How it all began...
She was his from the moment she laid eyes on him...
At 10:45pm, he was summoning her to his VIP room. At midnight, he was bringing her to orgasm with his hands on her breasts. By 1:30am, she was lying on her back in his hotel roo...
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Warning: This chapter contains heavy sexual language and situations. Some words have been altered or substitued to respect Wattpad guidelines
Serenity dug her nails in his neck, her eyes closed as she struggled to breathe. He tipped her chin up to look down into her eyes. His eyes eagerly searched hers. "Do you?"
"I don't do this," she whimpered.
He ran his fingers over her face again, stroking her lip with both thumbs. He softly kissed her. "I know."
"How?"
"I just do. It's the way you taste. The way you are with me. The way your body responds to mine. It's like you've never been touched or kissed before in your life. If you were it wasn't in the right way. If it wasn't done with me it wasn't right. Your body was waiting on me."
Serenity was too turned on to answer. His words were unraveling her; making her crazy. His sexual confidence was such a turn-on. Tristan Knight wanted her and he wasn't shy to admit it. He was practically taking ownership of her, like it was his right. She found that utterly enticing. She was vain enough to think he'd never moved this fast with another woman before but her common sense admitted otherwise.
"You never answered my question," he patiently repeated. "Do you want me to stop?"
Serenity nervously looked at him. "No," she shakily admitted.
Tristan expelled a harsh breath and took her mouth in his again, drawing a surprised gasp from her parted lips. "You have on too many clothes," he grumbled as he ran his hands over her tank top.
"I'm sorry."
"No need. I can get them off with no problem."
He kissed her again and placed his hands to the spaghetti straps on her tank. His hands were fire as they grabbed the sides and pulled them down, exposing her bra, smooth skin, and flat stomach.
Feeling self-conscious, Serenity moved his hands and covered her bra in vain. She felt ashamed of her tattered black bra. There were small holes in the lace material. She wasn't ashamed of her breasts. Even if she was, it wasn't like she could cover them. She had inherited her extra-large bosom from her mother.
Tristan frowned down at her. "What's the matter?"
"My bra. It's... I don't want you to look at me. It's ugly."
He tipped her chin up. "I don't care about what you have on. You're beautiful. Besides, clothes and underwear are just a decorative nuisance. They hide the treasure underneath. If you don't want me to look at it I won't. I'll just look at you, okay?"
