Page 26 of Pucking Unhinged
“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” I ask as quietly as I can muster, unsure of what he wants from me right now. I don’t know if he needs me in the room so he doesn’t have to worry about someone hurting me.
Instead of answering me, his long fingers wrap around my thigh and yank me to lie down in the bed. The back of my head hits the pillow at the same time I feel his lightly stubbled cheek scrape against my inner thigh. I let out a gasp when I feel his mouth press on the scar there, the one he gave me the night our family was attacked.
I don’t know how he found it so easily in the dark, but the feeling of his lips pressing against it sends shivers down my entire body. He’s so close to the juncture of my thighs that I’m worried he might realize how turned on I am from his touch. I don’t know how I would even explain that away. He’s carrying the guilt of taking my virginity and mutilating my body, and here I am shifting my hips, wishing he’d sink his fingers inside me.
“Don’t leave, okay?” He says against my skin. “Even if I fall asleep.” He sounds more like the Tristan I met when I was fourteen and less like the hardened shell he’s become since the attack.
I reach down and run my fingers through his hair, and I feel him relax. He presses a kiss to the scar one more time before he pushes up on his hands. He’s hovering over my spread thighs, and he hesitates. For a moment, I think he’s going to move off of me and take the spot between me and the wall. Instead, he nudges my legs apart even further and settles between them. His abdomen is pressed flush against my pussy, with only my shorts and panties between our skin. He buries his face in the crux of my neck, and one of his hands comes down to grip my outer thigh. He raises it up to wrap over his hip. I want to know so badly if he’s hard, and I chastise myself for it. He doesn’t want that. If he did, he’d tell me. He doesn’t think of me that way. Things are just confusing because of the trauma we share.
“I fucking hate sleeping without you,” he mumbles, and I know he’s in a half-sleep state by the way he slurs some of his words and the way his hand slides up my ribcage to cup my breast over my tank top. I shake the thought away, but I know it’s true…it’s like I was made to fit in his big hands.
I can hear Bianca chastising Josh for asking questions about the movie. She calls him a moron and tells him she hasn’t seen it either. It’s probably better that Tristan is starting to fall asleep because he’d probably throw them both out into the hallway.
His breathing evens out, and I think he’s finally sleeping, but then he pulls hard enough on my top that the thin strap snaps. His warm, rough palm covers my bare breast, and he pinches my nipple gently before settling his hand back to cover it. I tell myself that it means nothing to him, and that having some part of me in his hand is calming him in his sleep. When I shift under his weight, wriggling as I try to alleviate the pent-up pressure building low in my hips, he flexes his fingers on my breast and brushes his lips against my neck.
I still my hips, and he lets out a quiet groan against my neck. We’re both fighting this demon that has us in a chokehold, andwe need to destroy it before we end up hurting each other. I turn my head, kissing the side of his head just like I’ve done a million times before.
“Sweet dreams, dushen’ka,” he mumbles against my neck before sleep overtakes him.
TRISTAN
Iwake to the sound of Winter’s breath. My favorite fucking sound. Soft. Hitched. A sound that makes something low in me tighten until I’m fully awake.
My mouth is on her neck. My lips sucking, tongue dragging over the delicate skin just beneath her jaw. I don’t even realize I’m doing it, lost in some dream where she’s already mine. But she moans, quiet and unguarded, and the sound shoots straight through me.
I jolt, eyes flying open, but it doesn’t matter, because she already knows what I need. I’m hard as fuck, my cock pressed up tight against her pussy through the thin barrier of our clothes. I’m lying between her legs, body holding hers down and caging her in, aching so bad for her I think I could break apart. Every nerve in me is screaming to push forward, to bury myself so deep she’ll never forget me.
“Fuck—” I brace myself on my forearms, terrified I’m crushing her, terrified I’ve crossed some line even in my sleep. My voice is gravel when I rasp, “I’m sorry.” I start to push up, to get off of her because I don’t want to scare her. I don’t want her to remember the way I hurt her.
Winter’s hands come up, gripping my shoulders like she’d chase me down if I tried to leave. Her eyes are glassy, burning into mine. “We need this. We both do. I wasn’t asleep the other night when I made you come.” Her voice cracks with truth, and my whole body freezes. “We both need each other, Tristan. I don’t want sorry, I just want you.”
The confession wrecks me. She was awake. She knew. Shame and want crash together inside my ribcage, but I don’t have time to think, don’t have time to build a wall between us this time. I lower my head, just enough to brush my lips against hers. It barely qualifies as a kiss, but heat spills through me like gasoline finding fire. My hips flex without my permission, grinding up against her still-clothed pussy, and the friction makes me groan into her mouth.
Winter’s fingers knot in my hair, yanking me closer, and I break. My hand finds her breast, cupping, squeezing gently, and then I find her nipple and she arches up into my touch. She’s so fucking soft. I kiss her the way I’ve wanted to from the very moment I met her. Our mouths are parting, tongues colliding, every secret in me unraveling on her tongue.
I whimper into her like I’m starving for her. I am. She’s right. I needed this, needed her, so much. I just never considered that she might need me this way too.
When we finally tear apart for air, my chest is heaving. And then I hear it…Josh stirring in the other bed. The sound is like a bucket of ice over my head. There is no fucking way I’m going to touch her like this with anyone a few feet away, let alone these weird fucking strangers.
I don’t speak. I don’t need to. I push up off the bed, grab her hand, and pull her with me. She follows without hesitation, her delicate feet softly padding against the carpet as I drag her toward the door.
I’m taking her back to her room. Because even if this doesn’t go all the way, I need to be alone with her. I need to hear the sounds she makes for me without anyone else listening. Those soft moans are meant for me and me alone, and I’ll be damned if I’ll share her in any way with anyone. I need my mouth on every inch of her until she’s begging me to let her come. I need to be so deep inside her she’ll forget what it felt like to ever be separate from me.
Her door clicks shut behind us, and I swear it’s like the whole world disappears. It’s just her. Just me. My chest is heaving, my pulse so loud in my ears I can barely think, but none of it matters when she looks at me the way she is right now. Her big eyes are so focused on my face, and I can’t believe what I see in them.
Winter LeBlanc wants me as much as I want her.
TRISTAN
Ineed to slow this down, because if I don't, I’m going to ruin it for both of us. Everything in me is screaming at me to pick her up, and find the quickest possible way inside of her. I want to know what she sounds like coming apart on my fingers first, then my tongue, and finally, if I’ve done a good enough job, my aching cock.
Tipping Winter’s chin up, I stroke her face with my thumb and then let my other hand trail down her neck, over the delicate slope of her shoulder and finally back up to circle around. As my fingers close around her throat, I can feel when she swallows hard. I cage her against the wall.
I dip my head, pulling in a shaky breath because this is fucking it, our new start. I don’t care what tomorrow brings or what feelings of guilt surface for me. I’ll never push her away again for her own benefit. Not when she’s looking at me like this, showing me how much she needs me too in all the same ways. Winter is mine now, and we won’t be going back from tonight. The thought of spending every night with her in my bed, in my arms, with the ability to feel her soft skin, haul her against my chest whenever I fucking want is almost too much for me to process all at once.
My mouth crashes down on hers. It’s messy at first, desperate, all tongue and teeth, like I’m trying to breathe her into me. She’s strong, and can handle a lot, but I’m trying to be mindful of just how much bigger I am than her. I trail my hand down her back and then up to cup the back of her head, supporting her as my mouth ravages hers. Her hands are on my abs first and then move up my chest, and I lean forward, pushing against her palms. I’ve never been touched like this, like she’s admiring every hard line and lean muscle she discovers. I want her to know every inch of me, just like I’m going to know what every freckle on her body tastes like. I groan, low and so fucking broken for this girl. I whisper against her lips, “I need you. I’ve never needed anyone in my life, but I need you in the best and worst ways.” But I need more than this, I need something verbal from her that I can replay over and over in my mind. “Tell me that you want this…”
I don’t get to finish my thought, because Winter tilts her head back, eyes blazing up into mine, and her words cut straight through me. “I need you too. No one else could ever give me what you do. I need you to know that, Tristan.” Her soft hands move up to my shoulders, and she’s pushing up on her toes with such practiced ease. “You are the only person I’d ever put all of my trust in. I want to know this part of you…” She cups my face, her voice breaking as she says something I couldn’t have even dreamed up. “I want to know this part of myself, and I’d never let anyone else this close to me.”
