Chapter 4 Tristan #2
Three more smacks follow in rapid succession, and her head drops in abandon.
“Look at me,” I command, overcome by an incessant urge to show her who she belongs to.
She instantly obeys, seeking my eyes over her shoulder.
“Look at what I am doing to your body, to your pussy. Look at me as I make you mine.” I groan. “You fucked up, baby.”
“How?” She licks her lips, looking at me through glazed over eyes.
“You have caught the attention of a predator.”
She gasps, realizing what that means for her.
“Good, you’re understanding. You’re mine now.” I push inside her in one go, and she cries out my name, half in surrender, half in plea.
Buried deep inside her does things to me I can’t even describe. It spurs me on, chasing reason while I sink deeper into madness.
Her sweet sounds fill my ears as I grip her hips and pound into her as if wanting to see where she ends and I begin.
“Tristan, please…”
“Look at my baby, so thoroughly fucked. Such an innocent girl begging for cock, loving to be fucked hard.”
I sweep my eyes from her flushed face and teary eyes to her pussy that struggles to take my cock, so swollen and tiny compared to the bat I am shoving into the tightest hole possible.
As if praising her for doing such a good job at accepting me and taking my cock, I caress down her spine, nibbling along her neck.
“I want you to come again. Can you do that, my good girl who lets me fuck her like a seasoned slut?”
She whines, shaking her head while she strangles the life out of me.
A passionate woman hides behind the facade, and I ache to coax out the sexual goddess. We’re going to have so much fun playing. Together—in and out of the bedroom.
“That wasn’t a question, more of a directive, but you’ll learn, Viviana. You’ll come as many times as I want, you will be the perfect doll for me,” I say, curling my fingers around her ponytail and tugging her head back.
Snaking my arm around her waist, I rub her clit, and she throws her head back, her breath hitching. She’s almost there.
“Good girl,” I say, wrapping my hand around her neck.
I slam my mouth onto hers, fucking her in hard thrusts.
She cries out in my mouth, shattering for me while I swallow her moans. Water lashes at the tub just as violently as her orgasm, drenching the floor in a puddle just like her juices coating my cock.
I drive into her one more time, bottoming out, wishing nothing more than to remain locked inside her and never resurface. She lets out a strangled breath, causing me to erupt.
I fill her with more than my essence, but determination to keep her—mark her as mine in every way.
Her legs tremble in the wake of her orgasm, and I wrap my arms around her, caressing her through it. I’ll make her fall, but I’ll also be the one to catch her, hold her tight, and never let go.
My cum and her juices trail down her thighs as I pull out, then I drain the tub.
From the overhead shower spray, water glides down her body, washing myself off her. A groan rumbles in my chest, not liking that. Fuck if I don’t want to come all over her, bathe her in my cum.
Tending to her, she smiles under the spray, eyeing me over her shoulder.
There’s this strange, warm feeling nestling in my chest, blowing away the frost for something worthwhile to bloom.
“Thank you,” she whispers, emotions thick in her voice.
Contentment blankets me, and I will do anything to preserve it. “I should be the one thanking you,” I say, brushing my nose against her neck.
So opposite of the cunning strategist everyone knows. She’s the only person not wary of me, and I had no idea how good that would feel.
A line digs between her brows, seeming deep in thought. “No, it’s more. This entire night feels like a dream. I never thought I’d experience something like this.”
Her eyes well up, and I gather her in my arms, overcome by the instinct to comfort my woman. “Shhh, I have you.”
The sight of gore doesn’t even make me flinch, but seeing her sad knots up my stomach, the pressure threatening to make my ribcage cave in.
She wraps herself around me like a little monkey—my little monkey, and I press a kiss on her shoulder, whispering, “I’m keeping you.”
She freezes for an instant before her eyes shine with candor. “I wish you could.”
It’s not a matter of could but want in my case. And I want her. Badly. It’s more than that though. It’s raw need like she’s essential to my wellbeing, something I don’t bother questioning because this beautiful enigma fulfills every part of me with amazement, my bleak existence with wonder.
She presented me with an alternative option, something to balance my life. Now that I’ve found her, I won’t let her go.
I might be a real estate mogul officially, but I am also the American leader of the Irish Mob, and I need to tread carefully not to scare her away but ease her into my life.
That part of my life is nothing glamorous.
The path has been bloody. My hands are tainted. My soul is black, rotten to its core.
I’ll spoil her so much, give her everything she desires, it will be enough to stay once she discovers who I am—accepts me. By then she’ll love the life I can offer her, overlooking that I am a monster in tailored-made suits.
As if she senses my brooding, she places a tender kiss on my chest. “Come back to me.”
“I’m here. With you,” I assure her, unable to remember a similar instance where I spoke truer words.
I am present, fully committed—body, heart and mind.
We kiss for long minutes.
If it were possible, I’d just keep kissing her and fuck her for the rest of my life. But her belly rumbles, and I rush to dry her, wrapping her in a bathrobe.
I do the same and grip her hand, bringing her to the kitchen.
“I don’t think I’ve seen anything this spectacular,” she says, her tone ending in bewilderment. As if she knows about riches, but my home is on another level, boosting my pride like nothing else.
“Glad you like it.”
She will live here.
As she takes a seat at the marble island, I open the fridge and see what the chef left.
“Salmon on a bed of vegetables and wild rice. Is that okay?”
She rests her face in her palms, smiling. “Healthy. I like that.”
I plate the food, and we go to the terrace, the mild fall allowing us to enjoy the outdoors some more.
“If I were you, I would never leave my home,” she says wistfully.
“You haven’t seen it all.”
Her eyes bug out. “There’s more?”
I nod, captivated by her intrinsic innocence. One I will end up corrupting, like there’s an unwritten rule that life turns even saints into sinners.
We eat in comfortable silence, and while I can’t stop looking at her, she steals glances, smiling under her breath every time I catch her.
Once we finish, I drag her onto my lap, where she makes herself at home. No questions asked, as if our hearts have already had a deep soul conversation and our bodies follow their lead.
Snuggling into me, I wrap my arms around her, holding her as we look at the New York skyline. My solitude vanishes, the drive to chase another goal, set a new one, dims. Hussle. Hussle. Hussle. Occupy every waking moment not to think about things lacking.
With her in my arms, it’s clear there’s no amount of money that could fulfill me.
I have fucking billions. No amount of respect I can get.
People in the underworld fear me; people in the business world revere me.
Yet, the serenity of this moment can’t be bought.
Can’t be won. Holding this woman in my arms is everything.
The fall should bring with it decay; for me, it ushers in a new beginning. With that soothing thought, I carry her to bed.
I can ask her about her place tomorrow. I don’t need it tonight to know she’s mine and she’ll be moving in.
But when I wake up after the best night of my life, only to discover she left, anger swiftly turns to determination, steeling my spine.
I will find her.
And after I find her, I won’t ever let her go.
Oh, Viviana, you should never have run.
Predators love a good chase.
You thought you could indulge without consequences?
No, baby.
Not in my world, where I am fucking king.