Tristan (The Kendall Family #1) (2 page)

“I like seeing you with your pants around your ankles,” Tristan said huskily, green eyes afire.

She flushed and buttoned the shirt a bit more. “If you were a gentleman instead of a pig, you’d offer to help me out of my boots.”

His eyes locked with hers, that damnable smirk in them mixing with passion. “Anything to get my hands on you.”

She pursed her lips, annoyed to have walked into that one, but there was no backing down now. He slipped both hands under the shirt at her waist, his fingers seeming almost to burn her with their touch. Her nipples hardened, pushing against the white cotton of her undershirt. She sucked in a breath as he lifted her onto the table behind her as if she weighed nothing, the cool wood against her butt at odds with the heat between her thighs.

Then he got down on one knee. A flush of emotion went over her at the sight. He was supposed to have proposed to her one day, the bastard. How dare he get into that position now? She felt nauseated as her heart lurched from the dead stop it had been at for years straight into higher RPMs than she was able to handle. She was going to end up like the bike she’d wrecked if she didn’t watch out.

“When did you start to ride?” Tristan asked, gripping her ankle firmly. One hand toyed with the boot zipper as he gazed up at her through the blonde locks falling over his eyes. He used to look up at her like that while licking her pussy, which reacted to him now with a burst of wetness.

“A year ago,” she admitted through clenched teeth, keeping her knees closed so he didn’t see the growing wet spot on her panties.

“What changed? I couldn’t get you on mine back in the day. You wouldn’t even watch me race.” He slid the first boot off slowly and deliberately, just like he used to before making love to her.

“I’ve done a lot of growing up since then.”

“You certainly have,” he said. His hot gaze made her pulse race. She remembered that look from when he was about to ravage her. “What caused the change?”

She sighed heavily to control her breathing better, but she wouldn’t tell him the truth. She just sat there drinking in the sight of him and silently cursing herself for wanting more of it.

“It wasn’t a man, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said quietly, afraid that if she spoke louder her voice would tremble.

“Good. I wouldn’t want another man touching what’s mine.”

She flushed. “I’m not
yours
, Tristan.”

“You
were
.”

“
Were
. You could’ve had me forever but you walked out, remember?” She straightened then, to press her full breasts and her hard nipples against the shirt so he could see exactly what he’d been missing.

“Yeah, I remember. I’ve regretted it every day of my life.” He slipped her sock off, gently caressing her toes because he knew she liked that, and when he sucked on them. The toenails were hot pink like her panties, which drew his eyes up from her feet again and again. He moved her leg away from the other as if by accident. He murmured, “When did you get back in town? No one told me when I asked about you.”

Her heart leapt at the revelation that he’d checked up on her. “A few months ago. If I’d known you’d be here, I never would’ve come back.”

He winced at that and she felt a pang of regret mixed with pleasure. So she could hurt him. That was a good start, but that’s not what she really wanted to do to him. Well, not really. S&M had never been her thing but there was no reason she couldn’t hurt him a little while fucking his brains out. At times they’d done it so hard it had indeed hurt. She’d never known an orgasm could be so pleasurable as to be painful. It wasn’t the only thing Tristan had taught her about her body. And no one had ever compared to him, not that she’d let anyone really try. He’d ruined her for other men. It was one reason she’d spent five years cursing his name and imagining smacking him.

His cheek was still red from her slap, and she frowned, wanting to kiss the wound, which made her want to slap him again.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Tristan began, pulling off the other boot and sock. Then he leaned forward and kissed her thigh with such sweet sincerity that she shuddered in pleasure. “I was a stupid kid and didn’t know what I had in you. If the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that I was a fool to leave you.”

“Yes, you were,” she whispered, feeling lightheaded. Her heart lurched with hope and fear.

He pulled the body suit off her ankles, then resumed kissing her thighs and gently spreading her legs bit by bit. Instead of working his way up, he went down, and she knew her toes would end up in his mouth any second if she didn’t stop him. It took all her strength to pull both feet up to the edge of the table, knees up to her chest, legs tight together, as if to deny him this. She realized too late that she’d now practically presented her toes to him, for they were right where his lips had just been. He leaned forward and kissed them. She inadvertently flexed her toes in reaction to the caress, so that he could slip his tongue in between them, and he obliged, his tongue flicking in, around, and under before his mouth closed over several toes. He began to suck as she gasped.

“Tristan, please,” she whispered.

But he didn’t stop, just began caressing the underside of her thighs. His tongue danced from toe to toe as he moved his warm, wet mouth to the other foot, reminding her what he could do with it. Without warning, he firmly pushed her legs apart, and saw her soaked panties. His head lifted from her toes and descended onto her crotch as he kissed her pussy through the pink underwear. She moaned and leaned back, her feet slipping over his shoulders and down his back as he began licking around her moist folds but not touching them directly.

“I love torturing you,” he murmured.

“You’re so cruel,” she said.

“You love it.”

“God, yes.”

Both of his hands slid up to her waist, onto her belly, fingers caressing her sides as his hand slipped under her shirt. The steady progress toward her full breasts and straining nipples was meant to be tortuously methodical, building anticipation that made her lay all the way down and arch her torso into his hands, which finally cupped her tits. He squeezed gently, firmly, engorging her nipples with blood. The motion caused those twin peaks to brush along her cotton shirt again and again, and she knew he was doing it on purpose, turning something as innocent as fabric into a sex toy.

By then, he’d noticed her thong was the rip-away type. He took it between his teeth and pulled toward him, exposing her soft pink folds to his eyes and the cool air. She felt the panties snap away and gripped the table hard. He lifted her shirt over her nipples, exposing aching skin, and she shuddered at the freedom. The fingers of both his hands lightly traced her tits up to the tops of her nipples just as his tongue gently licked her pussy from the bottom to the top. Victoria gasped.

“You taste so good,” he said.

“Oh, I miss your tongue, Tristan!”

She pulled her legs up to surrender her pussy to his mouth. His tongue slid up and down so lightly that it almost tickled. Then he ravaged the soft nub between her folds at the same time that his hands pinched her nipples. She let out a cry. Tristan alternated then, both hands pinching together, then tonguing her clit, then the nipple clench, then tongue on clit, over and over as he worked her into a frenzy. Her hips began to gyrate up and down and he let go of her breasts to put both hands on her ass, preventing any escape as he thrust his tongue into her pussy. But there was no stopping her hips, which pushed her folds against his mouth again and again while she gripped the table for leverage.

Suddenly she sucked in a huge breath and froze. A deep orgasm began to build, gathering from her breasts toward her belly, and down from her still-wet toes up her legs. The calm before the storm left in a rush, as shooting spikes of pleasure coursed toward her pussy, which seemed to gasp in anticipation of the fury about to rip through it. A moment of fear struck Victoria before her pussy erupted, and she screamed out Tristan’s name as she lost control of herself. Stars shot behind her closed eyes and she thrashed on the table, a wave of cum soaking her vagina and dripping down her ass onto the table, except for what Tristan eagerly licked up. She lost all sense of time and place. Tristan had made her cum again, after five long years, and only that mattered. No one else had ever done that to her, and no one ever would. She’d never let them. Her pussy belonged to him.

And he was back. For the moment, she didn’t care how long it was for.

She looked up, dazed and limp like a rag doll, to see Tristan standing between her legs. He’d somehow stripped himself and stood nude, his huge cock proudly straining into the air, the head covered in pre-cum she wanted to taste. He wore a look of such lust on his face that she began panting as he lifted her feet over his shoulders, eagerness making her helpless, and loving it.

“Oh, Tristan,” she moaned.

“My God, Victoria,” he whispered, “you’re magnificent. I have to fill you.”

She shuddered in response. “I don’t want anything in between you and me. I’m on birth control.”

“No condom? I’m clean.”

“Me, too.” She gasped as the head of his penis touched her wet folds. “Please fuck me, Tristan.”

“A half-hearted beg gets only half a cock.”

She smiled and cried out, “Fuck me, Tristan!”

He grinned. Then he slid his cock up and down her folds while his hands moved up to her breasts again. A flick of her nipples sent a fresh jolt to her pussy. Her eyes pleaded with him and he pushed his cock in so the head disappeared inside her. She gasped, stretching to accommodate his girth, gazing up at him to see a sex flush on his red chest.

“So handsome,” she whispered, near to tears with longing. Tristan leaned over her, letting her legs slide down so he could reach her ruby lips. He hovered just above, their lips near to touching, their eyes drinking each other in; lust, adoration, affection, and buried love shone in both of their gazes.

“Time to claim you at least,” Tristan whispered.

She slid both hands into his golden locks with more tenderness than she thought possible. “Yes!”

He consummated the kiss with a softness that surprised her. She pressed back, and suddenly they crushed each other’s lips. And just when she thought she might faint from longing, Tristan rammed his hard cock to the hilt inside Victoria Lane, his heavy balls resting against her ass, his pubic bone against her clit, and the length of him filling her to the brim with burning desire.

Her velvety softness, slick wetness, and furnace-like heat awed him. Their moans and cries sounded like crazed animals. For a moment, they were too overcome to do more than kiss madly at each other, caught between lustful tongue lashing and the sweet crushing of their lips together. All sense of time vanished, but finally Tristan recovered enough to remember there was more to this.

Gathering her in an embrace from which she could not escape, and did not want to leave—ever—he slid his cock out most of the way, then all the way back in, rocking himself back and forth against her with each full entry, each time snuggling her pubic bone. Again and again he did it, all the while holding her tightly as she wildly caressed his hair, shoulders, and back, their mouths more intimately entwined than their privates. Sweat slicked their bodies. Moans and cries filled the air. The windows fogged up and the world disappeared around them.

In the throes of passion, Victoria forgave Tristan everything and anything, clinging to him like the enraptured girl she’d once been, before she was aware of the pain of heartbreak that awaited her. She resented him no longer, waves of love overpowering her. Any last resistance fell away as an intense orgasm built in her pussy and surged down her legs and arms, as though the pleasure might spurt from her hands and feet with the cries of pleasure erupting from her mouth.

Tristan’s body had passed the point of no return and he braced himself. His sac and anus tightened as the orgasm built, frighteningly swiftly, to a crescendo. He cried out as if in pain and burst inside her pussy, thick gobs of cum pumping into her with each pulsating throb. His engorged cock grew even thicker, leaving no room inside her for his seed, which dripped out of her.

Victoria looked up at Tristan’s flushed face, seeing amazement and vulnerability in his beautiful green eyes. The sweetheart she had loved was still up in there. And down in her pussy. She smiled then, eyes briefly teary before she closed them and kissed his luscious lips, pulling him down on her again. Tristan collapsed on her softness as best he could in his position. His cock still throbbed, and her pussy spasmed around his manhood as if the two were having their own private conversation down there, speaking in a language of pulsating throbs they both understood. Their owners kissed tenderly, living in the moment, a heaven made of human flesh, desire, and fulfillment.

Chapter 3 – It Still Burns

Tristan wouldn’t have been surprised if he were, in fact, in heaven, for nothing could possibly feel better than this. He snuggled against Victoria’s neck, noticing her subtle scent, as she wasn’t one for perfume. God, how he missed the smell of her. And everything else. The fire in her brown eyes had been unlike anything he’d ever seen. Even on the day he’d broken up with her, that light hadn’t appeared. Only tears. The cuteness of her heart-shaped face and pert nose had only made those tears seem all the more out of place, as if someone so sweet should never know pain. That he was the one causing it had made him feel awful.

But now the only thing he felt was relief to see her again, to hear her voice, to feel that smooth skin, like fine porcelain, a cascade of hair like milk chocolate across white chocolate. She was sweeter than both in spades. His heart ached as the years of missing her caught up to him all at once. He was a fool, he now knew. Longing rapidly grew in the empty hole in his heart.

He propped himself up on one elbow to gaze down on her, seeing the velvety brown hair spread out around her on the maple table, her eyes alight with inner life, and her lips parted. She looked so sweet, warm, and inviting that her softness overcame him. He wanted to protect her, to keep her from anyone but him, and to make her his. She moved beneath him then and the sensation up his cock brought a moan of delight from him. She grinned then with a malicious intent that brought a slow smile to his own face. She rocked her hips against him as Tristan shuddered, his erection having lost none of itself. She didn’t have the leverage she needed for riding him, so he took over, pulling out of her to a cry of disappointment.