Trystan’s presence helps. Heat seeps from his skin, chasing away the chill I haven’t been able to shake. I nuzzle the warm skin of his neck and feel an aching desire for more. More skin on skin. More warmth.
As if he can read my mind, he takes the spell book from my hands and sets it on the bedside table. Then he grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifts my face to his for a kiss.
It’s soft and slow at first. Just a promise that he’s here, that he’ll take care of me, that nobody can hurt me while he’s holding me. Then I slide my fingers through his messy chocolate-brown hair, and the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, until I’m clinging to him like I’m drowning and nothing else matters but the feel of his skin against mine.
He tugs my shirt off over my head, and I lift my arms to help him before reaching for the hem of his shirt to reciprocate. I draw back for a second, staring at the sculpted planes of muscle on his chest, the ridges of his abs. He’s beautiful.
Sometimes I still can’t believe that he’s mine. That any of these men are.
As if to prove to myself that it’s all truly real, I reach out and run my fingers down his stomach, watching his body tense under my gentle, exploratory touch. My hand drifts lower, to the waistband of his pants, and I can see the outline of his cock already straining against the fabric.
I brush my hand over his bulge, and Trystan groans quietly.
“You keep doing that, and this is gonna turn into more than a goodnight kiss.”
I grin at the hungry, possessive warning in his voice. “I want more than a goodnight kiss.”
“Well, in that case…”
He doesn’t even bother finishing the sentence. He just lifts me up and deposits me on my back on the bed, settling his body against mine as he kisses me like he really fucking means it this time. He grinds against me a little, letting me feel how much he wants me, and I rake my fingernails down his back, making him shudder.
Finally, he breaks away and kisses a path down my chest and over the plane of my stomach, tugging my sleep shorts off as he settles between my legs. I bend my knees to help him, and he tosses them away before nudging my thighs a little wider.
His gaze flicks up to meet mine, and I have a vivid memory of the time he made me tell him exactly what I wanted before he ate me
out in the hallway. But tonight, he doesn’t make me say a thing. He doesn’t make me beg.
He just gives me what I—what we both—need. His tongue licks a path up the line of my core, ending at my clit and flicking back and forth over the sensitive bud. Then he drags it up and down and side to side in a pattern I can’t even guess at, lapping at me until I’m gasping and writhing beneath him. My hands delve into his chocolate-brown hair, holding him in place as I arch up toward his face, shamelessly pressing myself harder against the onslaught of his tongue.
When he chuckles, the vibrations of the sound are a whole new kind of pleasure, and I whine softly.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, pulling away for a second. “I’ve got you.”
His tongue finds my clit again at the same moment he slides two fingers into me, and I pant out a gasping breath as he curls them, rubbing at a secret spot inside me.
“Trystan. Please!”
His fingers move faster, his tongue matching their pace. He pushes me right to the edge and lets me hover there for what seems like an eternity—and just when I think I can’t take it any longer, he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks.
Little lightning bolts of sensation shoot through me, and I throw my head back as I come hard. My legs clamp around Trystan’s head, and I feel the vibration of his laugh again as he keeps licking me, driving me through the orgasm in rolling waves.
When I finally relax my legs, melting back into the bed, he looks up. The lower half of his face is wet with my arousal, and my clit flutters with aftershocks as he licks his lips. Then he rolls onto the mattress beside me, tugging me over so that I’m draped on top of him. I feel the hardness of his cock against my ass, and when I rise up onto my knees, he helps me position myself over him.
I reach between us and line him up, and then I sink down, impaling myself on his thick length.
A contented sigh falls from my lips, as if I’ve been missing an essential piece of myself and I just found it.
“Let me watch you fuck me,” Trystan murmurs, his voice a rough burn. He catches my hands and pins them to his chest, holding my gaze.
Tentatively, I roll my hips. It feels so good I can’t resist doing it again. And again. I slide up and down his cock, grinding my clit against the base and letting my eyes drift closed as I give myself over to it.
It’s slow and deep, neither of us rushing toward the finish line. I don’t even particularly care about coming again—I just want to hold on to this feeling of Trystan inside me.
But there’s no holding it off forever.
Eventually, our breathing grows faster, our movements more choppy. My second orgasm builds like a tidal wave, looming higher and higher until finally I can’t stop it from crashing over me.
As I flutter around him, Trystan sits up suddenly, smashing our chests to together as he holds me close. I feel him pulse inside me, and I wrap my arms around him too, holding on with everything I have.