Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“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.