Her Immortal Love (13 page)

“I want to, Tristan.”

“But you don’t. Not yet.”

She lowered her head and threaded her fingers together. Tristan touched her chin and brought her face back up to his.

“I understand,” he said softly. “But I hope someday you can bring yourself to trust me. Completely.”

Lydia remained silent. Her own mother didn’t trust her judgment. She had good reason to. What did Lydia really know about men? She’d not been with any other man but Douglas for nearly twenty years. And what, especially, did she know about younger men? About Tristan?

He drove her away from her mother’s house. She slid her arm around his and nestled her cheek against her shoulder. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she didn’t have any idea what she was doing and, as result, would be hurt in the long run. Just as Douglas had hurt her.

God, she hoped not. She liked Tristan. Wanted to be with him, but she also didn’t think she could survive that kind of pain again.

Chapter Nine

Tristan eased his car into the driveway of Lydia’s house. He keyed the car off then turned towards her, shaking his finger at her. “That wasn’t fair.”

He glanced down to where her hand lay between his thighs. She had been playing with him during the drive to her house, rubbing his groin and teasing his cock with her fingers. It now strained, thick and hard, against the fabric of his slacks.

She laughed and rubbed her breast along his arm. “All’s fair in love and war.”

Thoughts of her encounter with her mother had diminished as Tristan’s erection had grown, and her mood had drastically improved as they’d gotten closer to her house. She supposed it was a combination of his intoxicatingly erotic cologne and the way he’d hissed and moaned as she’d fondled him.

He grinned at her in the dim interior of the car. “What a wanton wench you are.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Wench? Who are you calling a wench?”

He laughed, opened his car door and walked around to where she waited for him. She could have gotten out on her own, and she still felt strange letting a man open a car door for her, but it seemed to make him happy and, in all honesty, she liked it. She liked being treated like a lady. His lady.

Once they entered her house, and as soon as the door was closed, he pulled her hard against him. Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth against hers, swallowing any words she was about to say with a long, smoldering kiss.

Lydia moaned and slid her arms around his waist. Pushing her hands up under his suit jacket, she jerked his shirt out of the waistband of his slacks and slid her palms across the warmth of his bare skin. It hurt her that he had dressed so nicely for her mother’s party and Carlotta had treated him so shabbily. But she soon forgot about that as Tristan continued to kiss her.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he whispered against her lips.

She pointed towards the hallway to their left. He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. They fell together on the bed. He kissed and bit her neck then pulled away to gaze down at her. “Tell me, sweet. Tell me what you want?”

She slid her arms around his neck. “I want you to do the most unseemly and improper things to me.”

“Unseemly and improper?” He grinned, his deep dimples flashing. “And just what would that entail?”

“Let me think.” She played with his hair where it brushed the back of his neck. “Lots and lots of licking and sucking and fucking.”

“I think I can accommodate you regarding that.”

He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and, pulling it off along with his shirt, tossed them all to the floor. He then took off his slacks and underwear and once he was naked, he quickly got her out of her dress, throwing it onto the floor with the rest of his clothes. He buried his face in her breasts, his tongue licking deep between her cleavage, his teeth nipping the swollen mounds.

Lydia moaned, her hands pushing through the warm strands of his dark hair. Even now she still found it hard to believe she was doing this. Making love to a sexy, younger man. When Saffron had suggested that she not only start dating, but that she date younger men, Lydia had brushed it off as pure nonsense. First, because she couldn’t imagine any younger men wanting to date her when they had their pick of women their own age to choose from. Second, she couldn’t help buying into society’s view that it was perfectly fine for men to date or marry someone younger than they were, but it wasn’t as acceptable for women. Cougars and all the attention they had been receiving of late notwithstanding.

But Tristan was here with her. And he wanted her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Reaching around, he undid her bra and pulled it off her breasts. He slid his mouth down and ran his tongue around both of her stiffened nipples, licking then biting first one then the other.

She drew in a hard breath. It hurt when he bit her nipples, but it also sent a hot dart of lust straight to her pussy. He slid his mouth down her stomach, kissing and licking her skin, his tongue sliding all over her belly, his teeth nipping around her navel. He gripped the top of her stockings and pulled them down off her legs.

“You’ve got lovely legs, Lydia. You should show them off more often.”

“That’s what Saffron says.”

“She’s right.” Placing his hands on her hips, he hooked his fingers over the edges of her panties. He pulled them off and threw them on the floor. He covered her mouth with his, his tongue diving deep between her lips, his warm body pressing against her now naked one.

When they finally broke their kiss, she gazed up at him. “Tristan, the way you make me feel. It’s....”

She stopped. It was perfect the way he made her feel and that frightened her. Perfection was an intangible ideal. Something to seek but never possess. Even a child knew that.

He stroked her cheek with the side of his forefinger. “How do I make you feel, Lydia? Tell me.”

“Happy. Desired. Young.”

“Young? But you are young.”

“Not as young as I once was. Not as young as you. I know you can see the lines on my face.”

He caressed the skin next to her eyes where the creases had deepened over the years. “I like them.”

She silently scoffed. Easy enough for him to say with his smooth, youthful skin.

He must have seen the look on her face. “It's true. I love everything about you.” He lifted her hair and pressed the strands against his lips. “The silver in your hair.”

He could see her gray? Oh god.

He slowly caressed her breasts, her belly, her thighs. “Your lush woman's body. I love all of it.”

She wanted so much to believe him. But it was so hard. Douglas had told her she no longer excited him sexually. He hadn’t called her old in so many words, but the implication was there in his having had an affair with someone so much younger than her.

Tristan put her hand around his cock. “Feel it. Feel how much I want you,”

Her throat tightened as she pressed her palm and fingers around the warm, firm length of him.

“Now believe it. Believe that I want you for who you are. A wonderful, beautiful, desirable woman.”

She would let herself believe it. At least for tonight. She deserved that much and, in a way, she needed it too. She slowly moved her palm up and down his cock. Tristan smiled then wrapped his hands around her breasts, slowly kneading them, his long fingers pinching and rubbing her stiff nipples. He kissed her lips then moved down her body. Pushing aside her thighs, he lowered his head towards her waiting sex.

A soft moan escaped her lips as he slowly, softly licked her pussy, which was now soaking wet. So wet, in fact, she was embarrassed by it. But he didn’t seem to mind how wet she was. He moved his hands from her breasts and slid them beneath her buttocks, lifting her hips towards his mouth, his tongue making slow circles around the lips of her cunt. His delicate licking of her clit was driving her mad. She moaned, her throat working, her back arching against the mattress. She threw her hands out to her sides and clenched the sheets. She was primed for an orgasm, and she sensed it would be unlike any she’d ever had.

Tristan lifted his head. “Don’t come yet. Don’t come until I tell you to.”

She stared down at him. What? How was she supposed to keep herself from climaxing? Even now her pussy was throbbing with her need to come.

“I don’t think I—”

“Not until I say you can come.”

She took in and released several measured breaths, forcing herself not to focus on that boiling epicenter that was her cunt. “All right. Not until you tell me.”

He smiled. “Good. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” He lowered his head and went back to massaging her clit with his tongue.

Lydia gritted her teeth and gripped the sheets, fisting them into sweaty balls. She’d never tried holding back an orgasm. Why should she? Until she met Tristan, having an orgasm had been more hit and miss with more misses than hits.

Tristan pushed his hands up her stomach and back to her breasts. He grasped them both, pinching and rolling her nipples as he continued swirling his moist tongue around her burning clit.

Oh god, she wanted so much to come. She drew in long, ragged breaths, her hips shaking, her heart pounding, her body hovering on the razor edge of ecstasy as the sweet tip of his tongue danced nimbly across her clit. When it felt as if she couldn’t stand it any longer, her body screaming for release, he lifted his head.

“Now,” he said softly.

Lydia exploded into the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had in her life. She cried out, her head tossing back and forth across the pillows. She reached down and clutched Tristan’s hair, shamelessly grinding her sex against his face as the hot ripples of her climax scorched through her pelvis. She closed her eyes, her body violently shuddering, her heart hammering in her chest. After long, passionate moments in which she wasn’t even conscious of herself as being separate from the universe, her orgasm finally subsided. She slowly opened her eyes, her breath rasping in her chest. She looked down her body.

Tristan apparently had been watching her as she came, his dark blue eyes half-lidded, his firm lips glistening with her juices.

“Tristan,” was all she could manage to say.

“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he said softly. “I want to make you come again and again and again. I want to spend the whole night watching you come.”

He pulled himself up the bed and nestled his body between her thighs. He lowered his head and kissed her. She tasted herself on his mouth. His kiss was so deep it took her breath away. She slid her arms around his neck, knowing she shouldn’t lose herself too deeply in his kiss or, most especially, lose herself in him, but singularly aware that the temptation to do so was ever present and growing stronger the more time she spent with him.

He slowly but thoroughly worked his cock inside her, his thrusts slow and shallow at first, but with each stroke he went deeper. He took his time fucking her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him tight against her. He twisted his hips in such a way that his cock rubbed against her clit. She whimpered and rotated her hips to match his movements.

“Hmmm, yes, feels good,” he murmured against her lips. “Feels so damned good. Your hot, sweet cunt.”

She moaned, enjoying the sound of his voice when he said those words.

He moved his mouth over to her ear. “You want me to talk dirty?” He pounded his cock harder inside her. “Say nasty things to you while I fuck you?”

“Yes, yes, please, oh, please.” She gripped her legs tighter around his waist, her nails raking across his perspiring back.

He groaned, pushing her deeper into the bed. It violently rocked beneath his hard, potent thrusts. “Gonna fuck you. Fuck you hard. Fuck you good. Make you come, baby. Make you come all around my hard, thick cock.”

She mewled beneath him as he drove deeper inside her, pushing her closer and closer to that blissful precipice, that sweet oblivion. “Yes, yes, don’t stop, don’t stop. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

A low growl thrummed within his chest as he thrust into her with bruising intensity. Their loins rubbed moistly together, the coarse hair of his groin crushing lusciously against her sex, her heels rubbing frantically alongside his firm calves. His thrusts inside her were strong and deep, mastering her pleasure so that when she came it was a black-hot orgasm that mercilessly gripped her womb.

She released a long, slow wail of bliss.

Tristan pulled out of her, flipped her onto her stomach and grabbed her ass. She wondered if he was going to take her anally, wondered if she could handle it. But he didn’t. He thrust his cock back into her throbbing pussy and, when he was once again inside her, went back to fucking her. Savagely, ferociously.

She’d never been fucked like this before. Douglas had never taken her from the rear. The world swirled around her and when she climaxed again, her orgasm was rich and thick and succulent, red and orange bands of fire searing her blood, her body, her soul.

“Oh god!” she screamed.

“Yes, that’s it. Come with me, sweet.”

She cried out again, as another orgasm swept over her, drowning out all coherent thought. Tristan leaned over her, nipping at her neck, her shoulder, his cock hammering inside her.

She pushed her ass hard against his groin, moaning deep in her chest as he speared his cock inside her. Sliding his hands around her waist, he grabbed her breasts and pinched her pointed nipples.

She rocked her head from side to side, tears sliding from her eyes, her body shaking wildly from his hard fucking. Then she felt him stiffen, the heat of him spreading through her cunt and her hips like fire, his seed flooding into her.

Condoms. Oh god, they’d forgotten condoms.

His hands gripped her breasts as he groaned out his orgasm, his lips sliding over her hot, moist skin. When he pulled out of her, he rolled over and collapsed on his back next to her. Both of them struggled for breath and it was some moments before either could speak.

“Tristan—”

He looked over at her. “I know. I forgot. I’m sorry. But trust me, you don’t have to worry about anything. I don’t have any STDs, I’m not HIV positive and I can’t get you pregnant.”