Page 62 of Snitches and Serpents

In that order.

Gripping his forearm hard, I stare up at him with pleading eyes.

For a few seconds, he just continues holding my gaze with those merciless eyes. As if he is enjoying the sight of my silent begging. As if he enjoys knowing that he holds my life in his hands right now.

Then he relaxes his grip on my throat.

Air floods my lungs.

And release slams into me so hard that my knees buckle.

Only Tristan’s hand around my throat keeps me from collapsing to the ground as the orgasm crashes through my limbs so hard that my legs shake. My pussy tightens around his cock, my inner walls fluttering with the waves of pleasure. He keeps fucking me through it, intensifying the orgasm and making me come so hard that my vision blacks out for a second.

“Tristan.” His name escapes my lips without permission. Drips from them like a moan.

He comes inside me.

His fingers dig into my thigh as release crashes over him as well. I can feel his cock pulsing inside me, and the feeling of it steals what little breath I had left.

I stare up into his eyes. Pleasure pulses across his face and swirls in his eyes like golden sparkles. My mouth drops open at the sight of it. Tristan doesn’t even seem to notice, because he’s staring at me with an equally incredulous look on his face.

For a little while, it’s as if nothing else exists. Not the loud music and the party still happening downstairs. Not even the pale guestroom around us. All that exists in this one moment in time is us. Me and him.

I came to this party because I knew that Tristan was going to be here. I came because I need to keep my side of the bargain and report Tristan’s movements to John, which is what I decided to name the strange man who approached me outside the police station. But I also came because I was angry. Angry with Tristan for screwing me over. I secretly wanted a confrontation with him. But I didn’t expect… this.

My brain feels like it has floated away. But even stranger, my chest feels… spacious. There is no other way to describe it. Right now, I don’t feel as if my ribcage is pressing in on my lungs, crushing the air out of them. Instead, I feel like I can breathe easy. Like there is room to breathe.

I feel free in a way that I never have before.

And it both terrifies me and angers me that Tristan is somehow the one who has managed to make me feel like that.

Still staring up at him with wide eyes, I open my mouth to say something. Though I haven’t figured out what yet.

Tristan must have been equally lost in his own head, because he suddenly jerks back a little and blinks hard.

Then he abruptly pulls his cock out and snatches his hands off my body as if it had burned him.

After three consecutive orgasms, my legs are so unsteady that I can’t manage to remain upright without his hands supporting me. So my knees simply buckle, and I crash down hard on the floor.

Bracing my palms on the smooth wooden floorboards, I take a second to drag in a deep breath before I crane my head back to look up at Tristan.

In the time it took me to do that, his expression has shifted. He no longer looks stunned. Or alarmed. Instead, there is only smug victory and cold power on his face as he stares down at me where I’m kneeling on the floor before him.

I brace my hands on my thighs, making an effort to get to my feet. But my muscles refuse to obey me.

The smirk on Tristan’s face grows.

Leaning down, he takes my chin in a commanding grip and then locks taunting eyes on me.

“You came first,” he announces. “And you came twice. Three times, if you count the one on the bed.”

He lets out a dark chuckle full of mockery. Then he releases my chin with a snap of his wrist that throws my head to the side. I slowly turn my head back towards him only to find that he is already walking away. Pausing at the door, he twists back and flashes me one last smirk.

“Game over, sweetheart.”

22

TRISTAN

---