Page 81 of Bloody Vows
What if, indeed?I know the answer to that. I’d let him unravel me. I’d find out just how good everything he offers me could be, and then I’d have to go back to how things were before, because Icannotgive myself over to this man. I can’t let him win.
Why not?
What is it, exactly, that I’m still fighting for?
The wine and the tequila—which I once recall hearing should never be drunk in the same night—are making my head far too foggy. I reach up to push him away, but instead, I feel my fingers closing on his shirt, bringing him closer.
Tristan doesn’t resist. He moves toward me, until there’s no space between us on the couch at all, and his mouth slants over mine as he kisses me again—deeper this time, hungrier.
“That’s it,banphrionsa,” he murmurs. “Stop thinking so hard.”
I see him reach for his phone with one hand as the other tangles in my hair, tapping out a quick message. I narrow my eyes at him.
“Something more important than this?”
Tristan smirks. “Just making sure no one else is watching.” He leans in, tossing his phone aside, and kisses me again.
His mouth is sweet and bitter all at once, and I hear myself moan when his tongue slides against mine, hot in contrast to the cool of his lips. His free hand glides up my side, over the silk of the dress he chose for me, all the way up to the curve of my breast as his thumb flicks over my tightening nipple.
It’s like he knows exactly how to touch me. He kisses me like that, long and slow, thumb toying with that sensitive spot until I’m gasping from his touch, and then I hear theclinkof his glass as he sets it down on the coffee table. A second later, he plucks my glass from my hand, setting it down next to his.
I should push him away. I shouldstopthis. But his mouth feels so good on mine, soft and then more insistent, kissing and then nipping at my lower lip, before both of his hands come up to cup my breasts as his mouth drags across my jaw.
“Fuck, célie,” he murmurs, as his lips trail down my throat. He reaches up with one hand to tug the pins out of my hair, letting the heavy waves fall down around my shoulders, and I hear him inhale as if he’s breathing in my scent.
“God.” He groans, biting at the curve of my neck, his tongue trailing along my collarbone. “You get me so fucking hard, Simone.”
A second later, he spills me back onto the couch cushions, his hips settling between my legs, and I feel just how true that is. His cock is an iron bar between us, straining at his zipper, and when his hips rock against mine, I bite my lip to stop from whimpering.
“No,célie.” His thumb traces over my lower lip, tugging it free from between my teeth. “No overthinking tonight. I want to hear you. I want to heareverything.”
His hands slide up, over my breasts, to the neckline of my dress. And then, Tristan O’Malley grips the red silk that undoubtedly cost him thousands of dollars, andripsit down the middle as if it were made of wet tissue.
He curses under his breath as the fabric falls away, revealing my bare breasts, the taut expanse of my stomach, the slim curve of my hips. I’m wearing nothing but a black silk thong under it, and as Tristan rips the silk again, tearing the skirt down the middle, he reaches up to hook his finger under the edge of the thong.
“I think I’ll add this to my collection.” He tugs it down my hips without bothering to ask, gathering the material in his fist as he drags it off entirely. “I like the way these feel around mycock when I stroke myself thinking of you,célie. And these are fuckingsoaked.”
There’s a victorious gleam in his eyes when he says it, but I can’t deny that he’s right. I’m drenched between my thighs, a fresh flood of arousal coursing through me at the thought of Tristan with my panties wrapped around his cock, stroking himself while fantasizing about me.
I’m surprised he would admit something so vulnerable. That he’d let me know that I have so much power over him. It makes mefeelpowerful, drives every other thought out of my head as I lie there in the puddle of tattered silk, Tristan’s hand sliding up my thigh to hook my leg over his shoulder. He bends to the juncture of my thighs, still fully dressed, as his mouth presses against my hot, swollen flesh, and I let out a startled moan as his tongue slides between my folds and over my sensitive clit.
I can’t bite back the sound. I’m loose-limbed and warm with the alcohol, fuzzy from it, and the sensation is too much. His tongue is a wonder, hot and wet and sliding over me in a way that feels fucking exquisite, better than I could have ever imagined anything could. When it flutters over my clit, circling before making that same motion again, I cry out, my hand coming down to wrap in Tristan’s hair as my hips rise up against his mouth.
He groans, an affirmative sound of pleasure as my nails dig into his scalp, and I feel two of his fingers press against my entrance, pushing inside of me as he laps at my clit. The pleasure is overwhelming, the sensations too much to fight against when I’m no longer fully in control of my faculties, and helpless moans spill from my lips as Tristan ravishes me with his tongue.
I’m going to come. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to, and Idon’twant to, not right now, not when it’s so close to crashing over me, drowning me in a relentless tide of pleasure. I’m bucking against his face, grinding helplessly against his hand and hiswarm, wet tongue as he pushes me closer, and then he tightens his lips around my clit,suckingthe swollen flesh into his mouth.
I’ve never felt anything like it. The pulse of his mouth around me, the flutter of his tongue, the insistent thrust of his curled fingers—it’s all too much, a cacophony of pleasure that flings me over the edge, and I feel my nails scratch at the back of his neck as I let out a moan that rises to a high-pitched scream as I come on his face.
He doesn’t stop. He holds me there, one hand hard on my hip as the other thrusts relentlessly into me, sucking and licking as he draws out the orgasm beyond what I thought was possible. It feels endless, turning me limp and boneless as Tristan finally rises up, his mouth glistening with my arousal and his eyes dark with victorious lust.
“God, you sound perfect when you come,” he growls, his hands going to the front of his shirt. He yanks it open, buttons coming loose as he tears his shirt free in his haste to be naked with me, one hand dropping to quickly undo his belt. He gets his trousers halfway down his hips, his cock springing free and his shirt hanging open as he leans over me, his mouth crushing against mine in a devouring kiss.
I can taste myself on his lips, but I don’t care. His knee pushes my thighs wider apart, and I can feel the heavy weight of his cock against the smooth skin of my stomach, feel him angling himself lower. Without thinking, I wrap my leg around his hip, urging him into me, and Tristan lets out a ragged groan as I feel the tip of his cock slip inside.
“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “So tight—” His hips twitch, burying another inch inside of me, and I gasp, far beyond pretending that it doesn’t feel good now. “Your pussy is fucking perfect,célie.”
“Of course it is,” I purr, tilting my head up to kiss him again. “So am I.”
