Page 28 of Bloody Vows
I hate it. I hate him. His chest is warm and broad, his arms holding me possessively, and I hate that it makes heat pool low in my belly, that I have the sudden urge to lean into him, to relax into the strong safety of his grip.
I just want to be held,I tell myself.It’s unfortunate that it’s Tristan. I’m lonely. That’s all.
He walks to the master suite with me in his arms, pushing open the door with his shoulder before setting me down. I turn away from him instantly, facing the bed, and I can see that all the furniture in the room is different now. It’s all heavy and masculine, darker wood than before, the duvet a deep red.
I’ve only ever been in here a few times. This was my parents’ sanctuary, and then my father’s, not a place for me to enter. I can see why Tristan had it stripped bare and redone, and I don’t resent him for erasing my father from this room. It makes sense. Knowing what I know now, I prefer it.
What makes me angry is that he wants me in this room, this bed, with him—and he didn’t ask me what I wanted. What bed I’d like, what curtains I’d choose, what wardrobe I’d pick out. He chose it all, just like he’s chosen everything that’s going to happen to me since the moment he walked into this house as if it belonged to him.
And now it does.
Resentment seethes through me as I stand there, staring at the blood-red duvet, and I feel Tristan’s fingers on the back of my neck, sweeping strands of hair away from the nape as he reaches for the first button of my dress.
A shiver runs down my spine at the touch of his fingers. It’s just the nape of my neck, but it feels intimate. I wouldn’t allow someone else to touch me there. I don’t wanthimto touch me there, and yet…
When his fingers flick open the first button and brush down the first knob of my spine, I feel that shiver again… and something else, too. A slow, liquid heat that starts to spread through my belly, around my ribs, up into my chest, and over my limbs with every button that he undoes, every trace of his fingers over my flesh, and down my back. My hands curl into fists as I realize what he’s doing, my jaw tightening with impotent anger.
I told him to get it over with. He’s doing the exact opposite. He’s undressing me like a lover, like a treasure, button by button and inch by inch, unwrapping me like a gift that he’s been waiting for indefinitely.
It’s torture… and it feels better than I could have imagined.
For such a brutish man, his hands are gentle, graceful, gliding down my spine with the precision of an artist as he lays the back of my dress open. And then both of his hands slide into it, against my bare skin, over the curve of my waist and up to my flushed ribcage, stopping just below the wire of the bra that I’d chosen to go underneath the dress.
I picked the underwear purposefully. Nothing lacy, nothing that screamedlingerie. A plain bra and panties in an ivory silk that matched my dress. As utilitarian as bridal underwear could possibly be, and yet when Tristan’s fingers slide upward, finding my nipples under the stiff silk, it doesn’t feel utilitarian.
My body feels like it comes alive when his fingers skim over my nipples. They stiffen instantly to firm points when his fingerspass over them, and I feel him respond, his body shifting against me so that he’s pressed behind me as those fingers hook over the cups of my bra, yanking the fabric down in the first sharp movement he’s made since we stepped into the bedroom. His hands close over my bare breasts, broad and firm, palms pressed against the stiff and sensitive peaks of my nipples, and his mouth drops to the curve of my throat.
It’s so much sensation all at once, when I’ve never felt any of this before. His hands on my breasts, his lips carving a path up my neck, and the hard shape of his cock pressed against me from behind, large and eager enough that I can feel it even through the layers of my dress and his suit trousers. He groans against my skin, teeth nipping at my throat as he glides his mouth higher, and I clench my teeth to force myself to hold back a shuddering moan.
It feels so fuckinggood. I had no idea. No idea that it could feel like this, that his hands and mouth and body would make me feel like I’m on fire, and I refuse to let him know, to give him the slightest inclination that he’s arousing me beyond my wildest dreams.
Except… a chill runs through me as I remember that he’ll know. There’s no way to hide my arousal when we get down to it—any more than he could hide his.
“Fuck,célie,” he groans, his accent thickening as his lips meet the corner of my jaw, his warm breath tickling the edge of my ear. I hold myself stiff and ramrod straight, anything to keep from arching back into him the way I want to, from letting him know what he’s doing to me. “You taste so sweet.”
His tongue flicks out against the shell of my ear, and his hands squeeze my breasts once more before he slides them out of my dress, reaching up to push the straps off of my shoulders. The dress drops to my waist, and he pushes it down my hips,turning me as he backs me away from the puddle of silk and toward the bed.
“Fuck,” he breathes again as he pushes me down, my ass hitting the edge of the bed as I fall back and catch myself on my elbows. My chignon is coming down, my bra is tugged down to below my breasts, and all that’s left are my silk panties, clinging to my skin with…
Hot shame floods me as his gaze slides down and rests between my thighs, where my panties are soaked with the evidence of my desire.
A slow smirk spreads across Tristan’s mouth, and he runs his hand through his hair, the other going to his tie as he yanks it free, shedding it and his suit jacket. “I thought you hated me,banphrionsa.”
“I do,” I hiss between my teeth. “I can hate you and still…”
“Get absolutely fucking soaked for me?” He grins, flicking open the top buttons of his shirt as he leans over me, planting one hand on the bed beside my shoulder. With his other hand, he reaches around my back, ignoring the way I flinch as he flicks open my bra, tugging the silk away from me and tossing it aside.
And then, he drops to his knees in front of me, his fingers going to the edge of my panties.
“Look at that.” The taunt spills from my lips before I can stop it. “I thought it was me who was going to be on my knees foryou, Tristan. And look where you are already.”
That smirk on his mouth only grows. “Oh, don’t worry,célie,” he murmurs, drawing my panties down my hips. “I’ll have you on your knees. But right now, what I want is you naked and exposed on my bed, that pretty pussy spread wide for me, while I eat you out until you come on my face.”
He tucks the panties into his pocket, a promising grin on his lips, and then his hands are on my thighs, spreading my legsapart in a quick movement as his gaze fixes directly between them.
Heat washes over my body, embarrassment and shame and a strange arousal that I don’t understand at being so exposed. I’m held open by this man who has me naked and at his mercy while he’s still fully clothed, looking at my wet, swollen pussy as if he’s appraising a feast.He can see everything, I think, my face burning hot, and then Tristan leans down, puffing out a soft breath of air against my aching clit.
My body twitches, my head falling back, and I clench my teeth to keep from moaning. He chuckles softly. “Keep your legs spread for me,célie. If you close them, I’ll punish you, understand? I want this pussy open for me to do as I please with it. And right now—” His hand leaves my thigh, his thumb sweeping up the spread folds of my pussy until he reaches my clit, pressing down with a force that makes my body jerk. “What I want is to make this perfect, virgin pussy come.”
