“Try it and see,” I croak. “I dare you.”
His hand plunges into my underwear, his whole palm cupping me and making me bolt upright. “Tristan.”
“You’ll learn, Bonded,” he says slowly. He rotates his palm against me, my clit pressing against the slightly textured skin. “I’ll never turn down a dare, especially when it comes to you.”
My hips pump. “Use your fingers.”
It’s a plea, not a demand, and the sneaky bastard knows it. He lightens his touch instead, making me whimper as he presses a hot kiss under my chin. “Say it, Sienna.”
Fine.
Fine.
I bury my face in his neck again. “Bonded.”
“What was that?”
I growl. “Fuck me with your hand,Bonded, or I’ll go inside that room and make you listen to me get myself off.”
He presses his mouth against mine. “It won’t feel anywhere near as good as this.”
And then his fingers are thrusting inside me, two, then three, scissoring and stretching me as I ride his hand. He soaks up my cries with his lips, drinking them down and demanding more as his hand thrusts into me over and over again until I crest, my body shaking as my release sweeps over me in a fucking wave. Tristan holds me tightly, his hand slowing to a gentle caress until my bones go limp against him, and he presses a kiss to my damp hair.
“I hate you,” I grumble weakly, my face pressed against him. “Using orgasms against an omega is like… catnip. ‘S not fair.”
He laughs hoarsely, his hands stroking up and down my heated skin. “I’m not playing for the experience here, Bonded. I’m playing towin. And I’ll use every weapon I have to make you see exactly what I am.”
“And what is that?” I let my eyes close as I rest against his chest. Just for a moment.
“Yours.”
43
TRISTAN
Sienna lists against my chest, her face rubbing against my shirt, as I carry her into the bathroom.
I’m being greedy. I should let her go back to her room. I’ve taken enough of her time tonight. But I can’t bear to let her go just yet, not with the feel of her riding my hand still fresh in my mind, the rich, heady scent of her arousal soaked into my nose.
She stirs as I lean down, flicking the faucets on. “What are you doing?”
“Running you a bath.”
She yawns, covering her mouth with her hand as I perch us on the edge of the tub, reaching for bubbles and pouring a generous dollop in. “Anyone ever tell you you’re really pushy?”
“Frequently,” I admit. I look down into her face. “Is it too much? Do you want to go back to your room?”
“Now he asks,” she mutters, but her lips tilt upwards. “I’ll allow it. I’m not going to turn down a bath after weeks of showers.”
“You prefer baths?” I want to know every single little thing there is to know about her.
“Mmmm.” She stretches in my hold, the neckline of her shirt slipping down to reveal the perfect curve of her breast. My mouth dries. That small glimpse of her, her face wrecked with pleasure, wasn’t nearly enough.
No matter how much I get of Sienna Michaels, it will never be enough.
When the bath is full, I set her down with regret. “I’ll leave you to it.”
She purses her lips. “No, you won’t.”
