Page 54 of Racking Up Penalties
I shoot a text off to both of them asking them to tell me they’re okay.
Tristan and I go back to my house and I push Liam and Ethan from my thoughts and try to enjoy alone time with Tristan.
The air in my tiny living room is charged with a kind of electricity that only Tristan can bring. His sandy-brown hair falls perfectly, even when it shouldn’t, and those deep blue eyes of his are locked on me, warming me to my core. I’m perched on the edge of my bed, the sheets itching slightly at my bare legs, but it’s the last thing on my mind as he steps forward.
“Let me take your mind off things,” he says.
In two strides he pulls me to him, firm but gentle, and my heart jumps. The world narrows down to just us as his lips find mine, coaxing them open with a tender insistence that sets every nerve-ending on fire.
The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the sensation, in the warmth of his hands that slide over my back.
“Tomorrow’s game is a big deal,” I say against his lips, pulling back just enough to glimpse his reaction. My words are playful, tinged with an undercurrent of desire. “You need to be loose and relaxed, you know? I think I could help with that.”
A chuckle rumbles from his chest, the sound vibrating through me. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and I swear there’s a hint of mischief in their depths. “Oh yeah?” he teases, his grin infectious. “And what did you have in mind?”
“Let’s just say, I’ve got a few… techniques in mind.” I wink at him, feeling bold and a little daring under his gaze.
“Is that so?” He brushes a stray lock of my long, red hair behind my ear, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I’m all yours then.”
I laugh, light and carefree because with Tristan, I can be myself—no pretense, no holding back. It’s a heady thing, being wanted by someone who gets you.
“Prepare to be very, very relaxed,” I promise, my voice low and teasing. But beneath the banter, my heart races.
I reach for the hem of Tristan’s shirt, tugging it upward with a playful determination. His skin is warm under my touch, and the firm planes of his stomach flex as he lifts his arms, allowing me to strip the fabric over his head.
“Your turn,” he says, voice husky, eyes never leaving mine.
I hold his gaze, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, but I don’t back down. The excitement is a live wire between us, sparking with every breath we take. With a teasing slowness, I lift my own shirt, baring my skin to him inch by tantalizing inch.
Tristan’s hands are on me before the cotton even hits the floor, guiding me closer, his fingertips tracing the lines of my waist as if he’s memorizing the curve of my body. His touch sends shivers down my spine, a silent testament to the connection that’s always simmered beneath the surface.
“Let me help you with that,” he offers, his voice a low rumble as he undoes the button of my jeans with ease.
Pushing him down on the bed, I climb onto his lap, straddling him, and the air changes. It thickens with anticipation. I can feel him, hard and wanting, through the thin fabric of my panties, and I press down, a gasp escaping me at the sensation. My hips find a rhythm against him and each movement is a stroke along the fire that’s building inside me.
“Tessa,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips, guiding me, urging me on. And I lose myself in the friction, in the push and pull, in the way my body responds to his slightest touch.
As I rub against him, waves of pleasure build within me, threatening to crash over. Tristan’s eyes never leave mine, deep blue oceans of need that mirror my own desires.
I’m enjoying each step between us before sex.
The tension coils tighter, winding up inside me until I’m not sure where I end and he begins.
With a shaky exhale, I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, both of us lost in the intimacy of the moment between us.
Tristan’s fingers find my clit, his touch like fire on my skin. I shudder under the intensity, the sensation building as he circles my clit with a precision that makes me shake.
“Fuck Tess,” he groans, and there’s a reverence in his voice that tightens something deep within me.
I grind down harder, chasing the pleasure his fingers promise, feeling him thick and hard beneath me.
“Tristan,” I gasp, his name a lifeline as I feel the wave crest. Desperation claws at my insides, pulling me toward the edge with a force that can’t be denied. His thumb presses just right, and I’m falling, tumbling into an abyss of sensation that rips a cry from my throat.
I come apart over him, my body clenching with waves of ecstasy. A part of me marvels at how beautiful this is, how Tristan can undo me with nothing more than his hands, the outline of his cock and his gaze locked onto mine.
He doesn’t stop moving beneath me, riding out my orgasm until every last shiver has been coaxed from my body.
With a guttural moan, Tristan’s hips jerk upward, and I watch, fascinated and flushed with my satisfaction, as he comes undone. His release coats his stomach, stark against his skin, and for a moment, I am awed by the sight.
