Finding Love's Wings (25 page)

Gently he places one hand at about the middle of my back and the other cups my face. His thumb starts to gently stroke my cheek.

I feel his erection against my stomach. My sex heats from deep, deep down, heating my blood as it spreads throughout my body. I feel like I'm going to burst into flames.
 

I look up and our eyes meet. His beautiful, warm blue eyes. "Kiss me, Tristan," I whisper, and even I can hear the lust in my voice, but that doesn't stop him. He leans down. Slowly, painfully slow. His lips inching ever nearer mine. It's like a tease.
 

Stepping back slightly, I bring the length of my body into full contact with his. My back is arched, my breasts pressed into his chest. I hear his sharp intake of breath as he registers that his erection is pushing at my skirt, begging entrance into its warm sanctuary.
 

A mere hairsbreadth away from my lips, he stops.
 

"I have an idea," he says.
 

He moves his right hand from my face down to my chin, my neck, my shoulder, down my back, until it finds that sensitive spot where my butt meets my thighs. It tickles, and I squirm. He lets out a breathy chuckle and begins moving his fingers, forcing me to squirm some more, and I start to giggle.
 

"I love that sound," he says, though I can barely hear him over my fit of laughter.

Then, out of nowhere, he grabs my butt with both hands and pushes up. I squeal.
 

"Wrap your arms around me, beautiful, and hang on."
 

Blushing again, I do as I'm told, but before I have a firm grip on him, he picks me up off the ground. For a moment, terror grips my body, and I tighten my grip reflexively. Then I realize what he's done and start to giggle again.
 

"What are you doing?" I'm smiling so hard my cheeks are starting to burn.
 

"Kissing you," he says.
 

My fingers grip his hair, and I pull his lips to mine with a crushing force. His lips meet mine in blinding passion. They are soft, warm, and sensual against my own, and we quickly find a rhythm. Conscious thought eludes me as my head begins to swim. My heart is racing. My breathing becomes ragged. His own breathing mirrors mine, but he doesn't pull back, and I pull him tighter to me.
 

His tongue caresses my lips, seeking the perfect opportunity to enter my mouth. I feel his teeth graze my upper lip, then the lower, trying to tug. It feels so good I don't want to let him in. He grunts in frustration. It has to be one of the cutest sounds I've ever heard, and I smile. He senses he's winning, so he grabs my ass cheeks, squeezing hard. I gasp, and he steals the opportunity. With my distraction comes his warm, wet tongue, stroking against my own. I feel like I can't breathe. His kissing slows, and I notice that he, like me, is gasping for air. I feel him start to sway and his grip tighten. He slowly lowers himself to a sitting position in the sand, taking me with him.
 

During our decent, our tongues never stop. I feel him lift me slightly as he sits, and as he brings me back down, I quickly realize why: his cock is rock hard against my labia. It's the perfect spot. The slightest friction against his erection and I'm going to be a quivering mess. I giggle again because I can tell that he is smiling through our kisses. I flick my hips ever so slightly, grinding my clit against his erection. A moan escapes his lips. The sound heats my core, and in an instant my sex is absolutely soaked. I grind again. This time I moan. I feel his cock twitch between us. Slowly I pull my mouth away from his, disengaging our lips and tongues by degrees.
 

Starting at his chin, I kiss and nibble my way along his jawline to his ear. He groans again and falls back into the sand, bringing me on top of him. He releases his hold on my butt and gradually drags his hands to my hips. He tugs at my hips so that my clit rubs against his cock again.
 

"Keep that up, Tristan," I whisper in his ear, "and you're going to make me come."
 

He smiles and does it again, this time pressing me onto his erection just a little bit harder. He pulls and pushes, pulls and pushes, and I let out a whimpered moan against his neck. His moan in response is enough to set off the tightening of my sex. The contraction of the orgasm has me stiff and whimpering against his neck. I bite my lip to try and stop it from consuming me.
 

"Let me hear you, Cami. Let me hear you come." His words have my orgasm at its peak. My eyes close and he pulls my sex against his and the bright white flashes of pure pleasure are visible behind my eyelids. Days of torture and I come unglued with friction. I release my lip and moan unabashedly against his neck. I'm panting, desperate for the air my lungs seem to be lacking.
 

I lie across his chest, and my breathing slowly returns to normal after a few minutes of heavy breathing. Tristan seems content to let me recover, and my heart warms at the subtle consideration for me.

I feel his hands release my hips and start stroking along my outer thighs until he feels my skirt end, a touch of skin, and the top of my thigh high stockings.
 

"You're wearing stockings!" he growls.
 

I smile and whisper in his ear, "A garter, too."

"Jesus fuck, you're trying to kill me here, aren't you?"

He pulls the hem of my skirt up, exposing my ass, and I laugh again. "I'm wearing a thong too, you know," I whisper wickedly.

"Fuck me! You are going to kill me."

"I don't see what's stopping you."

He hesitates just long enough that I finally look at him. His eyes are closed, his face turned up toward the stars. Still he says nothing and doesn't move.
 

All my years of insecurities wash over me. Something has stopped him and I have no idea what it is. I start to sit up, but then his hands are on my back, holding me in place.
 

"Please don't move."

"What's wrong, Tristan?" I say quietly, trying hard not to let the flood of emotion crush me. I don't fool him. His eyes fly open and he looks straight into mine.
 

"I'm scared, Cami." He's whispering so low that I can barely hear him.
 

What in the world is he scared of? I look at him with a puzzled expression.
 

"For two reasons," he says. "One, I was with the same woman for five years and I want you so much more than I ever thought possible, it scares me." He pauses briefly, then goes on. "And reason two, it's silly, but I'm afraid of hurting you."

Still puzzled. Okay, granted, the same woman thing, I get that. There's nothing wrong with being apprehensive about your first time with someone. I have my own apprehensions. But is he trying to say I move too fast? That I pushed him into something he's not comfortable with?
 

"I was just going with the flow, Tristan. I...I'm sorry if I did something to—"

He cuts me off, "You did nothing wrong, Cami. I want you. Believe me, I want you more than anything."

I'm really trying to trust him, but I have never actually been denied before, and this feels a lot like rejection. Trying to change the subject, I go with the easiest question I can think of. "Why do you think you will hurt me?"

He smiles at me and lets out a breathy laugh. "Give me your hand and slide back just a bit."
 

I do as I'm told and he takes my hand, turns it palm down, and brings it down on his erection. He starts at the junction of my sex and his, because a good portion is still underneath of me. His finger, seemingly accidentally, strokes my clit through my thong. I moan at the contact and he smiles again.
 

"Hmm, this could be fun," he says.
 

I'm completely lost in the sensation that begins to radiate throughout my body. My clit is still swollen and excited from only a few minutes ago. The contact instantly has me warmed right back up. But instead of continuing, he ignores my clit and begins to slide my hand up the length of his huge cock.
 

"I can do that," I whisper, and he releases my hand.
 

Slowly I push back down to the base of his cock, and then I slide my hand back up to the tip. I watch as his eyes roll up and under his eyelids. His head falls back to the sand and he moans again. I'm really beginning to enjoy the sounds he makes.
 

"So by hurting me, you're concerned about this big boy making its way deep inside me?" As I say this, I continue stroking him. He's huge and thick.
 

"Cami, I'm hung like a horse. We're on a beach, in public, which seriously hinders me from taking the time I need with you. This is hardly the right place for our first time." He is watching my hand stroke his cock through his pants.
 

"Your room or mine?"

He smiles but says nothing.
 

My self-consciousness floods back, threatening to completely destroy this entire moment. I slowly pull my hand away and maneuver myself off of him. I turn a hundred and eighty degrees and sit in the sand, knees pulled up to my chest, head resting against them, looking away from Tristan. The abrupt lack of contact has me feeling cold. I shiver.

"Cami?"

I don't answer. How can I explain this to him without sounding like an idiot? Frankly I'm already beginning to feel stupid for climbing off of him.
 

He sits up and slides closer to me. "Cami?" He takes a deep breath. "Cami, what did I do?"

"Nothing."

"Don't you dare pull that bullshit with me." I can tell he's trying to get my attention. Then I feel the tug on my left wrist, trying to pull my arm away from my shins.

"I'm sorry," I say, still looking away.

"Why are you sorry? Please, Cami, I'm in the dark here."

"I know, I'm sorry." I pull in a ragged breath and turn my head toward him. He tugs at my arm again, and this time I let him pull it away from my shins. He takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. Our hands fit perfectly. I feel my heartbeat increase. They fit so perfectly, like they were made for each other to hold. This isn't the first time we've held hands, but it's the first time I notice them like this.

"Tristan, this is going to sound so stupid. It's embarrassing on many levels."

"Try me."

"I..." I hesitate. "I've never been rejected before. I didn't know what—"

He cuts me off. "Cami, I'm not rejecting you. You saw it, and you felt it. I want you more than anything right now. I'm still rock hard and not walking away. So please believe me."

"It's hard for me to believe, Tristan. I ask you whose room and you don't reply. I'm not sure what to think..."

"Cami, I didn't reply because, believe it or not, I have some self-control." I try to interrupt him, but he cuts me off. "The only reason I'm using any self-control is because I have so much respect for you. And most of all...most of all," he repeats and pauses. I look at him, willing him to continue what he was trying to say. He sits silent for a minute.
 

Shame washes over me, sudden and so strong I want to get up and walk back to the hotel. Shame because he's just barely broken up with his girlfriend of
five
years, who disrespected him in the worst possible way, and here I am practically forcing myself on him.
 

He looks at me, and I know he can see the sadness in my eyes. He seems to be wrestling with his own shame.
 

"Cami, you deserve so much better than me, than being bedded by me so quickly. I don't want to ruin whatever chance I may have with you, so I need to do this right."

The words are sweet and my heart swells, but also the statement confuses me. "What exactly are you trying to say, Tristan?

He looks out at the water. "What I'm trying to say..." He pauses. "I mean..."

After what seems like an eternity I ask, "Tristan?"

"I'm trying to say that I am scared to sleep with you because I don't want you to feel like a rebound from Layla. I don't want to think of it like that and I'm concerned that if we sleep together too soon, it will become just sex. A weekend fling, a..." He pauses again. "I'm trying to tell you that I really like you, Cami. More than I should, given that I hardly know you." He smiles at me, a tentative smile. "I really want to get to know you, for you and not just for your body."

I'm completely taken aback. I suck air into my lungs so fast that I might pass out. After a couple of deep breaths I say to him, "I really want to get to know you, too." How can I say this? "Tristan, the only way I know how to be close to anyone is through sex." It's true. "I've never been in a relationship outside of the bedroom. The only way I know is my body. I'm sorry I pulled away from you. I don't know how to handle rejection. I really do want to get to know you, for you."

"I hope so, because I feel like we really need to do this right. I'm not sure how or why, but I've felt this way since I saw you in the airport in Los Angeles on Wednesday. I saw you again in Honolulu, and again shopping in the mall on Friday, and then finally in the bar Friday night."

"What do you mean L.A., Honolulu, shopping? Why didn't you say anything before?" I'm out of breath, shocked.

He's smiling again, but he looks down as though embarrassed. "Yeah, I saw you in the first class lounge Wednesday. Well, actually, I really only saw your wings." He pauses. "When I saw them, I saw them as a sign from my mother, a sign that things were going to...work out. I saw you again on the plane to Honolulu. You were so wrapped up in some book. You had your ear buds in." How in the hell did I not notice this? "Then, when we landed in Honolulu, I tried to follow you, but I was swarmed by a bunch of teenage girls."

"That was you?" I gasp. I saw the commotion, but at the time, I didn't think anything of it.
 

"You noticed that?" he asks. I nod. "Yeah, that was me. By the time I became untangled from them, you were gone. Tyson was dragging me off to my connecting flight to Bora Bora."