Page 37 of Tristan’s Temptation

“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.