Forbidden Bride

Tristan runs a finger down my throat, emphasizing just how full it is. “I’m going to fuck your throat now,” he says softly. That velvet tone is dangerous, sexy, and it makes me shudder. “I’m not going to stop until I come, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me with your hands tied like that.”

He’s saying it to arouse me, and fucking hell is it working. Yanking himself back, he lets me breathe. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to come down your throat or across your perfect tits. What do you think?”

“Throat,” I gasp. “Yes.”

His hand reaches out and he spanks me lightly on my clit. Even through the lingerie it makes me jump and moan. “Do that a couple more times, and I’m going to come,” I say. I feel dizzy and perfect and through that sensation I hear him laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now open.”

I do, and I’m both prepared and not. Tristan drives into my throat all the way to the balls, and continues to move in long, smooth thrusts. He’s fucking my mouth as if it were my pussy and this exactly what I wanted. Even as it’s happening, I’m blushing because I want it. But I’m too aroused to care.

A teasing finger draws over my clit through the fabric of the bodysuit, followed by a brief spank. I moan around his shaft, wiggling my hips and wanting more. Again, and again, until I’m almost screaming around the length of him, hips arching.

It’s the lightest touch that sends me over, just the trace of his finger, and suddenly my body is seizing with pleasure. He doesn’t release me while I come, continuing to thrust and take and I can’t control the writhing of my body under his hands.

When I land, limp and spent after coming harder than I ever thought I could, Tristan steps back and lets me breathe.

It seems even easier now when he enters my mouth again, relaxed from my orgasm. And he takes what he needs. Bracing himself on the bed, Tristan fucks. I hear his breath go ragged, and his rhythm falters when he’s close.

I’m dizzy and pleasured and all I want is for him to take what he needs.

Tristan curses loudly and thrusts deep one last time, spilling himself down my throat—so deep that I don’t even have to swallow. He groans as he drags himself out of me and lays down on the bed next to me. I feel the tie loosen, and my hands are free. And then I’m in his arms, crushed against his chest, and I sink into the sensation.

“You’re amazing,” he says, still breathing hard. I am too.

My voice is ragged. “Thanks.”

“And you have a video to show me.”

I try to laugh, but end up coughing. “Now?”

“Yes, now.” He grabs his phone. “We’re taking a breather, but I plan on having fun with you all night. And I want to see how close we got.”

“Pretty damn close,” I mutter as I take his phone and navigate to the video in question. I enlarge it, and Tristan takes the phone back as the erotic video plays. I thin blonde girl kneels naked, hands bound, as the faceless man fucks her throat. And even though that’s exactly what just happened to me, the sight still turns me on.

Tristan makes a low sound in his throat. “Is this what all your videos are like?”

I blush. “Not exactly like that.” Tucking my head down lower, I hide against his chest. In the moment it was hot, and I don’t regret it at all. But seeing him watching what I’ve watched while thinking of him is mortifying.

“Nicola,” Tristan says softly, and I can still hear the moans from the video. “Why are you hiding?”

“Feels easier.”

He leans away for a second and I hear him setting the phone down. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about this,” he says. “I know that you are, and that my saying it isn’t going to make you feel less embarrassed, but you don’t have to be. It’s seriously hot. And I like that you thought about me.”

“Really?” I know he’s telling the truth but I need the reassurance.

“Yes.” Tristan rolls over me, pinning me down with his body. When he’s naked like this it’s easy to feel how muscular he is, and the way he’s pressed up against me makes me want to kiss him and distract him from whatever he’s about to say. “Of course I’m fine with it. I’m relieved.”

I actually laugh. “You’re relieved that I watched porn while you were gone?”

“Yes,” he says, and he’s not laughing. “I feel guilty enough about leaving you for those years. If you hadn’t had any pleasure at all while waiting for me, I would feel that much guiltier.”

What Jill mentioned pops up into my mind, and I shove it away. That anxiety has no part of this moment. Trapping Tristan’s face between my hands, I look at him. “At some point you have to stop feeling guilty, Tristan. You said you had your reasons for leaving, and I believe you. I want to hear what they are, and I know you’ll tell me. Not tonight. But if you really want to be with me—for the rest of our lives—you have to stop acting out of guilt. We have to move past it.”