His Purple Heart

9 - The man in blue

"Trystan," I whispered, my breath escaping me like steam out of a scalding teapot.

He had both his hands pressed flat against the wall on either side of my head. He watched me carefully beneath thick, dark eyelashes before lowering his head to my neck. I inhaled sharply when his breath fanned across my skin.

My pulse started a party in my neck and it was nearly impossible to remain still. I squirmed, unable to take the mounting pressure building up inside me. His right hand ran over my waist, up past my shoulder to my neck. He ran a finger over my erratic pulse and then he nudged my chin until our eyes met. His eyes were dreamy and dark, his attention wholly on me.

"Keep still," he muttered.

I froze against the wall, but my blood ran hot, scorching me as it set my body on fire. Finally, his mouth replaced the hand at my neck, his lips moving like honey on silk. Fire ignited where his lips met my skin and my hand settled over his chest as my breath got caught in my lungs.

I moaned, the sound leaving my mouth against my will, releasing the trapped air within it. Soft lips continued to torture me, his teeth gently grazing the hollow of my neck before his firm, wet tongue licked up the column to the back of my ears.

He took my earlobe between his teeth and my hand tightened on the lapel of his jacket. He nibbled me, shifting back and forth between sweet kisses and fiery bites. Every sting his sharp teeth caused, his tongue soothed, his lips sliding over my delicate skin.

He pulled back and gazed down at me, green eyes sharp. His hand came back to circle my neck, his grip gentle but sturdy. "How did you smear your lipstick? Were you kissing another man?"

"No, no I wasn't." I frowned, conflicted by the feelings he had awoken in me and by the weird line of questioning.

I wanted him to stop talking and just kiss me. I needed it like I needed to paint and breathe. Kissing him would make my night, especially after that no good piece of shit tried to grope me earlier.

Trystan looked relieved. "So, no boyfriend at home either?"

"No."

He lowered his mouth to mine and brushed a featherlight kiss across my lips that sent tingles down my back. " Say yes to the date, Debra."

"I can't." My voice came out in a whisper and I found myself leaning forward with my lips parted.

He stroked my bottom lip with his thumb, but he made no move to kiss me again. "Yes, you can. Just one date. I promise you won't regret it."

I shook my head and was about to take a step back when his hand tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard body. "I can't go on a date with you. I can't give you what you want."

"What do you think I want, Debra?"  He tucked my hair behind my ears and lifted my chin with his thumb and forefinger so he could get a better look at me.

I swallowed. "I'm not sure. Sex?"

He laughed, his voice startling me. "Isn't that what every man wants? If I wanted to just have sex with you, you would have been in my bed the very first night I met you in that alley. I would have you underneath me, screaming my name, saying no more after I made you come like five times and you're too exhausted to move. There's no better time to take advantage of a woman than when she is vulnerable, crying or drinking alcohol."