Page 70 of False Heir

I stopped myself short of kissing her. “Are you sure about this?”

I needed to hear it, to have her say the words that might keep at bay the shadows that lurked within me.

She nodded, her dark eyes locked onto mine, a silent testament of her resolve. “Yes.”

“I love you,” I said, the words spilling out raw and unguarded.

“I know,” she whispered back.

Then, without another word, I leaned down and pressed my mouth against hers.

My hands found their way to her waist, drawing her even closer. The taste of her lips was intoxicating, a heady blend of desperation and courage that threatened to shatter my resolve.

“Are you sure?” I asked again, breaking the kiss to trace my teeth along the curve of her neck. It was a maddening contrast, the softness of her skin against the sharpness of my bite.

She shivered in response, a sound halfway between a gasp and a moan escaping her lips. “Yes,” she groaned, her fingers tangling in my hair. “I want this... I want you.”

The world fell away. Everything was Adriana. Her smell, her taste, her touch. It was as if nothing else existed except for her, and the connection we shared in that moment. I raked my teeth down her neck, my hand slowly sliding down the front of her body toward her chest, until I cupped her breast through her top, feeling her heart beating wildly against my palm. She arched into my touch, a low moan falling from her lips, the rush of desire visible in her dark eyes.

“What I want to do is distract you,” Adriana said.

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“Well,” she said. “I think you’re going to have to be on your knees for some of it.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Adriana

That’s when Tristan dropped to his knees.

I felt the weight of his gaze before the warmth of his hands, a silent command that made my heart jump in my chest. The late afternoon sun had begun its retreat, throwing shadows across the room as Tristan knelt before me.

“You’re right. Let’s forget about the world for a while,” he murmured, his fingers hooking around the waistband of my leggings and panties with a deftness born of familiarity. I lifted my hips, aiding him as he drew the fabric down my legs, the cool air of the room kissing my skin where his hot breath hadn’t yet explored.

Perched on the edge of the couch, I watched, entranced, as he spread kisses up my calves, my knees, my thighs. Each brush of his lips was an unspoken vow, a fleeting touch that promised more—so much more. I let out a stifled moan, my body arching toward him, begging for what only Tristan could give.

“Tristan, please,” I gasped, but he only grinned, the devilish tilt of his lips telling me he enjoyed this slow torture. His own hand dipped below his waistband, his movements deliberate as he watched me come undone at the mere sight. I was caught in the pull of my own desire, watching him touch himself while yearning for his hands on me.

“Patience, Ade,” he teased, but there was no patience left in me. “What? You can’t just watch for a second?”

“You’re evil,” I said.

He laughed. “Seriously, just wait.”

Finally, his mouth found the heat between my legs, and I surrendered to the sensation. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to me as waves of pleasure cascaded over my senses. “God, I love how you taste,” he growled against me, and the roughness of his voice sent another rush of heat coursing through my veins.

“More, Tristan,” I urged, feeling the coil in my belly tighten with every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers. He complied, his actions becoming more insistent, more demanding, echoing the hunger that consumed us both. He pressed his fingers into me, curling them around my g-spot as his tongue lapped at my clit.

“Your taste changes when you’re close,” he whispered, his words punctuated by another thrust of his fingers. “It’s intoxicating.” And I was drunk on it, on him, spiraling into an abyss of ecstasy from which I never wanted to return.

“Are you going to come for me, love?” he asked, his breath hot against my pussy, and his voice was my undoing.

My back arched off the couch as another wave crashed over me, my cry filling the room. Tristan’s relentless pursuit of my pleasure didn’t wane; his mouth and fingers worked in tandem, drawing out climax after climax until I was a quivering mess beneath him. Finally, when I could take no more, I pushed at his shoulders, signaling a surrender that was both complete and utterly satisfied.

He looked up at me, his grin wide and self-assured, the very image of a man who knew the power he wielded. “Which position next, love?” His voice was rough with desire, husky in a way that made my already sensitive body hum with renewed need. “What do you want?”

“Right here,” I managed to say between shaky breaths, my heart still racing from the intensity of what had passed and the anticipation of what was yet to come. “Just like this...with you.”

He nodded, his expression serious as he considered my comfort. “How about you lie on your side?” he suggested gently. “It’s easier on you and the baby.”

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