Chapter 52 Seduction
The bedroom was quiet, lit only by the streetlights filtering through the sheer curtains.
Tristan was on the bed, his hands tied to the headboard with his own silk tie. He was watching me. His chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm, the only sign of his agitation. His eyes were dark, dilated, and fixated on me with a mixture of trust and hunger.
I was straddling his lap, my dress discarded on the floor. I was wearing only the black lace lingerie from the night before.
"You wanted to forget," I whispered, trailing a finger down his chest. "So let’s forget."
I leaned in and kissed him. Softly at first, then harder. I felt him strain against the ties, his body instinctively wanting to reach for me, to hold me.
"Relax," I murmured against his lips. "Let me do the work."
"I don't know if I can," he groaned. "You're... overwhelming."
"Good."
I moved my hips, grinding against him slowly. I felt him harden beneath me, a ridge of heat pressing against my center.
"Mina," he gasped. "Please."
"Please what?" I teased, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. "Please stop? Please go faster?"
"Please... everything."
I smiled.
I reached for the waistband of his trousers. I unbuttoned them. I unzipped them.
I didn't take them off. Not yet.
I slid my hand inside, wrapping my fingers around him. He hissed, his head falling back against the pillow.
"You like that?" I asked, stroking him.
"God, yes."
"And this?"
I moved my hand lower, cupping him.
He bucked his hips, trying to deepen the contact.
"Still trying to take control," I chided gently. "Bad habit, Tristan."
"I can't help it," he panted. "I need inside you."
"Not yet."
I stood up. I walked to the end of the bed.
He watched me, his eyes tracking every movement.
"Where are you going?" he asked, panic flaring in his voice.
"Nowhere," I said. "I’m just enjoying the view."
I looked at him. Bound. Vulnerable. Aroused.
He was the most powerful man I knew. He controlled companies, markets, people. But right now? He was completely at my mercy.
And he liked it.
I saw it in his eyes. The relief. The surrender. For once, he didn't have to be the Titan. He didn't have to be the protector. He just had to be.
I walked back to him. I crawled up the bed, moving like a predator.
I stopped when I was kneeling over his chest.
"You’re beautiful like this," I whispered. "So open."
I leaned down and kissed his neck. I bit him, just a little. A nip.
He groaned.
I moved lower. I kissed his chest. His stomach. The hard muscles of his abdomen quivered under my lips.
I reached his waistband again. I pulled his trousers and boxer briefs down, kicking them off the bed.
He was fully exposed now. Hard. Ready.
I took him in my hand again. I stroked him, slow and deliberate, watching his face.
"Mina," he warned, his voice strained. "I’m close. Don't... don't tease me too much."
"I’m not teasing," I said. "I’m preparing."
I positioned myself over him.
I lowered myself slowly.
Inch by inch.
He watched me take him. He watched my face as I filled myself with him.
"Look at me," I commanded.
He looked at me.
"Who owns you right now?" I asked.
"You do," he gasped. "You. Only you."
I sank all the way down.
We both let out a breath—a ragged, shared sound of completion.
I started to move.
It wasn't fast. It wasn't rough. It was a slow, rolling rhythm. I ground my hips, savoring the friction, the fullness.
Tristan strained against the ties, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to touch me. He wanted to grab my hips, to set the pace.
But he couldn't.
And that was the point.
"Let go," I whispered, leaning down to kiss his chest. "Let go, Tristan. I’ve got you."
He closed his eyes. He let out a long, shuddering breath.
And then, he surrendered.
His body relaxed into the mattress. He stopped fighting the restraints. He just felt.
I picked up the pace.
The friction built. The heat rose.
"Mina," he moaned. "Mina, I love you."
"I know," I said. "I love you too."
I moved faster. Harder.
The pleasure was building, a tight coil in my belly.
"Open your eyes," I said.
He opened them. They were hazy with lust, but clear with love.
"Watch me," I said. "Watch me wreck you."
I rode him. Hard.
He cried out, his hips snapping up to meet mine.
I felt the wave coming.
"Tristan!"
I shattered.
My body convulsed around his.
He shouted my name, his body arching off the bed as he spilled into me.
We stayed like that for a long time. Me collapsed on his chest. Him panting, his heart racing against my ear.
Slowly, the world came back into focus.
I lifted my head. I looked at him.
He was wrecked. Beautifully wrecked.
"Okay?" I asked softly.
He smiled. A lazy, sated smile.
"Better than okay," he whispered. "I forgot."
"Forgot what?"
"Everything," he said. "Except you."
I kissed him gently.
Then I reached up and untied his hands.
He brought his arms down, groaning as the blood rushed back into them. He wrapped them around me, holding me tight.
"Thank you," he whispered into my hair.
"For what?"
"For taking the wheel," he said. "I needed a break."
I smiled against his chest.
"Anytime," I said.