The Air He Breathes

“Tristan,” I faintly muttered. My breaths were uneven, heavy.

His hand brushed against my cheek. “Suck it slow,” he ordered, running his thumb against my bottom lip. He slid his finger into my mouth, allowing me to suck it gently as he rocked it in and out of my mouth before pulling it away from me and running the wetness down my neck, against my bra strap, down my cleavage. My nipples were hardening from his touch, longing for his mouth to find its way to each one.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“We shouldn’t,” I moaned, feeling his hardness pressed against my panties. We should, I thought to myself. “We’re not supposed to do this anymore…” My breaths were heavy, hungry for him to be inside me, hungry for him to take me deeply. I wanted him to turn me around, lift my legs, and take me hard. He ignored my protest—as I wanted him to—twisting my hair in one hand and moving his other down my body, landing at my black lace panties.

“You’re wet,” he said, bending in closer to me, running his tongue against my cheek before he slipped his mouth over mine. He whispered as he slid his tongue between my lips. “I want to taste all of you,” he hissed. His fingers rolled against my panties, my breaths catching as his thumb circled my clit through the faint fabric.

“Please,” I begged. I arched my back, longing for his hand to remove the thin barrier.

“Not here,” he said, lifting me up to a sitting position. He slid my panties to the left and bent down, allowing his tongue to taste my wetness. My hips involuntarily arched in his direction as my hands ran through his hair. When he lifted his head, he rested his mouth against mine, allowing me to taste myself, to taste him. “I want to show you something,” he muttered against my lips.

Anything. Show me anything.

My eyes fell to his erection hidden beneath his boxers and a smile came to my lips. He lifted me off the bed and pressed me against the closest door. “How bad do you want it?” Bad, I thought, unable to speak. My heart was racing and I was almost afraid it would give up on me, unable to keep up with my wants, my desires. I wanted to explode for him. I wanted to lose myself to him. His hips rocked toward me as he pushed his hardness against my body.

“I want to show you the room,” he whispered against my ear, flicking his tongue up and down before sucking my lobe.

“Mmm,” I replied as he carried me down the hallway. There was a room to my left, which I hadn’t noticed when I’d first arrived. “What is…?”

He shushed me, placing his hand over my lips. “It’s my green room,” he muttered, pushing the door open.

“Your what?” Before he could reply, I turned around and saw a room filled with all green furniture. Green whips, green dildos, green everything. “What the…” I shut up and kept looking around. “This is kind of weird, babe…”

“I know,” he said with a deep tone of voice. When I turned back to him, my throat burned as a scream escaped me. I was staring at a huge, green man who was holding me against his body. His eyes were glowing green and he held me up. “Incredible Hulk wants to smash you!”

***

“Holy shit!” I screamed, shaking myself from a very weird, twisted nightmare. Within seconds, Tristan was standing at his bedroom window, looking at me.

“Are you okay?”

I looked down to see I was wearing a white tank top with white panties and no bra. I screamed again, covering my chest with a blanket. “Oh my God, go away!” I hissed, freaking out.

“I’m sorry! I heard you scream and…” He paused and raised an eyebrow, looking into my eyes. “Did you just have a sex dream?” He started chuckling, covering his mouth with his hand. “You just had a sex dream.”

“Go away!” I said, leaping up from my bed and closing my window shades.

“Okay, okay, you nasty woman, you. I told you about those books.”

My cheeks blushed over, and I collapsed back on my bed, pulling the cover over my head.

Freaking Incredible Hulk. Freaking Tristan Cole.