Chapter 4 | Sensitive Mess

TRISTAN 

I gulped hard and my gaze fell on the girl laying beneath me.

Her long black hair spilled across the leather couch in wild strands and she looked messy, beautiful, like a piece of art. Those stunning green eyes glistened with unshed tears and drunken haze.

Her eyes were wide and innocent even as her body arched toward me in silent plea. She was twenty. Pure. Naive. A girl I’d watched grow from a sweet, quiet child into… this. 

This sin made flesh.

I was thirty-six. Ruthless in boardrooms and colder in bedrooms, known as, the perfect Mr. Billionaire who never let anything slip his control. I’d seen her only a handful of times growing up, on holidays, birthdays, quick visits when work allowed. 

She’d always been a good kid. Polite. Shy. Smiling at me with those big eyes like I hung the moon. Then on her sixteenth birthday. I’d walked into that garden party and felt something crack inside my chest. 

She wasn’t a child anymore. She was breathtaking- soft curves just beginning to bloom, that same shy smile, but now it carried a spark that made my blood run hot. I told myself it was nothing and it was wrong. I stayed away.

But her seventeenth birthday changed everything.

I started showing up more. Family dinners, weekend visits. And every single time, I caught her looking at me. Not the way a niece looks at her uncle. Not even the way a girl looks at a handsome older man but, The way a woman looks at the man she wants.

I’d pretended I didn’t see it. Buried it. I worked longer hours. Fucked other women harder. Tried to drown it out. But nothing worked.

And now here she was- flushed, lips parted and breathing in soft, beautiful little pants that made my cock throb with hunger so vicious it scared me.

“Maya,” I rasped.

She whimpered in answer and her small hands grabbed the sides of my sweatpants. Her hips rolled up, grinding her soaked pussy against the aching length of me through the thin fabric. 

Fuck- The friction was torture. Pure, exquisite torture.

She looked so fucking hot, biting her lower lip. My gaze dropped to her chest. The way her breasts rose and fell with every ragged breath. Those hard, sensitive nipples straining against black lace. I could see those soft pink peaks begging to be sucked. 

Fuck. They looked so perfect. So suckable.

I was losing it.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, princess,” I growled low. My voice came out rougher than I intended. My own chest heaved now, my breaths uneven, matching hers.

Her lashes fluttered innocently. Those glassy green eyes found mine again. “I know what I want…” she whispered, voice trembling but sure. “And I want you to… Tristan.” She spoke shyly but sure of what she wanted. 

My name on her lips felt like gasoline on an open flame. I ran my tongue over my dry lips, fighting every instinct screaming to claim her right there. “You’re playing with fire, princess.”

I tried. God, I tried to pull back. To be the responsible one. The adult.

But she was addicted. She was the drug I was becoming an addict of. Every whimper, every shy little buck of her hips and every glistening glance dragged me deeper.

“Do you want me to…?” My fists clenched at my sides. A few damp strands of hair fell across my forehead. I knew how I looked right now. So fucking dangerous, unraveling and the way she whimpered at the sight only made it worse.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Daddy.

The word hit me like a fist to the gut. Many women had called me that but the way she did. So Soft. Submissive. Bold. All at once. It lit something primal inside me I hadn’t known existed.

My gaze swept down her body again and lingered on the black lingerie that hugged her like it was made to ruin me. The lace cupped her curves perfectly, framed her slim waist and the flare of her hips. Sinful. Irresistible.

“Daddy~” she whimpered again, needy and sweet. That was it. My Restraint snapped like a dry twig. With a sharp tug I yanked her bra down. Her breasts spilled free. So full, perky, soft as silk and topped with perfect rosy nipples that tightened even more under my stare.

My cock twitched hard in my pants. I looked at her face. Her cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed crimson and her eyes darted away in shyness. I could see she was overwhelmed. But the thrill was there too, sparkling in those green depths.

A dark smirk tugged at my mouth. I lifted my hand and brushed my thumb over one nipple slowly, deliberately. Just a graze and the moment I did, she gasped. 

She threw her head back and her eyes wide with shock and pleasure. I leaned down and my lips ghosted along the column of her throat, giving her room to breathe, to feel every inch of what I was about to do.

“Does this turn you on?” I growled against her ear, thumb circling her nipple now, slow and firm.

She whimpered. Her whole body twitched. So hypersensitive and trembling. Her lips parted as she tried to answer but failed.“Does my baby like Daddy touching her?” My mouth hovered over the racing pulse in her neck. My own breath was hot and teasing.

“I—n-ngh—nghh—” I pinched her nipple softly, enough to sting, enough to make her cry out.

She trembled harder. 

So responsive. So fucking perfect. I hadn’t even touched her properly and she was already a leaking, shaking mess beneath me.

I licked my lips again, tasting the air thick with her arousal. My body burned and a sinful desire burned inside of me. I wanted to rip those panties aside and bury myself inside her. So fucking deep, raw, breeding her until she was dripping with me, marked from the inside out.

But I knew.

I knew she was untouched. She was shy. Introverted. Especially around men. I’d watched her push people away for years. So I held back- just barely.

I lowered my head instead. My lips brushed her soft, sensitive nipple. The moment I made contact she let out the sweetest, kittenish moan. Her hips bucked up hard, grinding desperately against my throbbing cock.

“Ahhhh—haahhh—”

I took the sensitive bud into my mouth and softly rolled my tongue around it. I drew slow circles, flicking the tip and then scraping my teeth lightly over the bud.

She whimpered loud and her fingers moved up and fisted on my shoulders. Her one hand moved into my hair and her fingers curled tight, pulling me closer.

Her hips rocked again in a greedy, needy movement wanting to feel friction against her leaking dripping pussy. 

My other hand moved to her other breast. I softly caressed the soft underside of her breast. I watched as her breathing faltered before I continued to move to her nipple. 

My fingers found her nipple, gently grazing over it before rolling it gently, tugging, pinching in rhythm with my mouth. She squirmed beneath me- so wild, helpless and so fucking beautiful.

Every gasp, every twitch and every broken little sound she made, drove me closer to the edge.

She was the drug, I was fucking drowning in and I didn’t want to come up for air.

My tongue swirled lazily and in torturous circles while my fingers rolled her nipple so deliberately slow. Never quite giving her enough pressure, enough friction, enough anything to tip her over the edge. 

She was trembling so hard the couch creaked beneath us. Her hips kept jerking up in helpless little thrusts, seeking more of my thick, hard length still trapped behind my sweatpants. 

The soaked lace of her thong dragged against me with every desperate roll, but I held my hips just far enough away that she couldn’t get the pressure she craved. Was I going to make it that easy? Hell nah. 

A frustrated, broken whimper tore from her throat.

“Tristan- please…”

I softly released her nipple with a soft, wet pop and the cool air hit her wet bud like a slap because the way she shuddered and gasped said it all. Her fingers gripped my hair tighter and she arched higher, chasing my mouth.

My dark eyes met hers and my eyes gleamed with wicked amusement and barely leashed hunger. “Please what, princess?” My voice was deep, low and mocking. “Use your words.”

I said and watched as her cheeks burned hotter. Her eyelashes batted, clearly flustered as she bit her swollen lower lip. She was embarrassed but desperate too. Her glassy green eyes pleaded as fresh tears clung to her lashes.

“Touch me…” she breathed. “Touch me…Daddy.”