He holds my gaze as he pushes in one more inch. He looks like the man those women were describing, the onewho can go all night, who loves this, who smiles at me like he wants to tear me apart and touches me like he wants to remake me.
Not like a best friend.
His teeth flash white in the dark. “I’m going to make you lose control, Katie Bailey.”
I groan as his finger stretches me, rubbing against my inner walls, sliding in easily with how wet I am. “This should be—” Another inch and I moan softly, catching my lip in my teeth. “Weirder than it is,” I manage.
“Why weird?” His voice is strangled. I look down to see his teeth gritted and his shoulders taut.
“Because we’re friends.”
He pauses. “Don’t you think that makes it better?”
My stomach flutters. “Yes,” I pant, wriggling for more. “Come on, Tristan.”
“In fact,” he says conversationally, “I think it means I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.” His finger slides in all the way and I sob a breathless sound.
He thrusts gently, his eyes on my face. My lip is grasped between my teeth, my stomach jumping. “Tell me, Katie,” he coaxes. His lips press against my thigh. “Am I the best you’ve ever had?”
He is the best I’ve ever had. It’s never been like this with anyone else. Never been this hot or this urgent or thisright.
“Yes,” I say simply, chasing his hand with my hips. There’s a world of meaning behind that word. Fear that I won’t have this with anyone else. Knowledge that he might ruin me forever. Longing for what I suspect I’ll never have again.
His face softens, like he sees this knowledge in my eyes. “I know exactly how you feel,” he says gently before he thrusts again, then again.
Heat builds where his hand presses in. His finger crooks and rubs exactly where I touch myself—that spot that makes my legs shake.
“I’m going to come, Katie,” he says hoarsely. “Are you close?”
I nod again, my body strung too tight for words.
“Relax,” he croons.
“I can’t. I’m so—”
“I know.” His lips move over my thigh again, then his tongue moves languidly between my legs. “Breathe, Katie. Sweetheart. Breathe. Trust me.”
I let out a long, shaky breath, and the pleasure twists.
“Tristan, I—”
“Again,” he coaxes. “Again, for me. You’re so close and I am too. I want us to come together.”
“Don’t come like this.”
His gaze meets mine, glazed and heavy. But his hand stops.
I lick my lips. “I want to finish you.” My stomach flutters at the slow grin he gives me, the way he lets me see him slowly remove his hand, the proud jut of his erection.
“Hurry,” I whisper. I take a long breath in as he fucks me with his hand, and heat explodes between my legs.
It’s not just his hand that gets me there. It’s the way his throat works and his shoulders go taut. The way his lids flutter and the soft “fuck” that slips between his lips as he watches me.
It’s the way he looks absolutely agonized that sends me over the edge. My orgasm twists my body, jerking my hips forward, arching my spine, washing through me in a wave of heat and need that seems endless and impossible to satisfy. It’s nearly painful in its intensity, and I feel my hand clenching against his head and my pussy contracting hardaround his finger. I shake and then slump, and our labored breathing is so loud that I can hear it over the rain.
“Well?”
My eyes slit open to see Tristan rising off the ground, his leanly muscled form all grace as he pushes the sweatpants off his hips.
