Page 144 of Taken By the Fae

I grin a little. “You like?”

He wets his lips. “You have no idea.” He reaches for me, pulling me back on top of him.

I squeal, landing against the firm muscles of his upper body. “I think you’re about to show me.”

“Oh, I most certainly am.” His lips press against the base of my throat, where I’m sure he can feel the insane speed of my pulse. He swipes a condom from his bedside table and rolls it on.

I push my fingers into his hair, gripping the ends and tugging as his mouth lowers to my chest. I gasp when he arches his hips, pressing himself against the throbbing between my legs.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs against my skin, heating it with the sultry tone of his voice.

I let out an unsteady breath. “I’ve been ready all night.”

He nips at my skin, making me yelp. “Glad we’re on the same page.” He rolls me over so he’s hovering over me and makes quick work of removing the remaining clothing between us. He’s between my legs before I have a second to blink. “I’m not going to last long,” he advises in a deep voice.

“It’s okay.” I cup his cheek so he’ll look at me. “I just want you.”

His lashes lower as he leans in and presses his lips against mine in the same moment he thrusts into me. He starts off slow, moving in and out, but after a few thrusts, his pace quickens, eliciting moans from me and filling the room with his own. His lips move from mine and trail along my jaw until he reaches the side of my neck and nips my earlobe.

I grip him tighter. “Tristan,” I breathe, my voice thick with lust.

“I know.” He increases the pace of his thrusts again as he slides his hand between us, finding the spot he knows will drive me crazy. He strokes me with his fingers and fills me with all of him, shortening my breaths.

His climax rides in quick and hard, making him groan as I clench around him, and his lips land on mine once more, muffling our sounds of pleasure.

Tristan presses his face into my shoulder, still breathing hard as he pulls out of me before feathering kisses across my skin, dipping lower and making my breath catch. He takes his time spreading my thighs, causing my heart to race. My chest rises and falls fast from the anticipation of his touch, my skin tingling in its wake. His tongue darts out and licks a fiery path toward my core, stopping just before he reaches it. His eyes flick up to mine, the mischief in them making the blue brighter; if breathing was difficult before, it’s almost impossible now.

He lowers his gaze, and I swallow hard. The moment his lips touch me, I let loose a shaky breath, my eyes fluttering shut. He flicks his tongue in lazy strokes as his hands slide along my legs and holds my hips against the mattress, keeping me open to him. And if that isn’t the hottest fucking thing…

My hands fist the sheets on either side of me when his lips close around my clit, and when he moans against me, I almost come undone at the intense vibrations.

“Tristan,” I hiss, fighting to push myself closer to him. “Please.”

“Mmm,” he moans against me again, making my hips buck, and I reach down and grip his hair, pushing him deeper.

With a subtle flick of his tongue along my folds, he dives into me, and I cry out. His thrusts are quick and hard, and he adds a finger, teasing me with lazy strokes until I come, moaning his name. He laps up every drop of my release, and my muscles jump at the oversensitivity.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs and kisses my inner thigh, my stomach, my neck before his mouth lands on mine. My head is swimming with desire as I taste myself on his lips.

We break apart, and he rolls to his side, landing on the pillow next to me. Once I’m confident my voice won’t crack, I turn to look at him with a blissful smile. “We’re going to do that at least twice more tonight.”

A deep laugh rumbles through him as his gaze holds mine. “You’ll get no argument from me.” He leans over and kisses my brow, tucking my hair behind my ear and brushing his fingers across my cheek. “I missed that—missedyou.”

I’m not surprised by the sting of tears in my eyes as I echo, “I missed you.”

Before we pass out in each other’s arms, I lose track of the number of times he makes me come. I haven’t been this happy since… before I became fae. I sleep soundly for the first time in weeks, lulled by the steady sound of Tristan’s heart beating beneath my cheek.

* * *

I need to stop leaving Tristan naked in his bed after we’ve had sex. It’s not quite morning yet—at least, not time to get out of bed, but I need to move.

I tiptoe out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Pouring myself a glass of water, I gulp down half of it before I set it on the counter and walk down the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. I open the door to what I remember being his home office and gasp. His desk is gone and in its place in the piano from the ballroom.

I approach, running my finger along the smooth lid before lifting it off the keys. I haven’t played since the day Tristan overheard me, and if I wasn’t worried about waking him with the noise, I’d sit on the bench and play a bit. Instead, I settle for closing my eyes, taking a centering breath, and gliding my fingers along the keys, pressing none of them. Their smoothness brings me back to the many evenings and weekends I shut myself in my bedroom and taught myself to play; I was so excited the day I could play my first song from start to finish without fumbling. I’ll never forget that feeling of being on top of the world. Of course, I can’t stand in front of this piano and not think about the day Tristan caught me in the ballroom, caging me against the side of it. It’s almost laughable to think of that time when I tried desperately to deny what I felt for him. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, reaching up to press my palm against my racing heart. My breasts tingle as I picture what could’ve happened had I not taken off that day. Flashes of Tristan taking me against—or on top of—the piano fill my thoughts, and heat pulses at my core, tempting me to slide my hand into my panties and—

My eyes open at the sound of the door closing. I blink a few times until the sight of a shirtless Tristan leaning against the closed door with a faint smirk clears.

“Morning,” I say softly.

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