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“Ugh. Fine. Lie down.”
He laughed. “What?”
“On the bed. Properly,” I said, pointing to the space beside me. “You’re going to learn patience, no matter how hard it will be for you.”
Tristan blinked, though a hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
“Are you going to teach me, Ms. Orsini?” he asked, his voice low as he moved onto the bed, one eyebrow raised in a devilishly handsome arch.
“I’m not going to teach you anything. I’m only going to use you,” I replied, a smoky note infiltrating my voice that even surprised me. “Are you excited to be used?”
“I am.” His eyes sparkled with anticipation, the grin on his face widening as he settled under me, then looked down at his hardened dick.
“Adriana,” his voice was a low murmur, laced with amusement. “I think you might be killing me.”
“I don’t care,” I replied, my breath hitching as I felt his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him. His eyes were intense, fixed on mine with a hunger that was both intimidating and exhilarating. I let out a soft sigh, the sound barely audible over the pounding of my heart against my chest.
“I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said after a moment, his voice strained. “But keep doing it.”
“Should I do it with my pants off?”
“Yes,” he sighed. “You definitely should.”
“In that case,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I felt him harden beneath me, “you’re going to have to be a bit more patient.”
He groaned and threw his head back against the pillow, the tendons in his neck straining against the fair skin. He looked so beautiful in that moment, so raw and vulnerable. It was a side of him I was only beginning to know. The side of him he kept hidden away from everyone but me.
I pushed myself up and straddled his hips, looking down at him. His eyes were hooded, focused on where our bodies met. He was so hard and so fucking hot. I wanted him so much.
He was waiting for my next move with breathless anticipation. And in a heart-stopping moment of clarity, I realized just how much power I held in this moment.
My heart thumped heavily in my chest as I slowly undid the button of my jeans. Tristan watched me, his eyes never leaving mine.
I pushed the denim fabric down my legs and kicked it off, leaving me in my undergarments. His stare was appreciative, his breath hitching as I sat back down on him, clad only in thin lace. The heat of his need radiated through the thin fabric of his boxers and onto my skin, sending a shiver up my spine.
I could feel his desire burning through me as I slid my fingers across the exposed skin of my stomach, teasing him, drawing this moment out for as long as I could.
“Careful,” he said as I avoided the recently changed gauze on his wound.
“Sorry.”
“You’re doing great.”
My breath hitched as his hands came up to rest on my hips. “Adriana,” he murmured in that low, husky voice that sent shivers down my spine. “If you keep this up, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”
A small smile danced on my lips as I leaned down to meet his gaze. “I like it when you lose control,” I whispered, tracing a finger lightly across his cheek.
“Believe me,” he said, his voice barely audible above the roar of desire rushing through my veins, “The feeling is mutual.”
“I’m going to get myself off by riding you,” I said. “Your pleasure is incidental.”
“Got it,” he replied, grinning.
“And don’t you dare touch me.” I straddled him, positioning myself over his erection. Tristan made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that was almost intimidating.
“Adriana,” he warned in a low growl, but I cut him off with a sharp look. He fell silent, his hands flexing on the sheets beside him.
“I mean it,” I said firmly, pressing myself down onto him and grinding my hips slowly. His breath hitched, his gaze never leaving mine as he fought to keep control.
