"Up." I move my foot until Tristan grips my ankles, then my shin, repeating the gentle, yet firm motions. "Up." And his hands brace my knee and up to my thigh. I part my legs, giving him more space, my panties growing slick. Every brush of his hands against me makes me want more. Makes me want everything. "Shit," I breathe out.
He halts. "Should I stop?"
"Hell, no." I chuckle, meeting his heated gaze. "That's good. That's really good. I just... I just wished we were naked. That's all."
His cheeks turn bright red and he grips my thigh a bit too hard. "Really?"
I grin. "Really, big guy. But don't worry. I won't ask anything you're not comfortable with."
"I'm comfortable with that," he quickly adds, making me chuckle. "Honestly, I... I wouldn't mind it."
He's just so freaking cute. A wall of man, with his viking vibe, but the sweetest heart inside his chest. I sit up, gripping his face and kissing the hell out of him again. His hands shoot around my hips, keeping me up, and race my fingers up his beard into his hair. The elastic band comes off easily and I throw it over my shoulder, gripping his strands and tugging at them. Tristan responds in kind, kissing me with fierce strokes of his tongue that make me forget everything.
First, I get rid of his shirt. Sitting back, I gape at the hard muscles of his chest, exploring his weirdly hard skin down his pecs to his stomach. Man, he has eight-packs. I thought they were a legend, but here they are, beneath my fingers, hard as concrete.
Tristan swallows, hands still around my waist. "Is this good enough?"
A chuckle rips past my lips. "Are you serious? Big guy, you look amazing." And I kiss again and again, until he's gotten used to the action, until his body warms against mine. I only break the kiss to tug my shirt over my hand, but then it's time for Tristan to pull back and gape at me.
The way he looks at me makes me feel powerful. Pure admiration, his pupils flickering with heat as he admires every inch of my exposed skin.
Arching my back, I juggle my tits at him. "Do you like them?" He nods. "Do you want to touch them?"
"You sure?"
Reaching out, I grip his hands and poise them over my breasts. Tristan's fingers flex, curling over the mounds, and a deep groan comes from within his chest. I lean back, fluttering my eyelids shut and allowing him to find his way around my body. He kneads at the mounds, gently, then with growing confidence. When his thumbs brush my nipples, I moan, and he puts more attention into the painful knots.
Every brush of his fingers is lightning. Every stroke fuels the fire inside me.
I swallow hard, then reach for the waistband of his pants. "Let's get rid of the rest," I say in a shaky voice.
He shoots to his feet and strips of his sweatpants and, gods. Sweet, sweet gods. I knew he was big, and he looked big through the pants, but the man has an infant's arm worth of thickness for a cock. My jaw drops. It's strong, hard like the rest of him, pulsing with need. A pearly drop glistens on the tip, and I don't hold back. Leaning forward, I lap at it.
The muscles of his thighs tense. "Gods," he curses, then sits back down and he kisses me this time. Fingers burying in my hair, he devours my lips with bruising strength, and we fall on the mattress together, his hardness poking against the inside of my thigh. Without breaking the kiss, I squirm to get rid of my pants, then my bra and panties. Tristan's body fits mine perfectly, his elbows bracing his weight over me. I race my hands down his back to fist his ass-cheeks, then up to feel his shoulders and arms.
"You're so beautiful," he breathes against my mouth. "So, so beautiful."
"Touch me," I plead, parting my legs for him.
"Where?"
"Everywhere."
His rough palms scrape down my breast, my ribcage, my waist. He grips the curve of my hips, down to my thigh, then up, his fingertips brushing my ass. I lock my ankles behind him, gently guiding his hand under my leg to my slick core. Tristan catches his breath.
"It's wet," he breathes against me, cock pulsing, tapping my mound.
"It means I'm aroused. It means I want you really, really bad."
His throat bobs. "You sure?"
I nod, then move my hips, holding his wrist in place. Guiding his fingertips up and down my pussy, I bring the juices to my clit, then pause his fingers there. "Feel that nub? Stroke it. Gently."
Tristan does as I say, and he keeps such fierce attention on my face it's amazing. Every high-pitched moan makes him insist on that perfect spot, with the perfect pressure, the perfect speed. I circle my hips and he keeps up his pace, speeding or slowing with how hard I breathe. He reads me like an open book, studying my features, pouring his heart into learning what I like.
Every stroke of his fingers bring me closer. I titter on the edge, my head dropping back. So close. I'm so close. Gripping his hand, I pull it away. "Let me finish. Put it in me."
His face explodes in redness again. "Put it in you? Are you sure? It's..."