"My sister."
Relief flowed over her. Thank God.
"And, who told you I was taken and why would you believe them?"
"I don't know. Because. I mean, I thought I could trust her," he said. His eyes seemed to try to stay focused on her face, but failed. His dick harder as his eyes roamed over her curves. Until now that might have made her self-conscious. For once in her life though, she enjoyed her body and the way he seemed to feast on her nakedness.
"Your mother no doubt?"
He shrugged.
"Yeah." She paused in front of him. "I don't need a matchmaker to tell me that you're the one meant for me."
He swallowed.
"Now that you know you were mislead, Tristan, tell me you think I'm wrong for you."
Without another breath his lips were on hers and he was backing her into a tree, pressing her back against the strong surface.
He pulled away, but she had no air left to cry out at his retreat.
"You're not wrong. And I'm sorry."
She didn't need anything else now. Just him.
He mashed his lips into hers again. His hands gripped around her wrists, bringing them over her head, locking them against the tree.
She pushed against him, rubbing against his dick. Praying he got the hint soon. Maybe it had taken him two years to claim his own balls from his mother, but she'd been ready for what seemed like forever. Now was not the time to be gentle or patient. No. She wasn't patient.
Arching her back, she tried to be as clear as possible.
A smile crossed his lips as he slowed his kissing. Pulling away, he flashed her a cheshire cat grin.
"What the hell, Tristan. I'm throwing myself at you."
Gripping both of her wrists in one hand, he ran a finger of his free hand down her cheek. She snapped at it as he grazed her chin, heading down her throat, to her chest. Tristan stopped to cup her breast. Groaning, a heat pooled in her belly.
"Tristan, please."
His hand released its current plunder and ran down her hip, moving inward. She shuddered as the warmth of his touch neared the vee of her thighs.
"Have you really waited for me all this time?"
She couldn't answer him, not with her own voice, so she nodded.
His finger slipped between her folds, sliding along her slick heat. She nearly came as his fingers pressed against her opening. Circling her entrance, pressing into her.
Her legs shook as all her dreams finally started to take shape.
"Paige, tell me you're mine. Tell me I've been an idiot all this time."
Wait, what?
"Idiot. Sure. Yes. Don't stop."
He worked her, readying her. Her body relaxing, muscles stretching as he added another finger. She couldn't focus.
"Tell me, Paige." His voice closer to her ear, the words a soft heat against her ear. "Tell me you're mine."
Nothing else made any sense except one word. "Yours."
Releasing her hands, he gripped behind her thighs and lifted her. The pressure of his dick pressed against her as he positioned her over his long hard shaft, slowly sliding her down onto him. She moaned as her muscles stretched, burning in a needed desperate release. Biting her lip, she quieted her own desperate cries.
"Yours," she repeated.
Just when she didn't think her body could take in anymore, he slowly retreated.
A squeak of protest was all she could muster before his lips claimed her mouth again and swallowed her next moan as he thrust into her. At first he was slow, tender. She needed more. So much more.
As if he was already in her head, connected, he knew her. Meeting the need, he set a new tempo. One to match the beat of their hearts, the blood thrumming through her.
Faster and faster.
A new sensation she'd never felt, a coil of desire squeezing tighter and tighter.
"Tristan," she whispered over and over until even that was too much.
She began to quake, the muscles between her legs began to pulse around him.
She couldn't, or could she? She didn't know. Paige whimpered, and right as she fully went over the edge without a way back, he gripped her hair and tilted her neck. The moment his own body began to spill into her, he bit into the soft flesh of her neck and the sound of his voice filled her head.
Mine.
6
Tristan let himself the freedoms of a mated male. A mated male who adored his female. His hands gripped her ass as he moved her against his spent dick. She shivered again.
Yes, this is exactly what he'd been trying to find for the better part of two years.
Leaning forward, Tristan rested his forehead against hers.
"Mine," he said.
She tried to say something back, but it was a puff of air. Instead, he heard her in his mind.
Yours.
For once he'd done exactly what he'd wanted. His dick was readying itself for round two. He wiggled inside of her.
"Oh."
A smile crossed his face at her surprise.
"You have to know that when a male finds his mate, there's no stopping him. Right?"
She giggled.
"I. Well, I've heard. I just assumed it was a myth."
Gently, he thrust into her. "Not, a myth."
Her next words came out breathy. "No, not a myth."
His tongue darted out and licked at her earlobe. He kissed a trail down her jaw line, then to her throat, next to the new mark already healing. He smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I'm yours now. Do as you will," she said.
He didn't need encouragement, but it didn't hurt. So he did exactly that. He would do exactly as he liked and make his mate the happiest female there ever was. Tristan had two years of heartbreak to make up for. He'd fucked up, and he needed to make her forget.
The connection between them was new, but he could feel her. Feel her desires. Feel the need.
Yes. He'd do what he willed and all he wanted was to see her coming over and over for him.
Tristan grew hard again at the scent of her desire.
"Paige, you know
