R. Lilley - Rock Bottom

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Their love had the power of a runaway freight train, and the potential to be just as destructive.
The tempestuous sequel to Bad Things picks up where the first book left off. Reeling from a profound loss, Tristan and Danika struggle to pick up the pieces and build a life together, but the hard habits of a lifetime are not so easy to escape.
Rock Bottom takes us on a dual point of view journey through addiction and desire, through love and agony, and answers the question we’ve been asking since these characters were introduced in Grounded: “What happened between Tristan and Danika?”

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Danika was moving her hips and snapping her fingers to the heavy beat, her lips mouthing the words to the song, her eyes on the pool. It was impossible for her to hold still when music was playing.

She was as adorable as she was sexy.

I hooked my arm around her waist as we were led to our cabana. Danika’s mouth dropped open in surprise as she took in the opulent setup. Her reaction alone had made the whole thing worth it. I’d had to make about a dozen phone calls to set this up.

Our waiter met us with frozen daiquiris already in hand, the order having been placed hours ago.

I lasted maybe five minutes before I got up and shut the curtain.

“Can you do that?” she asked me.

I turned back and smiled at her. She was sprawled out on the cushioned lounge wearing nothing but strings and tiny triangles, looking good enough to eat. And fuck until I passed out. “I’d like to see them stop me.”

I sprawled out beside her, my hand resting on her stomach. I felt her muscles spasm under my hand.

My cock jerked in reaction. I rubbed the soft skin just below her belly button, running a finger idly to one of her knotted strings, and then the other. I had her tiny string bottoms off and tossed aside before she realized what I was doing. Her hands shot down, covering her sex and inadvertently touching herself in the process. I about came just watching her. I held back, if only barely, my hand covering hers.

“You already started. Don’t stop now. Touch yourself. And open your legs wide. I want to watch you.”

“The waiter could walk in at any moment!”

“So you’d best hurry.” As I spoke, I was moving my hand again, this time to her neck. She had the strings knotted tightly, but I’d had a lot of training undoing knots much harder than this, and I had her topless with a few quick twists.

“Tristan! What are you doing?!”

Her affronted tone only turned me on even more. I loved it when she got prissy. It made it that much more satisfying to have her moaning my name mere minutes later.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You want to have sex in public?”

I didn’t bother to point out that it would hardly be the first time.

Instead, I stroked her with one finger, teasing her own hands into rubbing at her folds. I was glued to the sight. She had the prettiest little cunt on the planet.

“You little exhibitionist,” I teased her. “You’re completely naked in public, and you are loving it. There’s nothing but one tiny sheet of fabric between us and the rowdy crowd outside, and you are sopping wet from it.” I rubbed at the wet core of her to illustrate my point. “Maybe the waiter will walk in on us. Do you think he’d like to see you touching your wet pussy?”

I knew she hated that word, but I got a kick out of the way she glared at me when I said it. She completely ruined the glare when she moaned as my fingers pushed inside of her. Her walls clenched on me like a vise. I was just about past my breaking point. If I didn’t get inside of her in the next minute, I knew I was going to embarrass myself.

“That’s not an answer,” I started up on her again. “Should I take your silence to mean you want our waiter to see you like this? You want him to watch you with my fingers buried deep inside of you?”

“No!” she cried, but there was no heat in it, as her moans of pleasure, her clenching walls, quickly followed.

“Not very convincing, Danika. I get the idea you enjoy being watched. No one dances the way you dance and doesn’t like an audience. Maybe I should call for our waiter.”

“No, don’t!” she sounded genuinely alarmed now, as though I’d ever fucking dream of sharing even the sight of her like this.

“You have to do better than that, sweetheart. Say please.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Please.”

“Good. Good. Now tell me, do you want me to make you come with my hands? Like this?” As I spoke, I dragged my fingers out of her slowly, and began to rub her clit, stroking her until her hips were jerking in agitations, her breath coming out in needy little pants.

She shook her head, her eyes falling closed as I struck a nerve. The nerve.

“No?” I questioned. “You don’t want it like this? Tell me how you do want it, then.”

Her voice came out in a breathless whisper, her lips trembling on the words. “I want you inside of me.”

I obliged her, though not the way she’d intended, shoving two fingers back inside of her and starting up a smooth rhythm.

She arched her back, barely stifling a loud moan as my other hand took up that invitation, cupping a rounded breast softly in my palm.

“This what you wanted?” I asked her, my breath ragged.

“Nooo,” she answered, the word drawn out with a frustrated moan.

“Tell me what you do want then.” Making her talk dirty to me was one of my personal favorites.

“I want your cock inside of me.” She said each word through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to come until I feel you buried deep.”

I barely muffled a groan, rolling onto my back. I plucked her up by her hips easily. She didn’t weigh a thing.

I arranged her long legs to straddle me, facing away. It was an ambitious position for someone my size, but she was whimpering and so wet and ready that I couldn’t seem to help myself.

Painstakingly, I pushed just the tip of me inside of her. She covered her own mouth to try to stifle a scream of pleasure.

“It feels so fucking good, Danika,” I told her in a rough whisper as I worked myself into her tight sheath, relishing every inch as I worked my way in, stretching her.

It felt in-fucking-credible.

Her head fell back as I worked my way in. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen in my life.

My grip on her hips tightened as I thrust my hips up, driving in savagely while I pulled her down, forcing her to take every inch of me.

She barely stifled her scream.

I shushed her, because if our waiter really did walk in on us, I thought I might kill him.

I closed my eyes as she started to move, pleasure overtaking my body, insinuating itself into every pore.

The world dissolved. Only sensation remained. And the perfect harmony of our movements, the feel of flesh on flesh.

I circled my hips, rising up and down to match her steady rhythm. The girl made love like she danced. It was hypnotic. Intoxicating. I couldn’t remember why I’d ever signed on to be away from her for days at a time. This was what I craved, what I needed , the only way I felt whole, and the only real peace there was to be had since Jared had died.

I could never get deep enough, rocking her harder and harder on top of me. Our movements became jolting and urgent as we reached that fever pitch together.

She began to shudder with her climax, and I let myself go, holding her hips hard enough to bruise, buried deep, I came. Hard. My whole body shook, my breath shuddering out of me in great heaves.

I didn’t think I’d ever been through anything that intensely pleasurable in my life. And so of course, I wanted to do it again almost instantly.

Danika dislodged herself from me slowly, lazily, flopping down on her back next to me. She looked utterly relaxed. I loved doing that to her. She was an anxious person, and I loved fucking her until she couldn’t so much as finish a thought.

“Oh my God,” she said quietly, her eyes drifting closed. “That was…out of this world.”

“I missed you,” I told her, moving on top of her.

“What are you…really?”

I just grinned as I steered myself to her entrance with my hand. “Really. You look sleepy. Go ahead and sleep. Don’t mind me.” I drove into her.

She’d started to laugh at my words, but it turned into a drawn out gasp.

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