The weekend couldn't arrive fast enough. There was something about knowing what was coming that made the days stretch and linger into the absurdly insufferable. I suddenly felt commiserate with poor Bill Murray in that old eighties flick, trapped and doomed to repeat the same day over and over and over again.

Who knew forty-eight hours could be an eternity?

At end of day Friday, I left the office early and returned to my apartment. Packing up an overnight bag with shaking hands. Adrenaline was a potent drug and right now my body was vibrating with it. I'd barely managed more than a full three hours of sleep last night, but at present I couldn't have been more charged and awake.

I wasn't sure what to expect or what I was going to need so I packed bit of everything, just in case we had to leave his place for anything. I doubted there would be much need of clothing while we remained inside, so I didn't opt for much more then something to sleep in, another couple of outfits for lounging. My laptop and notebooks for work along with all the cords and cables for my devices. Some sundries for freshening up...

All neatly tucked into a single traveling bag I used for business trips and fit snuggly into overhead compartments to avoid checking luggage. Tristan sent a town car to pick me up rather then having to call a cab. Less conspicuous, he said. Cabbies can be bought, but loyal employees knew how to keep secrets.

Before leaving I checked to make sure all of my lights, faucets and machines were off—old habits rooted bone deep every time I ventured out of town for work or pleasure. The ride to his place was a mess of evening traffic, but I didn't mind. It gave me time to unwind, gather myself. As a matter of pride, I didn't want to appear too eager, regardless of how my belly wound itself into giddy, spastic little knots of glee.

The same porter from last week greeted me at the door, a soft knowing smile on his face as he tucked me into the private elevator and sent me on up. At the top, I stepped off and put down my packed bag.

Tristan stood, leaning against the wall, a decidedly wicked little smirk on his face. And suddenly, just like that, the days of imaging and negotiating and demonstrating culminated into a single, thorny mass of sexual frustration lodged between my legs.

To hell with pride. I needed him. I wanted him. I had to have him.

Right. Now.  

"Ms. Pierce."

"Tristan."

He arched a brow and I laughed. "Ha. Right. Sorry."

"Shade. Please call me Shade." He swooped in close, circling behind me, his arms snaking around my waist.

"You never did tell me...why?"

"I prefer it," he said, his face nuzzling against my neck. The immediate rush of intimacy had my blood humming, my limbs vibrating and already I was a mess of exasperation and need. If this man didn't drag me off into bed right now, I cringed to think I might actually beg.

"Why?" I turned into him, my mouth instinctively sought out his but he turned away. An abrupt reminder and the words no kissing echoed in my head.

"I have my reasons." He caught my ear lobe between his teeth, nibbled delicately. "You smell..." he breathed deeply, pressed his lips against the leaping pulse in my neck, "delicious."

His hands skimmed across my belly, down towards my hips. My thighs. Groaning I tossed my head back, exposing my throat to his trailing lips.

"Shade," I murmured and that plea was there, on the tip of my tongue. I could hear it. So could he. He gathered my face in his hand, angled me so that our eyes could lock. Engage. I very nearly whimpered.

"I can't wait anymore, either."

Taking my hand in his, he led me past the living room towards a hall. His grip was tight and I could feel a tremble working down his arm. Or was it my arm? I didn't have much time to ponder the thought as he suddenly jerked me around, pinned me to the wall and devoured. His hand seized the length of my unbound hair, yanking my head back so his mouth could feast on my throat.

He parted my legs with a thrust of his thigh and pressed against where I need it most. I rubbed myself into him and my body quivered at the contact and friction. Son of a batch, I could come just from riding him like this.

"Not yet." His hand snaked up to my throat, squeezing just hard enough to make the edges of my vision haze. And then let me go. My breath whooshed out of my lungs as he scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder, carrying me the rest of the way to his room.

The world spun and swayed as he heaved me onto the bed. Lightheaded, I giggled, bracing up on my elbows.

"So, Mr. Shade. How do you want me?" I wiggled my brows, sank my teeth into my bottom lip and watched, salivating, as he peeled off his shirt. A long sleeved, v'neck I hadn't given much thought to until he'd pulled it off. My eyes hungrily rove over the length of his chiselled and toned physique.

Not even my wildest imaginations could have conjured what he had hidden underneath those impressive suits. His arms were corded with muscle that flexed and cut down his forearms to wide palmed hands. His golden hair framed his angular face, a touch long and wild, giving him the look of a warrior bent on conquest. I reached for the hem of my shirt when he caught my hand, pulled it away.

"No," he said, wagging his finger slowly before my face. "Scoot back on the bed." I did as he asked, settling myself between the pillows. Tristan climbed onto the bed and crawled towards me, on hands and knees, straddling my waist.

"Hands," he instructed and waited patiently for me to link my wrists together. He moved them over my head and bound them in place with a length of satin rope I hadn't bothered to notice. This was new to me and a bit unnerving but I remembered his words that night he'd pinned me to his window and asked me to touch myself for all of Manhattan to see.

Complete trust. Naked vulnerability.

And I relaxed, easing into the firm but cushioned mattress. While he secured my bonds, I took in the colours and textures of his bedroom. Lushly furnished in muted tones of black and greys, highlighted with freshening accents of white and gold. The bed sat like a stage surrounded by dressers and a walls adorned with pictures and art. A length of mirror stood almost as tall as the high ceilings, framed in brushed bronze, propped against the corner by a curtain-covered window.

Tristan tugged on my wrists, testing his knots. Pleased with the results, he braced over me, planting his hands on either side of my head. His silver eyes in his wickedly gorgeous face gleamed in the moody bedroom lighting.

"Well, Ms. Pierce," he smiled, running his teeth across his bottom lip. "Are you ready for me?"

"Yes," I pant, lifting my hips so that the weight of him settled a little firmer on top of me.

"Yes, what?"

"Sir."

"No. Not Sir. Not tonight." He stroked a finger over my lips, tracing their shape and savouring their texture. God, how I wished he'd kiss me. I never expected to crave something so simple with such urgency, but I know he wouldn't and the disappointment was almost brutal.

"Call me Shade," he whispered across my cheek and his tongue darted out, tracing the curve of my ear. "Sir is for when I'm displeased, Laura. Sir will be for when I am punishing you."

The muscles in my belly tightened and my whole body trembled. "Yes, Mr. Shade." I sank my teeth into my lip until the sharp burst of pain was strong enough to temper my arousal. I arched beneath him, hoping to draw attention to the fact that he was on top of me and I was desperately turned on.

Leaning back, he gathered the hem of my shirt in his hands, his eyes fixed on my face as he ripped the fabric down the center in one, clean jerk. The screaming hiss of tearing cloth startled and excited me, this unexpected aggression coupled with quiet calm and control was maddening. I tugged my rope bound wrists and felt the bite of resistance. It wasn't tight, but it certainly wasn't going to budge, either.

His hands settled against the naked skin of my belly and my body jumped at his touch. My eyes rolled shut as those hands travel upwards. Slow. So maddeningly slow.

"Shade," my voice grated out. "For the love of God, please hurry up."

He shook his golden head and slid those fingers beneath the cups of my bra, gathering my breasts against firm, calloused palms.

"Tonight is about discovery, Laura." The length of his body glided over me, the weight of him settling over my every inch as he unfastened the center clasp of my bra. His tongue slid up along the underside of my breast, following the sloped curve to the pert nipple. "Tonight I am going to give you pleasure and torment. Hours of it."

He removed my pants, one leg at a time and tossed them to the floor. His nostrils flared when he realized I had the forethought to skip on underwear.

"I am going to play with you," he groaned, settling back between my naked thighs. "I am going to take you. Slow and deep. Fast and hard." He drove against me with a roll of his hips and I moaned.

"Yes."

"And when you fall asleep, I'll wake you in the night with body or my voice, telling you all the ways I am going to have you. Before I'm finished, Laura, I will know your every fantasy and desire, you ever secret and burning wish. I will know you better than you know yourself."

"Please..." I gasped as his teeth sink into the curve of my neck where it met my shoulder and he soothed the sting with a stroke of his tongue. His hand slipping between us to unfasten his jeans.

"Tell me you want me inside you."

"I want you inside me, Mr. Shade." His hand fumbled, freeing himself and finally I felt the delicious stroke of rock hard man. He slid himself against me, stroking between my sensitive lips and I couldn't hold back the desperate sobs. I was wet, aching. I couldn't remember a time I'd been this ready for anyone.

Tristan pushed the head of him into my folds and withdrew, teasing and tormenting me with shallow, controlled thrusts that only heightened my hunger. With my arms trapped overhead, I latched on to him with my legs, wrapping around him, begging him for more.

Finally he entered me with a deep, single thrust and our twin moans tangled and clashed between us.

"Oh God," I panted, writhing beneath him. "Now. Please, just f-ck me now."

His hands reached above, linked with mine as he moved over me. In me. My body jolted with pleasure and a wicked, wicked thrill, stretching to take him, begging to hold on to him. He panted at my throat, every inch of him taught and straining against me. Each thrust was more savage, more determined, a wild and reckless pace that we both fought to match. He growled his pleasure and I cried out mine. This was more then I had expected. More then I had ever thought it could be.

Not sex or tender passions but mating. A simple and primitive impulse that had to be assuaged.

Each stroke drove me harder, faster and whipped through me like a hurricane until I was disoriented, breathless and one beautiful moment away from being consumed by it all. I turned my face into his hair, wishing I could wrap myself around him completely. That I could pull him into me, to devour him whole. His breathing quickened, the muscles in his shoulders locked and I came undone.

"Yes. Yes," I chanted. "Oh God, yes. I'm coming. Oh God!"

Tristan threw back his head, his body wracked with wave after wave, his orgasm ripping through us both and I savoured every nuance and sensation. Limp, he sagged over me, his breathing heavy but shallow.

Both of us weak, spent, we lay there for a moment, a tangle of limbs and ragged breathing.

Tristan lifted his head up and gazed down at me, his expression—something in it I hadn't seen before but was too overcome to make sense of much of anything outside of what was presently happening inside of me.

"You're more incredible than I could have imagined, a ghra." He pressed his lips to my cheek, worked down along my neck. "Are you sore?"

"No."

"Good," he murmured, flicking his tongue across my nipple. And laughed at my sharp intake of breath. "So responsive. Good. Now, lets see what else I can coax out of you?" 

Sobering with understanding, my head snapped up to look down at him. "Again?"

"I hope you're well rested, Laura." Those wanton and wicked eyes of his snapped up from my breasts, full of devious intent as he stirred inside of me. Hardening. Lengthening. "Because you won't be getting much, tonight."