Page 70 of The Syndicater (Dark Verse 6)

Chapter 23

Morana, Tenebrae City

"Oh fuck, Tristan!" Acurse left her lips as his hips pounded into her, folding her into a pretzel, her legs over his shoulders, his hand on her neck.

Their eyes stayed connected, the contact carrying the same weight it had since the first time their gazes had locked. His cock thrust in and out of her, the power behind each making her feel like the mattress under them was going to give, the bed frame creaking, pelvis slapping, lips inches apart.

His blue eyes stared into her soul, pupils blown so wide the blue was a rim around them, and Morana panted, her body turned on to a degree it hadn't been since her recovery.

Between all the pain medication and her left shoulder, between taking care of Xander and finding Luna and being social in Tenebrae and being exhausted by the time they came to bed, finding time to fuck had been difficult. It had reminded her of the old times, of tension building between them with each glance, heating their bodies with each touch, without there beinga resolution. Unresolved sexual tension had been a thing of the past since the moment they got together. Thankfully. Morana was horny enough for him to be shameless about the fact that fucking Tristan Caine was one of her favorite activities in the world, just next to kissing him, the only way of burning calories she supported wholeheartedly.

So, after days of going without getting into his pants, Morana had decided after the party that she was going to get what she wanted no matter what.

And so she'd gone all out with the strappy silver dress, the same one she'd worn in that casino years ago when he'd shot her arm and then proceeded to hate fuck her like nobody's business in the shower. Tristan's eyes had flared seeing her in it, especially because she had filled out more in the last few years of being happy, and that flare alone had been worth the effort.

"I'm not wearing anything underneath," Morana had whispered in his ear, giving him a saucy smile before leaving him standing with the others and heading to the cottage. Thankfully, Xander had fallen asleep in one of the rooms in the mansion, so they had the entire space just to themselves.

As she'd expected, Tristan had stalked after her within minutes, not even saying farewell to whoever he'd been in conversation with.

Morana had taken off her heels and run through the grass barefoot, adrenaline filling her veins as she'd almost made her way to the cottage, down the hill, and with so much buoyancy in her heart, a thrill of the chase getting her hormones high. It had been then, running and her blood rushing in her ears, that he had caught her from behind, his arm going around her waist and picking her up. He'd thrown her over his shoulder and carried her into the cottage like the caveman she called him, barely making it in before dropping her down and pushing her against the door. Their hands had grabbed at each other in desperation,hers taking his cock out and him picking her up, no foreplay, nothing, just him sliding right into her.

Morana had grabbed his shoulders, her head tilting back as a moan of deep-rooted pleasure left her, the feeling of completion that she had only ever found with him making her eyes roll back in her head.

"I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." His hands had gripped her under the ass, his words turning her on even more. She loved it when he fucked her like that, their early days of going at it some of the hottest.

"I'll hate fuck you back," she'd told him.

That was all it had taken before he had pounded her into the door, rattling it on the frame so hard she was surprised it hadn't broken like some of the other furniture that had become victims to their shenanigans over the years. They had both come within minutes, both of them too-keyed up to hold on for too long, before he had carried her up to the room, still inside her while she leaked and stained his pants. He had dropped her on the bed and stripped before ripping her dress off and leaving her in nothing but her glasses, his eyes going over every exposed inch of her skin, from her hardened nipples to her little belly to her leaking pussy.

And then, he had kneeled on the bed, pushed her legs back, and folded her in half, rendering her immobile, and thrust inside her again.

His mouth came down, close to her, so close she flicked his lips with her tongue, tasting the sweat on his upper lip, feeling dirty and messy and so fucking hot it felt like it would never be enough. It never would be. If there was one thing Morana had learned in the last two years, it was that they would never get enough of each other, that this deep, intense need would never go away. In the beginning, she'd had her occasional days where she'd wondered if it was too good to be true, but now she neverdid. He was more committed to her than she had even expected, his eyes, his body, his heart, everything solely on her. He had once promised her that she would never walk into a room and question his loyalty, and he'd been right. No matter where they were, every time she walked into a room, the first thing she felt were his eyes on herself, and they never strayed, not once, to any other person unless someone was directly saying something that mildly interested him.

She tried to move her hips and push back against his movement, but the position she was in didn't allow even a little bit of leverage, her effort only making him slide in deeper.

"Tristan," she begged, telling him to move more, move harder, move faster, and his hand on her neck tightened, fingers pressing into the side of her throat and keeping her useless as he used her body as he pleased, at the pace he wanted, dialing her arousal to an even higher degree.

Heat began to pool in her abdomen, getting hotter and hotter with each slide of his cock in and out of her, the walls of her pussy gripping him tight, wanting to keep him in place and weeping when they couldn't. She whimpered as he hit somewhere deep inside, almost blurring the pleasure to pain, the angle of his thrusts touching a spot inside her that made her mind almost blank every time he touched it. She gripped his wrist with her hand, holding onto his neck with the other, her mouth opening as he seated himself so deeply inside her on a downward stroke that his pelvic bone rubbed over her clit, making her almost blackout with the sharp, sudden sensation that overstimulated her. Her skin felt clammy, her breaths coming out too quick as the heat coiled and coiled and coiled and he moved and moved and moved and she tried to tell him to slow down because it was becoming too much. She was going to fall, shatter apart into smithereens, but no words came out, just sounds, sounds of her moans and his grunts and their skin andher wetness and the bed, creaking and creaking, and suddenly, he went in too deep.

She almost did black out, right before a scream left her throat and the coil snapped.

Her orgasm shook her entire body, making her eyes clench shut as her muscles squeezed around her, her limbs jittery and her spine arched, her breasts smashed into her thighs and nipples pebbled into points that almost hurt.

Her orgasm triggered his own, making him rock his hips once, twice, before he came inside her again, flooding her for the second time that night, his body going lax on her for a second as he caught his breath, before he moved and lay down to the side. They both stared up at the ceiling in silence for a few moments, panting, letting their hearts calm down and come back down to earth.

Distant noise from the party penetrated their bubble. A clock ticked somewhere in the cottage. Her heartbeat drummed in her years.

She turned her neck to look at him, running the back of her left hand over his scruffy jaw, catching her breath. "I love it when you hate fuck me."

At her muttered words, he turned to his side, going up on an elbow and resting his head on it, his eyes, his energy, lighter than it had been before. Finding his sister had done wonders for his demeanor. Though he was still a grouch, now he was a grouch who took a joke.

He leaned forward, running his lips along her jawline, down her neck, and over the scar left by the bullet. His lips pressed into it, kissing it softly, before finding her lips, tasting her the way he did that made her toes curl.

Morana pushed him back against the bed, their lips coming apart, joining again, smiling and locking together. His hands wandered down her naked back, cupping her ass in a gripthat always made her breath catch, his hold the only kind of possessiveness he allowed himself to express usually. His rough fingers teased the skin at the edge of her pussy, their breaths mingling harder as her blood heated, the small tracing motion making her core tighten as desire coiled low in her belly.

Tristan leaned back against the headboard, widening his stance, and Morana pulled back, breathing heavily, his hot eyes and blown pupils sending a current right to her core. He kept looking at her, his chest heaving, and Morana felt his fingers tighten over her ass, pulling her up in one motion, bringing her higher on the bed over him.

“Again?” he asked in a hoarse voice that tugged right in her groin.

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