Chapter Nineteen - Ella
Tristan pulled me into him the minute we arrived back at the palace and were shut behind the doors of his bedroom. He kissed me hard, my body flush against his. I could feel how hard he was, his erection pushing against my thigh, and I whimpered into his mouth. I needed him. Now that everything was in the open, now that I knew he had been Frederick all along and that everything between us had been real, I wanted him more than ever. I loved him.
We pulled each other’s clothes off desperately, like the days since we’d seen each other had been years and we had been starving without touching one another. I ran my hands over him, the muscles in his arms, the lines of his chest and abs, still hardly believing that this man wanted me. That he loved me.
“Tell me,” he said with a smirk against my mouth, stepping out of his pants, “about all those times you told me dirty, filthy things online.”
“What about them?” I asked, shivering as his fingers traced my hip bones.
“I know you touched yourself, rubbed your clit and fucked yourself with your fingers talking to me,” he said, making me gasp and flush.
“Yes, all the time,” I said. I didn’t feel shame or embarrassment at all now. I felt safe, like around Tristan, everything I wanted was going to be given to me.
“Show me,” he said, low and commanding, making me shudder, “right now. Touch yourself while I watch.”
“Yes,” I breathed. I laid back on the bed, feeling Tristan’s eyes burning into me.
“I want you on display for me,” he said. “Want you to show me exactly what you used to do when you told me your fantasies.”
“Watch,” I said, tracing my own hand down myself, pressing my fingers into my already dripping-wet folds. I groaned, feeling electric like I hadn’t in the time we’d been apart. With his eyes on me like this, my hand didn’t even feel like my own. Touching myself, rubbing hard circles on my own clit, like I had done so many times before, felt brand new, even thrilling.
“I used to get off to your words, stroking my cock right there while we were talking,” he said, voice still so low it made heat pool in my stomach.
“God,” I managed, already so close.
“You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you and make you come again,” he said. It was everything I had ever wanted to hear. It was more because Tristan was saying it, and everything about him was more than I knew to want.
I rubbed myself over and over, fingers slippery as I slid them over my folds. It felt so good to be laid out for him like this, his eyes watching my own fingers on my clit, just for him.
“Yes, please,” I said, “I need you.”
“You look so fucking pretty like this, touching yourself for me, so beautiful,” Tristan said. I flushed a deep red that spread through all of me. I wanted to hear him talk to me like that forever.
He leaned over, kissing me as I touched myself, running his tongue over my mouth, licking my lips before pulling back, eyes intent on my hand. He reached out and cupped my breast in his hand, squeezing.
“Come for me, come now, so I can fuck you like I know you want me to,” he ordered.
I crashed about a second later, gasping into my hand, still so exposed, on such display for him.
“Best thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” he said, before kissing me again. He eased himself all the way over me, spreading my legs out.
“Please, please, I need you inside me,” I said, watching him run his hand over his cock a few times before bringing it toward me. He teased the head over my clit, making me cry out, before guiding it down to my entrance.
“I never want you to stop saying please like that,” he said, sliding inside me. It was still so much. I had to breathe through it, like before, but once he was in, it was just as incredible, even more than last time.
“I never will,” I promised. He moved in me, thrusting, harder than before, quicker and harder than the first time, more desperate. I gasped.
“Tristan,” I said, like a question, like a request. I wanted him to fuck me harder, as hard as he wanted. Wanted to see how much I could take. He rocked in and out of me in deep, hard strokes, making me cry out every time, so good and so much. I pressed my hips up into his, still wanting more.
“Look at you,” he said, putting a hand on my hips like he wanted to feel them moving up into him. “You can’t stay still.”
“I want you too much. This feels so good,” I said. He grinned at me and shifted, putting his whole body on the bed and then sliding out of me. I whimpered, but he shook his head.
“I want to see you on top of me, riding my cock,” he said. I gasped again. He knew how many times I’d thought about this, about taking a man inside myself this way, rolling my hips down on him over and over, grinding on him, desperate and needy.
He laid back on the bed and motioned for me. I climbed over him and he held his cock in his hand, getting ready to help guide it inside of me. I spread my legs over him and shifted down, sinking on top of him.
“Oh my god, Tristan,” I said. I felt like I had taken him even deeper, even further inside of me this way. He put his hands on my hips and started lifting me, moving me up and down on him, fucking me hard again right away.
“You look like you were made to be there,” he said, still using his own hands to bounce me on top of him. I could hardly breathe, could hardly think. I planted my knees and started moving my own hips in his hands, raising myself up and down, feeling every inch of him inside me every time I sank down on him. I moved faster and faster, feeling delirious and heady with it. His hands stayed firm on my hips, and he rolled up into me, meeting my grinding with his own thrusts.
“Oh, that feels so fucking good,” I said, throwing my head back as I rode him, as he fucked up into me. I never wanted it to end. I wanted to do so many more things, wanted to try everything I could with Tristan.
“Fuck, Ella,” Tristan said, getting flushed, looking at me like he couldn’t believe I was real. He moved a hand from my hips to touch my clit, and it only took a few circles before I was careening over the edge, crashing and shattering. He came inside me as the waves of my own orgasm tore through me, making them feel even more intense.
I climbed off him slowly and he opened his arms and pulled me in close, kissing me over and over as we both came down.
“I missed you,” I told him, “so much.”
“I missed you,” he said, kissing my forehead. “You have no idea how much I missed you, Ella.”
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I said, meaning it, marveling at what a difference a day could make.
“I didn’t think I could be this happy,” he whispered, and I melted into him, sinking down into his chest and just letting myself feel it all: him, this moment, my own happiness.
I never wanted to move again.