Danika hasn’t had an easy life. Being insanely attracted to bad boys has never helped make it easier.
One look at Tristan, and every brain cell she possessed went up in smoke. This man was trouble with a capital T. It was a given.
She knew better. Bad boys were bad. Especially for her. Considering her history, it was crazy to think otherwise. So why did crazy have to feel so damn fine?
For as long as she could remember, Danika had been focused on the future with single-minded purpose. Tristan came along and taught her everything there was to know about letting go, and living in the present. She fell, hard and deep. Of course, that only made her impact with the ground that much more devastating.
I woke up a few mornings later having the most graphic sex dream of my life.
It was Tristan’s big hands on me in the dream, cupping my breasts and kneading, working down my belly, between my legs.
We were out in the pool, alone. Like most dreams, nothing quite made sense. Like, why were we skinny-dipping in the middle of the day? Still, my dreaming mind went with that eagerly.
I was lying on an inflatable lounge that we hardly ever used, because it was shaped in a huge circle, with the middle cut out, and the boys always found horrible ways to use it, like sticking each others’ heads in the hole and dunking.
The hole was being used for an entirely different wrong way in my dream, though. Tristan filled the hole, his distracting torso spilling out of it as he used his mouth on me in the most distracting way.
I’d never had a guy go down on me before, and even in the dream my imagination was limited. He just nuzzled me there, his hands far more of a distraction.
I woke up with my panties around my knees, and my shirt pulled up to my neck. One of my hands was on a sensitive breast, kneading at it, the other fingering my clit with restless strokes.
It wasn’t that I didn’t care that Tristan was sleeping on the other side of my queen-sized bed, a big pillow all that separated us, it was more that I was too turned-on to let it deter me, and my sleepy mind told me that I could be quiet enough not to wake him. I’d gotten myself too worked up to stop, but I knew from experience that I needed more than my fingers to get myself off. The hand on my breast reached over to my nightstand, opening the drawer very slowly, the finger on my clit still circling, again and again.
I tried not to make any noise as I fished out my vibrator, but the low vibrating sound that it made when I turned it on was louder than I could ever remember. Then again, I didn’t have the luxury of turning on music to drown it out, as I usually did, with someone dead asleep in the bed next to me.
I gasped as I shoved it inside of me. I was wet from the dream, and it slid right in. I used one hand to hold it there, the hand from my breast moving to work on my clit.
My eyes were closed, my breath coming out in quiet little pants. They only opened as I felt the bed moving.
That movement should have made me stop, or panic, or do anything at all besides moan, shift the wand inside of me, and bite my lip as I glanced over at the gorgeous man moving towards me.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I told myself. More, more, more, my body screamed back. Tristan made a guttural sound, low in his throat,
and I couldn’t hold back my own low moan. I was under the covers, but so was he, so that hardly helped. I didn’t protest when he pulled them
off both of us. He moved close, crouched at my side, his knees a
breath away from my hip and thigh. The look in his eyes was...intoxicating.
He bit his lip, and I felt myself clench around the wand in response.
My legs were splayed apart, and he moved to straddle one of my thighs, looming over me, but still not touching.
I watched him swallow hard, his eyes fixed on my hands.
I squirmed. “Can I...help?” he asked hoarsely. I couldn’t even form the words to answer, just
whimpering and shifting restlessly instead. He took that for a yes. One of his hands covered
the hand that held the wand, tugging it up my body. I started to protest as it started to slip out of me,
but his knee caught it, pushing it deep inside of me. “Ohhh...” I gasped. He moved my hand until I was cupping my own
breast. He squeezed my wrist, which in turn made me knead harder at my pliant flesh.
“Pinch your nipple,” he told me, licking his bottom lip. I felt my own tongue copy the motion as I obeyed.
My eyes, hungry to take him in, shot from his intent face, down his ripped torso, past the sexy V formed by the muscles at his hips, and to his heavy erection. He still wore boxer briefs, but they barely contained his jutting cock. I gyrated my hips, trying to get closer to his knee, and grinded the vibrator deeper inside of me.
“Mmmm,” he moaned. “That’s right, Danika. Perfect. Circle your hips just like that.”
His other hand moved over the hand I had on my clit, not touching anything but the back of my hand as he took over the movements.
I circled my hips, while he moved my hand to circle my clit with just the perfect pressure.
He moved the hand at my nipple to my other breast, nearly touching my skin as he rubbed my fingers deep.
He cursed long and fluidly.
I caught movement at the bottom of my vision, and looked down to see his erection visibly twitch, pre-come soaking his boxers where they touched the tip of him.
“Tristan,” I moaned.
I closed my eyes, a heady orgasm washing over me in lush waves.
“Danika,” he rasped, his knee jerking up until it was no more than a whisper away from my entrance.
He moaned, long and low.
I didn’t open my eyes again until I felt him moving away. The wand slipped partially out of me, and I pulled it the rest of the way out, hastily turning it off as I rolled over to look at him.
He’d flung himself onto his back beside me, his arm thrown over his eyes.
His breathing was harsh.
I swallowed, my eyes moving down his body. “Did you, um...?”
He sucked in a breath. His voice was low. “Please, don’t ask. I haven’t embarrassed myself that bad since I was a teenager.”
I glanced down, the state of his shorts, and his words, telling me clearly what the answer was.
I lay down on my back, pulling the covers up to my neck. I was a little in shock about what I’d just done. What the hell was wrong with me?
My hormones had ignited, and I was pretty sure I’d lost some important brain cells in the fire.
“Fuck, what was that?” he panted. “That was crazy,” I gasped. “And stupid. Especially stupid.” “If that was your first attempt at winning the
teasing war, I’m not sure if you just won or lost it all with one try.”
In spite of myself, I giggled. “There is no teasing war. Get that out of your head. This is not a contest. This is a disaster that never needs to happen again.”
“Seriously, though, if I wake up to that again, I’m not sure what I’ll do, Danika.”
“It won’t happen again, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“And what if I...accidentally start jerking myself off in my sleep?”
“Stop it. You’re incorrigible.”
“And you are the queen of all teases. You know I’ll never get that picture out of my head...Fuuuuck. Do you have any idea how much this messes with me?”
I sighed. “I think I have a pretty good idea, Tristan. Can we just...never mention this again?”
“I can try, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be thinking about it.”
“Yeah, I know.” There was no way I’d ever forget the look on his face as he’d helped me get myself off.
“Just let me ask you one thing, before I drop the subject forever.”
I blew my breath out in a noisy sigh. “Go for it.” “What started that?” “I was having a...sex dream. I think I can feel
some sympathy for the wet dream thing guys have now.”
“Was it about anyone specific?” he sounded more than idly curious.
“No,” I lied through my teeth. “And that was more than one question.”
“One more, I swear, and then I’m done. What was the dream about?”
“I was getting oral on a floatie in the pool.”
He cursed fluently, and he didn’t ask me any more questions.
So everyone knows i love my doms, well if you don't - you do now. So naturally since I loved James Cavendish, I expected to love Tristan just as much. Don't get me wrong, I did. I'm just not sure what the point of this story was. There wasn't anything that was huge, no real true cliffhanger ending. It just kinda ended inthe middle of the story. Okay let me back up. Danika is a college student/nanny who acts like a 40yr old but is only 21. When Tristan walks into her life, he helps her live and have fun, and let go. Something she needs greatly. They try being friends, which doesn't exactly work out. I mean If you were pressed against that man meat and seeing that every day, or watching him Interact with kids, just being all around awesome. Then add he is a singer and the tattoos and muscles. I mean that is like danglin a steak in front of lion. Of course RK sucks us in with the man, but in this book we don't really get to see the kink, just a taste of the Dom. And god it's hot. Let me just tell you there are more than one scene where .. Yeah.. HAWT! Like panty melting hot. But I don't know the point. It seriously seems to me this was just a background on their relationship- we still don't know how they get to where their relationship is in the "up in the air" series. But... It did give us background on how James Cavendish net Danika and Tristan, his closest friends in his books. I jut was left feeling like there could've been more. Maybe it's because I know the story isn't over. I don't know. But I liked it.
I give it 3.5 stars
R.K. Lilley lives in Colorado with her husband and their two beautiful sons. She's had a lot of interesting jobs, from being a first class flight attendant, to being a stablehand, but swears she never knew what hard work was until she had children. She's been addicted to both reading and writing fiction since she can remember. She loves to travel, read, hike, paint, game, watch anime, and make the most of every single day. She is the author of the erotic romance novels In Flight, Mile High, Grounded, and the novella, Lana.