Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
LILY
The weight on the bed shifts, slowly pulling me from my sleep. Then I hear it. Soft but slow, even breaths. They’re close enough that I can feel the warmth.
I don’t move. Barely breathe. I lie still and wonder if I’m dreaming.
My phone. I need my phone. I left it on the nightstand. If I can reach it, I can call Teddy. Aka Killian.
“Don’t.”
The voice is barely above a whisper, filled with sleep. I know that voice. I’ve heard it in my dreams and my nightmares and every moment in between.
I start to open my eyes when he shifts, coming down over me. Tristan’s hand clamps over my mouth before I can scream. Fuck, before I can do anything at all.
My whole body goes rigid, my heart hammering against my ribs as panic floods my veins. Then I smell him all around me. The same smell I swore lingered in the air recently when I woke up each morning. And I know for certain it’s Tristan.
My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness so I can see his face more clearly.
It’s only inches away from mine. I can see the wildness in his gaze.
He’s breathing harder now. He releases his hand from my mouth.
We stare at each other, and once again, his eyes drop to my mouth.
I wait, curious, but I only last a few seconds.
“What—”
He kisses me. Hard and deep, devouring whatever stupid question I was about to ask. The fear leaves me as quickly as it came. It transforms, hot and reckless, pouring into something I’ve been denying since I was eighteen years old and he first looked at me like I was a problem he couldn’t solve.
I bite his lip. He makes a sound against my mouth, desperate, and then he’s pulling me under him, his weight fully settling over mine, his hands everywhere at once. Then I feel it: his hard cock pressed against my panties. They’re the only bottoms I’m wearing and the MIT shirt.
His hands slide under my shirt, warm and rough against my skin. I arch up into him, needing more, badly needing him to press down hard on me, the ache starting to build.
Tristan pushes the fabric up, exposing my breasts to the cool air, and then his mouth is there, hot and wet, wrapping around my nipple. My whole body jerks, and I cry out, my fingers sinking into his hair, needing to touch him.
When he sucks, then grazes his teeth on my nipple, it’s like a live wire shooting down between my thighs. He switches to the other side, relentlessly giving it the same attention. I’m panting, already so close to the edge. Could I really come from him only sucking on my breast?
“Tristan—”
There’s no response; he’s already moving down my body, his mouth trailing down my stomach, then dipping into my navel, nowhere it can’t reach.
His hand suddenly jerks my thighs farther apart, making room for his broad shoulders.
I can see him in the moonlight, his eyes dark and fixed on me, his hair messed up from my grip.
He hooks his fingers in my panties and pulls them to the side.
“Wait—”
“No.” His voice is rough, wrecked. “Don’t tell me to stop.”
I don’t. I couldn’t if I wanted to. All words die on my lips when he lowers his head and his mouth is on me, his tongue slipping through the folds of my sex, making my back arch.
A pleasure I never knew existed takes my breath away.
A deep groan rumbles against me, the vibration making me whimper, and then he’s everywhere.
Trying to consume me. Licking and sucking and driving me insane with need.
His hands grip my hips, holding me still while he works me higher. I can feel the orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, and I grab the sheets, the pillow, anything to anchor myself. He doesn’t let up. He finds my clit and circles it, pressing hard, and I’m gasping, begging—then it hits me.
The pleasure rolls through me, overwhelming, and I cry out his name, my whole body shaking with it. Tristan keeps licking, gentler now, drawing it out until I’m twitching, oversensitive, pushing at his shoulders because I can’t take any more.
He crawls back up my body, his mouth shining with the remnants of my orgasm, and kisses me deeply. I can taste myself on him, the intimacy of it making me dizzy. Hell, it turns me on all over again. I’ve marked him.
“I’ve been dying to do that,” he breathes against my lips, “since you were eighteen and walked into the kitchen in those shorts.”
I stare up at him. “Really?” As I got older, we fought more when he came around.
“Every fucking day, Lily.” He rocks his hips against me, and I feel how hard he is, straining against his jeans. “Every fucking day.”
I reach between us, my hand trembling as I find the button of his jeans.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I also can’t stop.
I’ve wanted him for so long. Dreamed of him wanting me in the same way.
A loud hiss comes through his teeth when my fingers brush him through his jeans, his whole body going tense above me.
Feeling bold and like I’m stealing a moment in time, I work his zipper down, my hand slipping in and freeing him. His cock is thick and impossibly hard.
“Lily.” He growls my name like a warning. When has that ever stopped me? If anything, it encourages my naughty behavior. “If you touch me, I won’t be able to stop.” He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I run my tongue across his top lip. “Then don’t.” I run my finger down his jaw and stare up at him, unyielding. I pull my shirt off and lift my hips to slip my panties off, baring all of myself to him.
Then he’s on me, his mouth taking mine again, kissing me like I’m the only thing that will sustain him. His hands are quick, kicking his jeans off, and then he’s naked against me, skin to skin, and I can’t think anymore. I can only feel.
Tristan positions himself at my entrance, the head of his cock pressing into me, and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. He hesitates, his forehead dropping to mine, his breath heavy.
“Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want you. I always have.” There’s no use in holding back now.
The words are barely past my lips, and he’s thrusting into me, hard and deep. I whimper at the sharp pain of losing my virginity. He stills for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched tight. He’s fighting for control.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my mouth.
“I’m not.” I dig my nails into his back. “Now move.”
“Brat.” He pulls out and slams back in, making me gasp.
“You can’t call me a brat when you’re inside me.”
“I just did.” He thrusts in again. I nip his lip, and he smiles against my mouth.
I can’t recall the last time he smiled. “I knew you’d feel this fucking good.
” He sets a rhythm that’s fast and desperate.
I match it, both of us expressing what we’ve been holding back for years.
I run my fingers down his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath, and he groans, his pace faltering.
“More,” I whisper, and he obliges, fucking me with a ferocity that should scare me but only makes me want more. The bed rattles against the wall now. I already feel another orgasm building, deeper this time, more intense.
“Tristan—”
“I know.” He shifts his angle, hitting a spot inside me that makes my breath hitch. “I feel it too.”
I cry out his name when I come. He follows me over the edge, burying his face in my neck and hair; his body jerks, trying to get as deep as he can as he spills inside me.
We lie there afterwards, tangled together, breathing hard. He doesn’t pull out. He doesn’t let go. He just holds me like I’m precious, something he’s afraid to lose.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers against my hair. “I’ve got you, Lily. I always have.”
And for the first time, I almost believe him.