Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(82)

“I want to be inside of you bare. I really am sorry about doing that last night. I lost my mind. But I swear to you, I’ve always used a condom. Always. You and I are exclusive as of now, and you’re on the pill. The choice is yours, but I want you to consider it.”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly, too needy to say no to him. He’d just given me what I wanted most—himself, and I couldn’t have denied him a thing.

He slanted his mouth back over mine, shifting just how I craved, his hips burrowing between my thighs.

He pushed his erection hard into me through our clothes, and my nails raked over his back.

He pulled back. “Don’t move,” he told me, moving down the bed. As he passed my hips, he took my shorts and panties with him with one smooth pull. “I got you something.”

He went into his closet, coming back out with something dark clutched in one hand, and something that looked suspiciously like handcuffs in the other.

“What are you doing?” I asked him, squirming on the bed.

His mouth twisted into a smile. “Relax. You trust me, don’t you?”

I swallowed, my jaw clenching, but I nodded.

He moved back to the bed, crawling to straddle me again.

He slipped my tank top and bra off, sliding my arms above my head with a feather light touch.

His lips moved close to my ear. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

“Tristan,” I began, but he shushed me, pulling a black blindfold over my eyes, and tying it behind my head.

The world went dark, and I didn’t understand the purpose of this until he began to touch me.

He kissed my neck as his hands moved up to my wrists. He cinched the handcuffs on very slowly, and as he tightened them, I realized that they were padded on the inside, to protect my wrists.

“Do you expect me to struggle?” I asked him, pulling lightly at my arms to test the restraints. “Is that why they’re padded?”

“No, sweetheart. I expect you to submit. They’re only padded because I can’t bear the thought of so much as bruising you. I take the gift of your trust very seriously.”

“I always knew you were kinky,” I muttered. I felt him chuckle deliciously against my collarbone. With no sight, that small contact made me shiver from head to toe.

“This isn’t for me, Danika. This is for you. To really let go, you need to give up control. All of it. Every bit.” He punctuated every sentence with a soft kiss against my flesh, starting at my neck, to my collarbone, and moving down to the center of my chest, kissing directly down the center of me, across my ribs, into my naval, nuzzling there.

I writhed, my legs shifting in restless motions, trying to find his legs, wanting so much more than just his mouth on me.

He stilled me with a firm hand to the thigh, and I went nearly limp when I felt his chest press down against me, his lower body slipping between my legs, pushing them wide, then wider.

His hand gripped over my other thigh, sliding to my inner thigh to spread them farther.

I gasped as he pressed his lips to my lower belly, kissing, then licking, then sucking just hard enough to startle me.

He grazed over my hipbone with his teeth, licking over the crease that led into my thigh. He lingered at the spot just where my groin met my thigh, suckling there.

“Tristan,” I gasped, bucking.

He lifted his mouth just enough to murmur against my skin. “Tell me, Danika. Tell me what you want.”

“I—I want your mouth on me.”

“Be more specific.”

“I want your mouth on my, my…”

“*. Say, I want your mouth on my pu**y.”

“I want your mouth on my pu**y.”

“Please,” he prompted.

“I want your mouth on my pu**y, please.”

I swore I felt him smile against my skin, but finally, mercifully, he moved his mouth into the center of me, moving his clever tongue along my cleft and to my clit, making those quick, tiny little circles.

He did this, staying with single-minded purpose on that one spot, with that one contact, until I was just close enough to that fine edge to be frustrated.

“Tristan,” I moaned.

He spoke against me, his voice so low and gravelly that it vibrated against me, teasing me further. “Did you need something else?”

“Your hands. I want your fingers inside of me, please.”

The moment the please left my mouth, he was shoving two fingers inside of me. I was slick, and they slid right in. He pushed them deep, dragging them out, working into a rhythm, his tongue working those agonizing circles that drove me wild.

He had me where he wanted me, mindless, gasping, and letting go as I came, crying out his name, again, and again.

His weight left me briefly, and then he was sliding over me, skin against skin.

He lined himself up at my entrance, pushing in just the tip. He shocked me as he rammed in to the hilt, his size still so overwhelming. But there was no pain. He’d judged it perfectly. I was ready for him.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped into my ear as he started up his hard, driving strokes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” I was too weak to deny him anything, even absolution. And when he’d driven me to the edge again, rocking into me, again and again, his mouth on my neck, I couldn’t hold back those three devastating words. “I love you.”