Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(65)

I tried to listen, I really did, but I was still biting my lip, wondering how this was going to work.

Of course, that changed as he took his mouth to me from behind.

There was no warning at all, just his hot tongue pushing at my clit, his access perfect with the angle.

He gripped the insides of my thighs, pushing me up and thrusting his tongue deep inside.

I writhed, my nails raking at anything in reach, finally snagging at a throw pillow.

He pulled back, but a quick rustle of clothes later, and the very distinct sound of a foil packet being opened, and he was back, but not with his mouth.

He worked his thick length into me slowly, pushing deep, squeezing in so tight at that angle that it felt like he was taking me over. The pressure was so intense, just with the filling of me, that I had to bite the little throw pillow to stifle a scream.

He dragged himself out in an agonizingly slow pull that rubbed against every sensitive nerve that I possessed.

I whimpered and clawed.

He kept up a steady, filthy dialogue the entire time. It was official; he was a talker. He wasn’t loud, his voice low and gravelly, and when his breath would catch mid-sentence, or go unsteady with his lust, I thought it was hottest thing in the world.

“I can feel your inner muscles working on me, sweetheart. You squeeze me with every move. That feels so perfect. I knew it would be this good with us. So f*cking good.”

His voice grew rougher and rougher as he increased the speed of his strokes, and at that extreme angle, every stroke was a shock to my system. A good shock. An incredible shock.

His hands were gripping my hips firmly as he worked at me from behind, and when one hand snaked down to rub my clit, I couldn’t hold back my cries, or the orgasm that was building up like a storm inside of me.

“Say my name, Danika. Say my name when you lose your mind.”

I did. I practically shouted it as I came hard, the orgasm hitting me like a punch to the gut. I felt myself squeezing him as tremors shook me, and I knew the second he followed as he shouted my name.

His cock shoved deep inside of me and held, jerking with his release. I could feel every last twitch with the angle, and I adored it more than I’d ever thought I could adore something like this. Apparently I could handle rough sex, if the circumstances were right.

He bent close to my back, and I could feel how his breath shuddered out of his chest as he kissed the back of my head. I shivered from head to toe in pleasure.

I had the strongest, stupidest urge to tell him how I felt, but I held it in. Just barely. My brain felt like an emotional puddle of mush, and I had to say something about that. It wasn’t in my nature to keep quiet.

After he’d pulled out of me, and straightened, one of his hands absently rubbing at my lower back, I pushed myself to my feet, turning into his body.

I threw my arms around his neck, shoving our bare, sweat slick chests together.

I placed an exuberant kiss on his chin, the only thing I could reach. “Thank you for making sex so good for me, Tristan. I didn’t even know it could be like this,” I told him, meaning it.

He bent, finding my mouth with his in a quick, wet kiss, though he didn’t say a word, and his expression was blank to the point of inscrutable.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me with him to my bathroom, starting the shower and ushering me in, still without a word. We washed each other, still without a word, just soft, lingering touches, and a few brief kisses.

“Any other plans today?” I asked him as I dried off.

He shot me a look that could only be described as indecent. “More of the same. We still have hours to ourselves.”

After the way we’d spent our day, I didn’t imagine he’d even want to collect on his end of the bet that night, but I imagined wrong.

We went out, did our usual party routine, but we wrapped it up early, and instead of heading home, we headed to his new place. I felt almost breathless with anticipation. I didn’t even know if what he’d suggested was something I wanted to do, but I knew that I trusted him, and I knew that he made a habit of making me feel good.

He tugged me through his apartment, not even turning on any lights as we made our way to his room. Even that I didn’t get to check out, as he led me directly to the bed, and the first thing he did was cover my eyes with a small sleep mask. I could still make out light on the sides, but not enough to know what was going on.

He tugged my clothes off, doing it quick like he was in a hurry. I couldn’t imagine why. I didn’t think he could be that hot for me again after how many times he’d taken me already that day.

“Tristan—” I began, but he shushed me, and somehow, that time, it worked. Probably because he’d begun to pull my arms above my head, and that had me distracted. Distracted and squirming. And wet.

He used something soft on my wrists, first one and then the other, tying them above me and apart. I couldn’t tell what he used to bind me, but I tugged against it once he’d tied me to the headboard, and it seemed unbreakable.

He pushed his weight down on top of me without warning, and I gasped at the contact. His low, rough, raspy voice in my ear had me trembling. “We’re going to do this nice and slow. All I want from you is your surrender. Beyond that, you don’t have to think about a thing. Understand?”

I did understand. I understood perfectly, and I thought he was the most wonderful man in the world right then for taking the time, for caring enough, to understand, too. The intoxicating bliss I’d found in his arms had come from trust, and this was taking that feeling of losing myself in the moment, of relinquishing control, to a whole new level.