Can't Go Without Page 13

  “Finish the dare, Tristan,” Leah murmured, her eyes full of want and need.

  Tristan dipped his head low and his lips met hers. There were only a few seconds of soft, sweet lips dancing and teasing. Suddenly, a ravenous hunger engulfed both of them. Their lips turned into tongues. Tongues soon turned into gasps of want and exploring hands. Gasps and hands turned into an enflamed and all-encompassing need within both of them with no extinguisher in sight.

  Leah hadn’t wanted a man this badly since, well ever. She’d never felt a hunger inside herself like this. Sex was fun and exciting; getting off was even better. But this feeling, this desire was completely foreign to her—unchartered territory. Tristan’s lips were on her neck, but she could feel them everywhere. Her entire body felt the sensation of his tongue trailing along the edge of her ear. Leah shuddered—not recognizing the feeling of unadulterated lust and need. She wanted him, craved him; she was starving, and he was the only thing that could feed her voracious appetite.

  Tristan held her close, reveling in the feel of her racing heart thumping against his chest. He lifted her up, sitting her on the bar as he explored her mouth, tasting and relishing the feeling of her mouth on his. Leah smelled like summer and tasted like sunshine. Inhaling her scent, he groaned at how delicious she was, igniting his senses one by one until every last nerve in his entire body was on alert, ready to explode with want. Tristan couldn’t get enough; his desire for her was more intense than he’d ever experienced before. Tristan didn’t just want to fuck her. He wanted to please her and possess her, make her yearn for him as much as he’d been longing for her the past month.

  “My God, you smell like sunshine and vacation,” he whispered in her ear. Leah felt the sensation of his breath on her neck all throughout her body, sending shivers down her back. Breaking the kiss and staring at her in disbelief, he said, “All I can think about is taking you to some beach, carrying you into the ocean and fucking you while the waves crash around us. God, it’s intoxicating. You’re intoxicating.”

  “No, you’re intoxicated,” Leah said, regaining her self-control. “I am going to need a few more shots.”

  “I thought you were done drinking?” he asked, perplexed.

  “I was, but I’m not nearly drunk enough to blame the alcohol tomorrow morning,” Leah admitted.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that when I roll over tomorrow morning, and you’re long gone… and… and I’m shattered by my own self-deprecation and self-loathing, I want to at least be able to blame my altered state of mind.”

  “Who says I’m going to be gone?” Tristan challenged.

  “Statistics Stan, statistics never lie,” Leah countered. “But it’s fine really… because I’m sick of denying myself this. It has been one long ass month of lonesome, self-gratification,” she said and winked.

  “Woman, do you know that statements like that are going to get you bent over this bar stool? I can’t picture you… you… gratifying anything without wanting to take matters into my own hands,” Tristan growled.

  “Hand me the bottle,” she instructed, pointing to the Cuervo. “Few more shots and my napkin is all yours.”

  “I cannot wait to get my hands on that napkin. You’re going to love what I can do with my hands,” Tristan promised.

  “What? You got some origami tricks up your sleeve?” she asked, taking a long pull straight from the bottle and passing it to him. She flooded with need as he slowly and succulently drank from the same bottle that her lips had touched only moments ago.

  “Not up my sleeve,” he explained, swallowing and then kissing her neck with a wet, cold tongue. “Down my pants.”

  “That… I can’t wait to see.”

  Tristan and Leah didn’t spend the drive to the hotel kissing, tasting, and touching one another, nor did they spend it talking and connecting. The drive was spent in silent anticipation and subdued introspection. One-night stands were not new to Leah Franchetti. However, she couldn’t squelch the nagging thoughts that kept creeping back into her head that maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be a one-nighter. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the “what ifs” and “might bes.” She knew better, damn it, but she’d challenge any woman, any straight woman, to resist Tristan’s charm, looks, and body. Hell, she’d put money on it that even Jill, her lesbian and totally head-over-heels-in-love sister, couldn’t resist him.

  Tristan couldn’t believe that after a month of trying, pulling out all the stops, that she’d finally agreed to let him get close to her, let him kiss her. And now, she was going home with him. Tristan couldn’t wait to get her to the hotel and show her exactly how much he’d wanted her. Tristan had rules, strict, set-in-stone rules. But tonight, he wished he could renege on a few of those rules. He never went back to women’s places. It was too hard to try to escape in the morning—try to come up with plausible excuses to get the fuck out.

  The problem tonight was that Tristan hadn’t signed the closing paperwork on his high-rise apartment in the city yet, so he couldn’t take her to his place. He had no place, yet. Fuck, did he wish he did. He wanted in her in his house, in his place, in his bed. He didn’t want to take her to a hotel—even an upscale hotel. It didn’t seem good enough for her. Truthfully, Tristan almost always never pleased women. Their pleasure meant nothing to him. Leah was different though. He wanted to rock her fucking world—give her something that she’d never forget. Maybe it would be so damn good for her that she’d want more—much more.

  Typically, if a girl tried to play hard to get, gave him a slight run for his money, then he’d nail her pretty good. Granted, he didn’t take his time to touch her, to taste her, or even to ensure that she even remotely enjoyed herself. Sometimes just by sheer luck, she got off just by being plowed from behind. Most times, she didn’t though. If the girl was sexy and fun, but too easy, too attainable, then he’d often just let her suck him off—“throw her a bone” so to speak. The majority of the time, Tristan just used some trashy, classless tramp for his own benefit—a means to an end. He’d watch as she pleasured herself, and then he’d finish himself off nearby. Girls got off on “performing” for him. He was an ass, a bombastic megalomaniac; he knew it. Would never deny it. If women didn’t like it, then they could hit the bricks. He wished they would, but they never did.

  Leah was different. She’d kept him at bay for six damn weeks—never relenting, never caving. He’d pulled out the big guns, but she couldn’t be annihilated. Looking at the situation clearly, he’d have to admit that he was the one who got conquered. He was at her mercy—doing whatever he could to make her take notice. It was evident that she was interested; the small visual cues from her body often gave her away. Still, she refuted his advances—until tonight. Tonight, he opened up, talked like a fucking girl, giving up his pussy for hers. He couldn’t help but smile, pleased with the prize that was about to be his. Leah was hell bent on thinking this was a bang and bail. Tristan was not about to work this hard for something and give it up that easily. No fucking way.

  “I think we need to be drunker,” Leah said, walking into the hotel room.

  “I think we’re good,” Tristan disagreed. “Lafferty even said that we’d had enough when we tried to get him to stop at the liquor store.”

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?” Leah asked, frowning. “But at least he gave us a parting gift,” she said, taking the two mini bottles out of her bag. “Let’s just drink these real quick.”

  “Why are you so insistent on being shit-faced? It’s crazy.”

  “I told you—I need to be drunk for this,” Leah said, sitting down on the bed, opening her bottle.

  “Am I really that repulsive that you have to get fucked up to touch me?” Tristan asked, slurring his words and stumbling as he tried to do a sexy spin for her.

  “Fuck no! This, you, that, nice,” she complimented, pointing up and down at him.

  “If you get so drunk, you won’t rem
ember this,” he said, whipping off his shirt. “Or this.” Trying to get out of his pants, he fell on the bed next to her.

  “Oh, I’m going to remember it,” Leah said, giggling, “especially that.”

  “You keep this shit up, and I’m going to just keep falling for you,” Tristan groaned, running his fingers through his hair, staring at the ceiling. He reached over and slid his hand up the back of her shirt, coupling her desire with her chills of anticipation.

  “Alright Stan, I’m going in there,” Leah pointed to the bathroom. “Gotta get all sexy and hot for you.”

  “Too late,” Tristan said, staring at her. Leah’s face flushed. Hell, she was going to hate herself in the morning when he pulled out some lame excuse about an early meeting or round of golf. At this point though, she just could not stop herself.

  Coming out of the bathroom, Leah noticed the lights were dimmed and Tristan was sitting on the hotel room sofa in a small pair of underwear. Looking at his black underwear, Leah knew she would’ve lost it, laughing uncontrollably, at any other dude who tried to pull them off. However, the designer, Ralph Lauren no doubt, must’ve had Tristan’s body in mind and measurements on hand, because they were as sexy as hell, hugging and accentuating all the right spots. Her mouth watered at the sight of him. Tristan stood up and walked over to her; she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. No man so beautiful had ever wanted her like he did. He made her feel sexy—a feeling she never possessed.

  Tristan had seen every combination of sexy lingerie a girl could wear. Nothing surprised him or turned him on anymore. His body immediately reacted to her the second she exited the bathroom. In an attempt to not turn up the heat and look like a purring sex kitten, Leah was just that. Her teal bra was lacy and satin, but her underwear is what sent him over the edge, making him want her even more.

  “Are those men’s boxers?” he asked, laughing.

  “Yep, found them in my drawer. Guess it’s time to do laundry again,” she admitted, shrugging. “Ya like them?”

  “More than you can possibly imagine,” he said, staring in awe at her.

  Tristan ran his hand through her hair before he pulled her in and kissed her hungrily. “Mmmmm God, that smell,” he moaned when he pulled back to look at her.

  “It’s suntan lotion,” she explained. “It’s my favorite smell, so I use it as my body lotion.”

  “You’re fucking perfect.”

  Leah leaned in and up on her toes and kissed him again, running her hand down his chest. Tristan’s breath caught, “Leah, I want to make this a night you’ll never forget. One that will make you want to keep coming back for more.”

  “Just tonight Tristan, okay. Don’t make any promises. Okay?” Leah pleaded.

  “But I want—”

  “No, just tonight, say it Tristan,” Leah begged.

  “I won’t say it, but I am going to give you one night like you’ve never had before,” Tristan promised. “We’re going to do it my way. I’m going to make this so different, so wonderful for you that you’re going to be begging for a repeat performance.”

  “Different? Ya gonna stick it in my ear?” Leah asked trying to be funny, but her voice quavered, giving her away.

  “Sssh, just trust me,” Tristan said, pulling the chair from the desk over to sit directly in front of the full-length mirror. Getting protection out of his pants, he tossed two condoms on the bed behind him. “Come here,” he commanded after he sat down on the chair.

  Leah walked over to him, facing him shyly. Leah was so petite that she was nearly eye-to-eye with him while he was in the chair. Her tiny frame was in direct contrast to his strong, masculine body.

  “Turn around, face the mirror, Leah.” Tristan instructed. When she faced the mirror, he put his hands on her waist, pulling her back between his legs. “Tell me what you see.” Leah hesitated, just staring at his reflection in the mirror.

  “I want you to describe what you see,” Tristan said again.

  “A girl in the mirror,” Leah said, feeling self-conscious and shy.

  “Tell me about her. What does she look like?”

  “Ummm… she’s blonde…”

  “No look closer—not the obvious stuff,” Tristan explained. He ran his nails up her arms, causing her body to ignite in lust.

  “I don’t know… ummm… her skin is flushed…”

  “Doll, I’ll start. I want you to see yourself as I see you,” Tristan stated.

  Growling with hunger, Tristan asked, “Don’t you see how perfect you are?” He locked eyes with her in the mirror. “Look at your breasts,” he said as he reached around and held them in his hands. “What do they look like?”

  “They’re full. My breasts are full,” Leah noticed.

  “And your nipples?”

  “Oh God,” she said as he pulled on her nipples through the fabric of her bra. “They’re hard. So good. That feels… God.” Tristan unsnapped her bra, letting it fall to the floor in front of her.

  Leaning to the side and staring in the mirror at her, Tristan marveled, “Gorgeous.” Pressing her breasts together, he watched her eyes in mirror. “What do you see?” Tristan kissed her arms, while caressing her chest and rolling her nipples in his fingers.

  “Your hands… your hands on me. It’s… so… so hot,” she cried, rocking back against him.

  “No Leah, you’re hot. This is all you, doll,” Tristan complimented.

  Pulling his hands away from her breasts, and running them down her torso, he prompted, “Tell me about your stomach.” He circled his nails around her bellybutton, causing her to gasp and inhale again.

  “It’s flat and… and… strong,” she admitted.

  “Do you work for this, Leah?” he asked.

  “A lot.”

  “How does it look? Does it look good?” Tristan questioned, caressing her abdomen.

  “Yes,” she moaned as he pressed himself against her.

  “Sexy? Is it sexy?”

  “Oooh yeah,” she murmured as his fingers dipped into the sides of her boxers.

  “I’m going to take these off now,” Tristan announced. “Are you ready for them to come off?”

  “Please, yes,” Leah begged, wiggling her hips.

  Leah loved watching him touch her, loved the look of his strong hands on her, controlling her, making her yearn for him in ways she never had before. Leah had never experienced such lust before, a lust for one man like this.

  Tristan eased the boxers down. Her naked form was breathtaking. Tristan couldn’t believe that she had no idea how incredibly sexy and irresistible she was. “Exquisite. Leah, this… this is art.” Her face flushed. The compliment was overwhelming perfection, something she always wanted to hear and even believe.

  As he stroked her lightly between her legs, Leah’s knees buckled. “Tristan, oh… please.”

  “What do you see?” he asked her again as he watched his own hands exploring her sex.

  “Your fingers.”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re in me,” she said her breaths coming in small pants. ‘You’re making me… so… so…”

  Pulling his fingers from her, he trailed a damp line up her stomach, “What is that?”

  “Me. It’s… I’m so wet,” she said, her eyelids fluttering. Tristan put his finger in his mouth and moaned with desire. “You, my God, you’re tasting me,” Leah cried, astonished at his primal act.

  “I am, and I can’t wait for more,” Tristan admitted. “But that’s all for later. Post-play is way sexier than foreplay.” He reached for the condom on the bed and opened it, sliding it carefully over himself. “Face the mirror again.”

  Leah turned and Tristan eased her back onto him. He entered her slowly, filling her completely. Tristan spread his legs, opening her further. A small muffled gasp left her lips just as a moan followed.

  “What do you see now, Leah?” It was becoming more difficult for Tristan to talk his way through this. Entering her was heaven, pure blissful satis
faction.

  “You, I can see you in me, oh my God, Tristan,” Leah cried rocking with him, feeling him lift and lower her. Tristan reached around and began caressing her breasts. “Your hands are big on my breasts. My God, I love it. I love the feel of you in me and holding me.”

  “What else?”

  “Your legs… the muscles as you lift up are bulging and strong. It’s… oh God… please don’t… stop,” Leah cried, feeling the sensation building within her. She was ready to let go. Tristan moved his hands down and began stroking her between her legs, applying pressure to the hardened bud as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of her.

  “I can’t hold out any more,” Tristan admitted, “I’ve wanted you a long time Leah, you ready?” he asked, locking eyes with her in the mirror. She nodded, breathing heavily. Tristan increased the speed of the small circles he was stroking on her and thrust faster and harder into her. Leah’s head fell back on his shoulder. “Look at me.”

  Leah’s head snapped up. The question was in his eyes. She nodded and together they climbed, reaching higher and higher and finally releasing together. His hands didn’t stop, but slowed to small, light, fluttery strokes on her sex until the spasms he could feel inside of her subsided.

  Still straddling his lap, Leah giggled and sighed, “Nice work Stan. Really nice work there.”

  “Hey thanks, are we gonna high five?” he asked, slipping out of her. Picking her up in one swift motion, he tossed her playfully on the bed. “You’re like air. A little pixie flying through the air.”

  “Shut it!” Crawling up the bed, she jumped under the blankets, hiding her body from him.

  “Don’t even try to play shy now Franchetti,” Tristan said, walking to the bathroom. “That shit that you got going on there should be on display in a museum somewhere,” he called from the bathroom, disposing of the condom.

  Ignoring him, “I can’t believe we did the whole simultaneous thing,” Leah marveled. “That’s like rare or something.”