Page 128 of Captive Bride
Tristan
My heart beats frantically in my chest.
My hands move of their own volition.
I touch her everywhere.
I taste every inch of her.
Isobel is alive. She’s here with me now.
The thought still amazes me.
When I thought her lost, the entire world had ceased to exist. The world had stopped spinning; the sun had imploded in a rain of flames.
There was nothing, nothing left for me at all.
Now, touching her, my tongue greedily tasting her mouth, it’s like creation’s sprung up anew.
I see fucking universes in her eyes.
“Tristan,” she moans into my mouth.
“Isobel,” I return.
God, her name feels good on my tongue.
I lift her, and her legs wrap instinctively around my waist. I carry her to the nearest wall. Her back meets it with a dull thud, eliciting a small moan from her mouth.
“God, I love you,” I whisper, my lips grazing her ear.
Instead of responding with words, she reaches down, unzips me, and grabs my throbbing cock.
“Fuck me,” she moans. “Oh, please, fuck me now.”
I cave easily to her request, sliding her down so her pussy is where I need it to be.
Outside, sirens still wail, footsteps echo throughout the mansion.
I don’t care. I ignore it all completely.
The only thing that matters to me now is right in front of me, pressed hard against the wall, moaning my name in need.
I grab my cock with one hand, positioning myself before her. My eyes find hers, staring intently into them as I start to slide into her.
She moans louder, her body thrusting, trying to shove me inside herself faster.
“Slow down,” I whisper. “I promise, we have time.”
She nods in acknowledgment, but her eyes seem uncertain.
I suppose our time could be even shorter than I thought. Still, I refuse to not enjoy this. If this is my last night on earth, I’m going to drag it out for as long as possible.
I thrust slowly into her, savoring the feeling as each inch sinks into her dripping wet pussy. I look into her eyes the entire time, loving the way they widen the deeper I go.
She reaches up to grab my hair, her body tense with frustration.
“Please, Tristan.” she moans.
