Slow Play (The Rules #3)(64)

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says, confusion mangling his expression. I’m sure that’s the first time he’s said that to a girl. I mean really, this is the man-whore king stud on campus. Telling girls they don’t need to give him a BJ if they don’t want to is just…incomprehensible.

“I want to,” I tell him honestly, noting the relief I see in his otherwise dire features. The struggle is real for him right now and I think it’s adorable. “But I’m not going all the way.”

Why, I’m not sure, but it almost feels too intimate, to let him inside me tonight. Fine, I let him mash his face against my vagina and suck me straight into an orgasm. I’m about to put my mouth on his cock. That’s all well and good. It’s—fun. Sexual exploration, relieving all of that tension we’ve been dealing with since the night we met.

But letting him enter me, fusing the two of us together, face to face, heart to heart, is such an incredibly intimate act, I’m scared to do it with him. Scared more that once it happens, he’ll leave.

And I’ll be left behind to pick up the pieces, alone.

“That’s cool. I’m okay with it. We don’t have to,” he says in a rush of words. “I’m not going to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to, Alexandria.”

He says those words and I believe him. Tristan has never broken a promise yet and I appreciate that about him. He’s always been honest—most of the time, to a fault. He says what he feels, what he’s thinking, with absolutely no filter. A lot of the time, it’s annoying.

It’s also endearing.

“I know,” I whisper as I start to tug his jeans down. “Help me out here.”

Grinning, he lifts his hips, pushing his jeans down to his thighs, where I take over and pull them the rest of the way off, letting them fall onto the floor. He’s wearing black boxer briefs that mold to his thighs and everything else, showing off all that he has. I stare at him for a moment, swallowing hard as I consider how I’m going to approach this. He’s big. I’m not what one would call tremendously experienced in the going downtown department. Yes, I’ve given a blowjob. No, I’ve never swallowed. Yes, I enjoyed it—somewhat. Okay, a little bit. The three guys I’ve given blowjobs to, all of them came so fast it was over before I barely started. Which I preferred, you know? No lockjaw for me.

This is why I don’t like it when guys go down on me. I take forever—usually. They can never find anything, you know? The lick and suck in the wrong place or they rub me so hard with their fingers, it freaking hurts. It’s a delicate process down there and every guy I’ve been with in the past didn’t seem to realize it. They just attacked it with little to no finesse.

Tristan seemed to understand that. The best part was when he touched me so lightly I barely felt it. His tongue. The way he seemed to find my clit right away, with no hesitation. I’m tingling between my legs just thinking about what he did to me…

“I know I’m huge,” he drawls, snapping me out of my dreamy state. “But I’ve never rendered a woman dead silent for so long before.”

I shake my head, sending him a look as I move to straddle him. His eyes widen when I climb atop him, rubbing my sex against his stomach, a shuddery groan leaving him as he reaches out to grasp hold of my waist. “I was just thinking about what I wanted to do to you,” I tell him.

His fingers skim my waist, my hips. “What’s your plan?”

“To drive you wild,” I whisper as I stretch up to kiss his lips, my tongue darting out for a teasing lick. He lifts his head, trying to capture my lips again but I move away from him, shaking my head. “To make you come as hard as you made me.”

He smiles, all confident, cocky man. “Hmm, are you up to the challenge?”

“Watch me,” I whisper, remembering when he said that to me what feels like eons ago, in the library. I undulate my hips, rubbing against his stomach and he closes his eyes, his hands sliding down to grab hold of my ass.

I pull out of his touch and scoot down, my hands going to the waistband of his boxer briefs and bringing them with me. His cock springs free, rising up to greet me and I stare at in wonder, blowing out a soft breath. I swear it bobs in answer.

Oh. Man. He is large. Thick and veined, his cock has a flared head and slightly curves toward his stomach. I keep my gaze locked on it as I hurriedly get rid of his underwear, then reach out to wrap my fingers around the base.

“Shit,” he mutters, closing his eyes so tight it looks almost painful. “You keep touching me like that I’m going to explode.”

“Why?” I ask incredulously. “I barely touched you.”

“I haven’t been with anyone else since I met you,” he admits, his eyes cracking open. “And I’ve been dreaming of this moment for so damn long, just hearing you talk, your fingers around my f*cking dick is well, you know. Pushing me over the edge.” The smile he gives me is pained.

I want to put him out of his misery.

Giving him a squeeze, I dip my head, drop a kiss to the very tip of his cock. The strangled groan that sounds low in his throat encourages me and I part my lips, taking the head of his cock into my mouth. Tristan hisses when I pull him out, trace my tongue around the tip, teasing and licking, my gaze never leaving his.