by T L Swan
“Oh, you mean this?” His hands run over my thighs. “A little cellulite,” he whispers. His fingertips dust over my stomach. “A few stretch marks.” He grabs the little pouch of fat on my stomach and gives it a tug, and I smile against his lips. “C-section scar.” He runs his finger over the large scar on my lower stomach. His hands go to my breasts, slightly saggy and not full like they used to be before the kids. He tweaks my nipples, which are large from breastfeeding.
My heart races as he touches all my insecurities.
He holds his hands out wide. “Do I look like a man who doesn’t like what he sees?” he whispers.
My eyes lower to his large erection, and then I drop my head.
“Claire.” He puts his finger under my chin and brings my face up to meet his. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers as he kisses me. “So fucking beautiful.”
He kisses me again, and it’s soft and tender and caring and not at all what I expected.
“You wear your insecurities here.” He pinches the bottom of my stomach. “Mine are on the inside,” he whispers. “Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”
“I knew it.” I smile against his lips.
He grabs my hips and throws me on the bed and then crawls over me.
“Be gentle, please,” he teases. “Don’t hurt me.”
I burst out laughing, because that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “You idiot.”
He reaches down and swipes his fingers through my sex. His eyes flicker with arousal. “Hmm . . . so wet.” He bends and takes my nipple into his mouth and gives it a hard suck as he slides two fingers in deep.
“Oh . . . God.” My back arches off the bed as he begins to pump me.
“Spread them.”
I open my legs back to the mattress, and he goes slow at first to let me acclimatize. Then he picks up the pace. He really begins to ride me hard with his fingers.
This feels so foreign and new, and I push the fearful thoughts out of my mind.
It’s one time . . . just enjoy this.
My entire body jerks up and down on the mattress from the pressure.
Fuck yes . . . I need this . . . I so need this.
The sound of my wet arousal sucking him in is loud in the room, and the look of triumph in his eyes is so fucking hot. “Clench, baby,” he whispers. “Give me a taste of what I’m about to get.”
I clench hard, and his eyes roll back in his head. He pumps me harder, and I scream out as I come hard. I shudder, and my convulsion lifts me off the bed.
He screws up his face as he pumps me through my body’s rippling around his fingers.
He climbs over me with urgency.
“Condom,” I stammer through my fog.
“Shit.” He bounces up and grabs his trousers and fumbles around in the pocket for his wallet, and then his face falls in horror. “Fuck it. I only have one. How do I only have one?” He opens it and rolls it on.
I look up, surprised. “What kind of player are you?”
“Unprepared, obviously.” He lies back down over me and brings my legs up around his hips, and in one sharp movement he slides home deep. His eyelids flutter. “Fucking hell, Anderson,” he pants as he slowly slides out.
I smile up at him in wonder.
“Happy to report . . . the vagina is a perfect specimen,” he pushes out through gritted teeth. “No insecurities here.”
I burst out laughing. “Shut up, you fool, and fuck me.”
He widens his knees and slides in deep, and we find a rhythm. He does a circular thing, and it drives me wild. I begin to thrash beneath him.
His eyes are rolled back in his head.
“You have an ugly sex face,” I say.
He bursts out laughing. “I told you, no talking.”
We both laugh, and then he falls serious and watches me for a moment as he pumps me deep. This just feels so raw and real.
“You need to come. You need to come,” he stammers. “I can’t stop it. You need to come,” he begins to chant. “Anderson.” He screws his face up, as if in pain.
“No,” I snap. “I’m not ready.” I ride his beautiful deep pumps . . . so good.
“Oh . . . fuck it.” I feel the telling jerk of his cock, and he moans, deep and loud, and then goes into a frenzy of deep pumps to completely empty himself.
God, I want to do this all night. “Tristan,” I whisper. “What the fuck . . . too quick?” I tease. If I’m honest, I love that he couldn’t hold it. I love that he was so turned on that he had no control. This isn’t about orgasms for me. It’s about a connection that I’ve been missing, but I’ll never let him in on my little secret.
“It’s not my fault,” he stammers in an outrage. “You shouldn’t feel so fucking good. That never happens to me.”
“One condom,” I whisper. “Are you serious?” I pant.
“I have another way to fuck you that won’t result in pregnancy.” He smiles darkly down at me.
I giggle up at him. Oh, he’s fun, all right. “Forget it, Mr. Miles. You only got one go.”
I roll over and feel a hand on my naked hip bone, and I frown. Huh? Oh shit.
My eyes snap open. Tristan Miles is in my bed.
We had sex.
I had sex with Tristan fucking Miles.
Shit . . . you idiot.
I shake him. “Tristan,” I whisper. I shake him again. “Tristan, wake up.”
“Huh?” He frowns and props up on his elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to go,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m whispering; nobody can hear us.
“What?” He looks around in confusion. “Why?”
“Because it’s five a.m., and everyone is going to be up soon, and I don’t want anyone seeing you leave my room.”
He frowns over at me. “Why not?”
“Because then I’ll be the groupie who fucked the lecturer at the conference.”
He lies down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are the groupie who fucked the lecturer at the conference.”
“This isn’t funny,” I whisper. “Quick. Get out.”
“You’re hurting my feelings, Anderson.” He smirks as he climbs out of bed. “Kicking me out of bed in the middle of the night. I’ve never heard of such coldheartedness.”
“Shut up,” I whisper. “Go.” I point to the door. “Get out.”
He smiles and pulls his trousers up. “How dare you use my body in this manner?”
I flop back down on the bed. “You’re such an idiot.”
He leans over the bed and smiles down at me. “And you’re fucking hot.” He kisses me. “Good night, Anderson.”
I smile up at him. “It’s morning.”
He stands and puts his jacket on and turns toward the door.
“Mr. Miles.”
He turns back toward me.
“I believe it was you that moaned my name first,” I say sweetly.
He rolls his eyes. “That’s debatable.” The door clicks closed behind him, and I smile goofily up at the ceiling.
That was . . . surprisingly fun.
Chapter 6
I wake with a jump and notice it’s light—too light for early morning.
Huh?
I scramble for my phone on the nightstand: 8:45 a.m.
What the hell? We started at eight o’clock this morning. My eyes widen in horror.
Oh my God. I dive out of bed and run to the shower.
Shit.
And my clothes need ironing—oh, this is a disaster. Why am I not more organized?
I shower in record time, grab my clothes, and run around like a lunatic dressing. I hop around, putting my makeup on while looking for my shoes.
Tristan’s briefs are in the middle of the floor, and I scoop them up and shove them in my suitcase. I look around for my room key. Where is it?
Oh, damn it, I’ll get another one from reception this afternoon. I grab my handbag and run.
Ten minutes la
ter I rush into the conference room to find everyone sitting and listening to a woman speak.
I’m puffing and panting, and everyone in the room turns to look at me. “Hi,” I huff. “I don’t know . . . my alarm didn’t go off.” I shrug. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”
The lecturer gestures to a chair. “That’s quite all right, dear. Please take a seat.”
I walk through the chairs and slink into a chair in the back row. Damn it. I want the earth to swallow me up. I look so unprofessional.
I glance over to see Tristan biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling as he listens intently to the lecture. His eyes don’t come to me at all. Completely cool, calm, and collected, as usual. Wearing a dark-gray suit, he looks like he’s just stepped off a modeling shoot. Clean shaven, perfectly put together. His dark wavy hair is well kept, with not a hair out of place.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling like a loon.
I know what’s under his suit, and it’s pretty fucking delicious.
We sit at the café and drink our coffee during the afternoon tea break.
Tristan is sitting with his three groupies, and I’m talking to Nelson and Peter, one of the other guys.
Tristan hasn’t acknowledged last night at all, and I’m beginning to wonder if I imagined the entire thing. Mind you, we haven’t been alone at all, but still.
Not even a glance my way.
“So, Tristan,” Saba says in her sexiest voice. “Are we on for tonight? You’ve been promising to party with us girls.”
Tristan’s eyes flick guiltily to me. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m busy.”
I sip my coffee as I watch him navigate this. It’s fun watching him squirm.
“Doing what?” Saba frowns.
“I have a project to finish with Claire. We started it last night, and it still needs work.”
The girls’ faces fall in disappointment.
“No, that’s fine, Tristan,” I interrupt. “I finished the job myself after you left.”
He blinks in disbelief and then narrows his eyes. “Is that so?”
“Uh-huh.” I sip my coffee, acting innocent.
He glares at me.
“Yeah, that’s probably why I slept so well. Felt so good to finally get the project done, you know?”
“I would have done it better,” he replies flatly.
“Oh, well, you didn’t.” I smile sweetly. “I saved you the job. You should go party with the girls. I’m sure they’re going to be great fun.”
“Yes.” The girls all giggle on cue, and he looks at me deadpan.
The bell rings for us to return, and everyone stands and leaves us alone.
“Finished the job, did you?” he whispers.
I shrug casually. “It had to be done.”
He stands and does his suit jacket up with one hand, unimpressed. “You’re a smart-ass, Anderson.”
“Have fun with the girls tonight,” I whisper. “Although, I really don’t know how you would handle three?”
“You’re going to fucking get it.” He marches off toward the conference room, clearly annoyed, and I smile after him.
I feel a flutter in my psyche; it’s as if the playful part of my personality is waking up from her deep sleep.
The long-forgotten piece of me.
Tristan makes me remember who I was . . . before.
The room is steamy and hot, and I smile sleepily as my head rests on the side of the bathtub. It’s just around ten o’clock, and I’m so relaxed that I’m nearly asleep.
I hear the lock on my door click, and I frown. Huh?
Maybe it’s housekeeping. The door shuts. “Hello?” I call.
“Hi,” Tristan says as he walks into the bathroom. He takes off his suit jacket and throws it over the chair in the corner.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He continues to undress.
“How did you get in here?” I frown.
“A key?” He kicks off his shoes.
“How did you get a key?”
He unzips his pants. “I did what any self-respecting man who’s kicked out of bed in the middle of the night does.” He takes off his shirt. “I took yours.”
My eyes widen. “You stole my key?” I gasp.
“Borrowed it, and relax, we swap body fluids. What’s yours is mine.” He slides down his trousers and briefs. “Move over. I’m getting in.”
“Tristan.”
He steps into the bath, between my legs, and sits down. The water sloshes over the side.
“It’s too hot.” He winces as he goes to turn the cold water on.
“Don’t even think about it,” I mutter.
He smiles and then slides down and closes his eyes. The water sloshes over the sides again.
I watch him for a moment. “How was your date?” I ask.
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Okay, your foursome.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he mumbles. “A reason to tease me for all of eternity.” His hair is all messed up, and his boyish charm is at an all-time high.
I smile, surprised by who he’s turning out to be. I never once pegged him as fun to be around.
He opens one eye to look at me. “What?”
“You really are a very good-looking man, Mr. Miles.”
He smirks. “Is that you giving me a compliment, Anderson?”
I nod in slow motion with a big smile.
He runs his hand up my leg. “Did you really finish yourself off last night?”
“Would it bother you if I did?”
“Yes. It would, actually.”
I pick up his foot and kiss it and then put it back down between my breasts. “No, Tristan, I didn’t.”
He stares at me for a moment, as if processing a thought. He massages my breast with his foot. “Are you lying?”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know.” He thinks on it for a moment. “You’re a very different species of woman to what I’m used to, Claire.”
“How so?”
“It didn’t bother you one bit that I went out with three women tonight?”
I smile. If we were different, I would no doubt be raging mad, but knowing that Tristan is just for fun and that it could never be like that between us, I’m surprisingly good. “No. Why?” I lift his foot and kiss it again. “Should it?”
“I don’t know.” He frowns as he contemplates his response.
“Do you want me to act jealous?” I ask.
He gives me a lopsided smile. “Perhaps a little. Couldn’t hurt, could it?”
“Tristan,” I whisper as I fall into role-play.
“Yes.”
“I thought we had something special. How could you do this to me?”
He bites his lip to hide his smile. “That’s more like it.”
“After all we’ve been through, I thought I was the one,” I whisper.
He smiles broadly. He likes this game.
I slide across and lie on top of him. His big arms come around me, and my lips take his.
“I kind of like you being jealous,” he whispers.
I smile against his lips as I circle my sex over his hardened erection. “Did you go to the pharmacy today?”
He chuckles. “I bought in bulk.”
The glimmer of perspiration dusts his skin, and he looks up at me with dark eyes.
Tristan.
Tristan fucking Miles.
Sex-god extraordinaire.
I don’t know if this is the same man I slept with last night. The man with me tonight is an absolute rock star between the sheets. I’m in awe.
We’ve been fucking for hours. Like animals, we can’t get enough. We finish and talk for a little while, and then he kisses me, and the entire process begins again.
It’s like the ultimate marathon.
We’re both wet with perspiration, and I’ve never had sex like this before. “Come on,” he whispers. He wants it harder and tigh
ter. I close my eyes and clench. He has my two hip bones in his hands, and he’s guiding me over his cock and positioning me where he wants me.
His pumps get harder . . . deeper.
“Yes,” he moans. “Fuck yes.” His grip becomes tighter.
I close my eyes as I begin to moan. Fuck . . . how many times can the female body come in one night? This is insane.
“Anderson,” he growls as I lose focus. “Fuck me.”
“Ohh,” I murmur as I stare down at the gorgeous man beneath me. His hair is hanging messily over his forehead, his eyes are dark, and his face is alive with satisfaction. This is his element.
Sex is his thing.
There’s a reason the name Tristan fucking Miles came to me. It was a premonition.
The fucking wasn’t silent; it was a verb.
He flips us so that I am on my back. He lifts my legs and puts them over his shoulders and then comes face to face with me.
And we stop still as we stare at each other.
His body is deep inside of mine; the burn of his rough possession holds me captive.
He smiles softly, and my stomach flutters.
Don’t look at me like that.
“Kiss me,” he breathes. “I need you to kiss me.”
I close my eyes to block him out, because damn. This isn’t what this is about.
I need some distance between us—this is too much. Too intense, too personal.
Too . . . intimate.
“Open your eyes,” he commands.
I drag them open.
“Kiss me,” he whispers.
“Tris,” I whisper, close to the edge of insanity.
“It’s all right, baby.” He pushes the hair back from my forehead. “I’ve got you.”
My eyes search his. I feel my resistance leave, and as if he senses the exact moment that I hand over my power, his lips take mine.
We kiss for a long time. His tongue swipes through my mouth, mirroring the thrusts of his hips.
He begins to moan—long, satisfied deep breaths—and my head is thrown back into the pillow. “Fuck, Claire . . . this is so fucking good.”
My mouth falls open, and I shudder hard as a freight train of an orgasm rips through me.
His eyes roll back in his head, and then he straightens his arms and widens his legs and slams in deep. He tips his head back and cries out. I feel the telling jerk of his cock as he comes again.
I turn my head to the side to get away. Damn it, he’s under my skin, and I need to get him off.
