Page 20 of Wait For Me

“Not a chance,” I whisper.

“Good. Because I want to taste you, Cora.”

A spasm of need rips down my core, like this is exactly what my body needed to hear.

We fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and terrycloth and damp skin. But instead of rolling me onto my back, he flips onto his, and curls his finger at me.

“Come here.”

I straddle him, my knees on either side of his hips. I’m still clutching my towel around my body, feeling timid, suddenly.

“Higher.”

“Higher?”

Tristan nods. If I’m unsure what he means, him sliding down the bed, his hands pushing my thighs up so I have to step my knees over his shoulder leaves no doubt.

My heart flutters, and I feel new dampness spring from between my legs. “I’ve never done this before,” I whisper.

He freezes. “You’ve never done what?”

“Not sex,” I reassure him. “I mean… this. Like this.”

Tristan’s face relaxes. Then he scowls. “Has anyone ever… kissed you here?” He parts the towel at my waist. His pupils widen even farther as he takes in my core, presented before him. His lips part, and it might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

But still, nerves rattle in my chest. “Yes, but… no one who ever seemed to actually want to do it.” I’m embarrassed by this confession. “I thought maybe there was something wrong with me. That I didn’t…” I flush hot. “Taste good,” I whisper.

“There’s nothing fucking wrong with you,” Tristan says, his expression going from scowling to anger. “Fuck those guys for making you think that.”

Then, without warning, he grasps my ass and strokes his tongue up my length, from my opening to my clit.

I gasp, my body straightening so I lift up off of him. There’s nothing for me to hold onto, but Tristan grasps my hips, keeping me steady.

“You taste like fucking ice cream on a sunny day,” he says, his tongue gliding across his lips. “And I want more.”

My body acts before my mind catches up. I press my hands to the wall and stretch my legs farther open so I’m lowered back onto his waiting mouth. He takes me greedily, his whole mouth claiming me and sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through my lower half.

So this is what it’s supposed to feel like. If Tristan’s eating ice cream, he’s unabashed in his love for it. He devours me like he can’t get enough.

The way those other men acted like this was a duty; something to get over with—it’s no wonder I had to pretend they got me there. I’d had to wait until they left me alone on the bed to bring myself to a quick, functional, almost unregistered orgasm.

This is a different universe from that. Tristan’s tongue swirls around my clit and dips into my center, back and forth in a rhythm that has me rocking my hips. “Tristan, I didn’t know…”

I can’t help it, I grind myself into him, making him groanunder me.

“I didn’t know it could feel like—” but my words are cut off by waves coming at me so fast and hard I’m completely unprepared.

“Tristan!” I manage, practically screaming. “Oh God, yes!” I lean forward, ass up, to direct his attention where I want it: solely to my clit. He gets the message, flicking his tongue hard and fast. At the same time, with the way I’m angled, he has access to me with his hands, and he slides two fingers inside of me, thrusting as he brings me toppling over the edge.

I scream as I come, not caring there are people on the other side of the wall, or that this is where I work. I don’t care about anything except the waves of ecstasy rocking through me. Then I’m laughing, exhilarated, sliding down the other side like I’ve lost my mind a little.

Maybe I have, because when I swing my leg over, pulling away from Tristan’s face, I groan, nearly coming again just from looking at him.

“You came so fucking perfectly, baby,” he says, licking his lips.

I’m on all fours now, watching as I slide my hands between my legs, finding my swollen clit and shaking as I stroke myself, eyeing him with a wanton need that shocks me.

“I’ve never come like that before,” I say.

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