He pulls my panties to the side and kisses me softly there . . . oh fucking hell.
I feel his exhale on my skin, and I hold my breath as I wait for a reaction.
He inhales sharply and then, as if unable to help it, licks me deep with his thick tongue. He moans in appreciation, and it sends a rumble through my sex. My legs nearly cave in under me. I glance up and catch sight of us in the mirror.
Me in my black lace underwear. Him in a full suit and tie, on his knees in front of me.
I look down at him, and his eyes are closed in pleasure, as if he might die if he doesn’t get to taste me. Impatient with licking around my panties, he slides them down, throws them to the side, and then walks me backward over to the bed.
He slowly takes my bra off and then lays me down and spreads my legs wide.
His eyes roam over my flesh. I’m completely at his mercy.
Here for his pleasure.
We stare at each other as the energy swirls between us like wildfire.
When Tristan Miles has me naked . . . nothing else matters.
All I care about is pleasing him.
He bends and takes my thighs in his hands and holds me wide as his tongue begins to swirl deep in my sex.
My back arches off the bed, and I writhe beneath him. My hands twist in his wavy hair, and I drag his face up so I can look at him. His lips glisten with my arousal, and his eyes are a beautiful shade of “come fuck me.”
“Get up here,” I whisper.
He licks me again, his eyes closing once more, and it becomes very clear that he isn’t in control of his actions anymore. He’s working on instinct now, sheer male instinct. His body has taken over; it doesn’t matter what I ask for. He needs to do it his way . . . at least this time, anyway.
He keeps eating me, deeper and deeper as he loses all control. His face thrashes from side to side, and his whiskers burn my sensitive skin.
Fucking hell . . . so good.
My back begins to arch in pleasure; my face contorts as I try to hold it. “Tris,” I whimper as I pull his hair between my fingers. “Up here. Come up here.” I want to kiss him.
I desperately want to kiss him.
He grazes his teeth against my clitoris, and I cry out as I burst into orgasm. I shudder hard as he softly licks me through it. For five minutes he continues as I stare at the ceiling and shudder and see stars.
I think that’s the hardest I’ve ever come. God damn, he’s so fucking good at this.
I come to my senses and realize that he’s still completely dressed in his suit.
I sit up with a renewed determination and crawl onto my knees. “Stand up,” I breathe.
His eyes flicker with fire, and he stands up as I unzip his trousers. His cock is rock hard and sitting above the waist of his briefs. Preejaculate is beading on the end. I should undress him. I should take my time.
What I want is to suck him . . . hard. I want to make him blow, fully dressed in his expensive suit.
I kiss his dick, and he runs his hand tenderly through my hair as he looks on.
What is it about the two of us together?
We don’t even need to speak; it’s like we have a secret language. I can tell what he’s thinking, just by his touch. I begin to lick him with a flat tongue. Our eyes are locked.
He loves this.
He pulls my hair back into a ponytail on top of my head as he watches, and I smile around him. He wants in my mouth-that’s why he’s pulling my hair back from my face.
I lick everywhere, but I won’t put him completely in my mouth, and he begins to move my head by the grip he has on my hair to try to get in.
I lick up the length of his shaft, and then I whisper, “Fuck my mouth, Mr. Miles.”
He inhales deeply and pushes his cock down my throat. His preejaculate is salty, and the grip he has on my hair near painful. He slides out and then pumps back in as his eyes roll back in his head. “Fuck,” he moans.
“Harder,” I whisper around him.
He pushes in deep again, and this time I flick my tongue. His cock jerks, and he staggers forward.
He’s close already.
We find a rhythm. His hands grip my hair, and as I kneel naked on the bed, he fucks my mouth. Long and deep, the moans coming out of him are the hottest sounds I’ve ever heard.
His grip becomes painful as he slams into my mouth, and he tips his head back. With a deep moan, he comes in a rush. The hot semen fills my mouth, and I drink it down like a pro.
He struggles for air and tips his head back to the ceiling, and I lick him up as I continue to empty his beautiful body.
Then I stand and take his jacket off, and I undo his tie and slowly unbutton his shirt.
He looks on in a strange detached state, his face full of awe.
I slide his shirt over his shoulders and am blessed with a view of his thick, muscular chest with its scattering of dark hair. “Tristan,” I whisper as I kiss his chest. “I’ve missed your beautiful body.” I kiss lower and take him into my mouth again, and he pulls me up.
He kisses me, and it’s tender and meaningful and everything that a hotel hookup is not. “Fuck me,” he whispers. “You need to fuck me, Anderson.”
I pull his pants down in one quick movement. He disappears and grabs a handful of condoms with urgency. He throws them on the side table and rolls one on. He pushes me backward, and I fall onto the mattress with a giggle as he climbs over me.
In one hard pump he slides in deep. Our mouths fall open as we stare at each other.
Our hearts racing hard in our chests.
He pulls out and slides back in deep, and my body ripples around his as it tries to deal with his size.
Not all men are created equal. Tristan Miles is bona fide proof of that.
Sex with him . . . is otherworldly.
“I’ve been looking forward to wrecking your vagina all day, Anderson,” he whispers. I burst out laughing, and he slams in hard. “Get your fucking legs up.”