He knelt down again and brought her foot to rest on his shoulder. He trailed kisses from her ankle, up her calf, and to her knee. She squirmed when he reached her inner thigh. His kisses quickened, and soon he reached her apex. He took turns bringing her pleasure with his lips and fingers. “Let me take care of you, Tristan. Just relax.” He stroked into her, teasing, playing.
“Please,” she moaned, and arched against his hand and mouth.
“Tristan, darlin’, I’m not gonna last too long,” Bullet breathed. He’d spent too many nights imagining being inside her. Now that he was about to, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control his response. When she wrapped her long legs around his waist and her thighs tightened around his hips, he knew he couldn’t dare even move. Tristan shifted—just a slight motion with her hips—and he could feel her tighten around him. He drew in a shaky breath, covered her moan with his mouth, and let her take him with her.
He held her there until the last of her aftershocks squeezed him. Gently, he rolled until he was under her, and still inside her. He needed to ease away from her, get up, and dispose of his condom. If she was feeling the way he was, they’d both be ready again in no time.
Tristan had to watch closely to see the rise and fall of his chest; he slept so deeply. It was another way he was different from Harris.
The differences showed themselves daily if not hourly. Bullet didn’t snore; Harris sounded like a chainsaw. Bullet took care of her. Everything Harris did was for himself, for his own pleasure. Until last night, Tristan had no idea the kind of pleasure Bullet had given her was possible. Over and over again, he brought her to the brink, pulled back, and then sent her soaring again. Remembering, she squeezed her th
ighs together—and winced. She rolled over, and discovered more muscles that needed soothing, but all in a good way.
Soft light filtered in through the curtains on the cabin window. It was early, she should let Bullet sleep. If she drew a warm bath, would it wake him?
Sliding gently from the bed, she tiptoed into the luxurious bathroom, quietly closing the door behind her. Water ran softly from the far rim of the tub, like a waterfall. She shook the bath salts she found on the counter into her hand and ran it under the water in a sweeping motion. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the air. Tristan took a deep breath and sank into the warm water.
Thinking about last night, she ran her hands along the inside of her thighs. Bullet’s hands on her had been strong, yet gentle. They didn’t have sex last night; he made love to her. He took his time, soothing her with his words as he explored her body. Over and over he told her how beautiful she was, and how much he wanted her.
Her fingers trailed up her body, and she ran her hands over her breasts. Just the skim of fingers over her nipples revealed how sore they were this morning.
“I should be doin’ that,” Bullet whispered in her ear. “You startin’ without me this mornin’?” He covered her mouth with his and eased her lips open, his tongue playful against hers.
“Let me in,” he breathed.
Tristan opened her eyes and realized he meant the tub. She scooted forward, and Bullet climbed in behind her. He slid his long legs on either side of her and pulled her back into him. “Relax against me.”
She reached over, turned the water off, and then rested her back against his chest. He put his hands on hers and brought them back to her breasts. “Now where were you when I interrupted you? Were you imagining it was me doin’ this to you?”
He tightened his grip, and his fingers slid over hers and squeezed each of her nipples, hard. Briefly, pain from their soreness shot through her, quickly replaced with pleasure that shot down the length of her body. He released her hands, and she started to move them away.
“Leave them there,” he demanded. “I want to watch.” She continued what he’d started, while his hands explored other parts of her body, making their way down until his fingers found her sex. She jolted when they found their target, but his strong arms, around her, kept her still. “Relax and let me take care of you.” His voice was raspy. His fingers read the subtle nuances of her body.
His arms were tight against the sides of her body, pinning her between his legs. She couldn’t move, let alone squirm away from his incessant touch. Her orgasm came on so quickly, it surprised her. “That’s what I like to see.” He continued to soothe, bringing her down from her release.
Her thoughts drifted as she once again relaxed against him. He was good. Really good. How many women had experienced such pleasure from his strong hands, his body?
He trailed his fingers up her arms and squeezed her shoulders. “Thought I told you to relax.” His tongue followed his words into her ear, and she was powerless to do anything but his bidding. She pushed the intrusive thoughts of other women out of her mind and focused on what his hands and mouth were doing to her. “That’s better.” Could he really read her that well?
He reached over and lifted the jar of lavender scrub. “What’s this?” he asked, but Tristan doubted he expected an answer. Next he picked up the loofah she had unwrapped and set on the edge of the tub before she’d drawn the bath.
“Does this hurt?” he rubbed the scrub-coated loofah along her arm.
“No, it feels wonderful,” she crooned. He continued, carefully washing each of her arms before scooping more of the scrub onto her breasts.
“I’ll be careful with these,” he promised, tapping her nipples with his index fingers. He continued to loofah her tummy and the tops of her thighs. Tristan felt him rise from the water, and turned around to see him sitting on the tile on the edge of the tub. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back, so she rested where he’d been sitting.
“Lean forward, and let me scrub your back.” He moved her long hair out of his way, and she felt him spread the scrub across her shoulders. He was gentle as he pampered her, the same way he’d been when he made love to her. A groan of pleasure escaped her lips.
He smiled. “I guess, I’m doin’ this right.”
“So right.” Tristan closed her eyes and let her mind enjoy the sensations of Bullet washing every part of her body.
“Slide farther in,” he gently pushed her shoulders. “Get your hair wet for me.”
He shampooed her hair, and then ran conditioner through it. With both hands, he massaged her scalp. His hands were strong, yet he knew how to be gentle.
“Have you ever considered a career in massage?”