Page 139 of Reckless Obsession

Tristan’s mouth curves against mine.

“You’re embarrassed now?”

“Shut up.”

I kiss him again before he can say anything worse. I feel his chuckle vibrate through his chest, warm and low, but it only makes the kiss hotter, messy and urgent, our breaths mingling hot and ragged. I can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against me through our clothes as he carries me toward the bedroom, each step jostling me against him in the most delicious way.

The door barely clicks shut behind us before Tristan throws me onto the bed.

I bounce once on the mattress, breath catching, but he doesn’t give me a second to recover. He’s already stripping his shirt off in one fluid motion, revealing the broad, muscled expanse of his chest and the dark ink that always makes my mouth water. Then he’s climbing over me, caging me in with his body, mouth finding mine again as if he physically can’t wait another second.

I love this side of him.

The one that loses every ounce of control the moment he decides he wants me. The one who looks at me as though wanting me is both a weakness and the only honest thing he has ever done. The dominant, feral side that comes out when he’s hungry, possessive, and almost unhinged.

His bare skin is hot under my hands as I run them greedily over his back, feeling the flex of powerful muscles, the way they shift and tense beneath my palms with every movement. He’s so warm, so solid, so real. I trace the ridges of his spine, digging my nails in when he grinds down against me, the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against mine through the thin layers separating us.

He shudders at my touch, and his reaction sends reckless satisfaction through me.

“Still think I’m a nuisance?” I manage between kisses.

His forehead dips against mine, his breathing uneven.

“You’re impossible,” he says.

“Not an answer.”

His eyes lift to mine. Dark, intense, stripped of every careful wall he usually hides behind.

“You know exactly what you are to me, spitfire.”

The words hit harder than the kiss, and my heart swells with it, but he doesn’t give me time to dwell on that as he captures my lips again, groaning and rolling his hips in a slow, filthy grind that makes my toes curl. I pull him down harder, kissing him like I’ll die if I stop, legs wrapping tighter around his waist as we grind against each other like animals. Desperate, messy, and completely consumed by the need to be closer, deeper, more.

I can feel the rapid beat of his heart against my chest, taste the faint salt on his skin when I bite his bottom lip, and hear the low sounds he makes when I arch up to meet him.

“Fuck, Maksim,” he rasps as he breaks the kiss, then traces his lips along my neck, his voice a complete wreck. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Show me then,” I manage to say.

And as if I turn on a switch, Tristan strips my shirt off with one smooth, impatient tug, tossing it somewhere behind him. The cool air hits my heated skin, but it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes rake over me as if I’m the only thing in the world worth looking at.

I barely have time to catch my breath before his mouth is on my neck again.

He kisses down the column of my throat, slow and unhurried, his lips brushing my pulse point before he sucks hard enough to make me gasp. The sting blooms into warmth, sending sparks racing down my spine. Then he moves to my earlobe, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make my toes curl. I let out a shaky moan, fingers threading through his hair, holding him there as heat pools low in my belly.

“Tristan…” His name comes out wrecked, half plea, half prayer.

He doesn’t answer with words. He just keeps going, sucking another mark into the side of my neck, then lower, claiming every inch of skin like he’s marking territory. Each pull of his mouth sends jolts of pleasure straight to my cock, already straining hard against the thin fabric of his shorts I’m wearing. The contrast between the sharp sting of his teeth and the soothing swipe of his tongue makes my head spin.

When he reaches my chest, he gives my pecs the kind of attention that makes my back arch off the bed. His mouth closes over one nipple, sucking hard while his tongue flicks over the sensitive bud. I cry out, hips jerking up involuntarily, the friction against his body driving me insane. He switches to the other side, lavishing it with the same hungry devotion, teeth grazing just enough to make me whimper.

“Fuck— Tristan, please—”

He hums against my skin, the vibration shooting straight through me. His hands roam lower, palms sliding down my sides, thumbs brushing over my ribs like he’s memorizing every dip and curve. When he reaches the waistband of the shorts, he doesn’t hesitate. He hooks his fingers under the fabric and pulls them down in one smooth motion, freeing my aching dick.

The cool air hits my heated skin, making me shiver. I’m painfully hard, leaking steadily, completely exposed under his gaze. Tristan’s eyes darken as he takes me in, a low, appreciative rumble in his chest.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough with want. “So fucking pretty for me.”