Chapter 39 Tristan
TRISTAN
Tristan carried his wife over the threshold while snow fell steadily beyond the door.
Maren laughed as he set her down, the sound bright and genuine. "That was very traditional of you."
"I have my moments." He locked the door, threw the bolt. The cabin was warm, fire already burning from when he'd prepared it that afternoon. Candles lit across surfaces, casting everything in gold and shadow.
"You planned this." She turned slowly, taking in the flowers arranged in mismatched jars, the blankets spread near the hearth, the wine breathing on the table.
"I planned to bring my wife home properly." He moved behind her, hands finding her waist. "Is that okay?"
"More than okay." She leaned back against him. "It's perfect."
He kissed her neck, just below his mark. She shivered, tilting her head to give him better access. Her shadows moved across the floor, relaxed and content.
"The gown is beautiful," he said against her skin. "But I've been thinking about taking it off since I saw you in it."
"Have you?"
"Every minute. Wondering what you're wearing underneath. If you're wearing anything at all." His hands slid up her ribs, feeling her breath catch. "Want to tell me?"
"Why don't you find out?"
He turned her to face him, capturing her mouth in a kiss that started gentle but turned hungry fast. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. The bond pulsed between them, feeding their desire back and forth until he couldn't tell where his want ended and hers began.
He found the ties holding the gown closed, working them free with deliberate slowness. The silk parted, revealing skin and the curve of her breasts barely contained by black lace. His cock hardened immediately, pressing against his pants.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You wore this under the gown all night?"
"I wanted you to have something to unwrap." She pushed the gown off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. Black lace covered her breasts and the apex of her thighs, but barely. He could see the shadow of her nipples, the slit between her legs.
"Come here." His voice came out rough.
She stepped over the discarded gown, moving into his space. He cupped her breasts through lace, feeling her nipples harden under his palms. She made a sound that went straight to his cock.
"Bedroom or here?" he asked.
"Here. I want to see firelight on your skin."
He stripped quickly, letting her watch. Her gaze tracked over his chest, lingering on the spell-circle that marked him as hers. When he pushed down his pants, his cock was already hard and aching.
She licked her lips. "I'll never get tired of seeing you like this."
"Good. Because I plan on being naked around you as often as possible." He pulled her down to the blankets, settling her on her back. "Now let me see what else you're hiding."
He traced the edge of lace covering her breasts, not quite touching skin. She arched into the touch, seeking more. He made her wait, made her ask for it.
"Tristan, please."
"Please what?"
"Touch me properly. Stop teasing."
"But teasing is half the fun." He hooked a finger under the lace, pulling it down to expose one breast. Her nipple was tight and pink, begging for his mouth. "Though I suppose I can make an exception for my wife."
He sucked her nipple hard, feeling her back bow off the blankets. Her hands found his hair, holding him there. He worked her with teeth and tongue until she was writhing beneath him, then switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention.
"More," she gasped. "I need more."
"Greedy." But he kissed down her stomach, hooking his fingers in the lace covering her core. "Lift up."
She did, and he pulled the fabric away, leaving her completely bare. Her pussy was already wet, glistening in the firelight. He spread her thighs wider, wanting to see everything.
"You're so fucking beautiful like this." He traced one finger through her folds, feeling her jerk at the contact. "Spread open for me. Already dripping."
"Your fault." Her voice came out breathy. "You've been looking at me like you want to devour me all night."
"I do want to devour you." He slid one finger inside her, feeling her clench around him. "Want to taste every inch of you. Make you come on my tongue until you forget your own name."
"Then do it."
He added a second finger, working her slowly while his thumb found her clit. She rolled her hips, chasing the friction. Her shadows wrapped around his arms, trembling like she was.
"Not yet." He withdrew his fingers, ignoring her sound of protest. "I want you desperate first."
"I am desperate."
"Not enough." He leaned down, breath ghosting over her pussy. "Tell me what you want."
"Your mouth. Your tongue. Fuck, anything." Her hands fisted in the blankets. "Please, Tristan."
He finally gave her what she craved, his tongue tracing through her folds before finding her clit. She tasted sweet and perfect, exactly like he remembered from before. He sucked her clit into his mouth, feeling her whole body go taut.
"Yes, like that." Her hips started moving against his face. "Don't stop."
He had no intention of stopping. He worked her with tongue and lips and the occasional scrape of teeth, building her up steadily. His fingers joined his mouth, thrusting inside her while he sucked her clit.
She came with a cry that echoed off the cabin walls, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers. He worked her through it, drawing out the pleasure until she pushed at his head with shaking hands.
"Too much," she gasped.
"Never too much." But he crawled up her body, kissing her deeply so she could taste herself. "Ready for my cock now?"
"God, yes. Please."
He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock pressing against slick heat. "Look at me."
She did, silver eyes meeting his. He pushed inside slowly, feeling her stretch around him. Still tight despite how wet she was. Still perfect.
"Fuck, you feel good." He bottomed out, holding still to let her adjust. "So tight around me. Like you were made for my cock."
"I was." Her legs wrapped around his waist. "Made for you. Only you."
He started moving, slow and deep, angling to hit the spot inside her that made her gasp. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks he'd wear proudly.
"Harder," she demanded.
He gave her what she desired, his hips snapping forward with enough force to make her breasts bounce. "This what you need? Me fucking you hard?"
"Yes. Exactly that." Her head fell back, exposing the mate mark on her neck. "Don't hold back. I want all of you."
He didn't hold back. Set a pace that was claiming and possessive, his hips driving forward with force that made her entire body shift up the blankets. Each thrust hit deep, the angle perfect for grinding against that spot inside her that made her vision blur.
The bond flared between them, feeding their pleasure back and forth until he could feel her building toward another orgasm. Could feel the tight coil of tension in her core, the way her pussy was starting to flutter around his cock.
He shifted suddenly, pulling out despite her sound of protest. "On your knees. Hands on the floor."
She moved immediately, positioning herself on all fours. The firelight painted her skin gold and shadow, highlighting the curve of her ass, the slick evidence of her arousal coating her thighs.
"Fuck, look at you." He ran his hand down her spine, feeling her arch into the touch. "Presenting for me like the perfect mate you are."
"Please," she breathed. "Need you inside me again."
He gripped her hips, lining himself up, and thrust back inside in one smooth motion. The new angle let him go even deeper, made her cry out as he hit spots the other position hadn't reached.
"Better?" he asked, starting to move.
"God, yes. Deeper. Harder."
He gave her what she wanted, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the cabin, mixing with her moans and his rough breathing. He watched his cock disappear into her pussy with every thrust, watched her take him completely.
She slid her hand between her legs, fingers finding her clit. He could feel through the bond when she made contact, could feel the spike of pleasure that shot through her. She worked herself in quick circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
"That's it. Such a good girl, touching yourself while I fuck you." He pulled her hair a bit harder, making her back arch more. "Can you feel how deep I am like this? How perfectly your pussy takes my cock?"
"Yes, fuck, yes." Her voice was wrecked, desperate. "So deep. So full."
"You love being full of me, don't you?" His other hand left her hip, sliding around to grip her breast, pinching her nipple. "Love how hard I fuck you."
"Love it. Love you." Her fingers moved faster on her clit. "I'm so close."
"Then come for me." He thrust harder, deeper, his own orgasm building at the base of his spine. "Show me how good my cock makes you feel. Let me feel you fall apart."
"Tristan—" Her whole body went taut, every muscle tensing. "I'm—oh fuck—"
Her orgasm hit hard. Her pussy clenched around him like a vice, rhythmic pulses that pulled him deeper. He felt it through the bond, felt her pleasure crash over both of them in waves that didn't stop.
He followed her over, unable to hold back any longer. His release tore through him with force that made his vision white out. His hips jerked, driving deep and staying there as he spilled inside her. Hot and claiming and marking her from the inside out.
The bond flared brilliant, sealing everything between them. Mate and wife. Husband and chosen. Permanent in every way that existed.
He released her hair carefully, his hands finding her waist to support her as she collapsed forward onto the blankets. He went with her, covering her body with his, keeping them joined.
"Don't pull out yet," she murmured. "Want to feel you inside me a little longer."
"Not going anywhere." He shifted them carefully to their sides, spooning her from behind, his cock still buried in her pussy. "This good?"
"Perfect." Her hand found his where it rested on her stomach, fingers lacing together. "Everything about this is perfect."
They lay like that until his softening cock finally slipped free, followed by the warm rush of his release. He pulled her against his solid chest, wrapping both arms around her. They were both covered in sweat, sticky and satisfied and completely content.
Shadows wrapped around them like a blanket, purring with contentment. The mate mark on her neck stood out clearly in the firelight, silver and permanent. His mark. His claim.
They lay together, breathing hard, covered in sweat and satisfaction and the kind of peace that came from being exactly where they belonged.
He pulled her against his chest. They lay together, breathing hard, covered in sweat and satisfaction.
"I love you," she said quietly. "My mate. My husband."
Her graceful shadows curled around them both like a blanket, warm and content.
"I love you too." He kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth. "My wife. My forever."