I nod and try to turn, but the ropes stop me from moving more than a couple of inches. So I open my mouth to prove my point.
“Fuck me,” Tristan groans as he undoes the button of his jeans. He shoves his pants and underwear down around his knees. His cocks bobs heavy and hard between his legs, rising from his muscled thighs. His balls hang wide and close to his body. The man looks like he’s ready to come as a droplet of pre-cum glistens on the tip of his thick cock.
His hand strokes it in slow, teasing movements as he kicks off his shoes and steps out of his pants, leaving him in his hoodie and socks. “Do you want a taste, Princess?” he offers as he steps closer, keeping his cock inches from my lips as he hovers over me.
He unzips his hoodie and tosses it aside, quickly followed by his t-shirt. He reaches down and discards his socks.
“Yes,” is all I can say as he manages to swing his leg over my head to maneuver himself in a perfect sixty-nine position over me. He nestles his leg in the space between my head and my bound arm. He hovers over me as he adjusts his body to the tight space available.
He hunches over me, his head diving straight to my pussy.
His cock presses to my lips as his tongue swirls against my clit, making me gasp and open wide enough for him to slip the head in. Salty precum coats my tongue as I lap at the head of his cock.
Tristan groans into my pussy as he trails my lips with his tongue. “You’re so fucking sweet, Daph.”
I can’t speak as his cock slides in deeper. I whimper around his girth as he lashes my clit with his tongue. My hips wiggle, but they can’t escape the pleasure that’s building from his wicked tongue.
I try to focus on his cock, on bobbing my head as much as I can with the small space between the pillow and his hips. I can barely swallow half of him like this, but it’s enough for me to breathe around him.
Until he lowers his hips, pressing his cock in deeper. I gag slightly as he raises his hips for me to catch my breath.
Then he lowers them again, stealing the air from me. Over and over, he fucks my mouth in short thrusts,letting me breathe just enough before he fills my mouth again.
Tristan groans into my pussy. “I’m going to cum, Princess. Be a good girl and swallow.”
Tristan focuses his attention on my clit, teasing and sucking on the small bud, edging me closer to an orgasm.
Pleasure ripples through me as that first spurt of salty cum hits my tongue. With his thick cock swelling in my mouth, I can’t swallow, but I keep him there until he pulls out enough for me to close my lips and swallow every drop he’s given me.
His hips lower again, and I swipe up the last bit of cum from him as he laps at my clit, sending ripples of aftershock through me.
I moan his name around his cock as he teases my clit. He manages to shove two fingers into me, fucking me in a position I didn’t know was possible, but he rips my orgasm out of me, white-hot pleasure crashing into me as my pussy squeezes his fingers, drenching him in my arousal.
I moan his name again,his cock softening in my mouth but still deep enough to keep me trapped against him as my orgasm consumes me like wildfire, burning up any reservations I might have had about Tristan.
As my orgasm floats away, Tristan ceases the delicious torture on my pussy. He carefully stands on shaking legs.
His multicolored eyes shine with satisfaction, and he gazes down at me with a tenderness I’ve never seen in him before.
“You did so well, Princess,” he says behind a smirk. “I’m going to untie you. Then you’re going to sleep with me. In this bed. In my arms. Because I have never fucking donesomething like that, and if you kick me out of your bed, I might break.”
I can’t imagine him leaving. Not right now. Every inch of my body craves Tristan. His touch. His comfort. Him.
So, I oblige—purely because I don’t want a mad serial killer on the loose.Only that, and not because I’ve never had such an intense experience either.
Not because I need him too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TRISTAN
“Brent’s not going to leave mealone,” Daphne says for the fourth time this morning. After a night of multiple orgasms, I’m surprised she’s still talking about him.
Daphne strolls across her living room barefoot, wearing an oversized Georgetown T-shirt. One that hangs on her curvy frame, like it might have belonged to an ex.
Nope. I’m not going to think about that. Not my business what she got up to before we met. Besides, she’s still walking bow-legged this morning thanks to me. T-shirt guy can go jump in the Potomac for all I care.
Hawkeye trails at her heels with the toy alligator in his mouth before he plops himself down on the tops of my feet. Daphne sets her mug on the coffee table beside my laptop.
