Rhapsody (The Teplo Trilogy #2)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  "Fuck, fuck," she groaned, bucking as she rode out the waves. Her fingers clutched at the thick fibers of the carpeting, trying to tether her to earth as another burst of pleasure erupted through her.

  He eased back, spreading her wide open on the floor as he rose up to his knees above her, his face dripping with her juices and his eyes blazing with primal, male satisfaction. He reached out and grabbed her panties, lifting them to wipe his mouth.

  She moaned low in her throat, something about the sight of him using her panties like that, to wipe away the remnants of what he'd just done to her, sending another shard of lust slamming through her. She wriggled on the carpet, unable to keep still as he dropped them and stared down at her.

  "I love you."

  Her eyes fell closed as those words burst like sunrays in her heart.

  "I love you, but I can't be gentle with you right now."

  "Then don't be," she answered, writhing at the thought of him taking her hard. She heard him shift, heard fabric rustle, and felt him kneel between her spread legs. She opened her eyes to find him hovering over her, staring at her as if trying to memorize the way she looked beneath him. His expression was a lesson in contradiction. Taut, barely contained need and reverent devotion were both stamped across every line of his face.

  She reached up, placed her hand on his jaw, and smiled. "Fuck me like I need you to, Tristan."

  He groaned, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. "Don't let me hurt you."

  That soft plea melted her. He was dying to let loose, to fuck her as she demanded, and so worried that he would hurt her. She wanted to tell him not to be silly, that he'd fucked her senseless on more than one occasion and never once hurt her, but the look in his eyes, as if he feared hurting her more than anything, kept her from it.

  She nodded instead. "I won't."

  Grasping her bad leg, he wrapped it around his waist. He leaned down and captured her mouth in another searing kiss. She gasped as his tongue swept inside, lapping at hers as if he were still starved for her. She could taste herself on his lips, and loved it more than she probably should.

  He kissed her until she was breathless and panting, writhing against the carpet and trying to find friction. When black spots swam before her eyes, he broke away with a gasp, took his cock in his hand, and pushed his way inside.

  He surged forward, his hard length disappearing inch by inch as he gritted his teeth and panted for breath. His expression was so beautiful to her. With his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his cheeks flushed, the intense look of pleasure and pain took her breath away.

  "Christ," he groaned when he was buried fully inside of her. His fingers curled around her thigh, digging in but not hurting. She cried out as he pivoted his hips and pulled back, sliding out as slowly as he'd sheathed himself inside of her. He reached for her hand, curling their fingers together above her head as he stopped moving, his head tossed back.

  "Fuck me, Tristan. Please."

  She clung to his hand, squeezing hard as he growled wordlessly and unleashed all of that desperation and emotion. His hips pulled back until the head of his cock was the only thing touching her. And then his hips slammed into hers hard, pulling a keening cry from her.

  He didn't stop. She didn't think he could stop. He simply reared back and thrust again, sending her inching up the carpet with each powerful strike of his hips to hers. Each one sheathed him inside of her, filling her so full of him it stole her breath.

  "Fuck, baby," he groaned as another powerful thrust of his hips sent her scooting across the carpeting again. It burned at her back, but didn't hurt. Nothing ever hurt when he was inside of her, fucking her. All she felt was him. His cock buried inside of her, his hand clutched around hers, his chest brushing at hers with every fierce strike of flesh on flesh.

  Her free hand clawed at his back, trying to pull him closer, to get him deeper.

  He understood what she sought with every little plea. Leaning back onto his knees, he pulled her good leg up over his shoulder before lunging forward, their connection deepened by the change in position. She cried out his name as he pounded inside of her, his fingers like vises around hers, his skin slapping against hers.

  "Christ, you feel so good," he grunted. "I love being inside of you."

  "Oh," she whimpered, bucking her hips in pleasure.

  "You have the sweetest pussy…so fucking tight…Christ, baby." His head lolled back on his shoulders as he thrust over and over, driving his cock into her and then retreating to start that electric, consuming glide all over. Again and again, he slammed himself into her, fucking her hard, fast. He took her roughly, holding nothing back, and it felt so right.

  Heat coiled hard in her belly as he released her hand and grasped her hips, lifting her into each powerful drive. She tried to tell him that she was going to come, but couldn't get the words out as that shift in position caused his cock to rub that one spot that always sent her flying out of her mind. With a short cry, her muscles clamped tight, orgasm rocking through her hard and fast.

  "Yes," he hissed, his hand curling harder around her hips. He surged forward and retreated so fast, she cried out endlessly as the head of his cock rocked insistently against her walls.

  She couldn't catch her breath, one pleasured cry giving way to another and then another.

  He pulled out of her suddenly and flipped her onto her stomach before following her down. His body lined with hers, his chest pressing into her back, his cock nudging at her ass. One knee slipped between her legs, urging them apart. She complied willingly…and cried out once more when he lifted her hips and drove his cock into her, never once putting weight on her bad leg.

  The carpet scraped at her breasts, his teeth bit at her neck, his fist tangled in her hair, tugging her head back to grant him access to the pale column of her throat. She moaned and grinded, loving the way his weight pressed into her, cradling her, covering her, as he fucked her, kissed her, and panted in her ear.

  His teeth sank into the skin of her throat, biting down before he pulled the skin into his mouth to ease the sting. She cried out, a wave of desire swarming her as he sucked hard, marking her. She thrashed beneath him, bucking, arching, frenzied at the realization that when she walked into that club tomorrow, she'd do it with his marks on her body.

  "Tristan!"

  Her nails dug into the carpet as another orgasm rushed up on her, causing her to clench down around him so hard, he cried out too, the sound muffled at her throat. His hand tightened in her hair until it bordered on painful pleasure. She pressed her hips back as far as she could, grinding her ass into him, demanding that he come with her, come for her. Now.

  "Fuck, Lillian, fuck!" he snarled as his cock jerked inside of her and he began to come, planting himself deep inside of her and holding on. "I love you," he groaned. "So much, beautiful."

  Those words spilling from his lips as he came was all it took to send her careening over the edge. She screamed soundlessly as she released around him, coming on his cock like he loved. She came hard, her vision going black, sound fading. Long moments of shattering completion rolled through her in waves of bliss.

  When it was over, she drooped beneath him, breathing hard.

  He followed her down, rolling to the side and collapsing on his back beside her. His head turned in her direction, his breath coming in rasping pants. His hands swept down her body, his eyes wide when they settled on her. "Did I hurt you?"

  She shook her head, unable to summon the energy to say a word. Every part of her still hummed. She tried to smile at him, but she couldn't get her muscles to cooperate. She felt boneless, a melted lump of satiation.

  He rolled toward her with a groan, pressing his lips to her shoulder in a gentle kiss.

  She sighed, her eyes closing.

  "Come on." He rose to his feet. "Let's get you in bed, beautiful."

  She didn't disagree, merely hummed as he squatted to lift her into his arms and then tucked her to his chest before stri
ding away. She floated in a state of euphoria as he carried her into the bedroom and then laid her between the sheets and slid in behind her.

  She never opened her eyes, not even when he pulled her back to him before tucking the covers around her. She felt like she was dreaming. Every part of this night, every part of her, felt too good to be real. But when he pressed his lips to her ear and hugged her hard, she knew she was still awake.

  "I love you," he whispered sweetly.

  She fell asleep with a smile on her face…and woke hours later to his mouth trailing kisses across her shoulder blades and down her back. She was on her stomach as he hovered over her, showering her with gentle kisses and soft touches. The covers were flung back, his strong body the only thing covering her.

  "You're awake," he said when she moaned and arched up to meet the fluttering kisses he rained across her skin.

  "I am." She yawned. "What time is it?" Pale moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating the room in soft, muted grays. The digital read-out of the clock, turned away from the bed, sent little prisms of red through the gray in places. The room was dark otherwise, and quiet.

  "Five." He swept her hair off of her neck and pressed a little line of kisses there before rising up over her and settling onto his knees, straddling her. He reached out and turned the lamp on. "You have carpet burn."

  "Totally worth it. Did you sleep?" she asked as he settled over her.

  "Yeah, I did." His hands slid up her back, his fingers digging into the muscles. His erection nestled at the swells of her ass.

  "Mm," she moaned as he kneaded and massaged, ignoring the way she wriggled below him. "I like waking up this way."

  "Do you?" He chuckled, rubbing little circles into her shoulders.

  "Mmhmm."

  "I like waking you up this way," he admitted after a minute. "You're so soft."

  She wriggled her ass against him, laughing. "That makes one of us then."

  He stopped massaging. "Is it bothering you?"

  "No." She blinked and turned her head to the side, trying to see him. "I like waking up to that, too."

  She saw him smirk out of the corner of her eye. "It's your fault, you know."

  "How so?" She wriggled until he let her roll over. He smiled down at her as he straddled her hips, causing heat to crackle as his erection landed on her stomach. She was sore in all the right ways, but not sore enough to keep her from wanting him inside her again.

  "You were talking in your sleep." He reached for her hands, twining their fingers together. She loved when he did that, and he'd taken to doing it so often lately, as if he had to have physical contact between them.

  "What did I say?"

  He shifted his position, leaning forward until his smiling face was an inch from hers, his lips lined with hers. She tilted her head back, urging him closer.

  "You said that you love me," he breathed, his lips moving feather light across hers.

  "I do."

  He bumped his nose to hers. "And that you want me."

  "Always." She captured his lips with hers for a minute before he pulled back, teasing her.

  "Please, Tristan," he continued, his mouth moving across her cheek to her ear. She shuddered as his breath sent strands of hair tickling at her neck. "I need you," he murmured, nipping at her earlobe.

  Heat twisted through her as he repeated what she'd said in her sleep.

  "Harder."

  "Oh," she moaned as his tongue traced the shell of her ear. He slipped one hand from hers and slid it between their bodies, his fingers dancing down her torso.

  "More."

  His fingers brushed over her pubic bone, his lips wrapped around the shell of her ear. She writhed atop the bed, trying to position his hand where she ached for it.

  "So good…."

  His fingers slipped lower, brushing through her curls.

  "So deep…."

  "Oh," she whimpered again as one long finger slipped inside of her. She was wet already, her arousal dripping down her thighs. A sharp hiss sounded at her ear when he felt it, too. He pumped his finger inside of her before adding a second.

  "Don't stop," he whispered.

  She bucked her hips into his hand. The way he repeated what she'd said made her crazy. God, she was ready to reenact whatever she'd dreamed. She remembered snatches of it, brief glimpses, brief sounds, a sense of being complete, but nothing more.

  He nudged her legs apart and settled between them. Her good leg lifted of its own accord, wrapping around his waist even as his fingers continued to pump torturously slow inside of her. Her eyes fell closed on a hum of pleasure as he bent forward and captured a nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue over it before moving to the other to repeat the process.

  Her hips arched and retracted beneath him, matching the slow thrust of his fingers inside of her. She didn't know how she could want him so intensely so soon after the way he'd taken her in the living room four short hours before, but she did.

  "No," she pleaded, protesting when he removed his fingers from her.

  "Shh," he soothed, shifting until his cock probed at her entrance.

  She wriggled restlessly, as he leaned forward, placing light kisses across her lips.

  "Please, Tristan, don't stop," he breathed into her mouth.

  She cried out as he pushed forward, slipping inside of her.

  "Please don't ever stop," he groaned, his eyes falling closed.

  She kissed him hard, burning for him. He kissed her back as he moved inside of her, loving her sweetly, gently…whispering in her ear as he took his time with her. The words falling from his lips weren't the erotic commands that always set her afire, but loving confessions that made her heart turn flips in her chest and her breath catch in her throat. The gentle way he took was a sharp contrast to what they'd done earlier, but was equally as perfect.

  He left her gasping for breath and shaking beneath him until tears burned at her eyes from the intensity of it, and then he sent her slipping over the edge as he whispered in her ear that he loved her, that he needed her, that he belonged to her.

  When it was over and they were curled around one another, tucked beneath the blankets as the sun peaked over the horizon, he brushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her tenderly. She smiled up at him before nuzzling into the crook of his neck and sighing in contentment.

  "I never thought I would feel this way," he said, his voice quiet.

  "What way?"

  "Happy."

  "Me either," she confessed. "It's weird, isn't it?"

  "Hmm?"

  "That the situation can be so…so…fucked up," she finally said, unable to find another word to describe what had brought them together, "and you can still feel so good. It shouldn't be possible to be this happy with everything else going on right now, but I am happy. Crazy happy."

  "Yeah," he agreed, playing with a strand of her hair. "I probably shouldn't be surprised though."

  "Why not?"

  "Because we haven't done anything the normal way, beautiful. I fingered you on the dance floor, made you hate me, forced you to let me move in with you, drove you crazy, made you cry–"

  "Protected me, made me laugh, fell in love with me," she broke in, not liking that so much of his list was negative. He'd done so much more for her than he realized. Yes, he'd driven her crazy and made her want to strangle him, but he'd also made her feel cherished, like she mattered to him more than anything else.

  "My point is that, despite all the bullshit, it still worked for us. You still fell in love with me," he said with a quiet chuckle. "Maybe I'm not as bad at this boyfriend thing as I thought."

  "You aren't," she responded, snuggling closer. "Even when you make me crazy, you make me feel like I matter. You make me feel cherished. No one has ever made me feel that way," she confessed. "Not ever. So I wouldn't change anything about what we've done. Besides, no one ever said falling in love was supposed to be easy."

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah," she
said. "I don't think most people realize how much work goes into a relationship, but dance gets it right. Everyone thinks ballet is beautiful because it's so honest. The best pieces are full of tragedy, adversity, and sorrow. They're reality set to music."

  "Hmm," he murmured. "Maybe."

  "I don't think there is such a thing as a perfect relationship. They all take work. They're all hard in their own ways. But sometimes, the things that are most worth it are the things we struggle with the most. We value love above all else because it isn't easy to find or to hold on to. It takes work and sacrifice, patience and trust. Don't you think?"

  "I don't know. I've never thought about it like that," he said.

  "Oh." She paused. "I guess I've thought about it so much because I spent so much time portraying it on stage. You know the funny thing though? In all that time, I never experienced it for myself. I was too busy dancing to bother with relationships, and my mom left me and my dad when I was a baby. Until he remarried, ballet was the only example I had."

  "Why'd she leave?" Tristan asked.

  "I don't know. I guess married life wasn't what she expected. She didn't like my dad's job, and she didn't really want a kid. I think when she got pregnant with me, she expected him to quit his job to be a stay at home dad while she worked, but he didn't. So, she packed all of her stuff, dropped me off with a neighbor, and left while he was on duty." Lillian bit her lip, thinking about how much her father had done to raise her on his own. She didn't know her mother, and had come to terms with it a long time ago, but she sometimes wondered how someone could walk away from a baby and a guy as awesome as her dad without looking back. She had no desire to meet the woman to ask, though.

  Tristan was quiet a minute. "My parents were crazy in love," he said then, his voice soft. "My dad was in the military when he met my mom, and being apart was hard on both of them. When they were together, they were really happy. Always kissing, always touching. Watching them together was pretty amazing. When I was a kid, I knew I wanted what they had when I grew up. I wanted a relationship as strong as theirs, and a family."