Page 67 of Corrupt Me

He had no idea.

Tristan moved his hand away, giving me the freedom to explore. I teased the flesh above the waistband of his sweatpants before slipping a curious hand inside. At first, I gently felt the length of him with my fingers, marveling at the silky texture of his skin. His eyes were on me, watching me touch him, and although tendrils of self-consciousness stirred, they were overwhelmed by curiosity and this craving I had for him. When I wrapped my fingers around him and began to move my hand, Tristan’s eyes closed in blatant arousal.

Preston and I might have never gone all the way, but we had messed around, so I wasn’t completely naive when it cameto knowing what to do; however, learning what drove Tristan crazy was thrilling in a different way. Heightened. More sensual. Every stroke of my hand didn’t just give him pleasure but me as well. Something I hadn’t experienced with Preston. It had felt more like a chore, something I’d been required to do as his girlfriend.

Another red flag I failed to acknowledge.

I took a moment to take in the ink on his chest, the sculptured form of his body, and his lethal yet breathtaking face as my hands worked him over. His features were stunningly handsome in a dangerous, stormy way with untamed beauty. No one would think he came from money at first glance, which added to his appeal. I loved and admired that he didn’t flaunt his wealth, well, his parents’ money because it was really Anna and Blaine’s money. Preston carelessly tossed around his parents’ money. But not Tristan. He spent too much time at odds with Blaine.

My name broke from him in a raspy groan as he pulled my hand away, twining our fingers together.

I glanced up at him questionably. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Fuck no. But I want to be inside you when I come.” His eyes were dark, darker than I’d ever seen them, and my already steamy blood rose in temperature, my heart fluttering at the idea I did that to him.

Me.

I swallowed, color rising into my cheeks.Tristan? Inside me? Dear god.It was one thing to dream about having sex with him and quite another to be in the throes of it.

I’d be lying if I said a part of me wasn’t afraid. Not of Tristan but the act itself. I didn’t want to do anything wrong. And if I was being honest, I didn’t want him to know how inexperienced I really was.

Easing to the side, he released my hands, allowing his fingers to trace along my side, pausing only when he got to the hem of my shirt. “I’ve thought about seeing you like this for too long. Even knowing I had no right. I still don’t have a right, but it won’t stop me from taking you, Shortcake.”

Holy. Hell.I had no words. I had no idea different levels of need could exist.

He bent his head and worked my shirt over my stomach, pressing his lips below my belly button and then above. The shirt continued to move up under his fingers. I raised slightly off the bed to rid myself of the barrier completely.

Nothing prepared me for the feel of Tristan’s skin against mine or for the little electric currents that danced along my flesh like wisps of sparking lightning.

He admired my body, and his adoration didn’t make me want to cover up. He made me feel wickedly sexy and beautiful. He made me feel like a woman. Not a little girl. And surely nothing like his sister. Two things Tristan so loved to imply.

I wondered now if they were defense mechanisms. Had he needed to see me that way to keep his hands off me? An enticing thought regardless of whether it was true or not.

“You take my breath away. You always have,” he admitted.

I cherished the way my body responded as his hands roamed over me, the quickening of my breath, the elevated senses, the rise of my blood pressure, the heightened sensitivity. I arched into him, and it became undeniably clear I wanted Tristan.

Was any of my decision to lose my virginity to him born out of revenge?

Yeah. Maybe a piece. But a very tiny piece.

My back bowed off the bed as he dragged the soft pajama pants over my hips, inching them down my body inch by sensual inch before tossing them to the floor. He ran his hand up my leg,kissing my calf. Then the corner of my knee and the inside of my thigh.

I didn’t have any undergarments on, leaving me bare before him.

I held my breath.He wouldn’t kiss me there, would he?

But oh, he fucking did.

My breath quickened into choppy pants as his lips pressed into my core, the aching center of desire. My inner walls tightened and pulsed. It wasn’t only his mouth that tormented me. He used his fingers too, a combination that had my hips lifting, pleading for more. His tongue licked over my clit before he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucked. And that was how the mindless torment continued, alternating between a stroke of his tongue and suction of his mouth.

I whimpered, teeth clamping over my bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Every so often, I would feel the cool steel of his lip ring drag across my clit, offering just a morsel of coolness to the heat assaulting me.

He gave me no choice but to fall off the cliff.

The orgasm ripped through me, a pleasure so sharp and violent it bordered on painful, yet it was a pain I’d gladly die over and over again to feel. It took me by surprise. I hadn’t been ready, been prepared.

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