The Shadow and the Night: Glenncailty Castle, Book 3 (23 page)

Melissa stepped out of her pants and turned slowly, tugging the hem of her shirt down. “I’m dirty, sweaty.”

“Then I won’t touch you. All you have to do is take off your clothes.”

“I thought you wanted me to sleep,” she muttered.

“I will let you sleep, once you show me your body.”

She grimaced. “Tristan…I don’t look good naked.”

“I enjoy what I see so far.”

“What I mean is that my arm isn’t my only scar. When people see me naked, they don’t say, ‘Ohh, sexy.’ They say, ‘What happened?’”

He frowned, focus shifting from anticipation to concern. He flipped on the lamp beside the bed, then leaned forward to examine her bare legs.

Her skin was milky white, so the scars were hard to see, but they were there. Her right ankle was dotted with round marks, her left knee sported one long white line and there was a kidney-shaped area of shiny flesh on her right thigh.

“That’s a burn,” he said, touching her thigh.

“Yes. How did you know?”

He undid his chef’s coat, cast it aside, then turned his arm so she could see the scar near his elbow. “Caramel.”

“Chemical burn. Lye. We had a water purification kit at the project in the Congo, and I got some on my clothes.”

“The pain…”

“It did hurt.” She pointed to her knee. “This one I fell while hiking and looking for remains in Vietnam. Landed on a rock.”

“Your ankle?”

“Barbed wire.”

“Show me the rest.”

Melissa rubbed her lips together, then stripped off the long-sleeved button-up she was wearing as a jacket. Her T-shirt had short sleeves, and her left arm was on full display.

Her fingers toyed with the hem. Tristan motioned for her to keep going.

She was lovely—her skin creamy and smooth, her lean muscles visible as she moved. She wore pink panties and a tan workout bra. Neither was meant to entice, and yet he was captivated.

“You’re too skinny,” he said, watching the play of her arm and belly muscles as she took her hair down.

“I’m fairly certain there’s no such thing.”

“And you’re wrong.”

“About what?”

“The first thing I think about when I see you naked is not your scars. Any man who notices them before commenting on the beauty of your body is stupid.”

“Thank you.” She was blushing, and crossed her arms across her belly.
 

The movement pushed her breasts up and together. “Finish,” he said, patience wearing thin.

“You want…all of it?”

“Yes. I want all of you.”

Melissa wished she were wearing lingerie instead of cotton underwear and a sports bra. She wished she were freshly showered with her hair and makeup done.

But this wasn’t a romantic movie—it was reality.

She tugged her bra up and off before she had time to think about it too much. Her breasts spilled free.
 

Tristan sat on the edge of the bed, his legs spread, hands gripping his knees. The white T-shirt he was wearing hugged his shoulders and the muscles of his upper arms. When she stripped off her bra, he leaned forward, gaze moving slowly up and down her body.

“You are beautiful,” he repeated.

Despite the lack of lingerie or shower, she
felt
beautiful when he looked at her like that.

He crooked his finger, and she stepped up to the bed, standing with her knees against the mattress, between his legs. Tristan cupped her hips, fingers toying with her panties, then kissed one of the scars on her belly. She opened her mouth to tell him how she’d ended up with that, but his lips moved, kissing the underside of her breast.

His lips traveled over her breasts and belly, laying gentle kisses over her skin, yet avoiding her nipples, which were pebbled and eager for his touch.

“Tristan…” she moaned. Lacing her fingers in his hair, she tried to guide his mouth to the tip of her breast.

“
Non, mon ange
.”

“What do you mean, ‘
non
’?”

“You need to rest.”

Melissa grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m very serious.”

“You’re going to do this—” she motioned to her naked body and his lips, “—and then tell me I need to go to sleep?”

“
Précisément
.”

“That’s…that’s diabolical. You started this and I expect you to finish it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I have some rope in my tool kit. I will tie you to this bed and have my way with you.”

Tristan rose to his feet, arms around her so she couldn’t retreat. Her breasts were flattened against his chest, and she could feel the hard length of his cock against her lower abdomen.

“If anyone is tied to that bed,” he whispered, “it will be you.”

Tristan grabbed her around the shoulders and under her knees, then lifted her and carried her to the bathroom. He set her down and reached into the shower, turning on the water. Melissa took a minute to gather herself—the idea of Tristan tying her down coupled with being carried had flustered her.

“Shower sex?” she asked hopefully.

“Naked showering. No sex.”

“You’ll be naked too?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, eyes lingering on her bare breasts. “No. You tempt me too much for that.”

After a minute, Tristan ushered her into the glass-walled shower stall. She moaned as the hot water beat down on her shoulders. Tristan grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it up and off in one motion.

“That’s just not fair,” she muttered.

“What?” he asked, hands on the fastening of his slacks.

“Nothing. Don’t let me stop you.”

Tristan was all smooth, gold muscles. His pecs and arms flexed as he pushed his pants down and off. He wore boxer briefs, and his hard shaft was clearly visible under the fabric. Melissa licked her lips.

Tristan joined her in the shower, and the roomy stall suddenly seemed small.

“Let me,” he said, reaching for the soap.

Melissa gave herself over to him. She didn’t worry about what she looked like, didn’t worry about pleasuring him in return.
 

Tristan’s soapy hands glided from her shoulders down to her fingertips. He laced their fingers together for a moment, then retraced his path. Turning her into the water, he washed her back, fingers dipping down to caress the top of her ass. Melissa ducked her head under the stream, letting the water pour over her face and head.

She heard him drop to his knees, and when he reached for her panties she didn’t protest. The wet fabric slid down her legs, and Melissa stepped out of it. He washed her lower body, paying special attention to her scars. When he rubbed her ass, squeezing and lifting the cheeks, her pussy clenched. Standing, he turned and pulled her against him.

His cock rubbed against her, the only thing separating them his wet boxers. She tried to take them off, but he pushed her hands away.

“This is for you. Your pleasure.”

He washed her hair using too much shampoo, but Melissa didn’t care. His hands were strong, and the scalp massage he gave was heavenly. Under his ministrations, her tension, both from the day and from arousal, started to melt away.

When he was done with her hair, he washed her belly, finally cupping her breasts in hands slippery with soap. Melissa gasped and grabbed his shoulders as he thumbed her nipples.

“Tristan, don’t do that if you’re not…”

He dropped to his knees once more. “Spread your legs.”

Melissa did it, eagerly. She no longer cared about her scars, her insecurities. She wanted, needed, his hands on her.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, rubbing her hipbones with her thumbs.

In response, she grabbed his head and pressed his face into her sex. He kissed her mound and then his tongue dipped between the lips of her pussy, touching her clit. Melissa gasped and ground herself against him. Tristan adjusted his hands, one splayed across her ass while the other came up between her legs, spreading her labia to give him better access.

Melissa grabbed the showerhead with her right hand while her left pressed his head against her. The muscles in her damaged arm protested, but she didn’t care. She wanted him, needed him.

“Tristan,” she whimpered. His tongue was making long, slow passes over her clit. “More. Please.”

He answered her plea, tracing her inner labia with two fingers before sliding them into her. Melissa moaned in pleasure at the penetration. That was what she wanted—him in her, filling her. His fingers were good, but his cock would be better.
 

He twisted his hand, and his fingers moved inside her. Melissa jumped, nearly losing her footing as a sudden bolt of pleasure took her by surprise.

“Wha-what was that?”

Tristan looked up at her, his mouth still buried in her pussy, and did it again.

G-spot. It must be her g-spot. Melissa had, very rarely, read popular magazines while at airports. She’d seen articles about “finding your g-spot”, and while she didn’t doubt that there were areas of varied sensitivity within a woman’s body, she’d assumed most of the testimonials were fake.

Tristan started to thrust his fingers in and out of her, each movement stimulating the spot deep inside her, while his tongue simultaneously worked her clit.

Melissa ground her hips against him, shameless in her pleasure, until the orgasm swept over her. Her body clenched around Tristan’s fingers, her hands fisted in his hair. It seemed to last forever, and yet not go on long enough. As she came down from the high, Tristan stood, his fingers sliding from her pussy.

The water was still on, and when Tristan pulled her in for a kiss, the water beat down on their heads, pouring over their faces and shoulders.

Melissa broke the kiss and tried to drop to her knees, but Tristan stopped her.

“You need to sleep.”

“But you…”

“There’s time. We’ll have time.”

Melissa got out and watched Tristan as he quickly washed.

They’d have time? She didn’t know what he meant by that, but she couldn’t help but hope it meant something wonderful.

Chapter Fourteen

Tristan woke as Melissa kissed her way down his chest. They’d fallen asleep wrapped in one another’s arms. Tristan hadn’t intended to stay, and he was sure his throbbing cock and balls would keep him awake until Melissa was asleep and he could slip away. But he’d gotten less than four hours of sleep yesterday, and that had been a nap in the office between prep and the start of dinner service.

Melissa’s hand preceded her lips, and her fingers danced over his boxers. His cock hardened under her palm, his lower body much quicker to wake than his head.

“Melissa.” He threaded a hand through her hair.

“Your turn,” she whispered. He shivered as she pushed the covers off both of them. The only illumination was the light from the bedside clock. It was enough that he could see the curve of her ass as she knelt on the bed beside him.

Her fingers slipped under the waistband of his underwear. Tristan’s jaw clenched as she wrapped her right hand around his cock, stroking him gently.

“More,” he growled.

She shoved his boxers out of the way. Her hand closed firmly around the base of his cock as her lips brushed the tip. He tightened his hold on her hair, pushing her down, forcing his cock past her lips into the warmth of her mouth. He told himself to stop, to be gentle with her, but he couldn’t. He wanted her with a ferocity that bordered on dangerous.

She didn’t balk, didn’t pull away. She accepted him into her mouth, her tongue running over the head. Tristan knew that if he didn’t stop now he wouldn’t have enough control. With gritted teeth, he eased her away from him.

“Am I doing it wrong? I’ve only tried that one other time.”

A fresh surge of lust pounded through him, and he had to take a deep breath to get himself under control. “I would have come if you didn’t stop.”

“I thought that was the point.”

Tristan sat up. Cupping her neck, he kissed her deeply, pulling her naked body against his. He cradled her head as he lowered her onto the bed on her back.

“Enough foreplay,” he whispered against her neck. “Are you taking the pill?”

“Oh, no, I’m not.”

Tristan grabbed his pants from the chair he’d draped them over after the shower. Tugging his wallet out of the pocket, he grabbed the condom he’d put in there.

“Tristan?” she asked.

“I have a condom.” He ripped open the foil and rolled it on, coming back to the bed.

Her only reply was to wrap one leg around his waist. Tristan slid his palm over her thigh to the apex of her legs. Melissa’s finger nails dug into his back as he rubbed her pussy, finally sliding a finger inside her.

“Are you ready for me?” He added a second finger.

“Go slow. It’s been a long time.”