Page 9 of Forbidden Bliss

Soon after, the sensations become all too much and I lose control, my orgasm causing my knees to buckle and tremble as I brace myself against the wall. Whimpering, my hands glide over the hard muscles of his chest and back, urging him to remove the barrier keeping us apart. “I want you inside me. I need you.”

Tristan stands and yanks his shirt over his head before claiming my lips once more. The feel of his bare skin against my breasts sends sparks moving across my nerve endings. I ache to be closer still, to join with him fully and erase any space left between us.

I’m on fire for him, burning from the inside out with a need only he can quench.

His jaw sets as he presses me back against the wall and pushes open my thighs with his firm hands.

I gasp as arousal spreads through my channel like wildfire.

For a moment, he simply examines me. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re mine.”

He slides a knuckle along my wetness and inserts an expert finger into my dripping hole. Licking his lips, he pierces my eyes. “Still so tight for me. You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?”

The sensation drives me wild and a fresh new whimper forms in my throat. “Yes. I’ve been waiting for you, Tristan. Please take me.”

Gripping my legs, he immediately lifts me against the wall and pushes his swift cock into my all-too-willing opening.

A delicious feeling rushes through my core as my opening stretches to accommodate him.

The muscles in his arms flex as he holds and presses me further into the long, stiff rod, while his muscular torso ripples with movement.

Our skin glistens with sweat as my body arches into him. We begin a heated rhythm. Moving instinctively, it’s as if our bodies remember all the right moves, even after all the years apart.

The deep red of desire flushes his cheeks as he drives the cock deeper into me.

My lips part and I moan his name as waves of pleasure wash over me. I want all of him inside me. I wrap my legs around his hips to get more of his gargantuan rod.

The scent of our combined sweat fills my nostrils, mingling with the musky fragrance of our passion.

My vision blurs as his hips drive into me, his muscles flexing and straining with each powerful thrust. His face is a mask of concentration and desire, his eyes darkening with need.

Gripping my thighs with firm hands, he pumps me with his thick member while fanning a breath onto my cheek.

With each thrust, my channel aches and craves for more, like a raw need that builds and builds until it’s too much to contain.

When I finally shatter, it’s an explosion of pure pleasure, my voice crying out his name as if it’s the only word I know.

He watches me, and then his face contorts as his eyelids squeeze shut. His lips part in an animalistic growl while his muscles ripple and relax in three deep thrusts as he pumps his seed onto all walls of my core.

After, he lowers me back on the floor and we hold hands as he leads me to the bed.

We collapse onto the silk sheets in a tangle of limbs, hearts pounding in tandem as we catch our breaths.

Tristan rolls onto his back, pulling me into his embrace. His lips brush the top of my head before his sculpted arms tighten around me. “I’ll never let you go again.”

I nestle against him, resting my ear on his chest to hear the steady beat of his heart.

When dawn’s first light filters through the windows, we make love again—slower this time—while savoring every touch and every kiss. By the time we drift off to sleep, tangled up in each other, I know this is where I belong. Home, at long last, in Tristan’s arms.

After sleeping more, I wake up to an empty bed and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting from downstairs. I slip into his button-down shirt and pad barefoot down the stairs, following the scent.

Tristan glances up from the stove as I enter the kitchen. “Morning, sweetheart. I hope you’re hungry.”

My heart flutters. I could get used to this. To us.

I saunter over to him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his back. “Famished. But not for food.”

He returns my embrace with a smoldering heat in his gaze. “Is that so?” His hands slide under my shirt to caress my skin before he removes a pan from the burner and turns the gas flame off. “Then I believe breakfast will have to wait.”