Tristan's Temptation (10 page)

“What do you mean?” There were no games between them. Were there?

“You want her. She wants you. Just fuck each other and enjoy the hell out of it. Quit worrying about who knows what. Or who’s going to approve or not approve. God. If I worried about that I’d never get laid.”

Tristan glanced at Shannon. It was good advice. There was nothing he wanted to do more right now than to flip her over the sofa and sink into her sweet pussy. Going without her for three whole days had tested his restraint and seeing her with another man had pushed him close to the edge. He didn’t want her to want any other man. Only himself.

His feelings for her definitely went way beyond mere lust. They were ravenous and feral and harsh. And he wanted her bad. He didn’t particularly care who knew about it. All he cared about was feeling her desperate, panting breaths in his ear as she came.

“Now,” Steve said primly. “My work here is done. I’ve got to go.” He drained his wineglass and picked up his jacket. He paused at the door to add, “Just remember this. None of the people you’re trying so hard to please are worried about pleasing you. Your life is your responsibility. You have to make yourself happy, and damn the consequences.” And then, with a sketched wave and a cursory pat for Bosco, he let himself out

Finally. Alone at last.

Tristan fixed Shannon with a hungry look.

She avoided his gaze. Instead she busied herself collecting the plates and glasses on the coffee table and meticulously arranging them on the kitchen bar. “Would you care for something to drink?” This, she asked in her most hostess-y voice. “Some cake, perhaps?”

“No.” Tristan’s voice was rough, laced with tightly reined passion. “I want you.”

She stopped in her tracks.

“I’ve wanted you every minute since I was inside you last.”

“But we—”

“I know what we agreed. I know what I said. But you heard Steve.
Damn the consequences.
” Steve’s little speech had really resonated in his soul. What was keeping them apart, after all?

It was
his
stupid rule and
his
stubborn streak. Adam wouldn’t really care if Tristan broke the rule. Hell, Adam had already shattered it.

“Why shouldn’t we enjoy each other?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

She dipped her head. He thought, perhaps, he saw the glitter of tears on her lashes.

“Why?” He took the Scrabble board from her and set it back on the coffee table. When she wouldn’t look at him, he gently nudged her chin up with two fingers.

Hell. They were tears.

“Why, Shannon?”

“Because you are also enjoying Tandy Larsen.”

His mouth fell open. “What?”

“I know you went on a date with her.”

“Now wait just a minute. I did not go on a date with her.” His belly lurched at her expression. Panic flared. “It wasn’t a date. Honestly. Kat and Adam set it up. They thought they were doing me a favor. You know I can’t stand her. She drives me crazy.”

“But you went out with her.”

“No. I went to Levin’s party and she was there. I didn’t ask her out. I didn’t want to be with her. I only want…”

“What?”

“You. I only want to be with you. And damn the consequences.”

Shannon cleared her throat and stared at the floor. “Sometimes consequences have a way of catching us unawares.”

He moved closer and pulled her soft body against his. She was warm and she smelled sweet. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and tasted her. “Shannon,” he rasped. “I need you.”

“Tristan.” She arched against him as his lips and teeth and tongue tormented the side of her neck. He knew how to rouse her. He knew the spots that made her twitch and groan. And with every tryst, he learned more. He ached to discover it all, even if it took forever. He skated his hand up her flank and cupped her breast. When he swiped a thumb over a nipple, her entire body jerked in response.

“I want you.” He allowed his mouth to make the pilgrimage to her ear and over her cheek, to trail along her jawline and nibble at the dimple on her chin. Then he took her lips.

He tasted her gently at first, rubbing his lips against hers until they were tender and tingling. He laved her lips with his tongue, tasting the sweet nectar of her breath. Then, finally, he settled his lips upon hers and set about seducing her with his mouth. He drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked and was shot through with passion when she reciprocated. His kiss became wilder then. He held her head and feasted madly, loving everything from the taste of her to the tiny impassioned grunts issuing forth as he explored, demanding more and ever more.

His cock was hard and throbbing. He was ready to take her now. But then, he’d been ready to take her since Friday. He needed to bring her along in this raging desire. Draw her closer to the insanity he felt, secure her in his world so she couldn’t slip away again—could never, would never, show up on a date with another man, for Christ’s sake.

What he wanted, rather desperately, was to stake his claim.

His mind flew through his options and suddenly it dawned on him.

He knew how to capture her.

He knew exactly what to do.

He pulled back and frowned at her. Sternly.

“I was furious when you told me you had a date tonight. You should have told me it was with a friend.”

“You didn’t ask,” she responded playfully. Then again, she hadn’t yet realized where this was going.

He narrowed his eyes. “You knew what I would assume.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” She tried to turn away. He stopped her.

“Really? Do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you were trying to make me jealous. Were you?”

She fixated on the little crocodile on the left breast of his shirt. “Maybe.”

“You don’t think that was a naughty thing to do?” Her gaze rocketed back to his and her dainty little nostrils flared as comprehension dawned. “You don’t think I have a right to be angry?”

“I—”

“No.” He cut her off. “No excuses. Was it a naughty thing to do? Yes or no.”

“Yes?”

“Are you asking me a question or are you telling me a fact?”

“Yes. It was a terribly naughty thing to do, but—”

“Ah!” He halted her words with a finger to her lips. “Then you agree, you should have a spanking.” It wasn’t really a question but he waited for her answer. It was difficult to wait because she was getting nervous and restless, which meant she was fidgeting and tugging at her lip with her teeth, and, frankly, both of those moves inflamed the predator in him.

“I suppose.”

“No. You don’t suppose. The answer is yes or no.”

“Yes.” A whisper.

She didn’t meet his eyes when she said it so he tipped her chin up. “What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes.” She stared at him. Her lips trembled. “I should have a spanking.”

Sharp satisfaction sliced through him and he dropped her chin. His cock twitched in anticipation. In a moment he was going to have Shannon Weiss draped across his lap with her skirt up, with her panties down around her knees.

Frankly, he couldn’t wait.

Chapter Eight

Shannon stared at Tristan as an unholy hunger welled within her. The thought of his hand coming down, hard and masterful on her ass, sent a wet gush of slick cream sluicing through her pussy. She shivered as she pressed her thighs together. Her clit throbbed. Her mouth went dry. She could barely look at him.

“Come here,” he commanded in a hard voice and she complied. He led her to the sofa. He sat and patted his lap. Obediently, she draped herself over his thighs, quivering with anticipation. He flipped her skirt up, baring her ass to his view. “Mmm.” He drew his palm over the tight curves, tracing the edge of her panties across her lower back. “Take them off,” he rasped.

She glanced up at him. His features were tight, laced with desire. Quivering, she slipped her panties down to her knees. His reaction quick and hard—a sudden, turgid swell against her left hip. He jerked her closer until she was fully on his lap, pressing against his cock. It was hot and thick, rigid and throbbing. He surged against her.

He returned his attention to her bare ass, squeezing and caressing those quaking globes. “God, you’re gorgeous.” He stroked her reverently.

And then his hand fell.

She cried out at the first smack. It was harder than she’d anticipated and it shot through her like a bullet of lust. She moaned and buried her face in her arms. It felt incredible. Better than she’d ever imagined. His hand fell again and again and her ass began to heat under the endless barrage. The warmth coursed through her. Waves and tingles resonated from her throbbing clit to her swelling nipples. Each smack sent a rush of heat racing through her.

He paused every so often to caress her sweltering, sensitized buttocks. Her moans rose to cries and she pressed her clit against his hard thigh. Before long, she was undulating in mindless passion.

“Is this what you wanted?” She loved his little grunt of exertion, his groans of pleasure as each smack fell. “Is this what you need?”

“Yes,” she cried. “Yes.”

“You like it when I smack your ass, don’t you?” He paused, once again, to fondle her burning flesh. “You know you do.”

“Please.” She ached. She wanted.

The delightful spanking continued but he shifted his angle lower, to the underside of her trembling ass. The sudden new pressure on her clit, pressing her harder against his thigh, was exquisite. Cream oozed from her pussy. She could feel it easing past her lips and dampening his jeans. She spread her legs wider and rubbed herself against the rough fabric.

He groaned. “You are so wet.” He drew his fingers up and down over her slit, delving deeper with each pass. “God. You’re so wet.” He held her open with two fingers and edged deeper with a third. “Wider.” He nudged her hips higher. “I want to feel you.”

She complied, spreading her legs as wide as they would go, but rather than easing into her pussy again, he smacked her again, right over her wet clit. She cried out as the first orgasm took her, turning to him with pleading eyes. She wanted him in her. Needed him.

He was utterly unsympathetic. He reached around and yanked the neckline of her dress down. “Play with your nipples. Pinch them.” She did, whimpering as twin shots of agony and ecstasy rocketed through her.

“Tristan,” she panted. “Please. Please.”

“I’ll please you, all right.” He paddled her, five sharp smacks in a row. “Are you playing with your nipples?”

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes!”

“Do you want more?”

“Yes. Please.”

He paused, resting his large, warm palm on her burning ass. His fingers twitched, as though the sensation was just as intense for him, as though he itched to caress her more. But something stopped him.

Impatiently, she wiggled her ass, attempting to rub her clit against him.

“Not just yet.” He tightened his hold against her gyrations, forcing her to still. “There’s something I would like to know.”

“What?” she asked softly, and then more impatiently when he didn’t respond. “What?”

He traced a line over her ass and made a gentle, teasing pass at her sopping pussy lips. He dandled lower, just barely brushing against her clit.

Shannon cried out at the touch and sobbed for more. She was close. So close.

“He said you were crazy about me. Is that true?”

She stilled. Shuddered. Her breath caught in her throat. “What?”

Heartlessly, he dabbed at her again and then hovered, just out of reach. “Is it true?”

“Yes!” she cried.

His fingers returned to their tormenting rhythm. “You’re crazy about me?”

“Yes, Tristan. Yes.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been crazy about me?”

Mortification washed through her. She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t possibly admit the truth. Not now. Not like this.

She didn’t answer. Instead she rubbed against his erection, attempting to tease him, to distract him. He hissed in response and pressed up against her as well. But the delightful sensation between her legs stopped. She groaned.

“Touch me, Tristan. Please.”

“You like it when I stroke your clit?” he asked, teasing her gently.

“Yes. Yes.” She arched into him and knew bliss for a heartbeat before he cruelly pulled it away.

“Then answer my question.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too embarrassing.”

The harsh smack on her ass caught her at unawares and she cried out with a jerk.

“It’s not embarrassing to writhe on my lap begging for my touch? You know you want it. I can tell you’re close. So answer my question.” His voice was desperate. The words grated out.

“Forever!”

He stilled. “Forever?”

“Yes!” she yelled. “For-fucking-ever. Since the first time I saw you, you ass. Now touch me!”

He didn’t touch her, at least not the way she craved. Instead he grasped her shoulders and lifted her off his lap, turning her to face him. His eyes were damp, his expression tight. A muscle throbbed in his cheek. “Since the first time you saw me?” he rasped.

“Yes. Yes, damn you.” But there was no anger in her tone. How could there be?

“Jesus.” He sucked in a deep, hitched breath. “Jesus.”

And then he was on her.

It happened quickly. He tipped her gently but forcefully onto the floor and was on top of her, his pants unzipped, his rampant cock bounding free and slipping past her tender lips. Nudging in. The tightness was exquisite. He pressed deeper. Her flesh tightened and resisted his onward press, tugging at her clit.

The fullness stretched her unbearably but it was what she wanted, what she needed, and she hissed in pleasure as he entered her relentlessly, until he stroked her womb.

She clenched around him and he lost all pretense of gentility. He yanked himself from her and slammed in again, as though driven by a wild urge to claim her, to possess her utterly. He repeated the exquisite movement, fucking her hard and hot as his breath huffed in her ear and small groans emanated from the base of his throat.

“God yes,” he growled, shifting a little to change his angle, pounding deeper and harder than before. She could feel his cock swell as it always did just before he came, and she whimpered at the added pressure. Her pleasure rose sharply.

Her ass burned but it was a delicious sensation. And with each triumphant thrust, her tender flesh scraped against the carpet. His cock filled her completely and, as he pounded into her sweltering cave, his pubis and the wiry hairs covering it in a thick pelt ground relentlessly against her tender clit. She was wet and slick everywhere. His thrusts were well-oiled and perfectly placed. Her orgasm swelled and swelled again, hovering there, teasingly, just out of reach.

Sensing her frantic need, barely restraining his own, he levered up and looked down at her, panting in great gasps of exertion. “Do you know…when I first…wanted you?” he ground out, snarling in his fervor.

She cried out as he made a circular movement with his hips that made his cock dance within her. “When?” He lifted her hips and she wrapped her legs around his waist, riding him as wildly as he rode her. He was ready to explode. She could feel it in his tightly tensed sinews. In his trembling form. He was waiting, though, for her. Her pussy wept at the knowledge and the beginnings of her orgasm, deep within, stole closer. “When?” Was that her voice, so demanding and distraught?

“In the interview.” He pounded harder, a frenetic series of thrusts. “The day we met.” He drove her over the edge. Her entire body clenched and she cried out as wave after wave of delight washed over her and exquisite rhapsody danced along every nerve. She seemed to come forever, and even after the crisis passed, tiny little aftershocks pressed themselves upon her for long minutes as she lay there in his arms, desperately trying to catch her breath, desperately trying to find herself again in a sea of bliss.

“That,” Tristan said, “was incredible.” It was. She was. He stared at her in awe. She was beautiful, lying there, her hair disheveled and her cheeks pink with pleasure. But her eyes were closed, her lips tight. “Are you all right?” He brushed away an errant tendril.

Her eyes opened and found his. She smiled. “Yes, Tristan. I’m fine.”

“Did you…like that?” Somehow, he just needed some reassurance. Somehow, now, with passion exhausted, he needed to hear her say it.

“I liked it very much,” she said softly. “Too much, perhaps.”

Too much? Was there such a thing as too much pleasure? “What do you mean?”

She gave a little shrug. “You make me lose my sanity sometimes. It’s a little…overwhelming.”

Overwhelming? Hell yeah. “And that’s not good?” How could that not be good?

She sat up and readjusted her dress and then found her panties on the floor where they’d fallen and slipped them back on. “You just make me…feel things. You make me say things and do things I normally wouldn’t.”

Yeah. He knew that. And it made him a little smug. He liked that she lost all control when he touched her. He liked that, though she might resist, she wouldn’t resist for long.

Because he felt the same way.

He lost all sanity when she was near as well.

“What wouldn’t you normally do?”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “For one thing, I would never admit I’m crazy about you.”

“But you are.” He couldn’t help grinning.

“And I would never have told you…” She paused and her gaze fell.

“What?”

“I wanted you the moment I saw you. I would never have admitted that.”

“I wanted you the moment I saw you. I don’t mind admitting it.”

She snorted—a delicate grunt. “Men are different. Nothing embarrasses you.”

Not precisely true but he let that point go. “I’m glad you said it. I’m glad it’s true. And I am glad I can make you crazy with passion because you make me crazy too.”

“But Tristan, it’s a little too much. Don’t you see? We get all wild and crazy and have hot steaming sex and forget about things that matter.”

He frowned. Wild and crazy mattered. Hot, steaming sex mattered. “For example?”

“For example…” She dipped her head. “We’ve never once used a condom. We just get close to one another and passions rise and the next thing I know, we’re at it. All thoughts of protection gone in the wind.”

Never once used a condom.

Tristan’s gut curled into a tight ball. He’d been a religious user of prophylactics his entire adult life but, frankly, when he was near her,
protection
was the last thing on his mind. That fact flabbergasted him. Perhaps he should be a little frightened as well.

“Is there…anything I should know?” It was a little late to be asking but hell, he probably should know.

She gave a little sniff. “I’m clean.”

“So am I.”

“I know. I checked your med files.”

He should be offended. Really, he should. But he wasn’t. At least
she’d
been cautious. “So if you’re clean and I’m clean, what’s the problem?”

She sighed heavily. “I am a woman of childbearing age, Tristan.”

“But you’re on birth control.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip.

“You’re…not on birth control.”
Hell.
“Why the hell aren’t you on birth control?” She was a woman—a damn attractive woman—of childbearing age. She made him hard with a glance. A word. A breath. She should be on birth control. Perhaps a double dose.

Why the vision of a little girl with her adorable nose and unruly mop of hair skated through his mind, he couldn’t say. Why that vision gave him a warm sensation in his gut and made him want to grin was an even deeper mystery.

“Why would I be on birth control when I’m not seeing anyone?”

“You’re seeing me!”

“I wasn’t a week ago.”

“But you’ve had boyfriends.” It was a statement, not a question. A woman like her always had boyfriends. Though now he thought about it, the only “boyfriend” he’d ever heard her speak of was Bosco and he didn’t count. Aw hell. “You have had boyfriends. Haven’t you?”