Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(61)

“Who? The old man?” I’d never say his name, not ever.

“Yes. Where does he live?”

“What? You making plans to go kick his ass?”

“Or kill his ass.” He sounded so deadly serious that I opened my eyes to study him.

“He died of a heart attack when I was seventeen. Been in the dirt for years now. No need for murder.”

I was teasing him, but he didn’t look amused. He looked troubled, and it was the kind of trouble that didn’t go away with teasing.

“I didn’t mean to kill the mood, but that’s it, that’s why I think sex hasn’t been good for me.” My tone was flat, but I felt so vulnerable, so open, and ready to be wounded again, and I strongly suspected that wound would come from whatever his reaction might be.

Words seemed to pour out of me in a jumble, as though I couldn’t say them fast enough, because I’d clearly rather wound myself, than have it come from someone like Tristan, who could really do some damage. “Probably not the sort of thing you want to hear about someone you’ve slept with. I’ll totally understand if you don’t want to do anything else with me. The things I’ve done are…disgusting. Believe me, I know that better than anyone.”

He was on me, angry and domineering, before I’d finished speaking.

He slanted his mouth over me, his movements angry, but his kiss so soft. When he pulled back to speak, his words were soft too. “You could never be disgusting, sweetheart. Never. I’m so sorry for what happened to you. You deserve so much more than what life gave you, and I wish to hell I could go back in time and kill that sick old man before he ever hurt you.”

“Thank you,” I told him, my voice thick. He’d hit all of the right nerves with a few short statements, soothing my wounds, instead of inflicting new ones. I should have had more faith in him. “But I really will understand if you don’t want me anymore.”

His answer was to move down my body with soft, feather light kisses, the contact sweet, his intent just the opposite.

He buried his face between my legs, eating me out with enthusiasm and skill. Skill and…talent. He had me gasping out his name, just on the edge, before he pulled back, turning me onto my stomach.

He pushed my legs out and up, until my knees were bent, my thighs spread. I tensed as I felt him positioning himself on my back.

He rubbed my lower back, and murmured soothingly. “Relax and arch your back for me a bit. I’ll make it good, sweetheart, I promise.”

“Are you putting on a condom? I can’t see.”

I felt him sigh against me. “Yes, of course I will. You made your wishes very clear. I wouldn’t take that choice away from you.”

I relaxed. He’d grasped that situation quickly.

The old man had never used a condom, never given me a choice about it, and I’d hated that so much.

“Thank you.”

I heard a foil packet being opened. “Tristan,” I said quietly.

“Yes, Danika.”

“I trust you. It’s really nice.”

“It is really nice. Thank you, Danika.”

His fingers moved between my legs, slipping between wet folds to plunge into me. He started up a steady rhythm with those magical fingers. He only pulled them out when I was on the edge again, panting and twisting against the contact.

“Danika, sweetheart?” he rasped.

“Yes, Tristan?”

“I’m done being sweet, if you don’t mind. I need to f**k you really hard now, if that’s okay.”

The way he said it had me smiling, almost giggling.

“I’ll make it good,” he promised

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes, submitting to the act as I could only seem to do with him. As strange as it seemed, this was just what I wanted, what I needed, after that confession. There was no better way for him to show me that it hadn’t changed the way he felt for me.

He worked himself in slowly, the pressure different, more intense, at this angle. He had to drag himself slowly out, then push back in a few times, adjusting the slant of my hips, before he began to pump into me in earnest.

My hands fisted in the sheets, my cheek flat to the bed, as he worked me from behind, his breathing heavy and harsh, loud enough to be heard even over my own uneven pants.

He worked me so hard that his hips began to slam into me, making a slapping noise against my ass.

I was a little shocked that there was no pain, only a pleasure building that was so big I wasn’t sure I could handle it. It was coming over me like a tidal wave, the sensations overwhelming.

“It’s too—too much, Tristan,” I stammered, trembling with it.

“No, sweetheart,” he panted, still driving into me, not even pausing. “Just let go. Let go for me, Danika.”

I closed my eyes and let go. I let go of that thing inside of me that always wanted to cling to every ounce of control, and just let the waves of sensation wash over me, seeping into every pore.

I went over the edge trembling, gasping.

“Tristan,” I nearly shouted.

“Danika,” he said softly, that one word full of intensity.

He rocked deep into me twice more before he came inside of me, shaking against my back, and repeating my name raggedly.

I loved it.

He lay on my back, his weight pushing me down. Softly, and oh so sweetly, he kissed my neck.