Lingus (43 page)

I couldn't help but snort. "Zoey is bringing me leggings and socks, silly. You thought I was going to let everyone see my butt cheeks?"

"Maybe," he laughed, the same throaty way that made my heart flutter. His right hand inched across the middle console to grasp my knee gently. "I want to see your butt cheeks later," he warned.

A pinch to my bare arm brought me out of my Tristan-driven memory and made me focus on the gray eyes dancing in my line of vision. Zoey was smiling, as sweat coated her forehead, talking so quietly only I could hear her over the blaring music. "Are you having a good birthday, K?"

"A great one," I told her honestly. There was something about dinner with two of the three men in my life that I cared for the most, and then just hanging out with my friends, that seemed perfect.

"What did the wannabe
Big Lebowski
over there give you?" she giggled.

I looked over at Tristan, who was going up for his last turn. His nice, tight ass clenched beneath the charcoal color of his dress pants. "Nothing. Our trip was supposed to be my present, so I'm not really expecting anything." I kept my eyes locked on that big, round butt bending over to throw a ball right into the gutter.

Zoey snickered, flicking me right on the nipple through the thin material of my dress. "I bet you want that snausage wrapped in a pretty pink bow, eh?"

Yelping, I flicked her back where her own nub would be, knowing it was rare that she wore a bra to cover her tiny titties. Zoey winced before smacking my hand away from her. "You little slut, that shit hurt," I laughed even though my poor nipple was throbbing.

Josh leaned into me, grinning. "Want me to do the other one? Even it up and all?"

"Ass, you guys should be rubbing my feet or something since it's my birthday, not flicking my nips." I covered my boobs with my hands so that neither one of them could get another flick in. I wouldn't hold it past them to do it.

"Oh, quit your crying, we already gave you your birthday presents so just suck it up," Josh whined. They'd given me my gifts when we'd first started bowling by way of shoving boxes onto my lap. Zoey had bought me the new straightening iron I'd been eyeing for months, Nikki and Calum gave me two Andrew Wood DVDs much to Tristan's groan of disapproval before giving me new running shoes, and Josh bestowed upon me enough new underwear to save me a month of laundry. Later on, he'd pulled me aside and said I was going to need cute underwear for "daily stuffings," the cheeky bastard explained.

The screen above the lanes started blinking, signaling that our time was up. A collective groan worked its way throughout our small group; shoes were kicked off and purses were grabbed while we filed out. Tristan helped me grab my boxes and put them into his car to head back to his house while I got hugs and kisses from my three closest friends and Calum. "Are you tired, goldie?" his sweet voice asked on the drive.

"Just a little bit."

He reached across the car to squeeze my thigh over the black leggings I had on. "We're almost home," he assured me.

What felt like seconds later, he was pulling into the garage, and then silently carrying my presents inside. I followed him in, making a beeline to let Yoda out of his crate so the big lug could go out to the backyard. "Come on, Yoda," I called out after a couple of minutes. I could see him smelling the shit he'd just taken in the corner of the yard.

"He can stay out there for awhile," hot breath purred against my ear.

A shudder crawled up my spine, across my shoulders, and through my entire nervous system. I felt Tristan's large palms rest on my shoulders then slide down my biceps making me break out in goosebumps. He tugged me backward into the house, kicking the door closed with the toe of his shoe before pulling my back tightly against his hard chest. Fingertips brushed my hair to the side, lips and warm kisses pressed against the curve of my neck and shoulder.

Tristan brushed his mouth higher across my neck, light caresses against the column while his hands wrapped around my wrists. "Happy Birthday," he said into my skin.

I nodded slightly, not knowing how else to respond. It must have been enough of a response because his mouth started a downward trek across the muscle that led to the knot of blue cloth keeping my dress on. His tongue licked across the skin surrounding the material before he let go of one of my hands, bringing his free one up to pull the material to the side and over my shoulder leaving me bare. His mouth continued its lazy mapping of my exposed flesh from shoulder to shoulder, his free hand holding my hip while the other hand stayed wrapped around my wrist.

"Come on," he murmured all husky and thick against my earlobe.

I couldn't think straight as I followed him up the stairs, holding onto him by hooking my index fingers into his belt loops. He knew I was off my period after I'd whispered it into his ear at the restaurant when my dad went to the restroom. His response had been choking on a drink of water. We were in his bedroom then, and he was pushing me onto the edge of the bed, kneeling right in front of me with a clenched jaw. His hands landed on my ankles, creating a path over my legging-covered calves, the bend in my knee, and then ending their journey by slipping into the confined space between my dress and thighs. Higher and higher he went until I felt his fingertips curl into the band while his mouth latched onto mine. The kiss was soft and sweet, a molding of his full lips individually sucking on each of mine.

This man lit me up from the inside out, scorching me with slow kisses on the corners of my mouth, burning something deeper into me than any tattoo ever could. He marked me with an open mouth, wet sucks against the column of my neck that made me whimper. Those long fingers started pulled at the band of my tights and underwear, urging me to lift my hips as he pulled them slowly down my legs, while never losing the contact of his mouth on me.

Then, any control I had was nonexistent. Big hands wrapped around the angle of my knees to spread them before pulling me to teeter off the edge of the bed. A hot mouth nipped at my inner thighs, biting gently on a one-way course to the juncture of my legs. I think Tristan moaned louder than I did when his hands tugged the hem of my dress up and over my ass so that the silky material bunched around my hips.

"Goddamnit, Kat," he groaned before pressing those sweet, plump lips and raspy, long tongue against the center of my body.

I think I sounded like a dog with fucking rabies, planting my arms behind me to hold me up while I sat there on the edge of the mattress. One of my legs was thrown over his shoulder roughly, and the other was being held captive by a hand, a hand that was pressing firmly against it, keeping it spread wide. "Fuck," was the steady chant that slipped out of my mouth while his tongue lapped at me over and over again.

Second after second, he sucked and delved, pulling away for just a brief moment. "I could do this to you all day," he said against my thigh before biting it. "My sweet girl."

"Oh my holy... mother..." Who the fuck says that? The beautiful man between my legs buried his mouth against me again, and the curses coming out of my mouth were anything but sweet. His nose brushed my sensitive flesh, his slight stubble scraping my skin in the most pleasant torture.

Tristan was just as persistent as I was horny, coaxing me through my orgasm a second later with the flick of his tongue against my nerves. When he sat back on his heels, moisture tainting the corners of his mouth and chin, I lost it. I was off the bed and kneeling in front of him with my hands deep in his hair, kissing him like he was everything in life that mattered, tasting myself on him. I couldn't think then to analyze that notion because it wasn't worth any thought. He was everything to me, and I knew that on a molecular level. I craved him more than anything in the world and it went deeper than his skin. It was his smile, his laugh, the stitching of his personality, and the fibers that made him up, that I loved.

His hands reached for my bare ass, cupping and kneading the flesh so erotically I thought I'd die, and I couldn't comprehend anything again. It was his mouth that pulled away first, but I couldn't think before he was dipping his head toward my chest and sucking on my hard nipple through the thin material covering them. "I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you in this," he muttered before smothering the neglected peak with his hot mouth.

"I said to myself,
Tristan, this is your friend
," he continued. "
Your Kat with perfect, round tits and hard nipples,
" he moved his mouth again, lapping at the wet material. "I almost touched you, you know that? I thought it would ruin us."

Oh my shit.

I felt hot across my shoulders and chest, listening to his milky voice say those things to me. I remembered everything. His hands were up and just inches from me, teasing me with their movements but he'd remained in control unfortunately. Letting out some kind of twisted moan, I arched my back to get him closer almost like I was offering myself to him. "Nothing is ruined," I somehow managed to pant out.

The hands on my ass squeezed, pulling me flush against him, and then he was standing and bringing me along with him onto the bed. In a flash, my dress was up and over my head, tossed onto the floor in a mess of blue silk and wet stains. Tristan leaned over me with his mouth on my chest and hands stroking all the skin within reach.

I was coherent enough to start yanking his shirt out of his pants, undoing his belt, unzipping his slacks, and then finally shoving them down his hips along with his boxer briefs. I sensed him kicking them down his legs but I was too busy trying to get his shirt unbuttoned, and then after practically ripping it off his shoulders along with his undershirt. I touched the smooth expanse of his chest. Hard muscle quivered under my hands as I glided over the ridges of his abs and pecs, smoothing the coarse sprinkling of hairs under his belly button with my thumbs. It was impossible to miss the long, pink cock bobbing in the air begging for my attention.

"You're so pretty," I mumbled without thinking.

I heard him chuckle while he shifted on the bed, brushing his hands over my shoulders, and then down the side of my ribs to grip my hips. "You're the prettiest thing," he said against my ear.

Looking up, I saw that he was kneeling on the bed, legs spread wide and in a perfect ninety degree angle. I couldn't think of anything as he pulled me to him, pressing my chest against his in a meeting of taut and soft. Tristan kissed me, slanting his mouth against mine, while that magical tongue now delved deep into me searching for something. I felt him loosen his grip and slide his hands down to cup the back of my thighs, and then I was up, hovering over the tip of cock and balancing precariously in his grip while he sat back onto his calves.

Slowly, he lowered me onto him, until I stretched around his length and girth so he was fully sheathed in me. We both groaned, moaned, and I was pretty sure I whimpered out some kind of garbage. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I couldn't help but take in the feeling of him deep in me, his chest pressed against mine, his hands strategically placed where my ass and thighs met, and his face nuzzling my own. "I love you," he said in his rich, velvet voice.

"I love you too," I said in a tone that was anything but even and calm.

I cherished the silence as he bucked his hips up and into me, holding me in his hands and using his strength to move my heat over his. There was something about this, something that was just as good if not better than the only other time he'd been in me that sang through my veins, that didn't let me think about how long this was going to last, or what I was going to do the next day, or even my own fucking name. All I was then was this. His.

Up and down, he thrust and stroked that thick, long cock in me. I could feel every fucking inch of him. With each of my moans, he returned it, whispering things under his breath.

"The best," he bucked.

"So wet," he murmured, sucking on my neck.

"Perfect," his voice strained out.

It was slow, and perfect when he started grinding his hips into me, rubbing me just the right way with the blunt tip of his cock and the rub of his skin on my wet and charged flesh. I came, moaning and crying against his neck, my climax washing over me and him so tightly and intense that he grunted the entire time. He was covered in sweat, shaking in exhaustion from holding me up for so long.

Tristan wrapped an arm around the middle of my back and shifted his way closer to his massive headboard, still buried in me, laying me down so close to it that my hair brushed the wood. His hands were gone, gripping the top of the headboard with his immaculate upper body stretched above me. The slow strokes turned hard and fast, flicking into me with a roll so perfected that it almost made me think about things that I shouldn't. I couldn't help but look at him while he pushed in and out of me. His green eyes were closed briefly, and then suddenly he spent half the time looking me right in the eye, and the other half at the slippery, wet place where we were joined.

"So good," I cried out, placing one hand between my skull and the headboard when he started rocking me into it. I grabbed his ass with my other hand, like I was trying to urge him into me deeper.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tristan grunted. He let go of the headboard before lowering his body over mine and pressed his forehead against my own while he thrust faster. His hot breath washed over me as his strokes turned frantic, and then, he tensed and screamed, burying in me to the hilt one last time with trembling muscles.