Unwrapped

He hauled her up in his arms and carried her upstairs as if she weighed nothing. She pressed her face into his neck and hung on. She didn’t know if he’d go to her bedroom or his, but when she lifted her head, she saw he’d chosen his. Of course. He had the big bed, the amazing sound system, the gorgeously expensive bedroom set, and oh my God.

She stared upward in stunned shock when he dropped her on his California king, her butt still bouncing on the ultrafirm mattress. “You have a mirror above the bed,” she whispered.

But not just a mirror. It was shaped like a sun, each ray a sliver of glass surrounding a center circle. It wasn’t as classless as the usual ceiling special. Of course not. Even Tristan’s implements of sexual pleasure were artfully sensuous.

Color her not surprised.

Tristan didn’t reply to her comment. He was too busy undoing buttons and then drawing his shirttails out of his pants. Baring the incredible chest that made her want to lick him from the strong line of his shoulders to his equally noteworthy cock. Breathing hard, stunned into inaction, she watched him disrobe, her fingers twitching where they lay uselessly at her sides.

Once he’d stripped, he crawled into bed with her and pulled her close. He made no move to remove her clothes as they kissed, his fingers stroking her back, her arms, her ass. Everywhere he touched, she burned. She couldn’t even return the favor. She was too overwhelmed by the sensations he aroused in her.

He wrecked her world with dizzying, slow kisses, the complete opposite of what he’d given her downstairs. By the time his hand crept under her top, she was panting and so wet she would’ve sworn her arousal had to be trickling down her legs. Her nipples ached, and the pain only increased when he slipped her breast free from her bra and lowered his head to nibble the tight tip. His tongue lashed her after every bite, but it wasn’t soothing. He meant to drive her crazy, and he succeeded.

Desperate to feel his skin against hers, she jerked up and tugged off her shirt. Her bra came off next, followed by her jeans and her panties. She was yanking the bikinis off her ankles when she happened to glance up again, catching a glimpse of her flushed face and rosy nipples in the mirror. A cry escaped her, one Tristan absorbed with his mouth as he ranged his body over hers, pushing her hips down into the mattress. His erection branded her belly, teasing her with the weight of everything he could do to her.

And she wanted everything. Wanted him more than her next breath.

There wasn’t time to think as his mouth raced over her body. He seemed to be everywhere at once. His hands cradled her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples, lips grazing her trembling belly, coasting over her ribs, caressing her hips, then finally landing at the edge of her pussy, his tongue dipping down to scoop out her abundant wetness. When he licked her, she bolted upward, held only in place by his stranglehold on her breasts. He yanked her feet over his shoulders and spread her wide open, sucking, biting, eating her out so thoroughly she had to close her eyes against the kaleidoscope of color exploding in her vision.

She cried out again and again, but whether she pleaded for him to stop or begged for more, she didn’t know. By the time she came, she was shuddering like an addict, spasms radiating from her core throughout her entire body.

But as good as it was, she needed more. He was the only thing that could take away the emptiness she carried, the only one who could fill that hollow place inside her that belonged just to him.

He lifted his head, his gaze connecting with hers as they both caught their breath. Guilt slammed into her, followed swiftly by love. Hurting him was like cutting herself open.

How could she keep doing that? And for what?

How could she turn away from this?

Without speaking, she reached down to cup his face in her palm. He understood what she wanted and moved up her body before reaching in the nightstand for a foil packet. Once he’d pulled on the latex, she brought her knees up close to her chest and hooked her ankles around his neck.

“You’re learning,” he murmured, trailing his fingertip over her lower lip before he nipped her flesh, distracting her as he glided inside and made her his all over again.

God, sex was amazing. As stupid as it was, his scent floating over her, his hands on her skin, his kisses, his heat…they were all wispy dreams. But this was when the dream became reality, when hard flesh met soft and somehow became the same.

She tried to memorize all of it. Their bodies rising and falling as one, breath tripping, heartbeats melding into one endless throb.

He whispered her name every time he pressed deeper, grinding against her clit until she couldn’t even gasp his. All the oxygen in her lungs had to be used to prolong the pleasure enveloping her with his every thrust. Slowly, so slowly, the friction grew, each squeeze of her inner muscles pulling a groan from him and a soft cry from her.

She swiveled her hips, testing to see what they both liked. Her orgasm had taken some of the edge off, and she wanted to make their lovemaking last as long as possible.

In case this is the last time you’re with him like this?

Cait closed her eyes to fight the thoughts trying to invade her mind. For once she was just going to let go and enjoy.

Before long her tentative explorations led to his ragged moan. He changed the angle, using one hand to guide her legs closer together. “Perfect,” he whispered. “You feel so fucking perfect.” Desperate to see him, she opened her eyes again, only to catch him smiling down at her as if she’d hung the moon and all the stars too. “Love doing this with you,” he said, his voice reverent.

The dryness of her throat made speech impossible, so she slid her hands up his arms and gripped his biceps as their mouths met. Luckily he didn’t seem to expect a response.

Of course she loved doing this with him. Loved him, period. Other than Matt, she’d never loved another man.

Never would.

She drew her knees as close to her chest as possible, heaving out a breath as her hard nipples rubbed against her skin. He reached up and flicked the hard tips, his gaze caressing hers with the same intensity as his cock plunged into her pussy.

God, she was so wet. She’d been wet for him for years. If she hadn’t been so good at living in denial, she would’ve had to face up to that a long time ago.

“Oh, Tristan.” The plea caused her cheeks to flood with heat. But she didn’t let it stop her. “I’m going to come,” she said, clenching around his thick cock until he released a long, needy groan. “Come with me.”