day, but then he was laying Haisley on the bed and pulling her pants off.
“Condom!” she told him with an imperious point, and Tristan paused to find it at the bottom of the drawer in her bedside table and pull it on, pausing to take off his glasses, as well, so that he could kiss her without banging her in the face with them.
The rest of their clothing didn’t last long, and Tristan wondered how lucky one man could be.
She was so soft and pliable and perfect against him, her hands tangling in her hair and caressing his arms and sides.
He forced himself to go slowly, to appreciate all of the curves and sweet skin and soft noises she made, touching her gently, drawing her up to little crests of pleasure and kissing her down the other side.
He let his cock, hard now, and full of yearning, tease her and taunt her, but he waited to enter her until she was wet and begging, clawing at his arms and murmuring little half-sentences of need and entreaty. “Yes! Please! Oh, please! Will you—? That, yes—! Please—!”
Then they were moving together, and he was buried deep inside of her, trying his best not to lose what was left of his control as he brought her higher yet and then back down.
He kept himself from coming by sheer willpower, and when she had whimpered out her release, drew her over on top of him, nearly falling off the bed when he misjudged its width.
Shifter reflexes kept him from sliding off or dropping Haisley, and when she had recovered a little, she rode him slowly, savoring him just like he was relishing her.
When she came again, he could watch all her muscles in her core tighten, and feel her strokes grow erratic, only her breasts free as she gave a muffled noise of triumph.
Tristan held her hips and took her harder as the pleasure broke over her, and finally came himself, growling and clutching at her desperately.
They lay together afterward, laughing and panting and touching each other slowly.
“Merry Christmas!” Haisley giggled. “I must have been very good this year.”
Tristan realized very abruptly that he didn’t have a gift for her. She’d spent all of that time helping him make gifts for the staff of Shifting Sands, and there were packages under the tree with his name, but his mate wasn’t going to get a single thing.
Oh, nooooo! his bear said, quite sure this was a tragedy. There is no bambooooo!