He practically throws the tray down on the bed and the drink slushes, almost spilling. I try to run but he’s too fast, and I’m far too slow. The mere seconds it took for my brain to tell my legs to run were the same he used to put the tray down and grab me.
I scream when his grasp tightens around my wrist and he pulls me to him. Instinct makes me grab the pillow and hit him with it. That unfortunately was another foolish move.
With a savage growl, Tristan yanks it so hard from my grasp it rips, and the feather stuffing explodes between us. He casts aside what’s left across the room and shoves me hard against the wall.
“You think I’m fucking worse than death?” he snarls getting into my face, pinning my hands to the wall. He’s too close again. I don’t like it.
“Fuck you,” I cry. “Get away from me. Get your hands off me. I’m a person, not a thing.” I scream the words like I’m not just talking to him. As if everyone who wronged me is right here in this room with us.
I notice a shift in his gaze like I’ve got his attention, so I continue my tirade.
“What did I do to you? Not a damn thing. You think you can treat me like this because I’m Mortimer Viggo’s daughter? You must have thought I was some kind a fool when you saw me crying in the park. An easy target.” Self-pity is taking over. I’m at a loss on what I’m supposed to do and while I don’t want to die, I don’t know what to do to live either. “You took one look at me and thought of me as a thing. A thing that was nothing to you. A thing you could—"
He steals my words away with a kiss.
Literally steals the words and my breath in one swift move and I’m silenced.
I taste him and recall with clarity how I felt that night when we first kissed.
Shock crashes through me, flooding my mind first then racing through my body. It surges through me, fueled by the arousal that sings through my veins and the taste of him.
All I can feel is what’s happening inside my body. I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening and what he’s doing because I thought everything he’d done so far was all an act.
I thought he’d fooled me, I thought he played with my emotions to lure me into a trap. The kiss he gives me speaks of the truth.
The kiss whispers deep, deep down to the most secret part of me telling me it was real. He was real and whether I want to believe it or not, he wasn’t acting when we first met, and not at the club.
It was real then for me. This kiss feels real now.
As his lips devour me, tasting me. I truly allow myself to slip away into the exhilaration of need and desire for this man I shouldn’t want.
He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue over mine, making me cave to desire. I want to resume telling him to get away from me, to not touch me, to leave me alone. But desire paralyses me and unearths what I genuinely want and need. Right now, it’s for him to be near me, to touch me, to stay with me.
Desire makes me want the night I thought we were going to have. The night I chose as my last of freedom, and I chose him.
When he releases my hands, I’m able to press against the hard walls of his chest. I slide my hand up and I rest on his shoulders feeling the width and power of solid muscles beneath my fingertips.
His fingers run over my stomach and fire heats me up when he pulls the hem of my gown up to my hips.
He keeps his lips on mine, but I gasp when his fingers slide into my pussy. I already know I’m wet and ready for him. Now he knows it too and the knowledge seems to make him kiss me harder.
The clink of his belt buckle sounds in my ear as a signal, a warning of what we’re going to do next. It was a heads up, a chance to back away, if only desire hadn’t made me greedy to have him inside me.
He pulls out of the kiss and takes out his cock. I don’t get to see it much before he lifts my leg and hooks it around his, then holds me so he can plunge right into my passage.
I cry out as he slams into me and grab on to his shirt. He cups the back of my head, holding me in place so he can fuck me.
I’m tight. I know I am. It’s been years since I last had sex, and I can feel the effect my tightness has on him. His cock spears me, stretching me to take the width and length, filling me up completely.
Once I’ve stretched to take him, he starts to speed up and truly fuck me. It’s too much.
I come hard moments later crying out from the wildness of his savage thrusts. With that he presses me into the wall, fucking me harder against it.
“Tristan,” I cry out his name.
This time he catches my face, and he seems to slow. “I’m going to fuck you harder, princess, hold on tighter.”
I barely manage to follow his caution before he gives me the hard fuck he promises.