Sitting up, I kneel on the mattress and arrange his legs around my waist with deliberate movements. He doesn’t move his hands from where I left them on the pillow, and I know he won’t—not until I give him permission. Waves of satisfaction ripple through me at the thought.
I put my hands flat on his shoulders and drag them slowly down over the length of his torso. “I’m going to give you all my love.” The words emerge slowly. A low, dark tone makes them sound dirty and decadent. “And all…” Sucking a thumb into my mouth, I get it nice and wet before lowering it between his butt cheeks. “My…” I push into him and he cries out. “Devotion,” I finish on a husky note.
His hips rock against the intrusion of my thumb, while my other hand continues to roam his skin, alternating between light touches and firmer holds. “I’m going to make you feel my love for you.”
“Yes.” His eyes are closed and a fine sheen of perspiration covers his brow. “Make me feel it.”
Withdrawing my thumb, I take hold of Tristan’s hips and urge him to turn over onto his stomach. I stretch out beside him and capture his mouth in a deep, luscious kiss while my right hand fondles his back and the ripeness of his round buttocks. He kisses me back with a quiet desperation. So needy, so ready to receive anything I have to offer. I’m ready to offer it all.
The bottle of lube sits beside the lamp and I quickly use it to slick my fingers. “Tris,” I murmur, my mouth next to his ear. “I’m going to invade your body with my love. It will sink into your bones, work its way into your cells. It will become a part of you.” My fingers follow the lead of my words, sliding deep inside him, and Tristan’s head falls forwards on the pillow, his hips lifting higher as he spreads his legs for me. “You’ll never be free, even if you leave me.” I add another finger, thrusting slow and deep. “You’ll always feel my love inside you. You’ll alwaysbeloved by me.”
I begin to stroke his prostate and he whimpers into the pillow, his hands crushing its softness. Lower down, his greedy hole clenches around my fingers and I’m throbbing in anticipation. I want those muscles surrounding me, wringing every ounce of pleasure from me. But not quite yet.
First, I spend an age kissing him, delving into his mouth to taste and treasure. Then I turn him over and move lower, sucking him to the edge of bliss before I make my retreat. He moves willingly beneath the guidance of my touch, following every direction and complying with all my demands. Finally, when I’ve exhausted every body part and he’s a boneless, quivering mess of need, I flip him back onto his stomach and tug his hips up high in the air.
His head is on the mattress and he slides his arms up, not even attempting to touch himself. The simple act drags a low hum of satisfaction from deep inside me. I use the lube to ready myself, grateful we’ve already done away with the need for protection. I want to feel Tristan’s skin with mine, savour every inch as I sink into him. Bending over, I kiss his right butt cheek, then the left, before swiping my tongue in a single firm lick over his opening. He barely manages a moan, but a violent shudder rolls through his entire body.
“You’re so beautiful, Tris,” I tell him. “I love you with all of me.” As the last of the words leave my mouth, I slide into him in a single, powerful thrust.
He rears back, yelling in pleasure and relief. “Yes. Holy fuck, yes.” He shoves back against me, silently begging me to move.
Gripping on to his shoulder with one hand, I wrap the other around the hard length of him and I give him what he wants in long, pounding strokes. I pull back on his shoulder with every thrust, seating myself as deeply as possible in his welcoming heat.
Tristan’s wails of pleasure mix with my own coarser grunts. His body writhes and contorts, clamping down as he rides me. His hard length tunnels through the fierce grip of my fist over and over.
My teeth scrape across his bare back and every muscle seems to contract. My eyes squeeze shut as I hang there, suspended at the edge of oblivion for a single instant, before the crash begins.
I come in endless pulsing waves, emptying myself inside Tristan’s body. Claiming him, even as I give him everything. He cries out, his own pleasure spilling over my hand.
When it’s over, we fall forwards onto the mattress. Moving to lie at Tristan’s side, I caress his back with lazy fingers while we catch our breath. I trail light kisses across his cheeks and mouth. I fill his ears with murmurs of caring.I love the feel of your skin against mine. I love the sounds you make when you come. I love the way you make me feel.After a while, my middle finger slips down into his crack, down, down, until it rubs over his hole. He gasps, then moans softly as he pushes back, seeking more of my slippery touch. Smiling, I lean up to whisper in his ear, “I love the feel of my come seeping out of you.”
A tired laugh sounds from somewhere deep in his throat. “I’m all messy.”
I nip at his earlobe. “You’re hot when you’re messy.”
Leaving the bed, I get a warm washcloth from the bathroom and take care cleaning us both up before we slide beneath the covers. He wraps his arms around me, his head on my chest, and before I can even wonder if he’d like me to talk him to sleep, his breath evens out and I know there’s no need.
Sleep takes longer for me. I know now I would do anything to be with this man. I want him inside my bubble with me forever. But he’s complicated and I’m complicated. I don’t even know how long he’ll want to stay.
Morning comes too soon, but when Tristan opens his eyes and sees me there beside him, the shadow smile returns. “Do you still love me?” he asks in a quiet murmur.
I roll onto my side to deliver a sweet, lingering kiss. “I still love you.”
He hugs me tight and nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck with a contented sigh. “Good.”
TWENTY-TWO
______
TRISTAN
I’ve been thinking a lot about what Sam said the other night—before he ever-so-gently pried my heart from my chest and nailed it to his bedroom wall, I mean. The words he used, the questions he asked, keep coming back to me in search of answers. What do the people in my life deserve from me?
For so many years, I’ve focused all my attention on myself. My sin. My guilt. My penance. My promise. I’ve dissected, weighed, and measured the many things I do and don’t deserve from life, without sparing a thought for anyone else.
In many ways, other people ceased to exist for me. Those who’ve had the misfortune to wander into my life have been treated as temptations to be resisted or sacrifices to be made. Intent on punishing myself, I’ve also succeeded in hurting them.
I think of Walter and the way I ended things with him. Without goodbyes, without so much as a word of explanation. I think of him and I’m ashamed. My father may have insisted I end the relationship, but I’m the one who chose to end it in the worst way possible. Caught up in my own fury and devastation, I never took the time to consider how I could have minimised the harm I caused him. What if my thoughtlessness was the thing that finally broke Walter? What if I have more blood on my hands than I realise?
