All or Nothing at All
Page 75
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“One word.”
“Bastard.”
His teeth scraped. His thumbs danced. “That’s not it.”
“Please.”
“Very nice.” He opened his mouth and sucked hard on her clit.
She exploded, jerking against his lips, caught in waves of sensation. His name came out on a sob. She was dying and he hadn’t even entered her yet.
She heard the tear of a wrapper. He knelt on the bed, sheathing himself with the condom, staring down at her with a fierce satisfaction that gave him the look of a conqueror. She waited for the shame to hit, her easy acquiescence the moment he touched her, but it was buried underneath the throbbing ache for him; to have him inside her one more time, to truly belong to him.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.
He grasped her ankles, pushing her feet up. She reached out her arms to him, but those lips curved in a half smile, full of male triumph. “No, baby. I said the first time would be hard and fast. Remember?”
“But—”
With one swift motion, he flipped her onto her belly. Head spinning, she had no time to think or protest, because he dragged her to her knees, pushed her legs far apart, and entered her in one full thrust.
For a moment, she fought him. The burning stretch of her muscles as he filled her completely, buried to the hilt, shook her to the core. His hands gripped her hips, palms on her ass. Head bent over the pillow, propped on her elbows, she was suddenly, achingly vulnerable, open to anything he wanted to do, and she shook in a combination of thrilling abandon and crippling fear.
Then his head ducked, pressing kisses over her shoulder, his voice hot and steady in her ear. “Hold on, baby. I got you.”
Her body relaxed, accepting him fully, and he muttered a vicious curse. Then began to move.
He took her just as promised—hard and fast. Deep strokes that left her no place to hide, a show of domination that was primitive, sexual, and so arousing, she was shoved immediately to the edge of her next climax. Sydney pushed back with her hips, demanding more, and he gave it to her, reaching between her legs to pluck at her clit. She panted, arching, and he sank his teeth into her shoulder, throwing her over the edge.
This time, when she came down from her climax, she was on her back, staring up into his whiskey-gold eyes.
“I can’t get enough of you.” He paused. “I’ve never been able to get enough of you.”
The words ripped at her heart. With no barriers to protect herself, tears threatened, and she looped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his damp, hot skin. He pressed gentle kisses everywhere, stroking her body with slow, calming touches, bringing her back up step-by-step. His lips took hers, tasting, giving, cupping her cheeks with a tenderness that made her ache.
The final time, he made love to her with slow, drugging precision, refusing to rush. He kissed and licked every inch of skin, worshipping her. She explored on her own, reveling in the hard muscles of his biceps, nipping at his tight stomach, her fingers squeezing his cock, like silk covering hard steel. Time stopped, blurred, faded to nothing under the aching intensity of flesh melding with flesh. When he finally entered her, their gazes locked, their breath a mingling whisper. She hovered on the edge of the cliff, mesmerized by the carved features of his face, then fell into the heat of his gaze and said good-bye again to her heart, which had never been hers to begin with.
It had always been his.
She shattered into tiny pieces, and he held her the entire time. Her name was a groan from his lips, and then he pulled her tight against him, both of them seeming to be unable to break away from the searing contact of skin and bone and flesh. Without a word, she closed her eyes and fell into sleep, already knowing sex had changed everything.
chapter twenty-two
Tristan sat in the chair, sipping his coffee, and watched his wife. She slept hard, just like she did everything else. Mouth open. Hair springing merrily around her face. Tiny snores emitted from her swollen lips. The sheet was twisted around her naked body, and one full breast peeked out. Her strawberry nipple was hard and practically begging for his mouth.
He shifted as his arousal came back full force. It was never enough. He’d taken her multiple times during their marathon, and his body still ached for her. She was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. At least they didn’t have to fight the attraction any longer. Last night, they’d charted a brand-new path for this marriage, and a bond had been re-formed.
Memories of the night hit him. Oh, the sex had been off the charts, but it was the tenderness that he kept remembering. The look on her face as she gazed into his eyes. The way she stroked his body with a reverence that humbled him. The way she gave herself, over and over, without thought as to taking for herself.
Uneasiness stirred. He’d been concentrating on moving their relationship back to a physical level. Her keeping his daughter a secret had broken them, and though he’d learn to forgive, he wouldn’t forget. He needed to keep his heart safely tucked away, and everything would work out fine. He’d be able to give her enough of himself to keep her happy.
It was a win-win.
Then why did he feel like last night had changed everything?
He bit back a groan, trying to sort through his tangled emotions. He’d begun believing he was in charge and could seduce her. Instead, she’d seduced him, ripping away his carefully erected barriers and challenging him on every level. Buried deep inside her body, his gaze locked on hers, fingers entwined, his entire being had shuddered with a sense of rightness. Belonging.
Homecoming.
He’d made a big mistake believing sex would finally sate his hunger. It had only made him ferocious for more of her, and he didn’t know what he was going to do.
Her eyes flew open. She blinked, frowning, and he remembered she was always a bit grumpy in the morning before coffee. She slowly sat up, pressing the sheet against her, and stared at him with confusion.
He stiffened, waiting to meet her challenge. Would she deny last night? Still try to keep separate rooms? Pretend to ignore the whole encounter?
“Where’s my coffee?”
He relaxed, a smile curving his lips. He wanted to kiss that pout off her mouth, but he knew the conversation had to happen with caffeine. “I didn’t want it to get cold, since I didn’t know how long you’d sleep. Be right back.”
“Bastard.”
His teeth scraped. His thumbs danced. “That’s not it.”
“Please.”
“Very nice.” He opened his mouth and sucked hard on her clit.
She exploded, jerking against his lips, caught in waves of sensation. His name came out on a sob. She was dying and he hadn’t even entered her yet.
She heard the tear of a wrapper. He knelt on the bed, sheathing himself with the condom, staring down at her with a fierce satisfaction that gave him the look of a conqueror. She waited for the shame to hit, her easy acquiescence the moment he touched her, but it was buried underneath the throbbing ache for him; to have him inside her one more time, to truly belong to him.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.
He grasped her ankles, pushing her feet up. She reached out her arms to him, but those lips curved in a half smile, full of male triumph. “No, baby. I said the first time would be hard and fast. Remember?”
“But—”
With one swift motion, he flipped her onto her belly. Head spinning, she had no time to think or protest, because he dragged her to her knees, pushed her legs far apart, and entered her in one full thrust.
For a moment, she fought him. The burning stretch of her muscles as he filled her completely, buried to the hilt, shook her to the core. His hands gripped her hips, palms on her ass. Head bent over the pillow, propped on her elbows, she was suddenly, achingly vulnerable, open to anything he wanted to do, and she shook in a combination of thrilling abandon and crippling fear.
Then his head ducked, pressing kisses over her shoulder, his voice hot and steady in her ear. “Hold on, baby. I got you.”
Her body relaxed, accepting him fully, and he muttered a vicious curse. Then began to move.
He took her just as promised—hard and fast. Deep strokes that left her no place to hide, a show of domination that was primitive, sexual, and so arousing, she was shoved immediately to the edge of her next climax. Sydney pushed back with her hips, demanding more, and he gave it to her, reaching between her legs to pluck at her clit. She panted, arching, and he sank his teeth into her shoulder, throwing her over the edge.
This time, when she came down from her climax, she was on her back, staring up into his whiskey-gold eyes.
“I can’t get enough of you.” He paused. “I’ve never been able to get enough of you.”
The words ripped at her heart. With no barriers to protect herself, tears threatened, and she looped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his damp, hot skin. He pressed gentle kisses everywhere, stroking her body with slow, calming touches, bringing her back up step-by-step. His lips took hers, tasting, giving, cupping her cheeks with a tenderness that made her ache.
The final time, he made love to her with slow, drugging precision, refusing to rush. He kissed and licked every inch of skin, worshipping her. She explored on her own, reveling in the hard muscles of his biceps, nipping at his tight stomach, her fingers squeezing his cock, like silk covering hard steel. Time stopped, blurred, faded to nothing under the aching intensity of flesh melding with flesh. When he finally entered her, their gazes locked, their breath a mingling whisper. She hovered on the edge of the cliff, mesmerized by the carved features of his face, then fell into the heat of his gaze and said good-bye again to her heart, which had never been hers to begin with.
It had always been his.
She shattered into tiny pieces, and he held her the entire time. Her name was a groan from his lips, and then he pulled her tight against him, both of them seeming to be unable to break away from the searing contact of skin and bone and flesh. Without a word, she closed her eyes and fell into sleep, already knowing sex had changed everything.
chapter twenty-two
Tristan sat in the chair, sipping his coffee, and watched his wife. She slept hard, just like she did everything else. Mouth open. Hair springing merrily around her face. Tiny snores emitted from her swollen lips. The sheet was twisted around her naked body, and one full breast peeked out. Her strawberry nipple was hard and practically begging for his mouth.
He shifted as his arousal came back full force. It was never enough. He’d taken her multiple times during their marathon, and his body still ached for her. She was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. At least they didn’t have to fight the attraction any longer. Last night, they’d charted a brand-new path for this marriage, and a bond had been re-formed.
Memories of the night hit him. Oh, the sex had been off the charts, but it was the tenderness that he kept remembering. The look on her face as she gazed into his eyes. The way she stroked his body with a reverence that humbled him. The way she gave herself, over and over, without thought as to taking for herself.
Uneasiness stirred. He’d been concentrating on moving their relationship back to a physical level. Her keeping his daughter a secret had broken them, and though he’d learn to forgive, he wouldn’t forget. He needed to keep his heart safely tucked away, and everything would work out fine. He’d be able to give her enough of himself to keep her happy.
It was a win-win.
Then why did he feel like last night had changed everything?
He bit back a groan, trying to sort through his tangled emotions. He’d begun believing he was in charge and could seduce her. Instead, she’d seduced him, ripping away his carefully erected barriers and challenging him on every level. Buried deep inside her body, his gaze locked on hers, fingers entwined, his entire being had shuddered with a sense of rightness. Belonging.
Homecoming.
He’d made a big mistake believing sex would finally sate his hunger. It had only made him ferocious for more of her, and he didn’t know what he was going to do.
Her eyes flew open. She blinked, frowning, and he remembered she was always a bit grumpy in the morning before coffee. She slowly sat up, pressing the sheet against her, and stared at him with confusion.
He stiffened, waiting to meet her challenge. Would she deny last night? Still try to keep separate rooms? Pretend to ignore the whole encounter?
“Where’s my coffee?”
He relaxed, a smile curving his lips. He wanted to kiss that pout off her mouth, but he knew the conversation had to happen with caffeine. “I didn’t want it to get cold, since I didn’t know how long you’d sleep. Be right back.”
