He wasn’t going to disappoint…
As much as he was on edge of losing control, he could feel her response suggesting that she felt the same; the only difference being that he doubted she had much experience in the area of passion, much less controlling it. He felt her erratic breathing, he felt the small tantalizing and torturous movements she made, rubbing herself against him, begging him for more.
And she was going to get more… so much more. If he could stay in control.
With one hand still firmly anchoring her mouth to his, the other releasing her ass to travel up, finding its way underneath her t-shirt. He felt her shudder as his finger transitioned off of her jeans and onto the soft skin of her back, gently coming around her side, and up and over her stomach to rest for a moment along the edge of the underwire of her bra. His mouth broke from hers, planting small kisses up along her jawline to her ear. Here he paused to make sure that she wasn’t going to pull away from him again, to make sure that what he was about to do next wouldn’t send her into a full-blown retreat. If she wanted to stop, she needed to say so now.
Ellie took a deep breath, moaning in frustration.
“Please,” came her breathless whisper.
Well, that answers that.
His mouth immediately returning to hers, determined to give her what she craved. Doing his damnedest to ignore his own overwhelming need and to instead, focus on hers, he slowly spread his palm up and over her bra that held the soft mound of flesh that he was seeking. First, applying gentle pressure, he massaged her breast through the material, feeling the hardness of her nipple through the layer encasing it. The little moans she made in response tortured him, tempted him to take more. Rubbing his thumb over the covered peak, Ellie gasped as she arched her breast against his hand, begging for more.
Losing some of his well-held restraint, Tristan roughly tugged the cup of her down over her breast, exposing the satin skin that he craved to touch. He groaned against her mouth, the gentle weight of her breast completely filling his grasp. His fingertips savoring the velvety softness of her tender skin, the firm peak of her nipple pressing into the center of his palm. He massaged the swollen mound, relishing in the feel of her flesh completely filling his hand as he tried to recover some shreds of his sanity to continue on this torturous path. Gently releasing the fullness of her breast, his hand moved so that only her nipple was barely touched his palm. He began to move his hand so that her nipple drew slow, lazy circles on the hard skin of his palm.
Ellie groaned in frustration, trying to push her breast against his hand, craving the pressure of his touch. Tristan smiled against her mouth. Instead of giving her what she wanted, he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched the acutely sensitive and erect flesh.
The sharp shock of pleasure that rippled through her was too much, her knees buckling, she swayed into him for support, no longer trusting her legs to stand. Everything burned inside of her; her body burned for release. She’d never felt like she needed something so badly, something that she was so close to reaching, that the pleasure of remaining on the constant precipice of fulfillment was literally taking every ounce of energy that she possessed.
Tristan felt it too. She was so close, and as much as he physically ached to taste her, today was not the day. Tonight, he wanted her to see herself as he did – gorgeous, desirous, and exquisite in ecstasy.
Using her loss of balance as a stimulus, his hand released the tender flesh of her breast, reaching back around her to gently lift her up off the ground and hold her to him. A few steps had them in front of the windows, her back to the glass. Ellie didn’t protest at the movement, her small, surprised gasp quickly stifled by the potent need that overwhelmed her senses.
Breaking their kiss, Tristan gently set her feet back on the ground, watching as her pleasure-laden lids raised, her emerald eyes dark with lust.
“Now, you will see,” he whispered.
Before she could even register what Tristan had said, Ellie found herself being gently spun away from him, to face the window and the night sky beyond it. Because of the lighting behind them in the apartment, her reflection was clearly visible in the glass: her lips were red and swollen, her face flushed with desire, her shirt had bunched, mostly around her left breast where her bra was still shoved beneath the it, her erect nipple pressing directly against the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth parted, starting to see the woman that Tristan had drawn – a woman immersed in pleasure, gorgeous and comfortable in her own skin. Her eyes, finally moving from her own reflection, saw Tristan standing behind her, the hard planes of his face etched with painfully controlled lust. His golden-black eyes staring back at her through the window.
Perfect.
He was hypnotized, watching Ellie evaluate herself in the makeshift mirror. She was so damn beautiful, her skin colored with passion, the effect he’d had on her written all over her face. When her eyes met his, he knew she was beginning to truly see herself, her stare one of wonder and desire.
Holding that gaze, his left hand strayed from her hip where it had been holding her steady, up underneath her shirt again, to cup her freed breast. The sensation overwhelmed Ellie, her head dropping back onto his shoulder, her eyelids too heavy for her to keep open anymore, her gaze drawing too much energy and focus away from experiencing all of the sensations his touch was providing. Tristan watched himself in the window, watched his fingers thumb over the firm softness of her nipple, his lips quivering with the need to suck on it. He indulged the intense desire that shot straight to his groin. His erection was exceptionally hard, trapped painfully by his jeans, against the soft cushion of her ass.
He groaned, pressing his dick harder against her. His eyes shut with the pleasure that the pressure rocketed through him. Tristan tortured him right to the edge before he forced his gaze away from watching himself pleasure her, ducking his head to press his lips against the supple skin of her neck.
She tasted just like he had imagined.
A soft hint of vanilla on her skin, Tristan kissed and sucked down along the length of her neck while his fingers continued to toy mercilessly with her breast.
“Tristan, please,” Ellie begged with a moan, unsure how much longer her legs would support her.
Tristan smiled against her neck, and with one last tug on her nipple, allowed his hand begin to drift lower, over her quivering stomach to the waistband of her jeans. His fingers deftly undid the button and zipper, feeling her body shake underneath him with anticipation.
His hand crept underneath the edge of her underwear, trailing lightly over the sensitive skin, heading directly for the center of all her pleasure.
“Fuck,” Tristan groaned as his finger entered the pool of wetness underneath her entrance.
His hand was immediately coated in her pleasure and he knew that a single touch would be enough to send her over the edge of orgasm, just like it would to him. He’d never experienced this level of desire before, and he knew that she hadn’t either, and she needed to see herself as she came.
“Ellie,” he rasped, “watch yourself.”
Her head lolled to the side as she raised it off of his shoulder, her eyes struggling to open. He stayed focused on her gaze, and as soon as he saw it lock on his hand that had disappeared into the front of her jeans, he let his fingers free.
Slick with her juices, they delved greedily beneath her folds heading straight for her clit. At the first brush of his fingers over the swollen and sensitive nub, Ellie’s eyes went wide, her loud gasp coinciding with her hips jerking back against his.
His vision went black as pleasure shot through him from her movement. That, coupled with the feeling of her hot, wet folds underneath his fingertips, almost had him come on the spot. His jaw clenched, blocking out everything but his one task. Her face came back into focus and he saw that her eyes had begun to flutter shut.
“If you don’t watch yourself, I won’t let you come,” he bit out harshly, his own desire too great to temper h
is tone.
Tristan needed her orgasm, even more than he needed his own. At his coarse words in her ear, her eyes struggled back open, focusing on her face, contorted with the need for release. When he saw that she had obeyed his words, his fingers pressed immediately back down on her clit; her mouth dropped open. When he began to rub and press the swollen bud, her moans began to come out involuntarily; she bit her lip in an attempt to control them, but she was too far beyond control. Her moans quickly gained volume and frequency and he knew she was about to break.
He should have stuck to what he was doing, but he couldn’t help himself, he had to feel her around him. He watched her face as she began to realize that she was approaching the edge, that she was about to reach the very peak of her pleasure. In that moment, he pressed his middle finger completely inside of her, his thumb flicking frantically over her clit – the combination of which sent her soaring over the edge of release.
Tristan thought he would die of pleasure. Her incredibly tight passage constricting around his finger as she came, the rush of wetness on her release was incredible. Watching her watch herself was incredible. He’d been on the edge of orgasm when her reaction to hers had pushed him over the edge. Tristan hadn’t thought he was so close, that it was even possible for him to be aroused enough that he would be able to come in his pants.
Fuck, was he wrong.
When she came, her hips jerked against his hand and then back against his groin, and they’d continued their undulations as she rode his finger and the waves of her orgasm. The firm pressure of her ass, the friction of it as it pressed back against erection again and again and again. It was enough.
“Fuck,” he yelled, his eyes closing as he felt the warm jet of his release inside the confines of his jeans.
His thumb continued to gently rub over her clit, easing the tremors of the aftermath of her climax so that her ass continued to press back against him as she eased both the tremors of his.
Ellie collapsed against his hands, and it took the remainder of his strength to stay standing for the both. Their breaths came in uneven gasps, desperately trying to re-oxygenate their overstimulated bodies and slow down their racings hearts.
Tristan glanced at the window one last time, at Ellie’s face, before the reality of what they had just done began to sink in. He looked at her now beautifully sated expression and realized that he’d been completely wrong in his drawings; they’d come nowhere close to the breathtaking beauty of the woman in front of him when she was consumed with passion.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t know if he was capable of capturing the unearthly beauty that was Ellie Carter.
Chapter 11
She’d watched the entire time. In her reflection in the window, she saw herself orgasm for the first time in her life. She’d watched the pleasure build and build and build and when the waves of release crashed over her, she finally saw herself - the woman in the drawing, beautifully enjoying the exquisite explosion of pleasure that had consumed her. It had been breathtaking. Literally.
Ellie finally closed her eyes, trying to regain control of her breathing and her body that had spiraled up and burst out of control.
Deep breaths, in and out.
She let her breaths calm her, something that she was proficient at after having gone through rounds of chemo – a time when she had also felt that her body had been spiraling out of control, potentially towards destruction. This time, though, that same sense of helplessness, was exhilarating, pleasurable, and addictive.
She wanted more.
It wasn’t the pleasure that she found herself craving; well, she was craving that too, but it wasn’t what she yearned for most. It was what that pleasure had brought out in her – the sense of confidently knowing that she was beautiful; that, in that moment, her body was no longer damaged and deformed from the cancer or its treatment. Even if her mind was still suffering with the lingering effects of self-doubt, of seeing things, of seeing herself has she used to be, and not how she was now. In that moment, all doubt had been obliterated from her thoughts. She’d been beautiful, she’d been desirable, she’d been free.
And he had wanted her.
Tristan’s face, when he had watched her, and afterward when she assumed that he had orgasmed, too, only heightened her need to experience this again. He’d been as consumed as she was. She saw it in his eyes, on his face, felt it the way that he touched and pleasured it; everything that he’d made her feel, only amplified his pleasure.
In spite of all the other the other women that had most definitely come before her, in spite of all of his other options that he could have chosen for this project, he’d picked her. She hadn’t believed that he could really want her like that, but when she saw his face in the window, she knew how wrong she was. He had tried, but he’d failed at controlling himself. She’d barely touched him, and only indirectly through their clothes, and it had been enough to send him over the edge.
She didn’t know much, but she knew that that didn’t happen every day.
Goosebumps covered her skin at the thought of what Tristan must have been imagining in order to draw her like that. How could he have known what she could feel? How those emotions would play out on her face?
Maybe because he did this a lot.
The thought dampened her hope, a sign that her self-doubt was working its way back out as her body returned back to Earth, as it seemed that his was doing as well.
Ellie kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, her head back resting against his shoulder, relishing in the solid heat of his body behind her; the warm support giving her strength to stand, otherwise she was sure she would collapse in exhaustion.
She felt him slowly and tendering slide his hand back out of her underwear and jeans, managing to refasten them single-handedly. His other hand, gently caressed her breast for a few aching seconds, his touch reluctant to part with the soft and enticing flesh. Finally releasing the sensitive mound, he readjusted her bra to right, his hand gently falling down over her stomach to come and rest on her hip.
She felt his steady breathing on her neck, his lips placing one last, tender kiss on the sensitive skin of her neck before he began to pull away from her.
“Why don’t we sit down?” he whispered in her ear, feeling how she swayed back against him with the loss of his support.
Reluctant to end this incredible moment, Ellie moaned before raising her head and eyelids. Her perfectly sated gaze meeting the deep, golden amber of his. Suddenly, she felt slightly embarrassed by what she’d just experienced with him – almost a total stranger. Ducking her head with what she hoped would appear as a semblance of a nod, she shuffled her way back over to the couch with Tristan’s support, trying to hide the blush that had returned to her cheeks.
What had she been thinking, throwing herself at him like that?
Tristan eased her back down onto the couch where she had been sitting before. He brought over a blanket, and Ellie realized that she’d inadvertently crossed her arms as though she were cold.
“Relax for a minute, I’ll be right back with some food,” he said softly, with a gentle smile as he walked off into his bedroom, the door closing partially behind him.
She reached for the glass of water still on the table, taking several large sips when she realized just how thirsty she was. When she set the glass back on the table, she noticed the sketchbook laying on the floor where she had dropped it earlier. Picking it up, of course it was still open to the sketches of her, with the expressions that she’d just realized herself capable of making. She quickly flipped the book shut, the images heightening her embarrassment and concern.
As well as her shocking desire to create those emotions again. As soon as possible.
Chapter 12
Holy fuck.
Tristan barely maintained his calm and collected façade through the entrance to his room.
That had been incredible. And far, far too much.
Using both arms to support himsel
f over the sink in the master bath, Tristan took a good look at himself; his body alive and still vibrating with the intensity of his release, the goosebumps just fading from his skin, and his eyes a dark, golden amber. He’d never felt anything like that, he thought, as he splashed cold water onto his face.
And he wanted more.
Still as hard as a rock, Tristan uncomfortably shed his jeans and boxers that were wet and sticky from his release.
And that had certainly never happened before.
Grabbing a washcloth, he quickly wiped the remnants of his semen from his still sensitive and engorged flesh – an issue that he would have to deal with later. For right now, he had to go back out there and pretend like he wasn’t aching to carry her back here and really show her what she was capable of feeling.
Pulling on a clean pair of boxers and sweats, he walked back out into the living room; the first thing he noticed was that Ellie was no longer on the couch.
Had she left?
Panic flared through him; he knew he’d gone too far, but he hadn’t thought she was on verge of running away because of it. His throat constricted in fear and anger, but just before he could let out a strangled cry of her name, his eye caught movement in his periphery; Ellie was in the kitchen.
“Did you think that I left?” she asked hesitantly, having seen his reaction on re-entering the room and realizing her absence.
His face hardened in annoyance at how upset he’d let himself become, mostly because during no part of that second had his thoughts been on his revenge, only on losing her. “It might have crossed my mind,” he replied, stonily.
“I just came out to fill my glass of water…” she trailed off looking around her, “do I just get it from the sink?”
“No. I have bottles,” Tristan replied, opening up a cabinet to pull out a bottle of water to refill her glass.
“Thank you,” she replied, “I told you, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”
The Artist's Touch (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 1) Page 12
