Crash Into Me(83)

He was everywhere around me—his mouth, his hands, his cock becoming essential to the happiness every part of my body cried out for. I clawed at his scalp, looking for some leverage as he f*cked me wildly there behind a column for anyone to see. My legs ached from their hold around his waist, and with each plunge of his cock inside my wet *, I pushed my heels against his back, praying this time he'd finally bury himself deep inside me.

"Faster, Tristan. I'm almost there," I cried as the first twinge of my orgasm began. "Harder."

My pleas were met with exactly what I wanted—he pounded into me like a madman, his hands gripping my ass tightly and roughly pulling me into him. His moans and grunts surrounded me, edging me closer to coming as his cock moved like a piston in and out of me.

I cried out, "Yes!" and squeezed his neck as I began to come. Every part of me felt release as my orgasm shuddered through me, and I pushed down to take every inch of his thick cock as my legs quivered against him. He buried his face in my neck and grunted one last time as I felt him explode into me, bathing my insides with his own release.

His legs shook as he moaned my name over and over until there was nothing left for either of us to take from the other's body. I was his completely, and he was mine. Tristan lifted his head and pressed it against mine, his forehead drenched with perspiration.

"God, I love you," he groaned. "I can't f*cking live without you, Nina. Promise me no matter what you won't make me. I can't do it."

I caressed his face and kissed his lips as the last word left his mouth. There was nothing in the world that could tear me from him. He was everything to me, as essential as the air I breathed or the food I ate.

"Never. I'm yours like you're mine. Forever."





Chapter Seventeen

Venice had been the turning point I'd hoped and prayed for with Tristan. With every word and every action, he proved he was as devoted to me as I was to him. We'd even made it through a whole night without any phone calls souring his mood. When we fell asleep in each other's arms that night, I was happier than I ever thought a person could be.

My happiness was shattered within minutes of waking up the next morning, however.

Once again, I woke up and Tristan was nowhere to be found. I'd half expected to find a note sitting on his pillow, but reaching out to run my hands over the fine Egyptian cotton pillowcase, there was nothing.

I didn't have to wait long to find out what had taken him from our bed so early. His footsteps pounding against the floor in the next room told me something was wrong, and I slipped into the white dress shirt he'd left slung over a chair the night before and made my way out to see him.

He stood near the glass doors to the balcony with his arms folded across his chest. His profile showed a grimace as I walked toward him. I gently touched his sleeve, saddened when I saw his expression as he turned toward me.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Tristan leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. "Work. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to cut our trip short. I wish I didn't have to get back, but you know how it is."

I couldn't hide my disappointment and turned away to look out through the doors at the Grand Canal. "Oh. Okay."

"I'm sorry, Nina. I promise to make it up to you."

Nodding, I looked up at him and forced a smile onto my face. "I know. Such is the life of a bigwig."

My joke made him laugh, and at least for a moment he appeared happy, even if there was a hint of sadness in his words. "Bigwig, huh? Well, this bigwig would take a smaller wig and being able to stay here with you."