Tristan's Temptation Page 5

  “Jesus, Shannon,” he growled, madly yanking up the length of her skirt so he could bare her completely to his gaze. “Jesus.”

  His hand was hot and hard on her ass. He squeezed it again, this time flesh to flesh. The harsh tug sent sensation rocketing through her, making her clit swell even more.

  She’d wanted this for so long. Dreamed of this. Ached for this. How many times had she come to her own touch, imagining it was Tristan’s hand upon her?

  She was suddenly impatient for him. Wild for him.

  As his caress drifted down to dance across her pussy again, she arched back at him, pleading for more.

  “Touch me,” she begged, and he complied, edging closer, stroking her slick lips, nudging her engorged clit. Her body tensed with pleasure. “Ah! Yes.”

  “You’re so wet.” His voice was hard, hungry.

  “You make me wet.”

  He froze at her words but only for a heartbeat. With a small growl, he drew back, away from her clit, and slipped his fingers deep into her pussy instead.

  Shannon whimpered with bliss. The sensation of fullness, of warmth, made her knees buckle.

  He was not unmoved either. “Jesus. You’re so tight.” A slightly strangled whisper.

  She squeezed her muscles around him and he groaned.

  God, she wanted him. She had for so long. She could barely believe she was here like this with him. That he was touching her like this. That he was standing behind her, hard and hot. Panting in her ear. She loved it.

  But she wanted more.

  “Fuck me, Tristan. I want your cock inside me.”

  A fierce shudder racked his body. Without a word, he set the tip of his cock to her opening. He pressed in and she winced. He was enormous. Fat, thick and long—she knew, she’d measured him with her mouth. Thank God he was a moderately patient man. He took her in tiny increments, rubbing her clit and massaging her hard nipples until her muscles opened to allow him more of her.

  By the time he was fully seated within her, she was whimpering and sobbing with pleasure. He touched her everywhere, massaged every twitching nerve in her pussy. His heat, his throbbing length, seared her to the core.

  “Please,” she moaned. “Please. Please.”

  He withdrew and she tried not to clench against him but failed. He growled in response to the sucking sensation and eased back in. It was quicker this time because her body was learning his breadth but the internal friction against her sensitive tissues made her tremble. She could feel the coming orgasm but was helpless to slow or control its onset. By the time he thrust into her for the third time, she was lost, quivering and quaking and moaning as bliss washed through her.

  But he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

  After her orgasm, her muscles relaxed and the walls of her pussy became slack. Tristan took full advantage. He started moving a little faster, and faster still until finally he was rocketing in and out of her with wild abandon. She could hear his grunts and groans, his agonized hiss as she came, once again, around him, sucking at his straining cock.

  And then she felt something she never expected. His cock, as thick and hard as it was, swelled a little more and stiffened like a pike. His movements became more frantic, more determined. Each thrust was like a pile driver inside her, nudging at her womb as he neared his climax.

  When he came—one hot jetting stream of semen after another—he flooded her canal, filling her with the most amazing sense of contentment she’d ever experienced. Drained, he collapsed on top of her, his cock still wedged within her. She squeezed a little, reflexively perhaps—she couldn’t help it, he felt so good inside her—and an aftershock rocked her.

  He groaned and angled up and away. His cock slipped out, leaving a wet trail along her inner thigh. Shannon stood and righted her skirt.

  “God, Shannon,” he rasped. “That was phenomenal.”

  “It was.” They shared a tangled glance, reflecting on the perfection of their mating.

  And then he frowned. He frowned and yanked on his pants with hard, impatient jerks. “But we shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have.” His expression was bleak, all the way down to his cheekbones. “This can’t happen again.”

  Ah. Agony sliced through her as his words hit home but Shannon threw her shoulders back and stiffened her spine. She disciplined herself to exude calm composure. It wouldn’t do for him to know how she felt. Not when his entire being radiated annoyance and regret.

  She really hated the regret.

  But all she said was, “Of course not.” And then she smiled and reached over to help him fasten his pants—his fingers were shaking, after all. It took everything she had in her but when she was done, she gave him a little pat on his forearm and added ever so nonchalantly, “But at least we got it out of our systems.”

  He froze for a second. Cleared his throat. Looked around for his shoes. “Yeah,” he said. “Out of our systems.”

  Shannon swallowed the tears burning in her throat. “Right then.” It was difficult adopting the staid, stalwart persona he expected of her but she did it. “I’m off to lunch.” She glided to the door with what she hoped was enviable aplomb.

  But as she exited Tristan’s office, she fumed.

  We shouldn’t have, he’d said. This can’t happen again, he’d said.

  Well, she thought. We’ll just see about that.

  Tristan sat at his desk, staring at the closed door, his mind in a whirl. He couldn’t believe he’d just bent Shannon over his desk and fucked her. It was something he’d imagined a thousand times and never expected to experience.

  Jesus. It had been infinitely better in real life.

  But it had been exceedingly unwise.

  Worse than that, it could never happen again.

  And even worse, she’d agreed with him on that point.

  What the hell was up with that?

  At least we got it out of our systems, she’d said with a calm, demure—utterly sincere—smile.

  Acid burned in his gut. Had she really been that unaffected? Had their amazing encounter not scored her soul? It had his.

  At least we got it out of our systems.

  What a laugh.

  Judging from the sensations still rocking his body as he relived their encounter again and again and again in his mind, he suspected she wasn’t out of his system at all. He just didn’t know what he was going to do about it.

  Chapter Four

  He was still thinking about her when he left for home that evening, though he was determined to put her out of his mind. He failed miserably, of course, as the memories of her sweet mouth and creamy clutches around his cock danced through his brain.

  Even though she’d drained him completely, he was still hard most of the day. He tried logging on to Virtual Life but the instance that had always brought him satisfaction now left him utterly unmoved. It was simply not enough anymore. He’d tasted heaven with her, the real thing, and this pallid, cheesy scene was a pale reflection.

  He wanted her hands on him, her mouth around him. He wanted her body pressed up against his, preferably nude. He railed at himself that he hadn’t taken more time, hadn’t stripped her naked and studied her form at length. He should have savored their encounter, kept her in his office and taken her again instead of blurting that ridiculous edict right away.

  He knew this couldn’t happen again and apparently so did she. But he shouldn’t have been so blunt about it. So crude.

  And she’d agreed so quickly, which gnawed at him. Had she insisted, surely she could have convinced him to perform again. But she hadn’t.

  That was damn annoying.

  Could it be? Was it possible it hadn’t been as fantastic for her as it had been for him? He’d been a bull elephant in musth, fucking her like a mindless beast and shoving her aside as soon as he was done. Not his usual style, to be sure. He usually made it a point to leave women purring and keening for more.

  With Shannon there had been no finesse, no seduction, no tender aft
erplay. With Shannon it had been hard and brutal, direct and to the point. He was, he realized with a flush of mortification, an idiot.

  And a jackass.

  And a damn prick to boot.

  The more he thought about it, the darker his mood became. By the time he reached his house, he was furious. At himself. At her. At life in general.

  He popped open a beer and went to sit on his patio but found himself staring at her house, there in the distance down the hill, and brooding.

  Shaking his head in disgust, he returned to his kitchen and opened the fridge, glaring at the contents. Nothing looked good.

  In desperation, he went to his laptop, determined to do some work tonight if he could coerce his brain to think about something other than her slender, elegant form, the soft curve of her ass, the tantalizing tenor of her moans as he thrust his cock deep into her.

  He was sitting before his computer, decidedly not working, his mind beset with visions and recriminations, when his email chimed, announcing he had an instant message. He frowned. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Maybe not ever. But he clicked over—it could be something important—and he stilled.

  The message was from Shannon.

  Her private email.

  With numb fingers, he opened the message.

  Tristan, he read. Are you all right? He snorted in response. I didn’t see you this afternoon.

  He hesitated before responding, worried what might flow forth if he allowed himself free rein.

  Yes, Shannon. I’m fine. How are you?

  God. How lame.

  Her response floored him. Horny.

  A smile blossomed on his face. So she had enjoyed it. At least a little.

  Didn’t you get enough in my office? The question was out and sent before he had a chance to think about it. He shouldn’t be flirting with her. He’d ended it, hadn’t he?

  Her reply wiped the smug smile away.

  Not nearly enough.

  What? Not nearly enough? Hell.

  Didn’t you enjoy it? Again, no thought involved, just a raging need to know.

  Her immediate response was gratifying. Umm. I loved it. But I want more.

  His cock twitched but Tristan forced himself to subdue his growing passion. We can’t do that again, he typed and hated himself.

  I know, she wrote, but I’ve been thinking…

  What?

  Perhaps we could try something different.

  Something different? What did you have in mind?

  Log on to Virtual Life.

  Besieged by an odd mixture of curiosity, arousal and trepidation, he did just that. He was surprised to see the group icon, heretofore untested, glowing. He clicked on it and a dropdown menu appeared. There was one choice—Shannon.

  Interesting. The game had been designed for single players, online community and for private groups. But…

  His IM dinged again and he flipped back to read, Turn on your Voice Over Internet Program. He did and Shannon’s voice rolled over his speakers.

  “I thought,” she purred, “we could play. Would you like to play the game, Tristan?”

  “Shannon?” An insipid question. Of course it was her. “How did you do this?”

  She chuckled, deep and low. “I told Jack you wanted to test the interactive applications and had him enable the functions on our computers.”

  Little minx. “When did you do that?”

  “This afternoon, while you were hiding.”

  “I wasn’t hiding.” But of course it was a lie. He had been hiding.

  “Hmm,” she murmured. Her voice rumbled through his being. “At any rate, I thought perhaps we could…explore the possibilities on a virtual platform. Surely that wouldn’t break any rules. It’s practically work.”

  He contemplated the idea for a second, but just barely a second. She must be right. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”

  She made a little noise in her throat, the sound of a woman satisfied with a man’s response to her overture. “Why don’t you select a scenario?”

  He clicked over to Virtual Life and reviewed the instance list. In a heartbeat, he realized the available scenarios were his and hers, mingled together. He read the titles, titillated, but couldn’t decide.

  And then, without a doubt, he knew what he wanted. “You choose.” He wanted to know, needed to know, what sparked her fire.

  “All right.” He heard her mouse click. A scenario coalesced on the screen. It was innocuous, at first glance. Virtual Shannon, dressed in a plaid skirt and white blouse, sat on a bench in a hallway. The word Schoolmaster was stenciled on the door to her right. Quickly, he checked the name of the instance and his cock leapt to attention. He’d never seen this scenario before. It was new. She’d created it just this afternoon. It was titled Shannon Has Been a Very Naughty Girl.

  He swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth.

  Before he could move or comment or formulate a coherent thought, Virtual Shannon, in her schoolgirl uniform, stood and walked to the door. She opened it and entered a traditional principal’s office. A man sat at the desk—a man who suspiciously resembled Tristan. He looked up as she approached.

  “You wanted to see me, Mr. Trillo?” she said in a sweet, innocent voice.

  The man at the desk, the virtual Mr. Trillo, just sat and stared, struck dumb.

  Shannon cleared her throat and repeated herself. “You wanted to see me?” And Tristan realized this instance, unlike the others they’d created, was not pre-programmed. They were creating it as they went along.

  He said in as stern a voice as he could muster, “Yes, Miss Weiss. You’ve been very naughty.”

  The lovely, innocent Miss Weiss clasped her hands behind her back and dropped her head, digging the toe of her shoe into the virtual carpet. “I didn’t mean to be naughty. I hope you won’t punish me.”

  Dear Jesus in heaven. Tristan shifted as, suddenly, things got very hard for him. “Miss Weiss,” he said, “if I don’t punish you, how will you learn your lesson?”

  “I’ll be good.” Yeah. He’d put money on it. “I’ll do anything you say. Just please don’t spank me.” As she said this, Virtual Shannon placed her hands on her ass, rubbing alluringly. “My bottom still stings from the last time.”

  “You know—” He swallowed, finding it difficult to form words. “You know you need a spanking.”

  “Please, schoolmaster.” She strolled across the room and knelt in front of him. “I’ll do anything to avoid a spanking.”

  Tristan swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth. “Anything?”

  “Yes, schoolmaster.”

  A shaft of lust licked him. He quickly unfastened his jeans and reached for his cock. He wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this, he knew it. Yeah, he was weak. But it would be worth it.

  “I think a spanking is definitely in order.”

  “But—”

  “No buts!” He bit back a grin at his unintentional play on words. “Come here, Miss Weiss.”

  She stood slowly and stepped closer.

  “Drape yourself over my lap.”

  “Please, schoolmaster—” she protested but Tristan could hear her soft gasps over the speakers, along with a slick resonance that assured him her fingers were working as madly as his own.

  “Do it.” There was a slight pause and then her character moved as he had commanded. “Skirt up.” And when she complied, “Panties down.”

  He heard her whimper over the line and then, in the blink of an eye, her character was bare-ass naked from the waist down. It was nothing compared to the real thing, the real thing he had fondled so lasciviously in his office that morning, but it was close enough. Because Tristan was imagining the real thing in its place.

  “Are you going to spank me now, schoolmaster?” she asked breathily, prompting him, goading him.

  “Oh yes.” He frowned at the controls, trying to figure out how to make Mr. Trillo bring his hand down on her ass.

  Apparently S
hannon had programmed in a macro for that, bless her heart, and the first sharp slap fell. The sound of it echoed through the room and Shannon obligingly cried out with an anguished sob. It shot through him like a fist.

  “Please,” she whispered as another smack found its mark. Her sob was wreathed in a moan this time. He could hear the wet noises as her fingers sluiced in and out of her pussy and that made his cock throb. God, how he wished he were in that schoolmaster’s office right now with Shannon draped over his lap, his hand falling again and again on her soft, pliant flesh.

  The ass on the screen slowly turned red. Tristan marveled that she’d taken the time and the effort to program in such a detail. This evidence of her diligence made him even harder.

  “Do you like that?” he hissed, his tight fist snaking frantically up and down his cock.

  “Yes, Master.” Another smack. And another.

  “Do you want more?”

  “Yes!”

  “I want to do this to you in real life,” he panted, his control nearly at an end. “God, Shannon. Do you want my hand on your ass? Is that what you fantasize about when you’re sitting at your desk acting all prim and proper?”

  “Yes.” Her moan was deeper, more resonant. He recognized the timbre. She was close. Very close.

  “This is what happens to naughty girls,” he said, goaded by that demon, the one crawling about in his loins. He wanted very badly to explode but he wanted to take her with him. “They get their bottoms paddled, don’t they? And if they are really naughty, they like it, don’t they, Shannon?”

  “Yes, Tristan. Yes.” She was shivering, he could hear it in her voice. Her pussy would be quivering and grasping at his cock right now. If he were there. If he were in her. She’d be squeezing and massaging his length and sucking at him with her muscles.

  “You’d like it, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to smack your ass hard, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then do you know what I’d do?”

  “Ah! W-what, Tristan?”

  “Then I’d slip my finger into your pussy and see how wet you are.”

  “I’m wet. God. I’m so wet.”

  “Are your fingers in your pussy?”