One Night for Love (12 page)

With her now lying before him, his hips exploded forward and he pressed in and out at a faster speed. She wanted to take him this way. She opened her throat and let him. She sucked and he grew harder. Her hands clutched his perfect, hard, tight ass as the first drops of salty liquid entered her mouth.

“Prim, I’m going to come.”

With Tristan’s words, she clutched his ass. She pulled him into her throat and sucked against his entire girth. The come spurted hot and hard from him and jetted down her throat. She swallowed and swallowed and swallowed again, her mouth stroking him and sucking and her tongue licking every drop from his shaft. He shivered with continued pleasure and then slowly pulled his cock from her lips.

He moved beside her and pressed his mouth to hers. She loved the salty goodness of him, and she loved his unbridled passion.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She was. She’d enjoyed doing that to him. She’d not ever been with a man in such a vulnerable way, not let him do that to her mouth, and while she couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone but Tristan, she could imagine doing that with him again.

“I’m good,” Prim said. She placed her hand on his jaw.

A look of concern wound across his face.

“What is it?”

“I want you to feel good when we’re together.” His hand drifted down to her sex and his fingers pressed into her. “You’re so wet.”

Prim’s hips arched up with Tristan’s touch. He pulled his fingers from her sex and ran the tip of his pointer finger over her lips. Her tongue darted out and tasted the wetness of her own desire. Tristan leaned forward and kissed her, his tongue opening her mouth. A greedy kiss, and his cock responded by hardening against her leg. He moved down her body and spread her legs.

 “You are beautiful … do you not know how beautiful your pussy is?”

His breath was hot on her. When he spoke she clenched from his words.

“That’s it ... I can just sit here and look at your pussy.” Air crossed over his lips and it brushed her sex. A moan tore through her, a moan and a want simply from his breath on her. “And I can make you come. Imagine what it will feel like when I suck you off?”

With those words her hips arched high and she bucked upward as though her body, her clit, sought his mouth. She wanted his mouth on her.

“Touch yourself,” he said.

She eased her fingertip onto her clit and her body arched and rocked.

“That’s it, beautiful. Now slide your finger across your clit like you do when you’re alone and you think of me. When you think of me sucking your pussy or fucking you.”

With his words she nearly careened over the edge. Her fingertips slid over her clit. Soon she would take herself over the edge, and then his mouth was on her fingers and his tongue pressed her clit and sucked. She was a hot throbbing mass of wet desire. His fingers pulsed into her pussy while he sucked, and her fingers continued to press against her clit. He rose above her, ready to take her again. He pulled back and he grasped her knees with his hands, and in one hard, swift stroke he slammed into her hip-deep. A yell came from her throat, a yell of pleasure and desire.

“You are mine. Prim, you are mine.”

Her eyes widened. She wanted him wild-eyed and without control. His eyes were now nearly black as his hips slammed forward and back and forward and back, taking her with a strong and violent urgency.

“Say it, Prim, say you are mine.”

“I am yours,” she whispered around the desire that pounded through her.

Their gazes locked.

“Again.” His cock sank deeper into her, farther and faster. His hands clasped her knees. He did not kiss her; he did not stroke her breast. He took her and claimed her with his hard, thick strokes filled with lust and desire. “Say it.”

“I am yours,” she said, her voice shattering.

“Louder, say it louder. You are mine, you are mine now and you’ll be mine after this three months is over. You won’t ever be anyone else’s no matter if you fuck them or you suck their cocks or they fuck you. You are mine, now and forever. Say it now, say it louder.”

“Oh my God, Tristan.” Prim moaned; her body was no longer hers. She was outside herself and so filled with the pleasure of his hard cock and his hard fucking that she could barely speak, could barely see.

“Say it.”

His need for her words as urgent as his cock slamming into her over and over again. Please don’t let him stop. God, yes, let her always be his, let her body be his, and her soul and all of her be his forever and for always.

“I’m yours,” she said. She yielded as he again sank into her.

With her words his lips were on her mouth. He captured her moans with his kiss. His teeth nipped her lips, and his tongue possessed her mouth.

She was his, she was completely his, and this was more than she’d ever been to. She couldn’t help but want to be his, need to be his.

“Tristan, I’m yours.”

They fell over the edge and into the sweet abyss together, her body careening over with him. The heat of his come shot through her and their bodies shattered and shook.

He collapsed onto her, their breathing mixed and ragged, neither of them able to catch their breath, both of them realizing that this, this moment, meant more than the other moments and that somehow they had crossed an unspoken boundary.

He rolled from her. She felt empty as his cock slipped from inside her. He lifted the covers onto her, curved his arm around her but did not meet her gaze. Prim turned her head from him and soft, quiet tears escaped her eyes. Tears over what he meant to her. The rigid shell he maintained came up, over, and around him, and in response she too hardened herself. Because while she’d given him her body and wanted to give him every part of her flesh, she had no desire to keep giving him her heart.

Tristan didn’t want to become involved, but he was. Prim had slipped through his impenetrable barricade. What began as a compromise, a contract, an agreement based on lust and self-interest, had become much more than merely a twelve-week arrangement. A bright blue Los Angeles morning antagonized his gray mood. Not even the waves and the water settled him. He unzipped his wet suit and pulled out his arms. He picked up his board and turned up the beach toward his home.

Today was the final day in their agreement. Twelve weeks with Prim hadn’t diminished his desire for her; instead, he wanted her more each day. His resolve to remain unattached had crumbled in the presence of Prim Baxter. Her laugh, her brains, her body, her drive to succeed, everything about Prim pulled him in, but he knew that though their relationship might work for a while, no future could be built upon it.

A
future
? With Prim? He pulled his hand through his hair. What was he thinking?

He racked his surfboard and walked up the back steps to the house. He’d been very quiet when he left to surf. He tried to always be quiet so that Prim might get more sleep. She worked entirely too hard, her hours much too long, and plus if she was still asleep when he returned, he usually lay back down and stared at that beautiful face for just a while before getting ready for his day.

The scent of fresh coffee and something warm with cinnamon greeted him when he opened the back door near the kitchen.

“Hello Mr. Up and at ’Em.”

What he saw nearly drove him to his knees. Picture-perfect domesticity on a beautiful woman. Prim’s long, luscious legs shot out from beneath an old Wharton T-shirt, her tousled hair up in a loose bun on her head. She grasped a coffee mug in her hand and stood by the stove. A bowl dripped batter onto the counter and beside the bowl lay a spatula.

Prim waited for the pancake in the skillet to be ready to flip, but meanwhile she stepped closer to him. “You smell all sexy-surfy.”

She tilted her head up to him. His chest tightened. This would be the last morning that he came into his home and Prim was there, waiting for him either in his bed or in his kitchen. Tomorrow his home would once again contain silence.

His heart twisted in his chest. Prim deserved so much more than him. She deserved a man who could devote himself to her. A man who wasn’t so completely focused on the bottom line. Someone who could give her the companionship she deserved.

His lips pressed to hers. He had her for one more day; she was his until tomorrow.

“What’d you make for breakfast, Miss Baxter?” He grasped her shoulders in the palm of each hand.

“Cinnamon pancakes and bacon.”

“A woman who can close million dollar deals
and
cook? You’re quite a find.”

Prim smiled. “I do have some domestic skills. They’re not many, but what I know how to do, I do really well.”

“Do I have time to shower?”

Prim glanced at the pancake. “Sure. I can keep them warm in the oven.”

His lips pressed to Prim’s again before he pulled himself away from her. He didn’t mention the obvious, that today was their final day together, and neither did she. Saying good-bye to Prim would be achingly hard. He would do it though, because she would be much happier without him in her life.

*

Prim sat at her desk in front of her computer with her head in her hand. Empty boxes that she and her assistant were meant to fill with Prim’s personal items lay stacked on the floor in front of her desk. She directed a blank stare toward her computer screen. She’d not digested anything on the screen in the hours since she’d arrived to work.

Today was their final day together and her final day at Metro. While she intended to treat today like any other day, she didn’t know if she could. Raw emotion ran so close to the surface. She’d fought back the heat of tears while Tristan devoured his pancakes this morning. Watching him eat had nearly made her cry. Then she’d gotten misty again when she walked through the halls of Metro greeting coworkers for what would be her final day. She’d rushed past Alyssa without a word and closed her office door. Now here she sat, trying to hide from this day and the world. Her phone rang and she snatched it up before her assistant could answer.

“This is Prim.”

“Answering your own phone again? Things must be very bad at Metro.”

A comfort rushed through her body with Meg’s voice. “Not bad because I’m answering my own phone,” Prim said.

“But for other reasons?”

Prim pulled at a strand of hair. How much to tell Meg? They were the closest of friends, but Prim was so embarrassed by her desires that she didn’t even want to say it aloud.

“He …” What were the words that she sought? “He makes me happy and I may be in love.”

Meg was silent.

“What?”

“I’m just thinking,” Meg said. “Thinking that with words such as those there’s nothing really that I can say.”

No, there wasn’t anything to be said. “I merely have to get though today.”

“You think twenty-four hours will end it?”

“I don’t have a choice in the matter and neither does he. The deal was for twelve weeks. After today, I’m free and so is he.”

“Wouldn’t it be lovely if it were that simple,” Meg said.

“Yes.” Prim sighed. “But it’s not.”

Their agreement had been meant to burn away the overwhelming lust they felt. Twelve weeks of Tristan’s constant companionship and their insatiable sex did little more than fuel an even higher flame.

“Reminding you of our dinner.” Meg changed the subject. “At Mastro’s.”

“Right,” Prim said. “We’re confirmed and on the schedule. This dinner is meant to be a business dinner, not a couples thing.” Her words were a weak lie even to her own ears.

“Of course,” Meg said. “We’ll see you both at eight.”

Prim pushed back her shoulders. She would do this. She wasn’t going out a weak, mewling, teary-eyed mess. She hadn’t cried when Ryan sold Metro, at least not at the office. She wouldn’t cry and pout and walk around with a long face on her final day. She didn’t want her coworkers to remember her sad and tearful. No, she wanted them to remember her as strong and full of joy. She was meant to be in the conference room in ten minutes. Her staff thought they were being sneaky, but she realized that there would be cake and balloons and a send-off for her. She clicked her e-mail to do one final look before she left.

What was this? Philippe, Tristan’s assistant, had attached Prim to an e-mail loop from the CEO of Optimax? A final piece of business for her to read? Prim clicked the attached document. Her eyes ate up the words.

An anxious, oily feeling consumed her stomach. The document contained an offer from Optimax to buy Metro’s research division. The offer was dated this week. She read the e-mail chain, which was an ongoing exchange between Tristan and Optimax’s CEO over the last month.

The last month? Tears heated her eyes. She’d believed Tristan when he said that he’d wait to make his decision about hacking Metro to bits and selling off each lucrative division. Why had she believed him? Why had she trusted him? Why had she ever thought that she could change his mind? She’d confused desire and lust with love and respect. She’d been swept up in her growing emotions for Tristan. She’d even thought she was successfully convincing him that Metro should remain a whole entity.

The sale to Optimax would be a bloodletting. The Metro research division was twenty people strong. Optimax would probably keep five of Metro’s team. They’d fold those five into their own company and fire the other fifteen. Many on the Metro research team had been with Metro closing on twenty years. Long before she started, even before her former boss Ryan Murphy had purchased Metro.

Prim clicked the document closed. Her colleagues expected her and she wouldn’t disappoint them. She might be leaving, her job at Metro complete as of today, but she still had to try to convince Tristan to keep Metro Media whole.

The boxes in Prim’s office were being sent to her house. After her good-byes, she’d left Metro’s headquarters and headed home. A long soak in the tub helped still all the emotions that raced through her body. Now, ready for dinner, Prim settled into the back of Tristan’s town car. An ache continued to weave itself through her chest. Sitting beside the man she’d come to care so deeply for over the last twelve weeks, an emotional distance widened between her and Tristan that not even their attraction could bridge.