I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t imagine what Tristan had thought of me, what he had maybe always thought. I could never marry him now, after all that. It ruined everything, ruined those few days we’d spent together when I thought maybe I could. When I’d thought I could be someone a prince would want, that Tristan would want. Now I knew I’d only been fooling myself. Nothing about Tristan, or about Frederick, had ever been real, and the pain of losing them both was too much.
I was miserable and heartbroken in a way I had never been before. I wanted to be able to move past it, to shake it all away as a mistake I could walk away from, but he was always on my mind. I kept thinking of his handsome face, the way his eyes looked when he smiled, the muscled lines of his body, the things we’d talked about, the way he’d made me feel. I could hardly get through a few minutes without seeing the sex we’d had in my mind, without remembering what it felt like to have him inside me, remembering the taste and feel of him.
No matter how low I was feeling, remembering made me wet and aching for him. I was so turned on, and so angry with myself for it, so embarrassed. I had had sex with him, and he had probably known the whole time who I was, had known I had said those things, wanted those things. I was sure he had only picked me from the festival because he knew. He probably thought of me as a ridiculous, naive girl, someone who would be easy to get into bed. I imagined him laughing at all those things I said as I typed them, those erotic thoughts I had confessed. He had probably thought a girl who would say those things to a stranger online would surely have sex with a prince after only one conversation.
He had been right. I was that girl, and I didn’t know how it had happened. I was so raw with humiliation, so jagged and exposed that I didn’t know how to feel whole again. I had always been in such control, excelling at school and at most things I tried, but I felt now like none of that mattered, like I was nothing but a spectacular failure.
On top of it all, I couldn’t help but miss Tristan terribly. I had never felt so close to a man, and the loss of him, of what I’d thought we had, hurt terribly. It made me feel like I could break down and sob at any moment. I did, several times, unable to stop the waves of sadness that overtook me, paralyzing me.
In high school, a boy named Craig had broken my heart and humiliated me. He’d cheated on me, carrying on with another girl for months before I found out. I’d been so hurt and felt like such an idiot for ever trusting him, for wasting my time, that I’d cried until my eyes were puffy and my throat burned. But compared to this hurt I was feeling now, it was nothing, like comparing a scraped knee to an amputated limb.
After Craig, Gretchen had been there. She’d helped me feel better, and she’d helped me plan all sorts of revenge that we hadn’t actually gone through with. She’d encouraged me to confront him, and I had. I’d yelled at him right in the high school hallways, and it had helped. It had made me feel less like a victim, less like he had broken me. I thought about calling Gretchen now, as she had left me several messages wanting to know how it all went, but I wasn’t ready to talk to her. To explain it, I’d have to tell her everything, starting with the Facebook profile, and I just wasn’t ready for that.
I knew I’d have to tell her eventually, but right now, I couldn’t imagine saying any of it out loud to anyone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, about anything, except for Tristan. I desperately wanted to talk to Tristan, but I also never wanted to talk to him, or about him, ever again. I wanted to hide away until it stopped hurting so much, until I stopped feeling so bad.
I didn’t know how long that would be. It felt like I’d never get over this. That I would never get over Tristan.
Chapter Eighteen - Tristan
I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t fucking take it. I couldn’t accept that Ella was gone forever and there was nothing I could do. She was the only one for me, and I needed her back. I tried, I told myself that I had no choice but to move on, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let her go. A week after I got the news she didn’t want to continue, I was still thinking of nothing but her. I missed her, missed everything about her, and I couldn’t just let that be it. I had to take action.
I called my event manager on my new phone, pacing as I did. I’d been pacing a lot since Ella left, filled with frustration and hurt and want.
“I need Ella’s address. I’m going after her,” I said, not wasting any time. This was ridiculous, everything about it was ridiculous, and I was tired of it.
“I cannot give you that. It’s against the law,” the event manager said.
“I need to talk to her,” I said slowly, drawing out every word. I was so sick of being told what I could not do about my own love life and my own feelings.
“It is against the law for you to speak to her again,” the event manager said.
“Then I guess I’m going to break the law today,” I responded, hanging up and immediately calling Peter in security. Ella was worth breaking the law for.
“Sir?” Peter said, answering my call right away.
“I need Ella’s address. I have to go after her. I need one more chance with her,” I said. I knew Peter would help me, even if it was against the law. He had always been the most reliable member of my staff, the closest person to a friend I’d had since I was a child.
“I’ll drive you there now,” Peter said. It sounded like he was smiling.
“You don’t need to track her address down?” I asked.
“I found it days ago. I had a feeling it might come in handy,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, relieved. I didn’t thank people often, but I really was grateful for Peter, and his assistance.
An hour later, I was at Ella’s front door. Her eyes got wide when she saw me, and she crossed her arms over her chest protectively. She was dressed in a simple sweater and jeans, but I still wanted her, still thought she was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
“Why are you here?” she asked, not meeting my eyes.
“You deleted your Facebook profile,” I said.
“I know,” she said, “I couldn’t look at it anymore.”
“I needed to talk to you, and I couldn’t reach you,” I said, stepping in closer. She didn’t move toward me, but she didn’t flinch away either. I took that as a good sign.
“I thought that was the idea, that my decision was final and we wouldn’t talk again,” she said. She still wasn’t meeting my eyes.
“Is that what you really want?” I asked. I needed her to give me another chance. I needed her. Maybe I had screwed up how I handled things. Maybe I should have told her in a different way, or earlier, or not at all, about the Facebook profiles. Whatever it was, I wanted to do it better now.
“I don’t even know how to look at you, after everything,” she said. I took a chance and reached out, tilting her chin up so she was meeting my eyes. She swallowed hard, looking nervous. “Ella, I have missed you every day since you left. I’ve thought of nothing but having you back,” I said. She shook her head softly but held my gaze.
“I’m so humiliated. I said those things to you, and you knew, and now everyone will know. How could I possibly be with you?” Ella said.
I took a deep breath to collect myself before telling her my feelings. “When I saw you at the festival, I wanted it to be true that you were the woman I knew online,” I started. “The woman I knew on Facebook was just as sexy and fascinating and intelligent. I wanted you to be the same person because,” I stopped and ran a hand through my hair, feeling less sure of myself than I was used to, thrown by the possibility that she would reject me, by how much power over my heart she was holding at this moment. “I had already fallen for you online, Ella. I’ve been in love with you for months now. So the thought of you being the same girl I couldn’t take my eyes off at the festival was so perfect that I needed it to be true. So I had the security person I trust most find out if it was true. No one else but him knows, and not even he knows anything we talked about.”
“I told you I’d been selected,” she said, but she dropped her arms, and I felt like she was listening.
“And I tried to look for you, even though I had no idea how I’d possibly know which woman was you,” I said. I was still not sure how I’d known, how I’d been so drawn to her unless it really was fate and I had to start believing in romantic ideas after all.
“But you found me,” she said.
“I did,” I said, cupping her face in my hands, just for a moment. She closed her eyes briefly at my touch, lids fluttering shut. I wanted to kiss her but didn’t yet. I dropped my hands, and her eyes followed them like she hadn’t wanted me to stop touching her.
“But the things I said to you, the things you know about me,” Ella said, eyes locked on mine now, “they’re hardly something that a proper lady, that royalty says. Don’t you want someone who--”
“I want you,” I said, cutting her off and shaking my head. “Fuck proper, Ella. I want you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“I thought,” she started, before trailing off and biting her perfect pink lips.
“I love you,” I said, grabbing her hands in mine. “I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours.”
“I love you,” she said, squeezing my hands tightly and stepping in closer to me, “and I’ve been yours. From the start.”
“You told me once you were done running,” I said. I thought about getting down on one knee, asking her what I was about to ask more formally, kissing her hand, but neither of us was really traditional. Maybe that was why we worked so well together. Why we seemed to fit together. “So stop. And marry me.”
“I think I want to,” she said, making me feel like my heart was filling up my entire chest, like my rib cage was just the beating of my heart as I looked at Ella. “I do want to. Yes, I’ll marry you, Tristan.”
“I love you,” I said again, pulling her in and finally kissing her, feeling her sigh against me, her arms coming up around my neck, her mouth opening against mine.
“I never thought this could happen,” she said, lips a breath away from mine.
“Believe it,” I told her, kissing her as fully, as forcefully as I could. “And Ella, I want you to know that you never have to be embarrassed about anything you want. I would love to do everything we talked about online, and I would love it if you spent the rest of our lives telling me every filthy, sexy thought that comes into that brilliant head of yours.”
“I can do that,” she said, kissing me again. I meant it, I wanted nothing else at that moment but to spend the rest of my life loving her and making every day amazing for her.
Chapter Nineteen - Ella
Tristan pulled me into him the minute we arrived back at the palace and were shut behind the doors of his bedroom. He kissed me hard, my body flush against his. I could feel how hard he was, his erection pushing against my thigh, and I whimpered into his mouth. I needed him. Now that everything was in the open, now that I knew he had been Frederick all along and that everything between us had been real, I wanted him more than ever. I loved him.
We pulled each other’s clothes off desperately, like the days since we’d seen each other had been years and we had been starving without touching one another. I ran my hands over him, the muscles in his arms, the lines of his chest and abs, still hardly believing that this man wanted me. That he loved me.
“Tell me,” he said with a smirk against my mouth, stepping out of his pants, “about all those times you told me dirty, filthy things online.”
“What about them?” I asked, shivering as his fingers traced my hip bones.
“I know you touched yourself, rubbed your clit and fucked yourself with your fingers talking to me,” he said, making me gasp and flush.
“Yes, all the time,” I said. I didn’t feel shame or embarrassment at all now. I felt safe, like around Tristan, everything I wanted was going to be given to me.
“Show me,” he said, low and commanding, making me shudder, “right now. Touch yourself while I watch.”
“Yes,” I breathed. I laid back on the bed, feeling Tristan’s eyes burning into me.
“I want you on display for me,” he said. “Want you to show me exactly what you used to do when you told me your fantasies.”
“Watch,” I said, tracing my own hand down myself, pressing my fingers into my already dripping-wet folds. I groaned, feeling electric like I hadn’t in the time we’d been apart. With his eyes on me like this, my hand didn’t even feel like my own. Touching myself, rubbing hard circles on my own clit, like I had done so many times before, felt brand new, even thrilling.
“I used to get off to your words, stroking my cock right there while we were talking,” he said, voice still so low it made heat pool in my stomach.
“God,” I managed, already so close.
“You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you and make you come again,” he said. It was everything I had ever wanted to hear. It was more because Tristan was saying it, and everything about him was more than I knew to want.
I rubbed myself over and over, fingers slippery as I slid them over my folds. It felt so good to be laid out for him like this, his eyes watching my own fingers on my clit, just for him.
“Yes, please,” I said, “I need you.”
“You look so fucking pretty like this, touching yourself for me, so beautiful,” Tristan said. I flushed a deep red that spread through all of me. I wanted to hear him talk to me like that forever.
He leaned over, kissing me as I touched myself, running his tongue over my mouth, licking my lips before pulling back, eyes intent on my hand. He reached out and cupped my breast in his hand, squeezing.
“Come for me, come now, so I can fuck you like I know you want me to,” he ordered.
I crashed about a second later, gasping into my hand, still so exposed, on such display for him.
“Best thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” he said, before kissing me again. He eased himself all the way over me, spreading my legs out.
“Please, please, I need you inside me,” I said, watching him run his hand over his cock a few times before bringing it toward me. He teased the head over my clit, making me cry out, before guiding it down to my entrance.
“I never want you to stop saying please like that,” he said, sliding inside me. It was still so much. I had to breathe through it, like before, but once he was in, it was just as incredible, even more than last time.
“I never will,” I promised. He moved in me, thrusting, harder than before, quicker and harder than the first time, more desperate. I gasped.
“Tristan,” I said, like a question, like a request. I wanted him to fuck me harder, as hard as he wanted. Wanted to see how much I could take. He rocked in and out of me in deep, hard strokes, making me cry out every time, so good and so much. I pressed my hips up into his, still wanting more.
“Look at you,” he said, putting a hand on my hips like he wanted to feel them moving up into him. “You can’t stay still.”
“I want you too much. This feels so good,” I said. He grinned at me and shifted, putting his whole body on the bed and then sliding out of me. I whimpered, but he shook his head.
“I want to see you on top of me, riding my cock,” he said. I gasped again. He knew how many times I’d thought about this, about taking a man inside myself this way, rolling my hips down on him over and over, grinding on him, desperate and needy.
He laid back on the bed and motioned for me. I climbed over him and he held his cock in his hand, getting ready to help guide it inside of me. I spread my legs over him and shifted down, sinking on top of him.
“Oh my god, Tristan,” I said. I felt like I had taken him even deeper, even further inside of me this way. He put his hands on my hips and started lifting me, moving me up and down on him, fucking me hard again right away.
“You look like you were made to be there,” he said, still using his own hands to bounce me on top of him. I could hardly breathe, could ha
rdly think. I planted my knees and started moving my own hips in his hands, raising myself up and down, feeling every inch of him inside me every time I sank down on him. I moved faster and faster, feeling delirious and heady with it. His hands stayed firm on my hips, and he rolled up into me, meeting my grinding with his own thrusts.
“Oh, that feels so fucking good,” I said, throwing my head back as I rode him, as he fucked up into me. I never wanted it to end. I wanted to do so many more things, wanted to try everything I could with Tristan.
“Fuck, Ella,” Tristan said, getting flushed, looking at me like he couldn’t believe I was real. He moved a hand from my hips to touch my clit, and it only took a few circles before I was careening over the edge, crashing and shattering. He came inside me as the waves of my own orgasm tore through me, making them feel even more intense.
I climbed off him slowly and he opened his arms and pulled me in close, kissing me over and over as we both came down.
“I missed you,” I told him, “so much.”
“I missed you,” he said, kissing my forehead. “You have no idea how much I missed you, Ella.”
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I said, meaning it, marveling at what a difference a day could make.
“I didn’t think I could be this happy,” he whispered, and I melted into him, sinking down into his chest and just letting myself feel it all: him, this moment, my own happiness.
I never wanted to move again.
Chapter Twenty - Tristan
I had never looked forward to my wedding day, but spinning my bride around while a crowd watched, gasping and whispering about how we were perfect together, I felt better than I ever had. The grand ballroom was decked out in decorations I’d had custom-made just for us. They centered on the new large art piece I’d bought as one of my wedding gifts to Ella. The room had never looked more majestic.
My Bossy Protector: A Best Friend’s Brother Romance Page 44
