Page 88 of The Game

Much to my surprise, he smiles softly, huge hand falling over mine and pressing down, forcing my towel to slip and my cheeks to flame. Something pools in the pit of my stomach, something forbidden and scary, but something my heart beats for all the same. That hungry look is there, but it’s softened, and the gentle smile on his face grows before his brows pull together.

“Do not fear me,moya lyubov. I never thought I could love you more, but you make me do so every morning, every time I see your face.”

My eyes water anew at his blissful words, and my stomach tightens even more, my heart thudding hard against my ribs, the dry heat of the sauna licking up my every nerve ending as the scent of peppermint and eucalyptus and cedar swirls around us both.

“Tristan,” I mutter, shaking my head. He’s crouched down before me, but he tilts forward until he’s on his knees, pushing my towel away even though I slightly resist out of sheer embarrassment. I don’t find my scars ugly; rather, I see them as a symbol of my strength, a tattoo of sorts, commemorating the lengths I am willing to go for the ones I love.

But I don’t know what they think about them, and so it is a constant worry in my mind. My strength no match for his, and my mind warring with my body’s desires, I allow the towel to slip away, baring me to him, his eyes traveling over my flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake despite how hot it is in here.

Slowly, his thumb skims down my side before he gently traces one of the purplish lines, and more tears thicken in my throat. He’s smiling still, and then, as he traces each scar with the utmost care and devoted attention, he begins to speak in Russian. Although I catch some words, it is too quick, too low, and I cannot decipher their meaning. I’d be more ticklish, but I can only feel the pressure of his unyielding hands, can only allow my head to thud back against the wood, my eyes half lidded as I stare down at his beautiful form, his bronzed and tattooed skin somehow complimenting the milky paleness of mine.

“We would die every day if it meant seeing you one last time,” he finally whispers, eyes still tracing my scars. More tears spill over as his hands engulf my waist, fingers digging into my sides as he leans in and presses his lips to the scar above my belly button. My breath hitches at the contact, my legs parting slightly to make room for his chiseled torso. He’s still dressed; I am not sure how he can handle the heat while wearing clothes, but as his lips skim over my skin and make me shiver in pleasure, I don’t really care to figure it out.

Gulping down my apprehension, I listen to my body, trusting it as I once did with them, allowing myself to snip the last few strings those fuckers held over me; if I continue to give them power, I will never be free, will never be able to find that intimacy again with my twins, and I refuse to let that happen.

I almost died trying to get back to them, and they almost died for me.

Next to my scar, his lips suction onto my unblemished skin, his tongue flicking over me and making me squirm before I laugh breathlessly.

“Tristan!” I hiss, for he of all people should know how ticklish I am. His lips smile against my stomach, his eyes flicking up mischievously. My hand reaches down of its own accord, cupping his cheek, feeling the roughness of his five o’clock shadow. My thumb brushes over his silver hoop nose ring, and he pulls away slightly to speak.

“For the love of all things holy,babochka, let me worship you.”

My heart races, for Tristan is never like this toward me, but I find I am leaning into it, enjoying the change of pace and tenor to what I normally prefer. Biting my lower lip as he pleads at me with his steely eyes, I nod. Fire burns into his gaze as his fingers bite into my skin, yanking me forward so my ass is on the very edge of the bench. He releases me just long enough to rise up on his knees and throw off his shirt before gripping my thighs and putting my legs on his shoulders. I gasp as he spreads me with his naturally broad build, fingers clawing at his forearms in my nervousness even though this is something we’ve done what seems hundreds of times.

“You know how I feel about not showering,” I grumble, glaring at him. The biggest grin shines on his face before he chuckles and shakes his head, leaning over me, folding me in half until our noses almost touch and my peaked nipples brush against the tops of my thighs.

“And you know I am a man, not a little boy,da?”

My poor heart lurches again as I remember the first time he spoke those words to me in the locker room, the best night of my life. Everything had changed then in a single day; funny, how things could change for me again in one single day. Maybe that’s just how my life is meant to be, and I need to cherish each and every moment I have with the men I love.

Smiling, my heart soaring, I nod up at him, and he leans down just a little further, our eyes locked before they jump to one another’s lips and back, him seeking permission, me seeking the need in his gaze. I am not disappointed, and so when his lips crash to mine, a blissful sigh leaves my throat and my breasts jut up toward his chest.

He moans, and my lips part in wanton desire, his tongue dancing around mine as he devours me, body and soul. The heat around us is suffocating, sweltering, but I don’t want him to stop. Not now, not ever again.

He pulls away to catch his breath and whisper against me, “You’re perfect.”

Before I can respond, he traps my words with his mouth, sealing them away with a kiss. This time as he pulls away, his intent is clear, one hand circling around my thigh so his thumb and pointer finger can gently pry my pussy lips apart, revealing my glistening bud. His nostrils flare at the sight.

“So fucking wet for your big brother still, Alice.”

My thighs fight to clench together, my cunt throbbing at his words as I moan. He pushes his fingers together, closing my pussy lips and making me cry out in terror—terror that this pleasure he’s teasing me with is only that—a tease. But then he repeats the motion, somehow rubbing against my clit with each meeting of his fingers, making my climax build deep within me.

“I’ll be gentle with you until you’re better, but then all bets are off.”

I nod eagerly, his eyes flicking to mine to prove he’s serious, the set of his jaw fixed and firm. He’s very rarely the one laying down rules and obeying, but when he says it with that look, I know he means it. Smirking anew, his long tongue darts out just as he pries me apart again, the very tip just barely grazing my clit. Jumping with a moan, my hands fly to his hair, winding through the soft, dark strands and tugging against him, using him as an anchor to this world.

He chuckles against me, repeating the same painfully slow motion, my body lurching in response to the electricity that shoots through me again.

“God…fuck…” I groan, rolling my hips, eager for more. If there’s one thing I know about Tristan, it’s that he can only tease for so long before he can’t stand it anymore, either, and I know just how to egg him on. “Please, more,” I plead. “Lick my pussy until I squirt.”

He groans before he shudders. “Blyad, Alice,” he curses in Russian before he circles his lips around my clit and sucks, flicking his tongue over the bud as his fingers dig into my ass. I cry out, pushing his face deeper into me, the roughness of his chin and cheeks burning my thighs as my climax builds deep within me.

I ride his face, keeping him planted with my calves across his sculpted back and shoulders. He releases my clit, trailing his tongue downward before swirling it inside me, my cunt clenching, aching to be filled with something bigger, but as his hand travels up my torso and he tweaks my nipple, I know I won’t last much longer.

“F-fuck,” I moan, my whole body tensing, wavering on that precipice as he darts his tongue in and out of me in a thrusting motion before he returns to my clit, sucking it between his lips again. My body begins to float, cresting that wave, and when he slips his long, two middle fingers into me and pumps them in time with the flick of his tongue, I scream and tremble against him, feeling the rush of my juices that I promised him.

He groans into me, moaning in his own ecstasy as he sucks my clit until every last jolt of my body slows to nothing, sweat coating us both as we pant. When his eyes catch mine, he grins ruefully, his hair a spiked mess.

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