Page 74 of Mine To Take

“Okay.”

He’s still naked, and hard. I reach for his cock, fisting my hand around his length. He lets out a short breath and lies back on the bed.

“I’m all yours,” he says, his voice easy and teasing, belying the intense arousal I can see in his eyes.

Chuckling, I stroke him, slowly, watching as his eyes close and his perfectly muscled chest starts to rise with each breath. Every part of him is exquisite, carved like the purest marble in the hands of a master craftsman. Arousal beads at the head of his cock and I spread it with my thumb as I stroke him up and down, feeling him get even harder, until he’s like hard steel covered with soft, warm velvet.

I want to take him in my mouth, but just as I lower my head, he grabs me and pushes me gently onto the sheets, rolling on top of me.

“I won’t last a minute in your mouth,” he rasps.

“Who said anything about lasting?”

“Think of my pride.” He grins and drops a kiss on my lips. “God, you’re perfect.”

I swallow, oddly gratified that after all this time, he still thinks so.

He kisses me again, then spreads my legs, positioning himself at my entrance so I can feel the head of his cock pressed teasingly against me. I rock my hips, taking him in, only a little. He meets my eyes, then with a deliberateness that sucks my breath from my lungs, he surges deep into me.

The pleasure is unbelievable. My eyes close and my body arches like a cat’s as my legs turn to liquid.

Oh...Tristan.

His eyes are closed, his face almost reverent. “God, you feel wonderful,” he says, opening his eyes.

He feels wonderful.I grab his shoulders. My fingers grip hard cut muscles. My hands trail down his naked back, loving every inch of his perfection.

He takes a deep breath, then with his eyes boring deep into mine, he starts to move.

I lose all my words, all my sense of time. There’s just him, inside me, giving me the most indescribably pleasure. He fucks me with hard, brutal strokes, then with slow, teasing pumps. He lays kisses on my face, my lips, my neck... I come hard, shattering around him, then a second time, and still, he keeps going. I come again and again until I lose count. He fucks me until I can barely move, until there’s no difference between past, present and future, and the only thing that matters, the only thing that makes sense is the knowledge that I am his. I’ve always been, and I’ll always be.

His.

* * *

When I wake up,I’m alone on the bed. I stretch drowsily, and memories of pleasure thrill from my fingers to my toes.

Tristan.

How could I?

Yet, I don’t regret it. We made love, all night. All night. Only giving in to sleep in the early hours of the morning.

How can I regret what feels like the only true thing I’ve experienced in a long time?

“Good morning.”

Tristan is standing by the windows, silhouetted by the light coming in through translucent drapes. He’s naked, his powerful body like that of a savage warrior in a long-ago era.

“Good morning.” My voice sounds soft and whispery. The voice of surrender. I wish I could see his face. I want to know…

Know what…?

If by the light of day, everything I thought I saw in his eyes last night would turn out to be a lie?

And why would it matter, Cora?

Why should it?

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