First Reward

Chapter Thirteen

Andrea’s POV

The word slips out before I can overthink it, small and shaky in the heavy silence of his room.

“I’m in.”

Not like I had much of a choice anyway. Walking out might feel freeing for five seconds, but the fallout would crush my family faster than I could blink. Ethan’s new room, the specialist, the ten million sitting in my account… all of it would vanish if I turned coward now. So I stand there, heart hammering, and say it again quieter. “I’m in, Master.”

Tristan’s gray eyes darken with something that looks a lot like satisfaction. He rises from the arm of the chair, tall and commanding in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise sliding over my skin like warm oil. “Now strip for me. Slowly. I want to watch every piece come off.”

My fingers tremble as I reach for the hem of my soft sweater. I pull it over my head, letting it drop to the floor. The cool air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps. Next comes the loose pants. I push them down my hips, stepping out of them one leg at a time. I am left in just my simple black bra and panties, feeling more exposed than I ever have in my life.

Tristan’s gaze burns across my body. “Your skin should be the last covering on you, Andrea. Everything else goes.”

I reach behind my back for the clasp of my bra, fumbling a little before it pops open. The straps slide down my arms and the bra joins the pile on the floor. My nipples tighten instantly under his stare. Then my hands hook into the waistband of my panties. I hesitate only a second before sliding them down my legs, stepping free until I stand completely naked in front of him.

He drinks me in like I am something precious and dangerous at the same time. “On the bed, Andrea. Lie on your back and touch yourself for me. Show me how you make that pretty pussy feel good.”

I freeze, heat flooding my face. “Touch… myself?”

A low, amused chuckle escapes him. “Fuck, you’re so innocent it almost hurts.” He crosses the room in two strides, already shrugging off his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the defined lines of his abs. “Yes. Touch yourself. I want to see those fingers between your legs while I get undressed.”

I climb onto the massive bed, the sheets cool against my heated skin. My hand shakes as I slide it down my stomach, over the small patch of trimmed hair, and between my thighs. I am already wet, embarrassingly so, from nothing but his voice and his eyes on me. I circle my clit gently, a soft gasp escaping my lips.

Tristan finishes stripping, his cock hard and thick as it springs free. He is gorgeous like this, all raw power and control. He climbs onto the bed, moving over me like a predator. His mouth crashes down on mine in a hungry kiss, tongue sliding deep, claiming every moan I make. When he pulls back, his breath is ragged.

“I’m not going to be gentle like I was this morning,” he warns, voice rough. “But if you want me to stop at any point, say it. Use your words. Understand?”

I nod quickly, then remember. “Yes, Master.”

He rewards me with another deep kiss before trailing his mouth lower. He settles between my spread thighs, strong hands gripping my legs and pushing them wider. The first slow lick up my slit makes my back arch off the bed.

“Oh…” I whimper.

Tristan groans against me, the vibration sending sparks through my core. “You taste so fucking clean,” he murmurs, then dives in properly. His tongue fucks into me, lapping and sucking at my clit with expert precision. 

He looks up at me while he does it, eyes locked on mine, pure masculine satisfaction on his face as he devours me. Two thick fingers push inside, curling just right, pumping steadily while his mouth works my swollen clit.

Pleasure builds fast and hot. My hips buck against his face. “Master… please… it feels too good…”

He doesn’t stop. He sucks harder, fingers thrusting deeper, until my thighs shake and I come with a sharp cry, pulsing around his fingers, wetness coating his chin.

He climbs back up my body, kissing me deeply so I can taste myself on his tongue. “Good girl. Now take me.”

He lines up and thrusts in hard in one smooth stroke, burying himself to the very last inch of his length. I cry out at the stretch, the fullness. He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He starts fucking me with deep, powerful strokes, hips snapping against mine. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, mixed with my broken moans and his low grunts.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight,” he growls, one hand pinning my wrist above my head. “This pussy was made for my cock.”

He pounds into me harder, the bed creaking under us. Every thrust hits that perfect spot inside, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. I am lost in it, the weight of his body, the scent of sex and his cologne, the way he fills me so completely.

“Turn over,” he commands suddenly, pulling out.

I scramble onto my hands and knees, ass up, face pressed into the pillow. He grips my hips and slams back in from behind, even deeper in this position. This style feels filthy and perfect at the same time. He fucks me relentlessly, one hand reaching around to rub my clit while the other tangles in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp tingle.

“Come for me again,” he orders, voice strained. “I want to feel you squeeze my cock when you fall apart.”

The combination of his thick cock stretching me, his fingers on my clit, and the dominant edge in his voice pushes me over the edge. I come hard, crying out into the pillow, walls clamping down around him.

Tristan groans loudly, thrusting a few more times before he buries himself deep and comes, hot pulses filling me as his body shudders against mine.

We collapse together, breathing hard. My legs feel like jelly, weak and trembling. He pulls me against his chest, both of us slick with sweat.

“That was so fucking good,” he murmurs, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to my shoulder.

I turn my head to look at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion and aftershocks of pleasure. My body hums, satisfied in a way I have never felt before.

Tristan brushes damp hair from my face, his expression almost gentle for a moment. “What’s your first wish, Andrea? Ask me for anything.”

I blink up at him, mind still foggy from the intense orgasm, heart racing with a mix of lingering heat and the strange new reality of this arrangement. A reward already. But what do I even dare ask for first?