Page 89 of False Heir

I pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes, searching for that silent permission she had never once denied me.

The world outside the walls of my apartment seemed to fall away; there was only Adriana, with her short, dark hair framing her face like a halo tipped in shadow, her breath a tantalizing rhythm against my skin.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, her voice laced with a need that echoed my own. I didn’t need any more encouragement than that.

My hand slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the softness of her skin. A gasp escaped her lips, rewarding my boldness as I explored further, memorizing the topography of her changing body.

Adriana arched into my touch, her body responding with an honesty that words could never match. Her spine arched, pressing her closer to me as though she could merge our very beings with the force of her will. Her hands clutched at me, pulling me impossibly nearer, and I reveled in the feel of her beneath my fingertips.

“More,” she breathed out, a single word that was both command and plea. I obliged without hesitation, tracing circles over her ribs before venturing to the rise of her breasts, eliciting a moan that vibrated through me.

My hands roamed down the curve of her waist, fingertips grazing over the fabric of her blouse that seemed almost a sacrilege to the skin hidden beneath. She arched into my touch with an unspoken invitation, and I obliged, tugging the material free from her skirt to expose the expanse of her stomach. Her skin was warm against the cool air of the apartment, and I leaned in, pressing a trail of kisses along the softness of her belly.

“Tristan,” she whispered, her voice laced with urgency as her fingers tangled deeper into my hair, guiding me, grounding me.

“Can I?” The words came out huskier than I intended, my restraint teetering on the edge as I sought her permission.

“Please,” she said, and it was all the confirmation I needed. In that moment, her desire was clear, tangible as the heat radiating off her body. And it mirrored my own, a craving that pulsed through me with the force of a tidal wave.

“Say it, Ade,” I urged, needing to hear the words, to know this was what she wanted as much as I did.

“Fuck me, Tristan,” she breathed out, the raw need in her voice sending a jolt of pure desire coursing through my veins.

“Whenever you want.”

“Then you’d do nothing but fuck me.”

“Oh, that sounds awful,” I said. “Take off your pants.”

Her laughter filled the room as she slid her leggings down her legs, a delicious sound that echoed inside me, sparking a fire that only she could kindle.

Without another word, I lifted her effortlessly, feeling her body mold to mine as if we were two pieces expertly cut to fit together. Her legs wrapped around my waist, a silent acquiescence that spurred me on. I carried her over to the chair that stood isolated like an island in the midst of my apartment.

“Here,” I said, my voice gravelly, guiding her down onto me as I sat on the sturdy chair. The sensation of her settling onto my lap, my cock burying itself to the hilt in her tight pussy, her warmth enveloping me, was almost more than I could bear. Our movements were deliberate, unspoken communication flowing between us as easily as breath. She moved, and I responded.

“Tristan...” she moaned softly, and the sound was like music, a siren song that commanded my entire being.

“Adriana,” I replied, my hands finding purchase on her hips, guiding her rhythmically.

“Harder?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

My grip on her tightened, my control slipping as I thrust upward with a fierce determination.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good,” I said. “Wait–”

In the haze of desire, I stood, lifting her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist as if they were meant to be there. Our lips crashed together, a messy union of need and affirmation as I carried her to the bed.

“Wait. Am I too heavy for you?” Adriana asked suddenly, a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze that cut through the lust.

“Too heavy?” A chuckle rumbled in my chest as I held her gaze. “Ade, I could lift you up and carry you through a goddamn hurricane.”

“Is that the plan?”

“I don’t know. Are you into hurricanes?”

“What are you doing?” she asked, fighting a smile.

“Giving myself a second,” I replied. “I’m really close and I want to enjoy you for as long as I can.”

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