Bad Things(99)

“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 *.”

“I want your mouth on my *.”

“Please,” he prompted.

“I want your mouth on my *, 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.”

He came, pouring into me with a rough groan that formed into my name, bringing me with him in steady thrusts.



He said the pasta was unsalvageable, and had to make fresh.

He pulled on his jeans, not bothering to button them, and I threw on his T-shirt, which came to mid-thigh on me.

He tugged me into the kitchen, setting me on the counter for our usual kitchen routine, if in a different kitchen.

He set the water to boiling, and came back to me, cupping my cheeks, his eyes so soft. I didn’t even want him to talk. His eyes were too perfect like that. They told me everything I wanted to know.

We made out like teenagers while he cooked.

He fit his hips between my thighs and took my mouth with slow, drugging kisses, his big hands cupping my face with the lightest touch.

He pulled back, touching his forehead to mine. “You’re so beautiful. Most beautiful girl in the world.”