The Biker Alpha Who Became My Second Chance Mate Chapter 91

He was standing with that smug and victorious smile, gleaming like he'd known I'd come running.

I didn't think.

My feet barely touched the ground before I was on him.

He caught me before I could collide with him, his strong arms scooping me up effortlessly. The movement forced a gasp from my lips, and my legs wrapped around his torso on instinct, my arms looping around his neck.

Then his mouth was on mine.

The kiss was hard, urgent, almost bruising. Our tongue and teeth clashed together fighting for dominance.

Then I felt my back slam gently against the wall, the cool surface a shocking contrast to the fire in my body.

My breath came in shallow bursts, my fingers clutching the back of his shirt like I was holding on for dear life. His grip on me tightened, pinning me between him and the wall, and I could feel the heat radiating off his chest.

We were so close but I needed more, I wanted more contact. Needed to touch him and feel his touch on me.

Every slow drag of his mouth against mine made my head spin. His kiss was unhurried but deep, his tongue brushing against mine like he had all the time in the world to take me apart piece by piece but he still couldn't help but want to take me whole.

And I felt both too.

I moaned softly against his lips, and he swallowed the sound, his fingers sliding down my bare back, leaving trails of heat.

God, I could feel everything.

The solid press of his body, the way his chest rose and fell against mine, the roughness of his shirt against my skin.

I needed to get his shirt away, but I didn't want to let go of his shirt.

I didn't know what I want, but I know I wanted Tristan. I needed him so bad that it hurt.

Tristan kissed me like a man starved, and I kissed him back just as desperately, my body melting against him.

He shifted, his mouth never leaving mine, and pushed himself away from the wall, holding me easily as he turned toward the living room.

My legs tightened around him as he walked, slow and steady, every step sending a rush of sensation through me.

He lowered me carefully onto the couch, but not once did he stop kissing me.

I sank into the cushions, breathless, my hands cupping his face, pulling him back down when he tried to lift his head.

His lips curved into a small, breathless smile against mine, like he knew exactly what I wanted — and he was more than willing to give it.

Tristan didn't stop kissing me, he couldn't because I won't let him.

If anything, his pace slowed, deepened, like he wanted me to feel every second of it. His lips moved gently over mine, his tongue brushing lazily against mine until my toes curled.

My juice was dripping down my thigh.

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to trail his lips along my jaw, down the side of my neck.

I tilted my head back, giving him more space, my chest heaving as soft gasps escaped me. His mouth was warm, wet, slow, like he was tasting me inch by inch.

When he reached my collarbone, his teeth grazed it lightly, sending a sharp shiver through me. My fingers buried themselves in his hair, holding him close, desperate to keep him there.

He kissed lower, leaving a slow path down the center of my chest.

When his mouth reached the top of my breast, I thought my heart would stop.

Tristan has this effect on me. Everytime feels like the first time.

He didn't rush it, he teased it. His lips brushed against my skin so slow and softly it almost tickled.

My breath caught, I tightened my hands on his hair pulling him closer.

Then he opened his mouth, taking my nipple between his teeth, not hard, just enough to make me gasp and arch my back into him.

“Tristan,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper, my fingers clutching his hair tighter.

He gave a small, satisfied sound, his tongue soothing where his teeth had been, before moving to the other breast and giving it the same slow, torturous attention.

My body burned under him, every nerve awake and desperate.

He kissed lower, down my stomach, slow and unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be but here with me.

I felt the sensation on my tummy, my breath coming out shallow.

By the time he reached my hips, I was already shaking, my thighs pressing together in anticipation.

He lifted his head and looked up at me, his eyes dark and intense, his mouth curved into that knowing, wicked smile.

“Still hurting?” he asked softly, his voice rough, teasing.

“Yes,” I whispered without hesitation, my chest rising and falling fast. "I need your magic kiss immediately."

He smirked and kissed just below my navel, slow and deep, and my breath caught as I waited for what he would do next.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered against my stomach, his voice low, strained — like it almost hurt him to admit it.

"Everyday in past few days has been about you Ath. My thoughts my dreams, they're all about you. How I want to show you how much I want. How much I love you and how much I need you."

My chest tightened, my eyes stinging as I threaded my fingers through his hair. “Then don't stop,” I breathed.

And he didn't. His mouth trailed lower, brushing light kisses along my hips. His hands were on my waist, firm but gentle, like he was grounding himself as much as me.

When his lips brushed my pussy, my breath caught hard. My legs trembled as he kissed me there again, slower, softer, until I couldn't keep still.

Then he sucked on it, like he was trying to suck of my juice dry.

"Ohh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God" those were the only words I could form. My legs were shaking badly. I couldn't explain how I was feeling deep in my tummy.

I was alive but it felt like I was not, it felt like I'd transition. I could see the sky as my eyes shut up.

I felt Tristan smile against my skin, wicked and tender all at once.

“Tristan,” I whispered or pleaded, I couldn't quite place, my voice breaking.

He looked up at me then, his hair falling over his forehead, his mouth still so close to to my opening . His eyes burned into mine with desire that made my chest ache.

“You're mine,” he said, not as a question, not even as a command. Just truth.

I nodded, unable to speak, tears threatening to fall because yes — I was his. I had always been his.

He kissed me again, lower this time, and I gasped. His tongue traced me, slow and teasing, until my back arched against the couch.

My hands flew to his shoulders, gripping hard as if that could steady me. But he didn't stop. He took his time, savoring every sound I made, every shiver that ran through me.

I was cumming, I could feel it building.

My legs shook so badly, but Tristan didn't stop. Instead he used his hands to slowly tease my clit, that was the final straw.

He sucked it out dry from me slowly and wildly.

When I finally collapsed back onto the couch, breathless, my chest rising and falling, it felt like all the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulder.

Tristan kissed the inside of my thigh one last time before lifting his head, he kissed my stomach, my chest, my neck, until his mouth was back on mine, making me taste my juice in his tongue.

I felt his hands inside me but I stopped him.

He didn't resist when I pushed him back against the couch and climbed onto his lap.

“Your turn,” I whispered, my voice still shaky but determined.

He gave me a look that was half surprise, half pure hunger, but he didn't stop me when I slid down to the floor between his knees.

I undid his pants with trembling fingers, my pulse hammering at the sight of him hard and waiting for me.

Time to make my fantasy come true. I've always dreamt of this moment.