Tristan moaned at the contact, then wrapped his legs around her and whipped her onto her back in one quick motion, as if he’d thrown her onto a practice mat. He sat back on his heels and tugged at her ankles, yanking her toward him with a whoosh across his worn, soft sheets. He parted her thighs. His eyes traced her body again, and she grew wet from that alone.

A languid finger snaked from the back of her knee and up her thigh, deepening her arousal. Kisses landed next, full of warm breath and soft lips. He narrowly missed her clit and veered toward her thigh, her hips, her belly, and then her breasts.

He latched on to one, nibbling on her nipple, with just enough pressure. Her back arched off the bed, and he grabbed her wrists in a strong, insistent grip, bending them back over her head. His cock pressed against her thigh as his lips met hers again, kissing her, teasing her.

Lila grew wetter. Few senators would be so rough with a highborn heir.

Few senators would dare try to hold her down.

When she struggled against him, he released her. Her arms met behind his back, and she pressed him closer, too aroused to suffer through foreplay.

“Not yet,” he said, rocking forward to nibble on her neck. It seemed every bit of her could be contained before his lips, his roving hands, his arms holding her so tightly as he breathed in her hair.

His teeth clenched around her earlobe. He tugged slightly, before returning to her neck.

Lila shuddered and gave him full access.

Tristan took advantage of it. He’d likely leave marks, as though she were a schoolgirl again—not that she could pry her mouth open to warn him against it; not that she could do much more than moan.

Especially when his fingers drifted between her legs. He stoked her clit, and little swirls of heat and ache trailed in his wake, one unremoved from the other. “Gods, you’re so wet.”

“Of course I am,” she grumbled before her jaw opened in shock. “Oracle’s light, you have done this before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Lila. I have had sex before. Lots of times. It’s just that the other women I’ve bedded weren’t quite this enthusiastic.”

“Their loss,” she said. “You’ve had the STD vaccine?”

“How very romantic.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, Lila. I’ve had it.”

“Good.” She placed his hand over her clit as she lay back down. “Keep going.”

“Stopping never crossed my mind,” he said, his fingers continuing their exploration.

Lila’s breath caught as he stumbled into touching her the right way. He planted whisper-kisses across her neck, her breasts, her belly, and her thighs before his tongue joined his practiced fingers. Her legs rocked and her back arched as his warmth slid over her, as his fingers entered her in her a rush.

She gasped, looked down, saw his eyes fixed on her, gauging her.

“There,” she moaned, her thighs parting wider as his fingers slid inside her once more, his tongue lapping as though she were a cherry stem to be tied. As the waves of arousal crashed against her, as the heat of an orgasm burned within her, she fumbled at his headboard and gripped the bars, crying out “Tristan” over and over while she squirmed and bucked against him.

Tristan would not be thrown off, even after she stopped moaning and thrashing. She nearly told him to stop, but when his tongue lapped at her clit again, her voice went astray.

The warmth and aching came back quickly. She thrashed and bucked again, calling his name even louder. Her orgasm deepened as she rolled and crashed once more.

Tristan did not let up. She’d barely opened her eyes when she found him, staring at her face, dropping his lips to kiss her once more, brushing his body on skin too aroused and too sensitive to take it lightly. She could taste herself in his kiss and let her fingers fall to his cock. She gripped it, working it in her palm as he took her lips roughly.

He groaned against her mouth with each stroke, biting down on her lip.

“If you want a turn, you’ll have to get off me.”

“No.” He shoved her hands above her head once more. “I like where I am, and I’m not done. I like when you writhe under me. I like when you shout my name.”

Lila writhed underneath him twice more, coming from his mouth and fingers alone.

When he dipped his head for another pass, she closed her thighs before he could reach her, pinning his hand. “If you don’t want my hands on it, then put it to better use. I want you inside me.”

Tags: Wren Weston Fates of the Bound Crime
Source: readsnovelonline.net