“Like what?”
“Like a queen.” I feel her tit. “Like a slut.” I cup the other tit, bring both her nipples to my mouth and suckle. “Like a fucking goddess.”
She lifts herself a little and then comes down on me even deeper. “Then start worshipping.”
I hold her hips and thrust my pelvis up and down, my cock fucking her, worshipping her, as if I’ve done it a million times before. Her tits bounce with every drive, her head thrown back, mouth open, moans flying. My head jerks back, my throat stretched, my breath short in my lungs; I’m being possessed.
“You feel so fucking good, Reagan. So fucking good.” I break. Her body was carved out just to lock me inside her. I’m not inside her; she’s inside me, gutting me from the core out. This isn’t just sex. It’s trespassing into a sacred place, and the terrifying part is knowing I’ll never be free again.
“You feel so good, too. Those piercings… Oh my God. Oh, fuck me. Please. Fuck me harder.”
“You feel that?” I growl, pounding into her harder, faster. “No one else will ever give you that. No one else will ever touch you again. Mine. Do you hear me? Mine. Say it.”
“Yours,” she moans, eyes rolling back, body shaking on top of me. “I’m yours, Tristan. Fuck, I’m yours.”
Her pussy clenches around me, tight and convulsing. Then my name stutters on her lips as her orgasm rips through her. The sight of her coming on my cock—screaming my name, clawing my chest raw—is the best thing I’ll ever see in my life.
I bury myself deep, groaning her name, and spill inside her, pulse after pulse, until there’s nothing left but sweat, heat and the unbearable truth that I’ll never get enough of her.
Another unbearable truth drills through my skull: if I lose this, if I ever lose her, I’ll never breathe again.
CHAPTER 37
Birdie
The alarm snaps my eyes open. I turn it off with a wince. Morning is here. In a couple of hours, I meet Blake.
I should shower, but there’s something cathartic about meeting my cheating husband reeking of another man’s scent and having his cum in my pussy.
A smile creeps on my lips as I roll and stretch my ar— “Jesus Christ!” I pull the sheets over my—very much still naked—body. “Tristan, you scared me.”
He, too, is missing his shirt, sheets pulled up to his hips, hair ruffled, his head propped on his hand, wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him. “Good morning.”
The sun spills into his eyes, turning them golden. The rays glisten on his toned skin, his muscles gorgeous and equally his inked scars. Tristan Morra is a beautiful man and even more exquisite up close. “Morning to you. Have you slept here all night?”
He nods, unable to wipe that grin off his face.
I notice the dark circles forming under his eyes. “Tristan, did you get any sleep last night?”
His head shakes with a no.
“What were you doing then? Have you been watching me sleep?”
“I’m always watching you. It’s my job.”
It could have been worse. I’d rather have that pretty face watching me in my sleep than the one hiding behind a creepy mask.
“I can’t stop looking at you. You’re so beautiful.” He cups my cheeks and crushes his mouth against mine. His tongue parts my lips and swirls with mine, the taste of his toothpaste filling my mouth.
“Not fair. You’ve already brushed your teeth and I haven’t.”
“I don’t care.” His fingers dig into my hair as he nibbles on my bottom lip. “You’re gorgeous in every state, and I can’t get enough.”
“Tristan,” I pull away, “Tristan, let’s just slow down a bit. Last night was…”
His face darkens in a heartbeat. “Don’t you dare.”
I blink hard. “What?”
