Page 78 of Beautiful Forever
“Whatever you need, just tell me.” Sinking my fingers into his thick, dark-brown hair, I just hold him. Tristan is the foundation of our family. He’s a fixer and a protector. He carries so much responsibility on his strong shoulders, but even the strongest man can bend under such a burden.
“I just need you.”
Sliding off him, I get to my feet and slip my cotton pajama pants down my legs. Tristan watches my impromptu striptease with rapt attention, his carnal perusal causing tingles to radiate from my head to my bare toes that have nothing to do with the cold.
“I’m yours,” I tell him, my words a breathy whisper as I speak them.
He slowly rises from the lounger, all six-plus feet of him. The sunrise crests the horizon behind him, the light bending around his profile. He always tells me that I’m beautiful, but Tristan Amato takes my goddamn breath away.
Grabbing the back of the collar of his black T-shirt, he pulls it over his head, revealing the tanned, hardened plains of his chest and the floral tattoo inked above his heart. He recently added another on his back. It covers the old wounds left by Francesco’s whip. An angel with intricately detailed wings holds my name and our son’s name in her hands. He said she carried his whole world.
Tristan gently cradles my face, tipping my chin up, his thumbs brushing circles over my cheeks, his tenderness thecomplete opposite of the violent desire burning behind his whiskey browns. My pulse skyrockets when his lips descend upon mine, his tongue like velvet when he kisses me, and I melt on the spot. My core throbs painfully with unfulfilled need, and I cling to his biceps, holding on for dear life as his mouth seduces me with promises of what’s to come.
Reclaiming my lips, this kiss is different than the first. More dangerous. More claiming. We break apart and clash back together as we stumble across the patio. The soft hairs covering his chest send tingles through my fingertips as my hands roam his body. I grunt into our kiss when we crash against the side of the house, our fumbled movements like those of two horny teenagers trying to sprint from third base to home as quickly as possible.
Tristan suddenly spins me around and roughly pushes me against the window that looks into the kitchen. His chest collides with my back, pressing flush, and I arch into his touch as his finger trails up the valley of my spine. Arousal drips down my legs when I feel the hard length of his cock at my ass.
He licks along the curve of my neck to my shoulder, then lightly bites down, like he’s hungry for me. Craves me.
Bracing my hands flat on the glass, I widen my legs and push back so I can watch our reflections. “Tristan.” His gaze lifts. “Fuck me like you want to break me.”
He takes me at my word.
The morning explodes to life when I cry out, the first thrust of his cock stretching me deliciously. Another thrust, this one deeper. Tristan pounds into me with a brute force that lifts me off my feet with every punch of his hips, fucking me rough and dirty and perfect.So good. So fucking good.My eyes roll back, and I moan his name like a mantra as he propels me higher and higher, catapulting me closer to that precipice of euphoria that will send me to paradise. Turning my head, I seek hismouth, our kiss sloppy and wet. The sounds of our grunts and moans punctuate the morning silence as our bodies claim total possession over each other.
And then we detonate, our guttural moans drowned out by Cocky B’s ear-splitting crow.
Tristan buries his nose into my hair. “That damn rooster.” I giggle, and he tugs the lobe of my ear with his teeth. “That was over way too quickly. Give me about ten minutes to recover.”
I don’t tell him my legs won’t work, and I wouldn’t be able to move right now if my life depended on it.
Reaching back, I palm his cheek. “It was perfect.”
Movement behind the window simultaneously catches our attention, and I startle when Hendrix’s face grins back at us. He exhales on the glass and draws a rudimentary picture of a penis, then two circles and two dots for boobs.
“I swear Hen never matured past his tenth birthday,” Tristan says as he chuckles.
Hendrix taps on the window, then breathes on the glass again and writes in the condensation,Look who’s here.
My gaze flies from the message to the person standing right behind him. Two people, actually.
Constantine and…
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.
Like nothing is out of the ordinary with me buck naked against the window, and Tristan still dick-deep inside me with his cum trickling down my legs, Aleksander lifts a to-go box of donuts from my favorite bakery near campus.
“I, uh…brought breakfast,” I hear him say through the glass.
Shit.I completely forgot about that. We made plans to go for a run this morning before class. I’m trying to lose the rest of thepregnancy weight and get back into shape. Donuts kind of defeat the purpose. Doesn’t mean I won’t eat them.
Tristan bursts out laughing when I quickly crouch down out of view. “This isn’t funny!”
