Chapter 57
KATIE
We pound up the stairs, shucking our remaining clothing as we go.
I laugh as Tristan slams into the wall while removing his shorts.
He grins as I nearly trip trying to open his bedroom door before him.
And then we’re in his bedroom, which is delightfully chaotic and so Tristan that it stabs me briefly in the chest. There are piles of papers on his bedside table, a huge bed with white linens, and enough books by the bed that I’m certain he reads in here.
When I kiss him, it’s less frantic. We took the edge off downstairs, and here, in his bedroom, the gravity of the moment spills through me.
This isn’t boat sex or against a wall sex.
It’s Tristan’s bedroom sex. There’s a shadow of vulnerability in his gaze, so I kiss him again.
I taste myself on his tongue and it’s not weird or gross but affirming.
I slide my hands up his stomach and over his chest and down his arms and he sighs and shudders under me.
His head tilts so I can press kisses to his throat, suck on his pulse, bite at his collarbones.
Desire rises dizzyingly inside me. My fingers clutch at his shoulders.
My nips turn into bites that make him groan.
I want to mark him. I want to claim him.
When he pushes me onto the bed, I twist so I can crawl over him. My hands are on the thick muscle of his chest. His eyes are heavy lidded as he watches me, and I feel impossibly sexy at the way his gaze roves over me, like he doesn’t know where to look first.
“Katie,” he breathes.
I bend down as he surges up and our lips meet. Our tongues slide and our breaths mingle, and the kiss spirals until I’m grinding myself over his erection. He grips my hips as I kiss him, and then I’m slipping wetly over his cock and he’s panting against my neck.
“Perfect,” he says huskily. His fingers pinch my nipple and I arch.
“Perfect?”
“Yeah.” He sucks on my neck, his breaths shallow. “All the things I’ve fantasized about are coming true.”
I can’t help my laugh as I lean back and press him to the bed. He fights against my hand, trying to get back to me before he lets me push him into the mattress with a sigh.
“What fantasies?”
He stretches an arm behind his head in a way that makes his biceps bunch. “You pinned me to the grass that morning, remember?”
Heat crawls up my face, spreads down my chest. “Yes.”
His grin is cocky. “I fantasized that you’d grind yourself against me and take what you needed and you wouldn’t even care if I came.”
Need spikes hard inside me.
I take a sharp breath before I surge forward and pin his wrists to the bed.
He obliges by letting me drag his hands behind his back.
His cheekbones are slashed with red and I admire my handiwork.
His chest heaves under the heavy slabs of muscle.
His gaze bounces from my breasts to my face and he looks like he’d die to know what I’m going to do next.
“So in this fantasy…”
He swallows and nods, eyes going heavy.
“I just…take what I need from you. And you like that?”
I tighten my thighs around his waist and he nods.
“And I’m supposed to not care if you finish?”
“I don’t care,” he says hoarsely. “I just want you. Any way I can have you.” He grins, bright and blinding. “But realistically, if you fuck me from the top like this, I’ll last about four minutes.”
I giggle, letting my fingers drift up his dick. It’s heavy and hard against his stomach, curved slightly, throbbing under my hand, damp from our contact. I spread the wetness I find at the head. I feel powerful like this. “Already, Tristan? You’re dripping for me.” I can’t help but tease him.
He groans as my fingers circle his erection. “Fuck. Yeah. Already. Told you I fantasized about this.”
“You really did.” I can’t keep the awe from my voice as I stroke him and he bucks under my hand.
“Thought you were supposed to be new to this,” he pants.
I laugh, feeling wild and unrestrained. I shrug happily. “I thought so too. You make me feel bold.”
He grins back at me as his chest heaves. “I’m glad it’s me.”
My stomach dips. “I’m glad it’s you too.”
“Are you going to keep teasing me or—”
I growl at him and he laughs, then chokes a breath as I grip his dick.
His arms strain as I sink down onto him.
It’s deeper like this. Our gazes catch as he pushes inside, one thick inch at a time, the stretch delicious and breath-stealing in its intensity.
He doesn’t move his arms from behind his back, even as he arches under me.
“God, you’re wet.” He inhales sharply as I take all of him. “I made a mess of you last time.” His grin takes on an edge and he rolls his hips. “I want to do it again.”
I make a considering sound and pinch my nipples. He strains for them. “This is not about that,” I murmur.
“Fuck.” He throbs inside me. “How are you—” He looks wrecked and confused and so turned on that I nearly laugh.
“I don’t know,” I say huskily. I plant a hand on his stomach and move over him. “I don’t know, Tristan, but it feels really good between us.”
He grits his teeth as I rise up and lower back down. “Never felt like this before,” he admits.
“Natural,” I say. There’s an orgasm rising swiftly inside me, heat and sensation building behind my belly button.
“Fantastic.” He tosses his head back.
“Just okay.”
He groans. “Don’t tease me, Katie.”
I smile and our gazes catch and hold. I ride him in shallow movements, letting his ridges rub inside me, watching his face as it twists with each movement.
His eyes are dark and glazed. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking that I’ve never felt this powerful before. This good.”
His smile is vicious as his hips rock. “I told you. You’re blossoming. You didn’t need me for that. It was inside you the whole time.”
I feel like I am blossoming as he watches, a smile playing on his lips. I drink in each reaction, from his blown gaze when I pinch my nipples to the pulse of his heartbeat in his throat. I did this. I made him come apart. My own orgasm pulses behind my stomach as I rock against him.
I circle my hips slowly, so slowly, letting the euphoria crest inside me at the thickness of him and the way he stretches me. I’m starting to unravel. My muscles are trembling, my stomach shivering.
“Tristan,” I breathe.
“I’ve got you.”
I ride him futilely, chasing an orgasm that’s just out of reach. Frustration keeps the pleasure at bay as I seek it. “I can’t—”
“Let me help.”
His fingers clutch at my hips, urge me down against him. I bury my face in his neck as he surges up and thrusts into me from below. His heart pounds against my own and bliss coils faster and tighter.
“Are you close?”
I whimper, panting, needing more. He seems to sense it, because his pace increases and his arms band tighter around my back.
“What will get you there?”
I think back to before when he came inside me, the rightness of it, the connection I felt. “Come inside me,” I whisper.
“Fuck.” His curse is blistering. “I want that.” His thrusts are turning messy. “I want to fucking wreck you,” he whispers harshly. His mouth finds my ear. “I want to fill you up.”
The words make the knot of need tighten further. “Yes,” I hiss on a long exhale.
“Will you let me, Katie, baby?”
The whispered plea makes my whole body tighten, makes the desire rise hard and sharp and twist my stomach. I’m coming before I realize it, so hard and so fast that I’m moaning and trembling and clenching on Tristan’s cock while his thrusts grow heavy.
“Please, Tristan.” The words unlock him. His cock throbs inside me and he groans, long and low, as he follows me over the edge.
We rock shallowly against each other as we come down. I feel like I’m floating. I let my head rest in the crook of his neck as his fingers trace my spine.
“So good,” he murmurs. “So good with you.”
“As good as you imagined?”
“Better.” He chuckles. “So much better.”
His cock slips out of me, and my breath shudders at the loss of him. “I know, baby.” His hand smooths over the base of my spine, then dips between my legs.
“I can feel us.” His voice is reverent as his fingers trail through the wetness on my thigh, then slip through my pussy. I whimper at how oversensitive I am. “This okay?” He presses one thick finger to my entrance, waiting.
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” he breathes as he pushes inside, then back out.
I feel slick and swollen and deliciously used.
He holds my gaze as he fucks me with his hand.
It’s wet and messy and raw, and I want to close my eyes when I come in hard, clenching bursts, but his hand is on my face and he stops me with the heartbreaking seriousness of his gaze.
As we come down, I feel electric and sated all at once.
His hand twines into mine, squeezes.
I hope, with all my heart, that he feels like I do, that he never wants this to end.
I desperately, fervently, want him to love me back.