Page 29 of Pucking Unhinged
She nods, eyes rolling up, voice a slurry moan, “Yes. God, yes. I do, Tristan. I love when you take control.”
“You’re so wet and tight,” I choke out, praising her. “You own my cock, you know that? You own me. I’d give my fucking life just to make you smile. I need you to know…”
Words snag in me because the inside of her pussy is doing things to me I didn’t think possible. Her muscles flutter, so hot and needy. She’s close. I feel it in each clench, each small clamor of her body against mine.
Winter’s hips pitch up, she claws my back, and the moans slip out that sounds a lot like my name. The sight of her, so beautiful and wrecked under me, unravels whatever’s left of my control. I want to hear her gasps, to memorize the sound, and she answers with a keening cry that rolls straight into the place inside me that breaks for us.
I won’t ever forget any of this night. The way her mouth parts, the dark shine in her eyes, the small noises that are only meant for me. Her whole body shivers, muscles trembling, spilling over in a shuddering, gorgeous mess.
That sight, the love of my fucking life coming apart for me, does me in. My toes curl, everything in me combusts, and I come inside of my girl with a guttural groan, filling her with everything I have. Hot and overflowing, my thrusts stutter as the edge takes me and pulls me over. I bury my face in the hollow of her throat,my body shaking, and I swear against her skin softly, so broken and finally whole all at the same time.
Winter and I ride the aftershocks of our orgasms together, her chest heaving under mine, my arms heavy trying not to crush her with my much larger body. My cock throbs inside of her, warm and spent, but nowhere near ready to leave her warmth.
I want to tell her how much I love her, have always loved her, but I don’t want to cheapen what we just shared by words that anyone can say. When I tell her, it’ll be our way, it’ll be special.
It’ll beus.
WINTER
Idon’t know what startles me awake, but I’m more shocked when I realize that I’m awake first. Every time Tristan and I have fallen asleep together, on the couch, in his bed, after one of his terrors, he’s always awake before me. Watching over me. In my gut, it always felt like he was guarding me from himself.
But now? He’s out cold.
His cheek is resting heavy against my bare breast, his lashes fanned against his skin. His mouth is parted just slightly, lips pushed into the faintest pout from where his face is mashed into me. His entire upper body is sprawled over mine, pressing me into the mattress, his weight caging me so completely I couldn’t move if I wanted to. His abdomen still pressed against my pussy, the remnants of last night lingering between my thighs.
I’m sore. Thoroughly, achingly sore from how he fucked me, how he claimed me, and yet there’s a strange emptiness too. I miss the feeling of him inside me. When I drifted off, he was still there, buried so deep in my body I thought we might fuse together. But at some point during the night, as we settled, he must have slipped free.
One of his hands is tangled in my hair, like even in sleep he needed the assurance of touching me. The other grips tight at the spot where my hip meets my thigh, as if holding me in place, making sure I couldn’t leave him even if I tried.
He’s massive. I’ve always known that, but lying here now with all of him spread over me, his chest pinning mine, his arm heavy across my waist, his legs entwined with mine, I realize just how big he really is. And God, I love it. I love the way his size presses me down, the way his weight settles into me, making me feel safe in a way I’ve never felt before.
“My handsome, sad boy,” I whisper, brushing the dark hair back from his face. “You’re finally resting. I hope someday you’re not so sad anymore.”
My chest tightens when I say it, because he never rests like this. He never lets go. But right now, with his lashes kissing his cheeks and his lips soft and pink against my skin, he’s beautiful in a way that makes my throat ache.
I study him, memorizing. The pout of his mouth. The cut of his cheekbones. The small crease between his brows even now, like some part of his pain refuses to release him. I smooth my fingers over his big shoulder, across the red half-moon marks my nails left when I couldn’t stop clinging to him last night. I try to soothe the evidence of my need, though the truth is I don’t regret it.
I love him. More than I can hold inside me. And it feels like something has shifted. It isn’t just the sex, though that was the most devastatingly beautiful thing I’ve ever known in my life. This is deeper. It one hundred percent feels like the walls he built up even before he knew me, the pain that’s lived in his bones, lessened last night. And because of that, something inside him unlocked. Something inside me has, too.
I feel at ease, and I can’t say that’s been the case for a long time.
Tristan jerks awake like he’s been dropped into cold water. His chest rises hard against me, muscles tensing, eyes wild and darting around the room until they find me. And then his whole face softens, and the panic dissolves into something else entirely.
“I slept…” he murmurs, almost disbelieving.
“Like a giant baby,” I tease, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You were out cold, not a single night terror in sight.”
The smile that stretches across his face steals my breath. Teeth and all. It’s boyish and radiant, so unlike the Tristan everyone else sees, and it makes my stomach flutter in that way only he can. He smirks, just a little cocky, but there’s something shy underneath it too.
He’s absolutely breathtaking.
I know better than to think one night with me erased all his ghosts. But God, he looks rested, likereallyrested, and if this is the start of something new for him, for us, then I’ll take it.
His hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheek, but he makes no move to shift his weight off of me. “Are you okay? Do you…” He falters, but I already know what he’s trying to ask.
I shake my head and lean up, pressing my lips to his. “I’m so grateful I have you. And I could never regret anything that happens between us.”
He groans, kissing me harder, pushing me back into the mattress like he can’t stand the thought of losing even an inch of me. I brace for him to take me again, but instead he surprises me. He rolls us, so that suddenly I’m straddling him, sitting on the hard planes of his stomach.
