Page 42 of Match Point

And then it wasn’t enough.

I opened my mouth to tell him what I needed, but somehow he knew. Because he desperately wanted the same thing. His hands moved to my waist, curling underneath the band of my panties. I raised my butt off the ground in surrender, allowing him to slide them all the way off, and then I was open to him, legs spread wide and wet andready.

“I need you,” Tristan whispered, the same thought I’d been about to say.

I kissed him in response, and closed my eyes as he squirmed out of his jeans on the floor. I felt him guide the tip of his cock into my dripping slit. I moaned into his kiss while I felt the head push me open, taking me, forcing the walls of my sex open with his strength. That’s what I felt then: the strength of this man who had given me my first kiss, a wall of muscle covering me like a blanket and keeping me safe.

He moved gently, a slow inch at a time. And it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t what Ineeded, so I gyrated my hips against him, taking his cock faster, demanding every inch of it while he groaned. He obliged my demand, and thrust forward roughly, and I felt that familiar ache laced with a flicker of pain, but only for an instant, and then he was filling me to the brim with every inch of his hard length.

“Oh myGod,” he moaned, breaking the kiss to look into my eyes.

I could feel his heartbeat like it was a drum, pulsing through our joined parts. It dimmed as he pulled back slowly, every grain of his shaft rubbing against every nerve of my pussy. And the pulsing returned with his thrust, filling me.

I sighed and rocked my hips against him, urging him faster, not caring about the burn of the rug against my thighs.

Tristan reached a strong arm underneath my head and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He squeezed it tight and pulled back on my head so he could nuzzle my neck again, and I let him, because I was his, mybodywas his to do whatever he pleased.

“Give it to me,” I moaned.

His legs pumped harder with exactly the right amount of force I needed, sending jolts of pleasure through my body while he kissed my neck. Oh my God it felt so good, and I raked my fingernails across his muscled chest, down his navel and into my pubic hair, rubbing at my clit like I did when I was alone, rough circles that left me breathless.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into the skin of my neck.

Faster and faster we went, my body and mind surrendering to the climactic cliff I was hurtling towards, being pulled over, thrown into the open air of ecstasy, and I welcomed it because I knew Tristan would be there to catch me. He wasn’t kissing my neck anymore; he was groaning into me, his breath hot and quick against my skin.

I wrapped my legs around his back and pulled him close, because it ached where wedidn’ttouch. “Come with me,” I begged, not wanting to reach my climax without him. “Hurry.Please.”

His hips moved chaotically then, wild thrusts that were more animal than man, ruled by his desire. He kissed me once more but then the kiss turned into a moan, and his eyes widened, and mine opened wide with him to drink his pleasure as he drove into me.

“Oh God, Miranda,” he said, surprise and shock on his face.

I screamed my wordless scream, and clenched my eyes shut at the explosion of pleasure coming from between my legs. It gushed out of me, and inside me, and all around me like a tide, wave after wave rocking my body. Tristan roared too, and I felt his hard length bottom out inside of me, spasming as he came with me, and I clenched the lips of my sex around him as tightly as I could.

His fingers squeezed inside my hair and along my thigh, and my own fingers clung to his arms like he was the only thing keeping me from drowning, while our desperate voices filled the hotel room.

21

Miranda

“Do you subscribe to the Rocky school of thought?” I asked.

We were nude in bed, cuddled together with a corner of the sheet draped across our legs. Our combined body heat was too high for the full sheet covering us; sweat glistened on Tristan’s chest, and I felt a trickle on my back. Evidence of the workout we’d just had.

“Rocky? What school?” Tristan murmured underneath me.

“Rocky. Like, the movie.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Rocky’s coach tells him not to have sex before a big fight,” I explained. “He says women weaken a man’s legs. You don’t remember that part?”

“I’ve never seen it, actually.”

I sat up. “You’ve never seen Rocky?”

“I don’t like boxing.”

“It’s a love story!” I argued.

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