Chapter 12 Tristan
TRISTAN
Dario fucking Moretti.
Rage overpowers me, blinding me to the point of reaching for the glove compartment and picking up my Glock. My finger presses on the trigger, struggling not to empty it into this arrogant asshole. One bullet and he would be dead.
He touched her. Touched what is not his to touch.
Kissed my fucking woman. It doesn’t matter that it was on the cheek. He already seized a first I can’t reclaim.
Think of the greater plan. I’ve already started moving the chess pieces on my board, and killing the underboss would spark for war, obliterating the fruition of my plan.
Reason threads through the mental fog, and I lower the gun.
Next week, I have a meeting with the Syndicate. They will accept the deal because they need it more than I fucking do.
With sheer will, I shove the gun back inside, slam the compartment shut, and watch as he gets into his car. He drives away with no damn clue how close he was to dying.
I drag in a lungful of air, needing to calm down, but jealousy rages through me, urging me to fucking claim her so there’s no question who she belongs to—me.
Watching as she shifts from one foot to another, she picks up her phone, and mine flashes with her name.
I pick up, breathing raggedly.
“I just need five more minutes. I can explain.”
I disconnect the call.
Explain? She’s still so innocent. I guess I’ll have to teach her a lesson.
Climbing out of the car, I let myself into the building, taking the stairs to the second floor, too pumped up to collect myself.
At the door, I don’t bother knocking, but let myself in.
Viviana shoves her clothes into the suitcase, her erratic movements betraying her nervousness.
She hasn’t even noticed me. My jealousy shifts to terror.
Her self-preservation instinct is moot. For fuck’s sake, she has let me in, slept by my side, and offered me her trust. That’s all proving my theory.
Zipping the bag, she turns, noticing me.
She yelps, her hand shooting to her chest. “Tristan, you scared me.”
“Is it me, or something else?” My voice sounds as dark as the storm ravaging my brain. Fuck if I ever felt this unbalanced.
I shove my hands in my pockets, going for casual while my body buzzes with enough energy I’d tilt the damn world on its axis.
Her chest heaves with a stuttered breath, but she holds my stare. Arching a brow, she squares her shoulders, ready for a fight, not in the slightest intimidated by me—the only silver lining, because if she ever feared me, I would fucking blow my brains out.
“Evie could have been here.”
“Fucking God could have been here, and it wouldn’t have stopped me.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re overreacting.”
I get in her face, gripping her chin to force her to look at me. “I’m fucking overreacting?”
“We’re friends. Dario just came to visit.”
“Don’t say another man’s name in my presence,” I grit out.
She digs a finger into my chest, keeping my gaze hostage. “He’s someone important, someone who’s helping me.”
“Someone important.”
“Yes, I care about him.”
“Someone you had a crush on.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I was seventeen.”
Viviana claws her fingers into my lapels as if wanting to root herself in me. She doesn’t need to. She’s already there in my fucking cells, flowing through my blood, etched in my damn marrow.
“Tristan, baby, I love you.”
Her words slowly register, dissipating the dark fog gathered around my brain.
A smile blooms on her face, with no trace of dishonesty, disarming me. “And loving you will probably end up ruining me. But I don’t care. Don’t be jealous of him, of anyone. There’s no reason.”
My heart hammers. It might crack my chest open to roll itself at her feet. Her power over me is astounding, the murderous rage and furious jealousy dissolving.
But not even her confession is enough. I want everything—her complete loyalty, her absolute surrender, her entire heart.
I thread my hand in her hair, wrapping a fist around her silky strands, and tug her head back, staring deep into her eyes. “Whose are you?”
She licks her lips. “Yours.”
“You better remain mine because if not, baby, I will destroy anything and kill anyone to have you. To keep you. And I am not fucking bluffing. Let another man touch you, and he’s dead.”
Her eyes widen, apprehension clear in her green orbs. Yes, baby. I am a killer, and you’re starting to get it, but it’s too late. For both of us.
I rub my nose against her sensitive neck, breathing her in. She smells like a flower garden and pure sunshine. Like a fresh day after I’ve spent centuries at the cusp of dusk.
“Don’t say things like that,” she sighs, touching my chest.
My hand inches lower, resting at the base of her neck where the vein throbs under my touch. “It’s the truth, Viviana, and we promised to be truthful to each other.”
She nods as if coming to terms with something.
Curling my hand around her delicate neck, I slam my mouth on hers, kissing her hard to erase any trace of him, even the memory that he kissed her.
When I am done devouring her mouth, she stumbles back, but I grip her elbow, catching her.
She giggles into my chest. “Silly man. You literally kiss me dizzy, and you worry there could be someone else.”
Eyes locked, a grin stretches across my face, and I kiss her forehead. “I’m crazy about you, Viviana. And that’s not a good thing. At all.”
I pick up her bag, and outside, she glances around, watching for the guards. I have my own to protect her, who also serve as a distraction so I can take her away once more this weekend. Only once we climb into the car does she relax.
Just a little while longer, baby. In a few months, you’ll be my wife.
Pressing my finger to the start button, I drive away, one hand resting on her thigh, the contact soothing my turmoil. My patience is failing, considering my growing craving for her.
She looks out the window before she sweeps her gaze at me. “I’ll have to visit my family next weekend.”
That’s when I will visit the Syndicate. Doing something productive if I can’t be with her.
I wink at her. “I guess we should take full advantage of this weekend then.”
A blush colors her face.
By the time I am done with her, I will have fucked the innocence out of her. I tap my index finger on the wheel in the rhythm of impatience bouncing inside of me. I planned this weekend differently. Take it slow, savor every second, but with every mile, it becomes a losing battle.
The beach house appears in front of me, and I let go, embarking on the madness that has such a chokehold on me, it seizes my lungs. It’s like I am inhaling through a cloth, enough to sustain me, but far from satisfying me. Only feeling her from the inside out will feed me the much-coveted breath.
It’s a blur, getting out of the car and bringing the suitcase inside our bedroom. It drops on the floor just like my patience and any other plans other than ravishing her.
“I’m sorry, baby. I fucking need you too much.” My hand curls around the back of her neck, pulling her to my chest for a passionate kiss.
I am burning up as I kiss her, trying to satisfy a need that overpowers everything else. Nothing could bring me to fall but loving her might. Nothing more than a fallen king begging for her mercy.
In rapid moves, I undress her, the clothes flying around and scattering on the floor like my restraint.
Faced with perfection, it’s beyond my understanding how I could even withstand this goddess for so long. Because having her naked in front of me, I sure as fuck can’t anymore and will never be able to.
The gentleman in me quits.
He never stood a chance.
I drop to my knees and breathe in the sweetest pussy, causing instant thirst. Flattening my tongue, I slide the tip over her slit, eliciting a tremor. She has such a perfect pussy, pink and with the cutest little clit enticing me for a bite.
I can’t abstain, wrapping my teeth around the bundle of nerves, drawing a moan out of her before I lick her pussy, never breaking eye contact and nibbling along her thigh.
Her eyes shine so brightly, the desire unmistakable.
I crave her fall into bliss, so I can catch her.
“Tristan, don’t be cruel,” she pleads, undoing me like my plan to make her lose her mind first.
Fuck it. I am done, needing her before I die of pent-up desire.
I eat her out, lapping at her folds like she’s a fountain of life, the sounds rumbling in my throat emphasizing the sheer delight overcoming me.
“You taste so fucking good, baby. Jesus Christ, I could eat you all the damn time and not have enough,” I say, burying my head between her thighs, feasting on her pussy like it’s my last meal.
She digs her fingers in my scalp as if to hold on, and I lift her leg, angling it over my shoulder for better access, desperate for another taste, ravenous for her.
Moans and groans collide in a carnal symphony, her pussy squelching for me, creating greedy little noises, becoming my new favorite melody.
I drink her juices like my survival depends on it, and she regales me with the sweetest sounds of surrender.
Her head flies back, crying out her pleasure while my fingers dig into her thighs, marking her with my desire.
I don’t stop until she’s a whimpering, trembling mess, my name rolling out of her mouth with pure ecstasy.
I want her high on me, craving me like I do her, tongue spearing into her pussy, fucking her with reckless abandon.
Her juices flow in a rivulet coating my chin, and accompanied by her soft whimpers, she’s a tight wire ready to snap.
One lick later, my name rips out of her throat as she shatters for me.
“Just like that, baby, feed me the mess I made of your pussy.” I pepper kisses on her folds and then her inner thighs, waiting for her body to get the shaking back under control. “I have you.”
Standing up, I stretch my palm out, pushing her toward the bed. She falls onto the silk sheets, a doll embracing her fate of being a good fucking girl for me—mindless and high on me.
On her forearms, she watches me rip off my clothes.
The image of her lying in my bed and ready to be fucked sends a rush of lust through me that has my cock so hard I might nail her to the bed.
I pump my cock up and down to gather some control, afraid I will break her.
She bites her lip, and that single gesture snaps my patience. Passion drives me, and I climb into bed, settling myself between her legs.
Guiding myself to her entrance, I contemplate the tight pussy I am going to destroy.
There’s no point in apologizing. She’s mine to break and shape her to my cock and no one else’s. In one thrust, I drive myself to the hilt inside her, sheathing myself in her hot core.
She cries out, her arms flying around my neck. Her head falls back, giving me access to her neck, trusting me to ease the ache. I nibble on her delicate skin, needing to have more than my cock inside of her, but my hands and mouth too.
“You feel so good, baby. I can’t help myself.”
Her breath hitches. “I feel you in my cervix.”
I chuckle, pulling out, her walls massaging me into damn euphoria as I push myself back inside her.
“Take every inch, baby. It will always go all the way inside of you.” I switch between short and hard thrusts and slow and long ones, keeping a constant rhythm.
“So full, so deep,” she whines, eyes glazed over, appearing drugged.
My fingers curl around her neck, and I bite her jaw. “I know, baby. You’re doing so well taking my cock in your tight pussy,” I coo. “Who’s my good girl?”
“I am,” she moans, her nails digging into my ass as if to keep me deep inside her, meeting me thrust for thrust. Even though my cock is too much, she wants it anyway, making the beast inside of me roar in sheer satisfaction and pure pride.
In an undulating move, I straighten up and grip her ankles to spread her open for an unobstructed view of her pussy sucking me whole. I ram into her; the headboard hitting the wall with the force of my thrusts.
“Why is it not enough? I am pounding this pussy raw, fucking myself into your soul, and I still want more. I need more.”
Softness threads through her face twisted with pleasure. “I’m here, baby. Yours.”
Bending over, I kiss her with everything in me, pouring my essence into her as I play with her nipples, not neglecting the cherry peaks.
“Give me another one,” I say, my rhythm changing to a soft, slow rock of my hips.
My desire is visceral. My need to connect with her in every way is ruling me.
She moans into my mouth, eyes unfocused and glassy, but so trusting that it hits me straight in the chest.
Desperation melts into softness, the beast retreating, sated for now, allowing the man to take center stage and worship his woman.
“This feels a lot like lovemaking to me,” she murmurs.
“I love you,” I say, coming undone—unraveled by the woman in my bed.
Never knew being physically connected amplifies when you’re also emotionally bonded.
She cups my cheek, and I lean into her touch, not getting enough even though I couldn’t be deeper inside her.
“I love you. Never doubt it, Tristan.”
“I’ll love you until my last breath and beyond. I am yours. In this life. The next one. And all that will come afterward.”
A radiant smile stretches across her face. “Such a poet.”
I arch a brow, rejoicing in the serenity. “Fucking your pussy could make me wax poetic all day long.”
We move in a sensual rhythm, eyes locked, emotions overflowing between us. Since the beginning, there has been a binding intimacy that has veered into undeniable familiarity, sprinkled with playfulness.
She comes again and, incapable of holding on, I let myself fall, drowning in the wonder of her—following her in sheer bliss as I fill her.