S H A D E S

Do you see?

I don't know how long he had me tied to that bed. And in truth, I didn't give a damn. The man was a god and a devil all wrapped into one insatiable package. Tristan made good on his every promise. Giving me hours of pleasure. And torment.

His hands moved down my thighs in languorous, expert strokes and my every sense leapt at his touch.

"You have incredible legs, Ms. Pierce," he murmured against my thigh. Those hands continued their slow journey to my calves, his fingers working and kneading into the muscles until they were loose and liquid.

"And gorgeous feet," he added. I'd never given my thought to my feet, I'd realized, nor did I know it was possible for them to be a source of such tremendous...satisfaction until Tristan took them into his hands. Strong fingers ran along my arches, working up towards the ball of my foot in delicious little circles that had me twisting in delight.

Those fingers of his worked from each of my toes, down to my heel and each new sensation washed through me, dissolving any tension and lingering inhibitions. When his tongue worked back along the path of his hands, I barely managed to contain my moan.

His fingers parted me, and I clenched my jaw to keep from calling out against the cunning strokes of one hand between my wet lips and working the sensitive spot with the fingers of the other. Before long my voice sobbed out, begging him to touch me harder. To end this maddening onslaught of feeling.

He'd bring me right to the edge, right to that thrilling, dangerous edge, then pull back only to push me there again, like the tide rolling in on the shore, each time drawing closer. Closer.

"Do you like that?" his voice panted low and seductive in my ear while rhythmically probing me with his fingers. And just as my breath quickened, he withdrew his hand and I groaned hugely.

"No, don't stop." I looked up at him pleading, as he lifted that hand, fingers glistening with my passion and sucked his long finger into his mouth.

"Delicious." He lowered his mouth to my ear, his hands unfastening the knots at my wrists. "You're so ready for me. I can hardly wait to be inside of you, Laura. This time I want you on top of me, grinding your hips. I want to watch you rise over me, to see that rush as you come apart in my arms."

"Yes," I moaned, locking myself around him. It felt so good to have my hands free, gliding over his body at long last. I never knew that touch alone, and the lack of it, could be so erotic.

"First," he said, biting the side of my jaw. "I want to show you something." Tristan moved from the bed, held out a hand for me to take and led me to where the large bronzed mirror was perched.

Tristan positioned me before that long length of reflective glass, his mouth brushing the side of my ear. Every inch of me quivered with hunger.

"I want you to see what I see. How beautiful you are. Desirable." His hand began a slow, torturous journey along my body, his fingers teasing and tormenting my nipples until they hardened into sensitive peaks. I watched the flush of arousal suffuse my skin, the way I almost glowed under his every stroke and caress, the light of my eyes gleaming with awakening desire.

"Do you see?" he breathed against my throat and in that mirror our gazes locked, I lost my breath. "Do you see what you do to me?"

Tristan came before me, the rippling expanse of his back visible in the mirror as his head dipped to take my breast into his mouth. The culmination of sight and sensation was exquisite. Overwhelming. I watched the spectacle and experienced the hot, moist texture of his mouth, tongue and lips devouring me. Consuming me.

Tristan lowered to his knees between my legs, his hands rounding over my hips to meet at my center. Parting me. Exploring me. Revealing me.

I watched, breathless, as his long index finger slid down further still and found that point of delicious longing, and stroked in gentle, easy circles. A sensual display that was almost as gratifying as his expert touch.