After several minutes of tossing and turning, and doing my best to drown out the sound with my pillow, I muster the courage to get out of bed and walk down the long set of stairs to Tristan’s bedroom. I've always wondered why he chose to take one of the bedrooms downstairs. They're usually reserved for guests. From the bottom step, I spot a cascade of light seeping in from his bedroom door.
The scene before me sends a rush of heat straight to my center. I clench in arousal at the sight of Tristan’s long, muscular frame kneeling between two lovely legs adorned around his shoulders. I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t see her face but I hear the way her voice grows tight with each lick. Her body trembles as he kneels back and inserts two long fingers inside of her. I can feel myself dripping at the sound of his digits sliding in and out of her quickly.
I’m so lost in the haze of it all that I don’t realize I’ve moaned out loud. Tristan stops and turns on his knee. His hazel eyes grow wide at the sight of me standing there watching the intimate session between two lovers. His lips part as if he’s about to speak, but he says nothing. Embarrassed at being caught, I turn and flee from his watchful eyes. They burn into my mind, threatening to unravel me.
I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel someone grab at my heel. I turn and nearly tumble down, but warm hands are there to catch me. Despite the overwhelming darkness of the house, I know it’s Tristan. His fingers are slightly calloused from the constant pressure of the drawing pencil in his hand. I’d recognize those hands anywhere. His body hovers slightly over mine as he stares down at me. I can feel the cold steps of the stairs digging into my back.
For a moment, the only sound I hear is the ragged breath that flows in and out of his shallow gulps. My breath hitches as I watch the reflection of the moonlight catch his face. His hair is ruffled into a mess and there’s a strong shadow of facial hair spread across his jaw and cheekbones and around his lips. I subconsciously reach out and touch his face. His skin burns beneath my fingers. If it wasn't for what I just saw, I would be worried that he's getting sick.
Although the darkness of the house cloaks his frame, I know he’s fully nude. In his haste to catch me, he must’ve forgot to cover up. It isn’t until I feel his erection pressing against my stomach that I catch a strange shift in the air between us. Without a word, Tristan positions himself between my legs. The world slows to a halt as his hand glides up my nightie. His warm fingers slide across me, leaving a trail of heat behind them. I tremble at the sensation. It’s like nothing I’ve ever imagined. It’s better. I feel him watching me as he pushes up the soft fabric of my nightgown and positions himself at the opening of my center. I writhe against him as he rubs his cock at my opening.
I moan, and in one quick movement his fingers wrap around the front of my mouth. He stops for a moment, listening for the slightest movement upstairs. My frantic thoughts return to the memory of the woman whose legs were wrapped around his shoulders only moments earlier. Where is she?
Tristan loosens his hold on my mouth and leans in, letting out a harsh whisper against my ear. “You’re so fucking wet.”
It’s the first and only words out of his mouth before I feel him thrust inside me. A sharp pressure hits me and I immediately push back against him. This is what my friend Ceci had warned me about. Tristan slows to a stop as he sees discomfort etched across my face. I flush as concern and then disbelief fills his.
“Fuck," he says, gritting his teeth. Without another word, Tristan pulls out, leaving me shivering against the stairs. The sudden shift in temperature from his warm body leaves me aching for him to envelop me once again.
“Em, I didn’t know…”
His words crash over me and I'm left with a devastating feeling of regret. In one thoughtless decision, we've changed everything between us.
MEET THE AUTHOR
Vanessa Booke is a lover of poetry, Rom-Coms, the combination of peanut butter and chocolate, and all things Jane Austen. She is an avid reader and graduate from Cal State University, San Bernardino where she received her Bachelor’s degree in English Literature. Vanessa lives in beautiful Southern California with her husband Ryan and their three dachshunds Zer0, Zoey, and Zelda. When she isn’t working on her novels, Vanessa spends most of her time window shopping and taking grand adventures with her partner in crime.
Vanessa loves getting emails from her readers. You can contact her at [email protected].
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Bound to You: Volume 3 Page 15
