Fired by Her Fling. Christy McKellen
body throbbed in anticipation as he slid her knickers down her legs, then stooped to run his tongue around the exposed triangle between her thighs, skimming the most sensitive parts of her until she almost screamed with the need for him to touch and lick here there.
When he eventually did, it was as if he’d zapped her with a live wire of pure pleasure and instinctively she raised her hips off the bed to press herself harder against him.
Never had she felt so on the edge of control. And it felt goooood.
He used gentle, sweeping strokes on her, over and over bringing her closer, exquisitely closer to the edge of orgasm. But she wanted more.
What would Louise say to get what she wanted?
‘I want you inside me,’ she whispered, hoping she’d said it loudly enough for him to hear. He stopped what he was doing and moved up the bed, trailing kisses along her skin, nipping once at each nipple before kissing her full on the mouth again.
She needed her control back. Right now.
‘On your back,’ she demanded, twisting out from under him and shoving against one shoulder to tip him into the position she wanted him.
He landed on his back and raised an amused eyebrow at her, a faint smile playing around his mouth.
‘Who’d have thought someone so petite could be so domineering,’ he said, sliding a hand into her hair to draw her mouth down to his.
‘Small but determined, that’s me,’ she said, once she’d finished kissing him.
‘I can see that.’ The look in his eyes told her he was totally fine with it too.
‘Wait here,’ she said, backing off the bed and hurrying over to where her clothes lay on the other side of the room.
Jeez, the suite was enormous. It must be costing a few bob to stay here. He must be into some serious business to afford it.
Pushing the errant thought out of her mind, she located her handbag and rummaged in one of the inside pockets, pulling out tissues, café loyalty cards and hair bobbles until she found what she was looking for.
Turning back to the bed, she saw Tristan had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching her with interest. She waved her loot in the air in a show of triumph.
‘You carry your own condoms?’
She shrugged, suddenly painfully conscious of how it might look. ‘Sure, why not? It’s just as much my responsibility as yours,’ she mumbled.
Her spirits rose as he gave her an impressed look and nodded slowly. ‘I’m beginning to like you, Louise,’ he said, and she very nearly corrected him again.
No, Lula, stay in character.
Climbing back onto the bed, she straddled his legs and slid her way back up his body, dragging her nipples against his shins, over his knees and thighs, then cupping her breasts together with one hand to trap the hard length of his shaft between them. He groaned as she slid him back and forth between the soft cushions, propping herself up on one arm and lazily running her tongue over the peaks and troughs of his abs at the same time.
She paused what she was doing as he slid his hands into her hair and began to stroke his fingers gently against her scalp in rhythm with the movement.
It was a beautifully intimate thing for him to do and an unexpected swell of emotion expanded in her chest.
Most of her sexual encounters had been swift and to the point. No one had ever touched and stroked her the way Tristan did. As if she was something to treasure and worship.
He must have thought she didn’t like what he was doing because he took his hands away and when she looked up she saw he’d stretched his arms above his head and was pressing his hands against the headboard.
She wanted to tell him she’d liked how he made her feel, but she didn’t know how to say it without it sounding cheesy or, even worse, needy. And, anyway, it would have been a total mood-breaker to start discussing feelings at that precise moment. She wasn’t there to talk.
Moving her way up his body, she positioned herself so she was sitting on the tops of his thighs, trapping him beneath her.
He looked up at her and gave her a slow smile. ‘I like looking at you, sitting there all sexy and self-assured.’
The comment gave her a little zing of anxiety in her chest. She didn’t want him to be focused on her; she wanted him concentrating on his own pleasure. Reaching forward, she plucked his glasses off his nose and put them carefully on the nightstand next to the bed.
He groaned in grumpy frustration. ‘I can’t see you now.’
‘That’s the idea. You’re going to have to feel me instead,’ she said, tearing open the condom wrapper.
He groaned again, but this time it was filled with pure hunger.
She took a moment to slide the latex over him, enjoying his little growls of pleasure as she did so.
Moving up on her knees, she positioned herself above him, fitting the tip of him inside her. She smiled as she heard his deep intake of breath and he gripped the headboard harder. Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself onto him, relishing the exquisite stretch and pressure as he filled her. She was so keyed up, it felt as though a million nerve-endings had come alive and were dancing with joy inside her.
They fitted together perfectly, the length of him hitting her deep inside, and she couldn’t stop herself from moving straight away, savouring the ebb and flow of sensation as she pressed deep, then pulled up and almost off him again.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa...’ Tristan muttered, as she continued to move and leant back to put a hand on each of his thighs, letting her hair cascade down her back.
She felt him buck beneath her and increased her speed, rocking her pelvis back and forth, delighting in the delicious friction inside her.
Tipping her head back to look at him, she saw him lick the fingers of one hand then slide it between her legs, pressing on her sensitive nub and sending a whole new riot of sensation through her.
Releasing her grip on his legs, she leaned forwards into the pressure of his caress and picked up the pace, feeling the beginnings of an orgasm as it teased her body, shimmering like a halo of pleasure on the horizon.
The dual sensations intensified as she rode him and lost herself in the pure hedonism of the moment. Delicious pressure built and built until she thought she might go crazy with the need for release and finally the feeling broke and she flew over the edge, plummeting into a deep, dark cavern of euphoria, pinpricks of light exploding behind her eyes.
It took a good few moments for her blissed-out state to dispel enough for her to rise from where she’d slumped against Tristan’s chest but, when she did, she saw he was giving her the most wickedly delighted smirk.
‘It sounded like you enjoyed that,’ he said.
‘I might have found it pleasingly uplifting,’ she replied, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice.
‘I’m relieved I didn’t let my bespectacled brothers down.’
‘No, no, I can safely say they’d be more than satisfied with your sterling performance,’ she said, shifting a little, only to discover how hard he still was inside her.
He let out a muffled curse and clenched his fists above his head. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to leave me like this.’
‘You really think I’d be that cruel,’ she said, shifting her hips again to restart the slip-slide motion, conjuring up wonderful aftershocks from her orgasm.
His breath rasped in his throat as they moved faster together and she allowed him to set the pace this time, matching his thrusts as he found his rhythm.
Leaning forwards, she pressed her hands onto his shoulders to hold him against the bed—the sheen