by Khan, Jen
Holly closed any gap there might have been between them and threaded her fingers through his hair. “I want to feel you all over me, Tristan. Ravish me. Take from me. Consume me.”
“Stand on the bed,” Tristan growled, taking her hand and helping her up. No more wasting time. “Spread your legs.”
She did so without hesitation.
He lay on his back, positioning his head between them. “Now sit on my face.”
She turned her eyes, which were sexy as hell with that look of need that they held for him, on him. Kneeling down, she straddled his face, and he inhaled her scent. A moan escaped her lips, but her eyes never lost his. Tristan reached up, grazing his thumbs across her lips, opening her wide. She was so fucking wet for him.
“I need you lower,” he urged.
Placing her hands on the bed above his head, she lowered herself onto Tristan’s mouth.
He flicked her clit with his tongue. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” she sighed, trying to get closer when his tongue retreated. When Tristan brushed her clit again, he could see her body jolt. He repeated the action over and over, increasing his tempo, causing her hips to buck wildly while they shamelessly fucked his mouth. She was panting and cheering him on, calling out his name with a few curses in between.
He felt another shiver course through her as his tongue probed into her warm pussy. He was hell-bent on making her explode on his tongue. Tristan continued to lap at her like a man having his last meal while her hips rode the wave as she cried out. She rocked her hips, riding his mouth like the star of a rodeo. Her movements were wild and almost aggressive. He wrapped his arms up and around her thighs gripping her tighter and bringing her even closer.
“Come in my mouth, cupcake. I want to feel you explode all over my tongue,” Tristan continued to urge between strokes.
He thrust his tongue deeper inside before sliding up to circle her clit and back again. It was an unrelenting assault. He licked up to her clit one last time before sucking it into his mouth, and she screamed through her orgasm, riding his face all of the way through.
Fuck! That was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.
“My turn, darlin’,” he told her when she dismounted.
She hovered over him before crashing her mouth to his. He was pretty sure that she could taste her own arousal on his tongue. She had come so fucking hard.
Before he realized it, she had his shirt off and the button and zipper of his jeans undone. She lifted herself off and pulled his jeans—along with his boxers—down, freeing his cock.
“I want your mouth on me.” And he didn’t have to ask twice.
She was in her own little lust-induced world and nothing was stopping her. She slid her tongue over him from root to tip before guiding him into her mouth. Tristan sifted his fingers through her hair, holding her right where he wanted her. He lifted his head and watched as her mouth glided up and down his length, her tongue coming out to lick the head. She sucked him back fully into her mouth, where he felt the back of her throat.
“Fuuuuuck!” he gasped. “That’s so fucking good, baby. Keep that up.”
Holly used one hand to stroke him and the other to gently knead his balls. It appeared that she wanted him to come as badly as he did, if not more than. But he didn’t want to do it in her mouth. He wanted to come while driving inside her.
He released her hair from his grip. “That’s enough. I have other plans.” He maneuvered from underneath and positioned himself behind her. Then he grabbed her hair by the scalp with just enough force to bring her back to his chest. Wrapping his other arm around her chest, he cupped her breast and sucked on the skin behind her ear.
“Tristan,” she begged. “Please.”
“Put your head down on the bed and lift that gorgeous ass of yours.”
She did exactly what he’d demanded. Damn, she looked amazing from this angle, submitting to his will. He stroked his excruciatingly hard cock before slipping the head through her dripping heat and massaging it up and down the length of her.
Tristan pulled back and whispered, “Don’t move,” while he reached over and took a condom from the back pocket of his discarded jeans. He made quick work of sliding it on. Then he returned to his place behind Holly, holding himself in his hand and positioning at her entrance before slowly sliding inside her inch by inch. He planted himself, stilling her so her body could get used to his invasion. Once she was ready, he forcefully gripped her hips and rolled his own. He was convinced that this woman’s body had been made specifically for him. How could it not have been? They fit perfectly and hers was so damn responsive to whatever he did to her.
He pounded his hips relentlessly. Over and over, harder and harder. Holly’s head flew back and she screamed his name with every punishing thrust. “Say it again!” he demanded.
“Tristan,” she repeated.
He pulled out and crawled around her body, sitting on the bed with his back to the headboard and positioning a pillow behind him for more comfort. “I’m not done with you, yet.” He watched as her eyes registered understanding. “Sit on my cock. I want you to ride me.”
Holly prowled up his body. He pulled her the rest of the way, his teeth finding her nipple while she cried out.
She lifted her body and slowly impaled herself on him while he continued his agonizing attention to her breast. When her body began to quiver, he knew she was close again.
“That’s it. I want you coming all over my dick.” He held her hips in place so that she couldn’t move before pushing up and thrusting into her hard.
“Holy shit,” she said, pausing to take in air. Her eyes bored into his with an intensity he had never noticed before. “Fuck me. Do it hard.”
“You got it.” He pumped his hips into her, finding his rhythm, causing a fine sheen of sweat to form over her skin.
She kept eye contact until her body began to lock tight, that familiar pre-orgasm blush overtook her body, and she couldn’t take it anymore. Her eyes closed and her mouth formed a small ‘o.’
In a quick movement, he had Holly on her back without losing their connection. He hooked his arm under her leg, opening her up even more so that he could plunge deeper, and increased his movements. He slammed into her over and over, his pounding becoming jerky movements, chasing his own orgasm while she was coming down from hers.
“Damn. So wet. Holy shit, you’re so tight,” he grunts. He watched as one hand left his shoulder, cupped her own breast, and stroked a finger over her nipple, her eyes becoming hooded. “That’s right, cupcake. Touch yourself. Show me what you like.” He loved that she was opening herself up to him. “You are so sexy. So beautiful.”
A blush filled her cheeks. He released her leg, lowered himself onto his elbows, and took her mouth with his own. They were both panting and moaning. Holly was getting close again. Her hand trailed down between them, where he could feel her touching where they were connected. Holy fuck, that was hot!
“I’m gonna need you to come, sweetheart. I’m close.”
A pleading whimper erupted from her throat, and he knew she was about to let go. “Fuck, Tristan.” Her orgasm pulsed through her. He could feel it around his dick. She was about to milk him for everything he had.
Tristan buried his face into the crook of Holly’s neck until the sensation overwhelmed him. “Fuck!” he groaned against her skin, slamming into her one last time before stilling and filling her completely.
She clutched his shoulders and held on tight, digging her nails in for leverage. His release exploded into her. He shuddered against her and waited for his cock to quit twitching.
“Holly,” he whispered against her skin. His breathing was irregular, his heart pounding in his ears. He kissed up her neck while he gently pulled out of her, yet he remained on top. They were silent for a few moments. He had been with Holly before, but it had been nothing like this. This woman made him feel like he could do this every day with just one. That scared the ever-loving shit out of
him.
She lightly stroked her nails over his back, which felt amazing. She squirmed a little underneath him, turned her head, and planted a kiss on his jaw.
He lifted his head from her neck and smiled. “Am I too heavy?”
“No. You’re fine right where you are. “
He grinned at her and gave her a sweet, lingering peck on the lips. He rolled off to go clean himself off, scooted to the end of the bed, and glanced back at her. She was striking. As a matter of fact, he didn’t think that he had ever seen a woman more beautiful than Holly Madison. He was getting in way over his head here.
Tristan went to the bathroom, cleaned up, and brought a towel to her so that he could do the honors. She smiled at him, which warmed him completely.
Shit, that smile.
Holly reached over the side of the bed and snatched his tee. She drew it over her head and pulled her hair through the top allowing it to fall to her shoulders in disarray.
He smirked at her. “You look stunning in my shirt.”
“I think so too.” She winked.
He lay back down beside her and pulled her into his side. She ran her fingers over his stomach, up to his chest, and then back down to his side, where she concentrated on the large scar that was a daily reminder of that day when he lost his mother to that drunk driving bastard. She scooted her body down and trailed soft kisses from end to end along the scar. His body trembled under each kiss.
What the hell was this woman doing to him?
Tristan opened his eyes and trained them on the ceiling above. He blinked away sleep. The sun was shining through the blinds and he could feel the heat on his face.
He turned his head and stared across the bed at an empty pillow. Sitting up, leaning on his elbows, and looking around the room, he realized that there was something very important missing.
Holly.
Panic surged through him before settling in his gut. He wasn’t used to feeling this way for anyone. He also wasn’t used to inviting a woman to spend the night. Or waking up to her scent on him—a reminder of what he’d had the night before. And seeing that it was nowhere to be found was cruel.
Then he realized he wasn’t in his apartment. He was in Holly’s.
The aroma of coffee filled the air.
He rolled out of bed, snagged his boxers, which were discarded on the floor, found his jeans, put them on, and stalked out of her room to the kitchen, where he damn near tripped and lost his footing at the sight of her.
She was still wearing his tee, which looked absolutely amazing on her. If he could, he would force her to wear nothing but his shirts.
Holly was frying bacon and singing horribly out of tune while shaking her ass all over the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the breakfast bar with a wide grin on his face.
God, she was sexy.
She raised the spatula above her head, which caused his shirt to lift slightly higher, revealing a hint of her ass. Then she did a sexy little shimmy. She spun on her heels and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes grew frantically wide. She swiftly lowered her arms by her sides and squealed.
Her hair had that wild-yet-sexy just-woke-up look to it and her beautiful face was without makeup. Tristan’s smile grew as he took in the gorgeous sight before him.
“Don’t let me stop you. I’m just enjoying the show.”
“I’m making you breakfast.”
Her words caused a trail of warmth to flow through him, settling deep within his gut. He uncrossed his arms and marched toward her. Her body turned to face his when he rounded the bar into the kitchen.
He cupped the back of her neck, hooked his arm around her waist, brought her to him, and crashed his lips to hers. It was long, slow, and deep. He couldn’t fulfill his need for her in that moment, so he deepened it further, drinking her in. Once he had what he desired, he lifted his lips and opened his eyes. She followed suit.
Tristan smiled. So did she.
“Good morning, cupcake.”
“That’s one hell of a good morning,” she breathed.
“Yeah, well, it’s not often that I find a stunning woman in my shirt cooking me breakfast while shaking her sweet ass all over the kitchen.”
“Oh! The bacon!” Holly quickly turned out of his arms and dashed across to the stove. “Good,” she muttered. “I was worried that I burned it.”
Tristan moved to the cupboard, where he knew she stashed her mugs and plates. He retrieved two of each placing them on the bar, and filled their mugs with coffee.
“I’m making pancakes too.”
He loved her pancakes and bacon. The woman had the whole package. Sex appeal, class, and superior cooking skills.
Yeah, he was going to do everything he could to ensure that he kept her around for as long as she was willing to keep him. Eventually, she’d see what a bad decision getting involved with him was, but while he had her, he was going to savor every minute of it. Right after he enjoyed her amazing pancakes and bacon.
I move against Tristan and pull myself up to straddle him. His hands are on my hips, guiding me right where he wants me. He turns his head up and my lips meet his. I can feel his arousal getting harder. I lift up, pulling my shirt off, as his hands travel up my sides, finding my breasts.
“So fucking beautiful. Christ, cupcake” he growls.
I lean my head back and arch to give him more of myself.
“That’s it, babe. Give me what I want.”
My head lifts and my eyes find Tristan underneath me. He’s covered in blood. His eyes wide and mouth open, he screams in agony.
“You could have stopped him! Told the truth! This is all your fault!”
Then he is gone.
My eyes fly open, my body tenses, and I panic. I am alone in my room, staring at the ceiling.
It was just a dream.
“What the hell?” I whisper, moving my hands to my head and running my fingers through my sweat-soaked hair.
I turn my gaze to the clock, which reads five twenty-two. I throw the covers back and slide out of bed. My tank is drenched in sweat and I know that there is no way I’m going to be able to go back to sleep after that, so I might as well take a shower and head into work early.
As I am getting ready, I am having a hard time shaking that dream. Trying to figure out why Tristan was in it and covered in blood. This one was a first.
By the time I am ready to roll, sporting my black pencil skirt and white sleeveless blouse with black heels, my hair up in a perfectly neat little twist, it is six o’clock. My phone chimes from the nightstand.
I run my thumb across the face and see that the message from Tristan. He’s an early riser like I am.
Tristan: Tonight my pop has invited us all over for a barbecue. Would love it if you could join us.
Me: Sure. What time?
Tristan: Six thirty.
Me: I can be ready by then.
Tristan: Perfect. I’ll pick you up on the bike at six.
Yes! I love the motorcycle. I am more than excited about the opportunity to spend as much time on the back of his bike while the weather is good.
Me: YAY!
Tristan: If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were using me for my bike ;)
Me: How do you know I’m not?
Tristan: Because there are better things you could use me for.
Me: You’re right. I use you for your dick.
Tristan: You can use my dick anytime you want, cupcake.
I smile down at the screen. He really has been on his best behavior. He’s been charming and a complete gentleman. That is until he gets me in bed. All of his attempts at proving that he can be decent and chivalrous sail out the window, tumble down the side of the mountain, and explode in a fiery crash.
Me: I’ll see you at six.
Tristan: Yes, you will.
Me: Should I wear something sexy?
Tristan: Not unless you want to give my pop a heart attack. This is a casual famil
y thing. Beer and brats.”
Me: You go it.
Tristan: Have a great day, gorgeous.
Me: You too, stud.
It’s been a long day at work. There is a lot going on with the Jose Delgado case pending. Delgado was the man who raped Emma last year when her father skipped town on a six-thousand-dollar-deal gone bad. Then he tried to rape her again outside of Holts on her birthday. I truly believe that, if the Holt brothers hadn’t gotten to her when they did, he would have killed her.
This is the most action this small town has seen since my father went to jail. We weren’t even from this town, but the woman he killed was. I will never forget the media frenzy it stirred. There were reporters from Spartanburg, Greenville, and Charlotte all over the place. My mother and I couldn’t leave the house without being harassed by one of them. They were even waiting for me outside of the hospital when I was discharged. My mother had a hard time fighting them off, and it took three nurses and two security guards to get us to our car.
I change into my purple tube top with white shorts and exchange my heels for comfy white flip-flops. Luckily, I just got a pedicure last weekend. My toes were painted a nice hue of pink.
Tristan is on time—six o’clock sharp—and we are on the back of his Harley by six oh five.
We ring the doorbell and there were two instances of, “Coming!” One sounded like Olivia and the other was Jake. Jake won out, opening the door and pulling me into his arms for a bear hug of epic proportion. The last time I saw him, I was riding on his back out of El Chili Rojo, drunk out of my gourd.
Once he puts me back to my feet and gives his brother a manly hug and slap to the back, I look over to the sunken living room, which has floor-to-ceiling windows, giving an amazing view of the foothills. Three steps up leads to a vast kitchen that sits in the center of the house, facing the living room over a breakfast bar. Next to that, there is a dining room that has a sliding glass door that opens up to the wraparound deck of the house. On that deck is where Jim is grilling.
