Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(12)

It’s not enough. His mouth travels down my stomach planting soft kisses then bypasses my core and finds the skin of my inner thighs. Slowly, sensually, like he has all the time in the world.

I don’t. I can’t wait. “Please…” I moan, my legs bucking at his mouth trails my inner thighs. His stubble on the side of his jaw tickles my entrance with a delicious friction.

“Please, Tristan!” I say, more urgently.

I let out a loud moan as his tongue dips deeply into me, his fingers holding me wide open. That’s the spot. I’m so exposed, so spread open. I writhe on the bed, but he has me in a vice, merciless, fucking me with his tongue, his eyes on mine the whole time.

My back arches like a woman possessed and my hands fist the sheets.

“Wait,” I rasp, struggling for air. “I want you inside me when I come again…please.”

He looks up through hooded eyes, then his expression is laced with irritation. “Damn. I wasn’t expecting to have sex. Do you have condoms?”

“In my purse.” I flap a hand towards my bag on the table.

Tristan jumps off the bed and strides towards the bag, pulling it open roughly. The contents spill all over the floor. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’ll put them back later.” Finding the condom, he tears open the foil and gives himself a few long strokes before rolling it onto his length.

Good God, this guy is packing. That thing should have its own passport.

Then he is back on the bed like he means business, his knees pushing my legs apart and his hands wrapping them around his waist. Caging me with his body, his cock juts upwards between my thighs, nudging my opening, teasing me, torturing me.

“Please…” I moan, surprised at how much I am begging. I dig the heels of my feet into his buttocks impatiently.

“Are you trying to give my butt a sports massage with your feet?” He chuckles.

I dig my heels in deeper.

Mischief dances in his eyes as he runs his tip along my slit a few more times. “Is this what you want? Say my name.”

“Yes, Tristan.” I groan. “Hurry up.”

His mouth comes close to my ear. “What would you like? Fast and hard or slow and deep?”

I don’t usually get a menu. “All,” I croak. “I’ll take it all.”

He chuckles then he slides in deep, and he’s fucking me, fucking me so hard, I’m seeing stars.

“You’re so tight,” he says, grunting in my ear. He stops for a second, deep inside me, watching me. “You okay?”

I nod because no words can do justice. My hands palm over his thick chest as he thrusts into me, deeper and faster.

He’s stopped trying to be gentle now; he’s too close.

I moan as another orgasm swells inside me, stronger than before. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I pant over and over again.

I drape my hands around his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into him. I come hard on his cock, and a muffled groan escapes him as he releases into me with heavy, furious pulses.

So, this is how it should feel.

When he finally catches his breath, he trails a finger down my cheek, smiling softly.

“Απίθανο,” I stutter in Greek.

Amazing indeed.

A few hours later and I’m spent. I think he is too if he would admit it. We lie in bed facing each other, my face so close I feel his hot and minty breath on my cheek.

“I don't usually do this.” I slide my bottom lip between my teeth. Something makes me want him to believe me. “This is my first one-night stand.” I laugh. “Said every girl after every one night-stand. Ever. But honestly, it’s true.”

“One-night stand?” Tristan smiles. “You make it sound so sordid.” He leans forward and lightly kisses my nose. “You don’t need to justify yourself to me, Elena.”

“It’s not that I’ve never wanted to,” I continue in case he thinks I’m building this into something bigger than it is. “It's just rare that I meet guys I want to jump into the sack with right away.”

“Or the sea.” His blue eyes sparkle. “I’m honoured you chose me in that case.”

This close, I can see every blade of dark stubble on his square jaw. I trace a finger lazily down his arrogant, masculine nose, his lips and his jawline. “I think this jaw is sculpted out of marble. Sorry, cliché but it’s true.”

“You flatter me,” he murmurs lazily. “You know, you’re very witty.” His eyes hold mine. “Since we are telling the truth, I'm quite taken with you.”

My heartbeat quickens. Are you supposed to talk like this on a one-night stand? “You’re very direct, Tristan,” is all I can manage.

He reaches out to brush a strand of hair off my face. “Are you not used to it? Yes, I’m direct. I’m a man, not a young guy.”

A man? I stare back at him in silence.

I’m starting to think you’re a god.

***

For the first time since I arrived on the island, I slept through the night. Most nights, there's something keeping me awake: mopeds, drunks, lack of air conditioning, and cockroaches having a nocturnal party. They thrive in the drainage pipes and our shack has shit drainage.

I awoke this morning to silence, hotel quality sheets, a comfortable room temperature and a gorgeous man lying beside me. Last night was indescribable. I’m done with college slobs. This is a real man. This is the type of man I want. I don’t want to settle for less.