Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(64)

He strode back into the kitchen less than two minutes later, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Change of plans. Bev and Jerry are taking the boys to Shark Reef after breakfast. Family day.”

He flipped a few things on the stovetop before moving to me, pushing his hips between my knees to whisper in my ear. “I can’t decide whether I’ll bend you over the couch, and f**k you hard from behind, or take you right here, on this counter.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Bev and Jerry had the boys out of the house within two hours.

I eyed Tristan up as I heard the door closing behind them. “What did you say to Jerry to get him moving so fast? I haven’t seen him up that early in years.”

“I promised to let him organize something for the band in a few weeks. Dean doesn’t want a manager. He thinks he can do it himself. He can’t. He’s too shiftless to get things done for us, but I’ve been letting him find that out on his own. Jerry will be great at it, so I’m giving him a shot. Dean won’t be happy, but it had to happen sometime.”

“Dean seems like a douche bag.”

He just smiled. “Still mad at him for calling me the other night?”

That was only part of it. He was just one of those people that you only expected bad things from. I didn’t say that to him, though. Dean was his friend, and I really didn’t know enough about the guy to dislike him as strongly as I did.

He didn’t seem to expect an answer, as he shooed all of the dogs out the back door, closing and locking it with finality, before turning to me.

He approached me, his intentions crystal clear.

He backed me up against the arm of the couch, a wicked smile on his face all the while.

“Turn around,” he ordered softly, his face bent down to mine.

I turned, and he used a firm hand at my shoulder, to push me, face first, over the high arm of the couch. I was nearly upside down in that position, and as he pulled my shorts and panties off without a word, I began to worry. I was wet, but his size, and this position, seemed like a bit much for me.

“Tristan,” I began, as he peeled my top off.

“Don’t, Danika,” he warned, unclipping my bra, and slipping it free. “Don’t start over-thinking again. Just close your eyes and enjoy the ride.”

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**king 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 c**k 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.