I cross my arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. “I’m nervous.”
“I get that. Should I stop then?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to stop,” I sigh, terrified that once we begin, the end will come, and I won’t be able to face it.
“I might not want to stop once I start,” he says, voice low as if sharing my inner turmoil.
And then he grins, casting his features into a relaxed pose, making him appear even more handsome. That single gesture brushes away my nerves. I surrender to him, knowing he will most probably ruin my pussy and devour my soul.
“Tristan.”
“Viviana.”
We gaze at each other.
“Let me have you. I need to have you,” he says, sounding pained, like nothing will ever be enough with me.
I cradle his face and place a sweet kiss on his lips. “You can have me.”
I have little to give. Everything I could give a man is not a choice but a duty. In my world, virginity is this sacred thing. But in his arms, wrapped up in him, I ignore the repercussions, trusting fate. It brought me to him. God must have something else in mind for me.
He kisses me back with fervor, and engulfed in his rich scent, his hard body pressed on mine, his skilled hands mapping every inch, there’s no tomorrow. It’s only this moment—the final push to thrust me from teetering on the edge into a freefall.
He peppers kisses along my neck and the valley of my breasts as his palms travel along my sides in a sensual exploration. This overload of sensations drives me mad with lust, increasing the throbbing in my core.
Sucking on a nipple, he rolls the other between his thumb and fingers. I arch up, needing more—a wanton mess at his mercy. Arousal drenches my thong, the pressure becoming unbearable.
I clench my thighs to soothe the ache, but he’s between them. “I need…” I don’t even know what I need. I just know he’s the cause and the cure wrapped in one sensual package.
“I know, baby. I know, but I need to prepare you.”
“No. Now. Right now,” I whine, writhing—feverish.
His hand comes around the base of my throat, squeezing lightly. The gesture should terrify me. He could cut off my air if he wanted. Instead, it causes the fire smoldering in my core to blaze.
“Be a good girl and be patient,” he commands.
Should that be so hot?
I offer a noncommittal sound, afraid I will open my mouth to say I’ll be whatever he wants.
He smirks, revealing that he knows that already.
The power he wields over me mixes with something darker, more dangerous—primal.
He pulls the thong down my legs, noticing the evidence of what he does to me. Lifting the material to his nose, he inhales, and a shiver uncoils from deep within me. I might come right on the spot. I don’t think I need much—one more touch, one more kiss.
The sexual tension wraps around us like tendrils of smoke, denoting more than compatibility and lust but sharing something deeply intimate. Undeniable.
“Fuck, you smell good. I bet you taste even better,” he says before he slaps my thighs apart. He wears a mischievous grin as he buries his head between my legs and licks me from bottom to top.
My eyes pop open, the sensation to die for.
“Oh my god,” I murmur, gripping the sheet. “What is this?”
He smirks. “My tongue up your delectable pussy. It’s just the two of us, baby. You can scream for God, but you come for me.”
He continues to tease my body to the point of sensory overload. I’ve made myself come, but what he does to my body is incomparable.
