Page 103 of Corrupt Me

His teeth took my earlobe, nibbling for a second before he said, “You don’t. Leaving you with him was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”

“You didn’t have a choice. Preston needed?—”

His lips brushed over mine, silencing me. “I did it for you.” He didn’t give me a chance to respond as he took full possessionof my mouth. The hands holding my wrists glided down my arms, finding the hem of my shirt, and those damn skillful fingers slid under, trailing up my torso. “I thought I would never get the chance to tell you…”

“Tell me what?” I breathily asked, my mind only partly aware of what he was saying. I couldn’t concentrate with the pad of his thumb brushing over my budding nipple. Desire throbbed between my legs, and my fingers made quick work of the button on his dark jeans.

Another growl vibrated from Tristan against my mouth as my nails skimmed over his lower abs. “Are you sure this is what you want, Shortcake? It’s been a long?—”

“Please,” I insisted, voice breaking slightly. “I just...I just need to feel something else. Anything else. Make me forget, Tristan. Please.”

His breath fanned over the side of my neck, and shivers cascaded down my spine. “I can do that.” His voice was filled with dark promises and toe-curling pleasure, his soft lips brushing along the shell of my ear.

He hoisted my shirt over my head, leaving me in my bra. I tugged on his tee, unable to deny myself the sculpted form of his chest. Half of me wanted to spend hours tracing the lines of his tattoos, exploring every glorious inch of him, but the half that was dying to feel him inside me won. There would be other times we could take our time. Now wasn’t one of them.

I stuck my hands into the backside of his jeans, pushing the material down, electricity dancing where my fingers touched. I shimmied his pants farther down, not removing them completely. Before I could skim the edge of his boxer briefs, Tristan dipped his head, his tongue dragging across my aching nipple.

My back bowed against the wall as I moaned, my breasts growing achingly tight. He took the bud into his mouth, and lustpooled in my core. It didn’t feel as if it would take much to send me into orgasmic paradise. His tongue and teeth alone could do the job. I needed him inside me.

He tackled the button on my jeans as I kicked off my shoes, my pants and underwear following quickly behind them in one pass. I couldn’t stop staring at him. Tristan was more muscular than Preston but not bulky. His body was honed and ripped. Clearly, he took care of himself, and I wondered if the hours he spent at the gym were more about working out his frustrations than about staying in shape. Regardless, I could gaze at his physique for hours. My eyes traveled down his body, and I bit my lip at the sight of his dick straining against his boxer briefs, begging me to free him.

He’s fucking remarkable.

Dipping my hand into his boxers, I wrapped my fingers around him, my thumb caressing his silky tip before tightening slightly as I moved, sliding up and down.

He let out a hiss, his ice-blue eyes going nearly black. “Jesus, Shortca?—”

I caught his lips, swallowing the moan that followed. My fingers continued to work over him as he put all of himself into the kiss. The faster I moved, the rougher the kiss grew.

With my palm on his upper stomach, I shoved him to the ground, centering myself above him before lowering so I straddled him. I wanted to be the one in control. I wanted to watch him underneath me as I rode him to the breaking point. I wanted to watch him come undone.

His erection went right to my opening with little help as if it couldn’t wait another second. I agreed, sinking on top of him, and with no resistance from my body, Tristan was inside me.

“God, what are you doing to me?” His teeth scraped over my breast.

I pressed him deeper into me, my warmth soaking around his hard length, eliciting sparks of yearning. “What you’ve been doing to me for years.”

His thrusts matched mine, our bodies synchronizing in perfect harmony as if we’d been intimate for years. As if we were finely tuned to only each other. Perhaps we were. I had no other explanation for how Tristan made me feel. What it felt like to have him deep inside me. He touched my soul. He understood me. He accepted me, flaws and all, unapologetically. Could I ask for anything more?

“Careful, Shortcake, I might think you like me.”

I scoffed. Tristan knew damn well my feelings for him were deeper.

My hands wandered over his chest, memorizing the layout, and I felt his pulse quicken under my touch, mirroring my own. Every kiss, every stroke, was urgent as if we were silently making a promise to cherish every second we had together.

He watched me, and I loved watching him watch me as I moved. The power…it rocked inside me…it was addicting. Like Tristan himself.

I clung to him, my nails clawing into his shoulders as I rode him.

It was the best fucking ride of my life.

Who knew elevators could be so thrilling…or hot?

Over and over again, I lifted slightly and sank onto him, my hips rolling with the movement. His hands splayed at my sides helped set the pace, urging me to quicken. I eagerly obliged, never slowing down.

The lips that tortured me for years tore from mine only to take my nipple into his mouth in another sweet torment. Becoming mad with pleasure, I gasped, his name a choppy, throaty moan. The crescendo climbed so close to the surface that I knew I had seconds before the fireworks exploded inside me.

His release triggered mine with the pulsing of his cock as he drove deeper in me, my muscles clenching tight around him. Tristan tugged me against his chest, his arms secured around me as we rode out the wave of trembles.

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