The End of Us (Love in Isolation 3)

“Are you okay?” He studies me as he sits on the bed and pulls me to stand between his legs.

“Yes, but I think I’m in shock,” I answer honestly. “I’ve wanted you to kiss and touch me for so damn long.”

Tristan cups my face with both hands before pressing his lips to mine. “I’ll never do anything you don’t want. Don’t be afraid to communicate with me, that’s the only way I’ll understand your needs and limits.”

“Then I guess it’s a good time to tell you I don’t really know what my limits are…I haven’t experienced what I like or don’t like yet.”

If he’s surprised by this confession, his expression doesn’t give it away. A part of me thought he knew, but it’s not exactly something you randomly blurt out.

“I look forward to finding out what they are then,” is all he says. “Just know I’ll never hurt you and will keep you safe in and out of the bedroom.”

I chew on my bottom lip, loving the sound of that. “And what do you like? What are your preferences?”

“Well…” He slides his thumb slowly over my bottom lip. “When I tell you to sit on my face so I can lick every inch of your pussy, I mean for you to suffocate me. Don’t hover. Literally sit on my face.”

My eyes widen in shock. The few men who have ever gone down on me were always between my legs, never underneath me. But Tristan seems more experienced and ready to please me the right way.

“Remember when you asked me how I have sex?”

A blush creeps up my neck and face. “Vividly, yes.”

“I like to give pleasure before receiving it, which means once you’ve come on my fingers and face, then I’ll take off my prosthesis.”

“So you do take it off?”

He smirks. “Usually, yes. It’s not super comfortable to wear in various positions. It can also weigh me down.”

“Interesting.” I grin.

“Lift your arms,” he commands.

As soon as I do, the towel drops to my feet. Tristan’s gaze lowers between my thighs, then he slides a finger down my slit.

“How are you so goddamn wet already?”

With just one touch, my breath hitches. “Because I’ve been thinking about you being my first for months.”

“You sure you want that?”

“Does my arousal not give it away?”

“I’ll need to taste you to be certain,” he taunts, licking his finger.

Tristan backs up on the bed and lays in the middle, then motions for me to follow.

“You were serious about me smothering you?”

“Trust me, sweetheart. When I need air, I’ll find a way. The only thing you need to worry about is giving me complete and total access to your pussy.”

I crawl up his body, then straddle his head as I hold the headboard. I’ve never been in this position before, and I can’t help feeling self-conscious that my most intimate part is directly in his face.

Tristan grips my waist, then smacks my ass. “Sit.”

Relaxing my hips, I lower myself until his tongue is against my clit. I blow out an intense breath, rocking against his facial hair. He grips my ass cheeks and spreads them apart as he drives his tongue deeper.

“Holy shit,” I pant out, hardly able to speak as he masterfully teases my clit. I’ve never felt anything like this, and the sensation is almost too much.

After a couple of minutes, Tristan pushes me up slightly as he flicks and sucks my pussy lips.

“Jesus. I think my legs are going numb.”

He lifts me a tad higher. “Then you’re almost there.”

Before I can respond, he pulls me down, adding more pressure, and rubs circles over my throbbing nub.

My fingers squeeze the headboard as a wave of pleasure shoots through me. The air gets caught in my throat as the eruption takes over, and Tristan’s moaning vibrates through me.

Before I know what hits me, I’m shoved off the ledge without warning. It’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced before. Getting one orgasm from a guy was rare, but two…this man is an anomaly.

Tristan taps my thigh, and I take that as my sign to move off him before I kill him with my vagina.

“Please tell me I didn’t do that wrong.” I lie on my side next to him.

Tristan looks at me, then dramatically wipes my come off his beard. “You were fucking made to sit on my face, baby. You wanna taste?” He arches a brow, waiting for my approval.

“I wanna taste you,” I retort.

“That’s not my rule.”

There were rules?

“Your pleasure is my priority,” he reiterates when I flash him a confused look.

“And I came…twice,” I remind him.

The corner of his lips swipes up into an arrogant smirk. “It’s adorable you think twice is a lot.”

“It’s not?”

“No, baby. Not with me at least. I want your legs trembling. Your throat raw from screaming my name. And my handprint bruised into your ass. Once I’ve pulled every orgasm from your body, then I’ll let you touch me.”