I cup his face and bring his lips back to mine. My kiss is frenzied, wanting more than anything for him to feel what I feel. Wanting him to become just as lost in our connection as I am. I want him to kiss me back like he can’t stand the thought of any space between us, because that’s exactly how hopelessly I’m aching for him right now.
"Tristan," I whimper against his lips. His hand tightens on my hips in response to my plea. He groans against my lips and hurriedly reaches for the bottom of my sundress to bring it over my head. He pulls away only long enough for the fabric to pass between us, then he's right back to kissing me like it's the last time he'll ever taste my lips.
I reach behind me to undo the clasp of my bra, the fabric sliding down the front of my body. I toss it to the side as he pulls back to look at me.
He looks… awestruck. His eyes take in my swollen lips, the tiny red marks he’s left on my neck, my bare breasts with their pebbled nipples. Only the panties I'm wearing hide any part of my body. His eyes take in every detail.
And suddenly I feel exposed—too naked. My subconscious recognizes that in the past I've always hidden my nakedness, that I would never really let my boyfriends see me this way. I would either keep my clothes on or just not give them the space or the light to pull away and really see me. It always felt too intimate—like they didn't deserve to see who I really am.
I step forward to press against Tristan so he'll stop devouring my body with his fiery gaze. But he gently grips my hips to keep me an arm's-length away.
My eyes widen, alarmed. But he's staring at me so softly, so tenderly, that my panic quickly subsides.
His hand drifts up to caress my cheek. "Don’t ever hide from me,” he whispers simply.
Everything around us, everything before and after this moment, fades away until it feels like the world is frozen and it's just him and I standing there, lost in each other. Nothing exists but this moment and his truth. His words, his gaze… I can't remember how to breathe.
He breaks the moment by stepping forward and kissing me as softly as anyone has ever been kissed. His sudden tenderness brings tears to my eyes, and I wrap my arms around his neck and will them not to fall. I’ve never experienced this level of affection from anyone, let alone someone as hard as Tristan—I’ve never felt it down to my very bones. Between his words and this kiss, I feel my heart swell with happiness.
He gently guides me down to the carpeted floor, onto to my back. He settles above me and props himself up on an elbow, continuing to stroke my cheek. His eyes never leave mine.
He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. His expression is almost pained. "Remy…" he chokes out. But still he hesitates.
The right words don't exist—neither of us could say the right thing in this moment. Our verbal communication is subpar as it is, but our physical communication…
Our physical communication can say exactly what we can't.
I pull him down to me. "I know..." I murmur against his lips.
Something in him breaks. Maybe he understands that this is how we communicate best.
He's back to kissing me hungrily, his tongue sliding into my waiting mouth and his hands trailing desperately over my naked body. His lips move to my neck, then to my collarbone. I gasp as he continues further down, licking and sucking my nipple, gently kissing the curve of my breast. He does the same to the other side before making his way further still. He knows exactly where to kiss me, where to touch me, to elicit a response from my body. It feels almost as if his touches were meant only for me.
That thought lights a flame inside me, and my body automatically arches into his touch. Every piece of me is drawn to him, begging for more contact. I never want him to stop.
He slides down my body and parts my legs so he can kneel between them, holding himself up on his hands. I'm barely breathing by the time I feel him circle my navel with his tongue. His wet kisses trail across my stomach, closer and closer to the only article of clothing I'm still wearing on my overheated body. When his tongue finally slides under the edge, I gasp and arch my back off the floor. I'm going to come undone before he's even done anything.
He presses my stomach back down as he kisses the inside of my thigh. Then he reaches for the straps of my thong and slowly pulls it down my legs.
And just like before, he stares at me—stares at my naked body spread in front of him. Stares like this is the first time he's ever looked at me.
He leans down to gently kiss the inside of my knee. "You're beautiful," he whispers again, his eyes twinkling with awe, as if he can’t get over the fact that in this moment, I am his.
Then he's kissing the inside of my thighs, closer and closer to the heat between my legs. His first lick of my lips has my back bowing off the floor again.
With a groan, he settles on the carpet below me and buries his tongue in my cunt.
It barely takes a few swipes of his tongue before my release shatters me.
I gasp at the sudden explosion of pleasure. Tristan’s been able to get me off from the very first time we slept together, so it shouldn’t surprise me that I just came so quickly, but something feels different now. It’s like we’re completely in sync—like we’ve eliminated any remaining barriers between us. My orgasm is a result of allowing myself to be completely vulnerable and open with Tristan.
Sex, even meaningless sex, comes with a certain expectation of trust. And I realize suddenly that I trust Tristan unconditionally. Maybe I always have.
That thought drives another wave of my orgasm through me. It should probably scare me, the idea that I’m giving him everything, but in this moment I can only sigh in relief, a content smile stretching across my face even as my whole body shakes, drained of all the energy my release has ripped from me. I run my fingers through Tristan's hair, his head still between my legs, still kissing me. I tug him gently, wanting his face near mine. He looks up at me with a hunger in his eyes, then slides up my body to brace a forearm next to my head.
I cup his face and pull his lips to mine—and groan as I taste myself on him.
He slides his tongue in my mouth, offering me a better taste. I take all that he offers, unable to get enough of our chemistry.