His Inexperienced Mistress. Chantelle Shaw
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ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘I do want this. You.’
She heard an almost pained sound come from Tristan’s throat as he lifted her face to his and took her mouth in a searing kiss. No preliminaries required.
Both his hands spread wide either side of her face as he held her still beneath his plundering lips and tongue.
Lily felt a sob of pure need rise up in her throat and reached up to grip his broad shoulders, to hang on as she gave herself over to the sensation of his masterful kiss.
He tasted of whisky and heaven, and for a moment Lily’s senses nearly shut down with the overload of sensation rioting through her.
She pulled back, gasping for breath as she realised the dizziness was from a lack of oxygen, hyperventilating for real now as he angled her head back and skated his lips across her jaw and down the smooth column of her neck.
‘Oh, Lord…’ Lily whimpered, her face nuzzling his to bring his mouth back to her own.
He gave a husky chuckle and acquiesced, kissing her with such unrestrained passion she thought she might faint. His big body moved in, pressing her into the wall behind her.
His kiss claimed her. Branded her. The hard wall was flat against her back as his equally hard chest moulded to her front.
She moved her hands into his hair and lifted herself to try and assuage the ache that had grown to almost painful proportions between her thighs.
One of his hands disentangled from her hair and found the naked skin at small of her back as he stumbled back slightly at her eager movements.
‘Oh, Lily, you’re killing me,’ he groaned into her mouth, his hands not quite steady as he held her in place against him.
His touch seemed as if it was everywhere and nowhere, and Lily could feel all her old emotions for this man welling up inside her. She couldn’t have stopped what was happening now even if she’d wanted to.
She shivered and arched into his caresses, moving restlessly against him as wanton pleasure consumed her. His touch was electric, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel him all around her, and inside that part of her that somehow felt soft and hollow and unbearably empty.
‘Tristan, please…’ Lily implored, her hands kneading the hard ridges of his upper back. He seemed to know what she needed because he brought his mouth back to hers, his tongue plunging inside as his leg pressed firmly between her thighs.
She felt a moment’s relief—but her dress hampered him from putting more pressure where she wanted it most and she squirmed in frustration.
Keeping her upright with his thigh, Tristan brought both hands up to cup her breasts, and then higher to drag the shoulders of her dress down her arms, baring her to the waist. Lily held her breath as he pulled back an inch and looked at her with such heated desire she could have wept.
For the first time ever she truly felt like a goddess, and when his eyes met hers they were dark with barely checked need.
‘Honey, I want to go slow, but…’ His eyes dropped back to her breasts and he placed his hands either side of her ribcage, lifted her body to meet his mouth. ‘You’re exquisite,’ he whispered, his hot breath skating across an aroused nipple just before his mouth opened and sucked her flesh into its moist cavern.
Her legs gave out and Tristan had to tighten the arm around her waist to hold her up. Damp heat flooded between her thighs and she could dimly hear someone panting Tristan’s name in a litany. She realised it was her.
She stopped, tried to centre herself, and then he grazed her with his teeth and she felt her insides convulse.
‘Don’t stop,’ he breathed urgently against her flesh. ‘Say my name. Tell me what you like.’
Lily didn’t know what she liked, except for everything he was doing to her, and she gave herself over to him as he shifted his attention to her other breast, digging her nails into her palms. Wanting, needing to touch him as he was touching her.
She tried to move her arms and gave a mew of frustration when she found they were trapped by the tight band of his arms and her dress.
‘Help me…’ she began, but he already was, pressing his thigh firmly against her and moving his arms so she could disentangle her hands.
Once free, she immediately set to work on the buttons of his dark shirt.
He was breathing just as hard as she was, and a fine sheen had broken out over the skin her jittery hands were having trouble exposing. Then he raised both hands to her breasts to tug at her nipples and Lily’s fingers fumbled to a stop.
‘That’s not helping,’ she groaned, involuntarily arching into his caress.
‘Then allow me.’ Tristan grabbed hold of his shirt and tore the rest of the buttons free, leaning in close before she was able to look her fill of his sculptured chest, his ridged abdomen. Then his chest hair scraped her sensitised nipples, and she forgot about looking as feeling took precedence.
‘Oh, God…’ Lily swayed and rocked against the rigid length of him pressed into her belly.
‘Easy, Honey,’ Tristan soothed, but Lily was beyond easy. She needed him to touch her between her legs. The ache there was now unbearable.
She groaned with relief when she felt his hands smooth over her thighs and ruch her dress up around her waist, her legs automatically widening to accommodate his seeking hand.
His movements seemed as unsteady as she felt, and it imbued her with a sense of power.
Unable to keep her mouth off him, she bent her head and licked along his neck, breathing in his earthy masculinity.
‘Tristan, please, I need you,’ Lily begged, her voice sounding hoarse. Another saner voice was telling her that later she’d be embarrassed by such uninhibited pleading. But her body couldn’t care less about later on.
It was caught up in the most delicious lassitude and straining for something that seemed just out of reach.
Then his fingers whispered over the very tops of her upper thigh and the feeling came closer. A lot closer.
Lily’s breath stalled and her body stilled, and when finally he slipped his fingers beneath the lacy edge of her barely there panties and stroked through the curls that guarded her femininity she nearly died, clinging to his broad shoulders. Her body was his to do with as he willed.
And he did. His fingers slipped easily over her flesh, unerringly finding the tight bud of her clitoris before pressing deeper. Stretching her with first one and then two fingers.
A groan that seemed to come from the very centre of his body tore from his mouth. ‘Honey, you’re so wet. So tight.’ He seemed lost for a second, and then established a rhythm within her that created a rush of heat to the centre of her body. But suddenly he stopped.
‘No, I want to be inside you when you come.’ He pulled his hand free and Lily’s nails dug into his shoulders in protest.
She heard the metallic sound of his belt buckle and the slide of his zipper and in seconds he was back.
Only her panties were in the way, and with a decisive movement they went the way of his shirt.
Lily followed an age-old instinct and rocked against him, her mouth on his neck, her hands in the thick lusciousness of his hair.
‘Honey, you keep that up and this will be over before I’m even inside you,’ he said hoarsely, stroking his tongue into her open mouth. He eased back, seeming to remember where they were. ‘Not here though.’
‘Yes, here.’ Lily demanded against his mouth, an urgent excitement driving her beyond the edge of reason.
Her lower body felt as if it was contracting around thin air and she needed him inside her. Filling her.
Tristan sucked in an uneven breath and lowered both