All or Nothing at All
Page 80
“Oh, God.”
“Oh, yes.” With one quick thrust, he took her from behind, his cock buried deep into her wet, swollen channel. She gasped, pushing back against him for more, caught between the need to get closer to the vibrator and the ache in her body for him to fill. He chuckled with satisfaction, slowly pushing in and out of her with steady strokes, then laid the toy right against her clit.
She jerked with sharp waves of pleasure.
He removed the vibrator.
“Tristan.”
He started the torture over again. Deep thrusts in and out. Vibrator rotating in small circles. She cried and begged, and he finally pressed the pink toy against her hard nub.
She grasped for the climax, hovering with shattering, brutal tension.
He removed his hand again.
Panting for breath, going mad from the sexual torture, she let out a keening wail, bending over to force himself to bury deeper inside her. “Damn you,” she whispered. “Take me now.”
“I want you to scream.”
He plunged inside her and held the vibrator at the highest setting directly against her clit.
She climaxed. She screamed. She bucked as the shattering release poured through her. He forced her to ride out the very last convulsions, then picked up her shaking body. Quickly drying her off, he carried her to the bed and laid her down gently. His knees straddled her as he climbed onto the mattress and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her lids closed, the satisfying weight of her orgasm making her limbs weak. She felt her legs drift apart, and the hard tip of his cock poised at her dripping entrance, ready to fill her.
“Look at me, baby.”
She did.
Whiskey-colored eyes blazed with fierce possession and male satisfaction. Jaw tight, lips set in a thin line, he shook with primal lust, barely contained by his usual control. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded.
And suddenly she didn’t care anymore about holding back or being safe. Her entire being pulsed with the need to give him the truth. “You,” she whispered. “I can’t fight this any longer.” She reached up and gripped his hair, looking deep into his eyes. “I love you, Tristan. I just want you.”
The words ripped through the air. Tristan held himself over her in perfect stillness, breath coming out in ragged pants, sweat gleaming from his brow, his gaze piercing into those gorgeous emerald eyes, naked with raw emotion, stripped of all barriers. Everything inside shifted, cracked open, and poured out of his soul.
She loved him.
In one swift movement, he pushed her legs up and claimed her in one hard thrust.
He pressed his forehead to hers, his entire body shuddering as he fought for control. Buried to the hilt, he felt her squeeze his cock mercilessly with her wet heat, and her nails dug deep into his shoulders, drawing blood. He clutched her hips, holding her in place as he pinned her to the mattress, his hungry gaze devouring her face, devouring her submission.
Her name sighed from his lips.
Then he moved.
He fucked her with total abandon, giving her as much as she gave him, claiming her completely with each hard, deep stroke. Lowering his head, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue inside the silky wet cave, drunk on the taste of her. Her body tightened underneath him, and she cried out in a throaty gasp he swallowed whole. When she shattered completely, he threw his head back and roared with abandon, emptying his seed, jerking helplessly from the brutal release.
Afterward, he held her tight, his hand stroking her hair. They lay in the darkness, not speaking, limbs entangled, breath mingling together.
She loved him.
He couldn’t deny how the words affected him. His soul practically shuddered with satisfaction and the knowledge they belonged together. There’d never been another woman in his life who completed him. Each one before was a shadow of Sydney, a reminder of what he’d never be able to have again.
But now he could.
It was as if she’d held the secret part of his heart for all these years and had given it back tonight.
She waited for him to return the words and end the complicated game they’d been playing for too long. He needed to tell her he loved her.
The declaration hovered on his lips, just like it had that night eight years ago, when she asked him for something bigger. Something to make her go with him. Something to make him stay.
And once again, he said nothing.
They were married now. They were happy. They’d become a true family in every way it counted. Wasn’t that what was most important?
Tristan pulled her closer with shaking hands and tried to pretend it didn’t matter.
Eventually they fell asleep without saying another word.
chapter twenty-five
Can you drive Becca to gymnastics tonight?” she asked, sliding blueberry waffles into the toaster. “I have a few meetings and a conference call with Adam.” He paused to study her, a slight frown creasing his elegant brow. “Sure, but this is the third night in a row. Do you need some extra help?”
She forced a smile, pouring some orange juice for Becca. “Just nearing crunch time. Want to make sure everything’s perfect, and I need to help Charlie a bit at the office.”
“You’re doing an amazing job, Syd,” he said seriously. “We’ve already got three houses complete and right on schedule. Cushman is happy. The suppliers are getting what they want. I’m just worried you’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“I can handle it.” She rechecked Becca’s backpack, slid in an extra bottle of water, and called her down to breakfast. “Appreciate it.”
Her daughter skipped down the massive staircase, hair in a perfect ponytail. “Look, Mama, guess who did my hair this morning?”
Sydney stopped to study Becca, tapping her finger against her lip. “Hmm, Mr. Ted Bear? Or Barbie?”
“Daddy! Didn’t he do good this time?”
Sydney laughed, taking in her husband’s beaming face. “Yes, he did great,” she said, her heart wrenching a bit. “You’ve come a long way since the recital.”
“I just stay away from pink sparkles.”
Becca giggled, sliding into her chair and keeping up her chattery morning conversation. Sydney concentrated on the familiar chaos, loving the banter among them all around the breakfast table. They had finally settled into their own routine. Days slipped by and melted into one another in a blur of happiness, laughter, and productivity. Tristan embraced his role as father and husband with a grace that humbled her. As time passed, Sydney admitted that from the outside, they had a perfect marriage and family.
“Oh, yes.” With one quick thrust, he took her from behind, his cock buried deep into her wet, swollen channel. She gasped, pushing back against him for more, caught between the need to get closer to the vibrator and the ache in her body for him to fill. He chuckled with satisfaction, slowly pushing in and out of her with steady strokes, then laid the toy right against her clit.
She jerked with sharp waves of pleasure.
He removed the vibrator.
“Tristan.”
He started the torture over again. Deep thrusts in and out. Vibrator rotating in small circles. She cried and begged, and he finally pressed the pink toy against her hard nub.
She grasped for the climax, hovering with shattering, brutal tension.
He removed his hand again.
Panting for breath, going mad from the sexual torture, she let out a keening wail, bending over to force himself to bury deeper inside her. “Damn you,” she whispered. “Take me now.”
“I want you to scream.”
He plunged inside her and held the vibrator at the highest setting directly against her clit.
She climaxed. She screamed. She bucked as the shattering release poured through her. He forced her to ride out the very last convulsions, then picked up her shaking body. Quickly drying her off, he carried her to the bed and laid her down gently. His knees straddled her as he climbed onto the mattress and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her lids closed, the satisfying weight of her orgasm making her limbs weak. She felt her legs drift apart, and the hard tip of his cock poised at her dripping entrance, ready to fill her.
“Look at me, baby.”
She did.
Whiskey-colored eyes blazed with fierce possession and male satisfaction. Jaw tight, lips set in a thin line, he shook with primal lust, barely contained by his usual control. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded.
And suddenly she didn’t care anymore about holding back or being safe. Her entire being pulsed with the need to give him the truth. “You,” she whispered. “I can’t fight this any longer.” She reached up and gripped his hair, looking deep into his eyes. “I love you, Tristan. I just want you.”
The words ripped through the air. Tristan held himself over her in perfect stillness, breath coming out in ragged pants, sweat gleaming from his brow, his gaze piercing into those gorgeous emerald eyes, naked with raw emotion, stripped of all barriers. Everything inside shifted, cracked open, and poured out of his soul.
She loved him.
In one swift movement, he pushed her legs up and claimed her in one hard thrust.
He pressed his forehead to hers, his entire body shuddering as he fought for control. Buried to the hilt, he felt her squeeze his cock mercilessly with her wet heat, and her nails dug deep into his shoulders, drawing blood. He clutched her hips, holding her in place as he pinned her to the mattress, his hungry gaze devouring her face, devouring her submission.
Her name sighed from his lips.
Then he moved.
He fucked her with total abandon, giving her as much as she gave him, claiming her completely with each hard, deep stroke. Lowering his head, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue inside the silky wet cave, drunk on the taste of her. Her body tightened underneath him, and she cried out in a throaty gasp he swallowed whole. When she shattered completely, he threw his head back and roared with abandon, emptying his seed, jerking helplessly from the brutal release.
Afterward, he held her tight, his hand stroking her hair. They lay in the darkness, not speaking, limbs entangled, breath mingling together.
She loved him.
He couldn’t deny how the words affected him. His soul practically shuddered with satisfaction and the knowledge they belonged together. There’d never been another woman in his life who completed him. Each one before was a shadow of Sydney, a reminder of what he’d never be able to have again.
But now he could.
It was as if she’d held the secret part of his heart for all these years and had given it back tonight.
She waited for him to return the words and end the complicated game they’d been playing for too long. He needed to tell her he loved her.
The declaration hovered on his lips, just like it had that night eight years ago, when she asked him for something bigger. Something to make her go with him. Something to make him stay.
And once again, he said nothing.
They were married now. They were happy. They’d become a true family in every way it counted. Wasn’t that what was most important?
Tristan pulled her closer with shaking hands and tried to pretend it didn’t matter.
Eventually they fell asleep without saying another word.
chapter twenty-five
Can you drive Becca to gymnastics tonight?” she asked, sliding blueberry waffles into the toaster. “I have a few meetings and a conference call with Adam.” He paused to study her, a slight frown creasing his elegant brow. “Sure, but this is the third night in a row. Do you need some extra help?”
She forced a smile, pouring some orange juice for Becca. “Just nearing crunch time. Want to make sure everything’s perfect, and I need to help Charlie a bit at the office.”
“You’re doing an amazing job, Syd,” he said seriously. “We’ve already got three houses complete and right on schedule. Cushman is happy. The suppliers are getting what they want. I’m just worried you’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“I can handle it.” She rechecked Becca’s backpack, slid in an extra bottle of water, and called her down to breakfast. “Appreciate it.”
Her daughter skipped down the massive staircase, hair in a perfect ponytail. “Look, Mama, guess who did my hair this morning?”
Sydney stopped to study Becca, tapping her finger against her lip. “Hmm, Mr. Ted Bear? Or Barbie?”
“Daddy! Didn’t he do good this time?”
Sydney laughed, taking in her husband’s beaming face. “Yes, he did great,” she said, her heart wrenching a bit. “You’ve come a long way since the recital.”
“I just stay away from pink sparkles.”
Becca giggled, sliding into her chair and keeping up her chattery morning conversation. Sydney concentrated on the familiar chaos, loving the banter among them all around the breakfast table. They had finally settled into their own routine. Days slipped by and melted into one another in a blur of happiness, laughter, and productivity. Tristan embraced his role as father and husband with a grace that humbled her. As time passed, Sydney admitted that from the outside, they had a perfect marriage and family.
