Текст книги "Slow Play"

Автор книги: Monica Murphy

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Where are you?

At home.

REALLY?????

I frown. Why am I getting an all caps response?

No need to yell.

Have you gone to your room yet?

No.

I start heading in that direction, wondering why she’s asking, what she could know. Apprehension slithers down my spine and I throw open my door to find…

Tristan. Shirtless. In my bed.

He smiles. “I thought you’d never get here. Jesus, how long did Kelli chew your ear off at Starbucks anyway?”

My jaw drops open. “What are you doing here? You planned this with Kelli?” I squeak.

Nodding, he reaches up and scratches along his scruffy jaw. He looks so damn good I can’t believe he’s here in my room. In my bed. When he should be making nice with his parents. “Surprise. Now come here, angel. And greet me properly.”

I shut and lock the door before I send Kelli a brief text.

Sneaky bitch.

The response comes as I make my way into my bed and into my man’s arms.

You know it. :)

“I want to ask you a question.” We’re lying in my bed on Thanksgiving night, naked with our bodies entwined. I comb my fingers through Alexandria’s hair again and again because it practically makes her purr like a cat, she loves it so damn much. Anything I can do to make her feel good, I oblige.

Does this mean I’m pussy whipped? I don’t know. I don’t care either.

I changed my plans for Thanksgiving, cancelling on my parents, not that they really cared. Seriously, I think Mom was relieved. It meant she didn’t have to make a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. Something she hires someone else to do most of the time.

I’d rather spend the week with Alexandria all to myself. I would’ve missed her too damn much while I was gone. Does this also mean I’m pussy whipped?

Maybe. Fuck it.

“What?” she asks sleepily. We spent the afternoon at Steven’s parents’ house. Yes, even I was invited once everyone found out I was here for the week. Steven’s a decent guy—he didn’t even hesitate in asking me to come and I can reluctantly appreciate the gesture. We had a good time today. His parents were nice, and so was his younger brother Jason, who’s just a miniature version of Steven, only scary smart. Like destined for Harvard or MIT smart.

Kelli and Steven acted like lovesick teenagers the entire afternoon, pretending they weren’t really together, but playing grab ass whenever they thought someone wasn’t looking.

Unfortunately for me, I was looking. A lot. I saw them grab each other often when I really didn’t want to. Caught Steven kissing her in the backyard when I went out for a quick smoke and they sprang away from each other guiltily.

Like I’m gonna judge. I just lit up my smoke and didn’t say a word.

Yes, damn it I’m still smoking but only when I’m nervous, I swear to God. And spending Thanksgiving afternoon with a family I’ve never met before was enough to set me right on edge. Doesn’t take much really.

“My fraternity is having some sort of formal get together in a couple of weeks.” I make a face as I stare up at the ceiling. I’ve never been to any of the couples-only functions my frat has hosted. I’m not stupid enough to take a girl to anything like that. It’s an automatic assumption that I want to pursue something more with them—and that’s the last thing I need.

I want to bring Alexandria though, not that I really want to go to this stupid dinner-dance-bullshit thing. But I think it would be good to have her on my arm for the night. A sort of public declaration that she’s mine, though no one will believe that I actually have a girlfriend. If that’s what she even is.

A girlfriend.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the word.

She shifts, her knee practically nailing me in the junk, and glances up at me in confusion. “You’re in a fraternity? I had no idea.”

I nod. “I never hang out at the house anymore. I haven’t for almost a year now, though I do stop by on occasion. Go to a party when I can. But usually I’m too busy running the casino or going to school or—spending time with you now.”

“So.” She arches a delicate brow. “Are you asking me to go with you?”

“Yeah.” I remove my fingers from her hair so I can touch her cheek. “Will you? Go with me?”

“Yes.” She smiles and I lean in, kissing her still curved lips. “I’d love to. Though I distinctly remember you telling me you don’t ask for anything. You just take.”

Ah, my words thrown back at me. Every guy loves that shit. “Fine. You’re going with me to this stupid fucking party. End of story.”

Alexandria laughs, pressing her mouth against my chest and giving it a kiss. Her lips are damp and hot, and my dick twitches. She keeps that up and I’ll want to jump her again.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I don’t need an excuse to want to jump her again.

“You don’t have to wear a ball gown or anything crazy like that,” I explain. “It’s just an excuse for the girls to dress up and look hot, and for everyone to get shit faced.”

“Like they need an excuse for any of that?” she asks, blinking innocently.

Chuckling, I kiss her again. Those perfect, pink lips still star in my daily fantasies. What makes life even better is now those lips are a part of my reality too. And what a mouth my girl has. She can laugh, talk, smile, kiss and suck my cock like no one else.

Crude, but honest. It’s like Alexandria was made for me. If I think about it too hard, I start to freak out.

So I prefer not to think about it at all.

“When exactly is it?” she asks.

I give her the date and she grabs her phone from the bedside table, typing it into her calendar real quick. “I’ll make sure and ask for that Saturday off.”

“It won’t start until around seven o’clock,” I point out, knowing she always gets off work by six at the latest, sometimes earlier.

“Yeah, but I’ll need time to get my hair done and maybe a manicure or something,” she says as she sets the phone back on the table. “I’ll have to pick out an outfit too. And shoes.”

“You really going to get all dolled up just for me?” I tease.

“No, for your frat brothers. So they can see how hot your date is.” She smiles cheekily.

I frown. Maybe I don’t want them to know how fucking hot she is. Then they’ll just be slobbering all over her the entire night. And I might have to beat someone’s ass because I won’t allow any shit like that going down.

Jesus, since when did I turn into a grunting caveman?

“I’m warning you now,” I say as I push her hair away from her face, tucking the wayward strands behind her ear. “They’re all dicks.”

“Really? What a surprise.” The sarcasm is clear.

“I’m serious. They’re worse than I am.”

She bats her eyelashes. “How is that even possible?”

I refuse to be butt hurt by what she’s saying. Though it is true, and I’ve never shied away from who I am. She knows this. I’m an asshole. She knows that too. Still, it kind of rubs, the way she’s talking.

“Baby, you’re mean.” I gather her up in my arms and press a quick kiss to her lips. “Seriously. Why you gotta knock me so hard?”

“Why? Am I hurting your feelings?” She frowns up at me.

“Well, sort of. Contrary to popular belief, I do have feelings.” I remember when she said that to Kelli the night I showed up at her house unexpectedly and ended up playing video games with the guys for the first time. That seems like a lifetime ago. I was a different guy then. Totally and completely different.

And I have Alexandria to thank for the change.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is hushed, her gaze dimmed. She’s all sincere, contrite beauty. Fuck me, I like this girl a lot. More than I probably should. “I didn’t mean to hurt your very real feelings.”

“It’s cool.” I kiss her, a lingering touch of lips on lips. “My hurt feelings forgive you.”

Our mouths meet again and she puts so much feeling into the kiss, I know she’s silently asking for my forgiveness. I give it to her in the form of my eager lips and tongue, kissing her deep, rolling her over so she’s lying flat on her back and I’m pressing her into the mattress. It’s all we’ve been doing the entire week.

Sex. Eat. Laugh. Watch something together, maybe even a movie. Until our hands start to wander and our lips meet like she’s a magnet and I’m steel—there’s no way I can’t resist. Then it starts all over again.

It’s nice that Shep and Jade are gone, Jade having taken Shep to her mom’s house for the holiday. So we’ve taken over their role as domestic bliss, fucking on every available surface we can find.

Yeah. I’m so ready to live on my own. Only a few more months of this shit and then I’m out of here.

Alexandria’s only worked a few quick afternoon shifts but she’ll be back at it tomorrow and Saturday, her boss having prepared fully for Black Friday and the weekend. I need to take my chance where I can find it.

So tonight is going to be a fuck fest of epic proportions.

“Weren’t Steven and Kelli ridiculous today?” Alexandria asks when I finally break our kiss.

I frown. Why the hell are we talking about them now? Women. They love to gossip. “They were beyond ridiculous. I assumed Steven would take his chance and tell his parents—hell all of us—that he’s been seeing Kelli.”

Alexandria gave me a few deets on what’s happening between Kelli and Steven. Not that I was particularly interested, and she knew it. I’ll leave the gossipy-relationship-type stuff to her.

“I know. It was so weird. I don’t get them.” She shakes her head, her hair spreading everywhere on my pillow.

“I’m sure people don’t get us either.” I kiss her softly. Her pretty lips, her delicate upturned nose, her sweet chin. Her rounded cheeks, her eyelids when she closes her eyes and finally, her forehead. I’d start all over again and kiss her in the exact same pattern but she’d probably shove me away.

Or maybe not.

This could be an analogy of our budding relationship, I’m thinking.

“You think so?” she asks tentatively.

“I’m sure.” How could they not? I’m blown away that she wants to stick around me. I’m blown away that I want to stick around her. Not that she isn’t amazing and sweet and fun and sexy as fuck but this goes against my beliefs, spending time with Alexandria like we’re in a relationship or something.

I’m going against everything I stand for. I threw one and done out the window with ease. It’s fucking insane.

“Well, I get us,” she admits softly. “Do you?”

Aw, hell. How do I answer her question without fucking this up?

I wait for him to say something, my chin resting on his chest, my gaze locked on his face. He appears conflicted, like he doesn’t know which way to go with his answer and I’m mentally preparing to hear the worst.

This is Tristan I’m dealing with, after all.

He settles his hand on my head, smoothing my hair back, almost like he’s petting me. I love it when he does that and my eyes start to close as he lulls me into this false sense of security. As if nothing can go wrong as long as Tristan’s touching me like this.

I should know better. I lived most of my life with a false sense of security. Always believing that everything was just fine when in reality, my entire world had been on the verge of collapse for years. Until finally it actually collapsed—and I was the only one left behind to pick up the pieces.

Well, no more. Reality is my best friend. So if Tristan says the wrong thing, tells me he still doesn’t want anything serious, then forget it. I’m out. Moving on.

Even though it’ll hurt more than I want to admit.

“I get us,” he finally says, his deep voice soft. He runs his hand over my hair until it settles on my back, between my shoulder blades. “It really shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks, right?”

Opening my eyes, I find he’s watching me, concern in his deep blue gaze. “Do you worry what someone else might think?”

“I don’t worry about shit,” he mutters and I pinch his side, making him yelp. “Jesus woman, what was that for?”

“You don’t have to pull your ‘I’m Tristan fucking Prescott—king of the damn world and can do whatever I want’ act on me.” I pause, hoping he realizes that I need this from him. “Be real with me.”

He skims my hair away from my forehead, traces his index finger over one of my eyebrows, then the other. “I’m the most real I can get when I’m with you.”

I swear my heart skips a beat. Maybe even two beats. “Yeah?”

Tristan nods. “But I don’t want to label it, what’s happening between us.”

“Oh.” Of course, he doesn’t. Meaning, I’m not his girlfriend, he’s not my boyfriend so we’re just…what? Two people fucking? Isn’t that the punch line to an old joke?

Great. I’ve been rendered a punch line. My life couldn’t get any worse.

“You sound disappointed.”

“That’s because I am.” I pull away from him and sit up in bed, tucking the sheet high so it covers my chest. I’m not in the mood to be exposed, especially after what he just said. “Everything comes with a label, Tristan, whether you like it or not.”

“Really? And what’s my label?” He sits up too, frustration clearly vibrating off his big body. I’m pissed at him yet can still appreciate just how damn good looking he is. Hair sticking up everywhere, completely naked, a white sheet bunched around his hips so only his magnificent chest is on display, his expression one of complete irritation. Irritation is still a great look on him, the bastard. He probably hates that we’re having this conversation when we could be having sex—his favorite pastime.

Mine too, but this discussion needs to happen. I can’t float along forever. I need answers. Confirmation.

Of what, I’m almost afraid to find out.

Sitting up straighter, sheet still firmly tucked in place, I contemplate him, tempted to lash out and say something awful. “You’re handsome. Sexy. Rich. Charming.”

He just sits there, doesn’t say a word.

“You’re also arrogant. Cocky. Callous.” I pause before I deliver the last label. “Heartless.”

His eyes narrow but otherwise, still no reaction.

“That’s what I thought when I first met you.” I hesitate and look down, not wanting to see all that anger flashing in his eyes. “So. What are my labels?”

He’s quiet for a moment. So quiet, I finally have to look up to see if he’s still breathing. “You really want to know what I thought that night when I first met you?” he asks.

I nod, nerves making me shaky.

Scared.

“Beautiful. Sexy. Sarcastic. Untouchable.”

Now it’s my turn to remain silent. What can I say? He pretty much nailed me with four choice words.

“Snobby. Gorgeous. Untouchable,” he continues.

“You already said that. Untouchable,” I murmur, not really digging the snobby reference. Though I did call him heartless so…touché.

“That was the label everyone placed on your head. They all warned me off of you.”

I frown. “Who are they?”

“Shep. Jade. Gabe. Lucy. Hell, even Kelli told me to leave you alone, though she also assisted in getting us together, too. Like she couldn’t help herself.”

“I’m guessing that only made you want me more.” I chuck the sheet away from my body and scramble out of bed, frantically scanning the room, looking for my clothes. I can’t listen to his crap any longer. The more he talks, the worse it gets. He doesn’t really care about me. He cares more about the idea of having me. Big difference.

How does a conversation go from so amazingly good to horrifically bad all in about two minutes’ time?

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for my clothes. I need to get out of here,” I mutter, snatching my panties from the floor. I distinctly remember Tristan slowly pulling them off me, his mouth everywhere, driving me insane.

Now he’s driving me insane in other ways and I hate it.

He grabs hold of my arm, stopping my progress and the panties I was clutching fall to the floor. “Why? Because of what I said?”

I glare at him, wishing he would let go. Wishing he would never, ever let me go, too. “You’re only with me because you think I’m some sort of forbidden fruit or whatever.”

Tristan rolls his eyes. “You really believe that?”

“I know it.” I try to jerk out of his hold but his grip tightens. “Let me go.”

“No.” He pulls but I resist. “Ali, listen to me.”

“Why? So you can say more pretty words and trick me into staying? You don’t care about me. You care about the conquest. Wanting something you can’t have. It’s bullshit.” I manage to somehow squirm out of his hold and run, grabbing the first article of clothing I see—one of Tristan’s flannel shirts hanging over a chair. I throw open his bedroom door and run down the hall, jerking on his shirt as I practically trip down the stairs.

I don’t know where I’m going. I can hardly see, my vision is so blurry with stupid fucking tears. I’m furious. Mad at myself for crying.

Mad at myself more for caring.

“Alexandria.” Like freaking stealth he sneaks up on me just as I approach the front door, grabbing me from behind, wrapping me up in his arms. I struggle as hard as I can, my elbows jabbing his chest, kicking backwards so my heel makes direct contact with his shin. “Shit, that fucking hurt,” he mutters close to my ear.

“Let me go!” I practically scream, beating on his forearms with my fists. I hate his forearms. They’re muscular, with smooth, golden skin lightly covered with dark hair and thick wrists. Yeah. I hate them. I hate him.

I’m crying, the tears running down my cheeks and I slump against him in defeat. His grip gentles, his hand stroking my stomach, trying to calm me like I’m some out of control wild animal.

“Listen to me,” he whispers, nuzzling my hair away from my ear, his hot lips brushing my skin. “Labels are bullshit and you know it. Do you really think I’m heartless?”

Yes! I want to scream though I would be lying. Instead I shake my head, too overcome to speak.

“I may have gone after you at first because they told me I shouldn’t, but I’m still with you because I…” He hesitates and there’s so much left unsaid in the quiet that surrounds us. I can hear him breathe. Can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back. His hand splays across my stomach, his fingers caressing my skin, making tingles scatter everywhere. “I care about you, Alex.” His voice is low. Rough. Saying the words I desperately need to hear. “Don’t make me say anything else, because I know I’ll eventually fuck this up and I can’t. Not right now.”

Slowly I turn in his embrace, tilting my face up so our gazes meet. He touches my cheeks, wipes away my tears, his expression nothing short of horrified. “Your tears are killing me,” he whispers hoarsely. “Don’t cry over me. I’m not worth it.”

I close my eyes, fighting off new tears that spring at his words. He doesn’t understand how much he means to me. He’s so worth it. I wish he could see how much.

There’s no way I can stay mad at him. He’s just being…exactly who he is. He’s not a liar. And I hate liars. Cheaters. Tristan is always open, to the point of being horribly blunt.

I either accept him as he is or walk.

“Take me to bed, Tristan,” I whisper, opening my eyes so that the new tears fall. He kisses them away, his lips lingering, a tortured sound coming from low in his throat. His arms tighten around me and I’ve never felt more cherished. “Please.”

I sweep her into my arms and carry her up the stairs, my heart thundering in my chest, my blood running hot. Fear still has its grip on me over what I could’ve lost. She almost ran out the door. She almost fucking left me wearing nothing but my shirt. What the hell? How could I mess up what we have so badly? With just a few stupid words?

Words have never meant so much as they do right now between us. One wrong thing said could send everything crumbling down. I can’t afford that. Not yet. The end is coming, I’m sure of it—but not yet. I need to hold onto her as long as I can.

Alexandria loops her arms around my neck, her cheek resting on my shoulder. I hold her close, the both of us naked save for my shirt she’s wearing, though she never got a chance to button it. I can see every pretty inch of her and I would stare but I’m afraid I’ll trip on the stairs and hurt her. She’s so damn beautiful.

Mine.

My chest is tight and I swallow hard, thinking back over what we said. I was a total dick. No surprise. She was mean too. I started it with the label crap. She continued it by labeling me, quite accurately. Then she had to go and cry.

Her tears just about broke me. The last thing I ever want to see is my girl crying—over something I did. My heart cracked at witnessing those tears fill her eyes and slide down her cheeks. I meant what I said, that I’m not worth her crying over me. It’s true.

I also meant what I said when I told her I care about her. That’s true too. If she’d pushed for more I probably would’ve said something awful and ruined the moment. It’s best that I keep my lips shut.

And show her how much she means to me instead.

Nudging the bedroom door open with my foot, I stride inside and deposit her carefully so that she sits on the edge of the bed. She stares up at me, her hair falling down her back in golden waves, her eyes luminous as she watches me. I touch her cheek and lean in, kissing her. Putting all of my fear and worry into that one kiss, my lips hard, my tongue searching, both hands now cradling her face. She tips her head back and grabs hold of me, pulling me down so I fall on top of her. I brace my hands on the mattress, on either side of her head, never letting my mouth leave hers.

There’s no time for lingering, no time for teasing either. I need to be inside her. Now. I make my way up the mattress, taking her with me, my arm around her waist as I lift her. She has her arms around my neck, her mouth on my throat, whispering a bunch of nonsense like she usually does.

I eat up every one of those nonsensical words. Like she’s so overcome with wanting me she can’t speak coherently. I know the feeling. I’m a talker. I know just what to say in any situation. But with Alexandria, I’m moving through unchartered territory and managing to fuck up spectacularly most of the time.

It sucks.

I reach for the condom on my bedside table and rear up on my knees, tearing into the wrapper and sliding the condom on. Alexandria tears off my shirt and then sprawls in front of me, spreading her legs, offering me a glimpse of heaven, otherwise known as her perfect pussy.

Fuck, I’ve turned into the corniest bastard on the planet.

“Hurry,” she whispers, rubbing her foot against my thigh. “I want you inside me.”

My hands tremble as I roll the condom the rest of the way on. I’m hard as a rock. I was inside her not even an hour ago and I’m already so overwhelmed with my need for her I can hardly see straight. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, runs her hands along her sides, across her stomach, then back up to cup her breasts.

Ah, fuck. That’s hot as hell, watching her touch herself. Maybe I can wait to get inside her…

“Keep doing that,” I tell her with a nod when she stops. Big eyes meet mine. “Touch yourself. I wanna watch.”

She hesitates, her hands still cupped around her breasts. I get a tiny glimpse, just a tease of a touch when she drifts her thumbs across her hard nipples. “Like this?” she asks, her voice shaky.

“Exactly like that,” I encourage.

Her hands slide down, across her stomach, over her hips. She spreads her legs wider, letting me see everything she’s got and I choke out a groan when she rests her hand over her pubic hair.

“Show me what you do when you’re all alone,” I whisper, my voice raw, my thoughts wild.

“I don’t kn—”

“Please,” I interrupt, making her frown. Fuck, why is she frowning? I want her happy. I want her hot for it. Hot for me.

A shuddery breath escapes her as she slides her hand down, fully covering her pussy. She remains still, closing her eyes, taking a deep breath so her chest rises, holds there for a moment before she exhales. Gathering up all her courage to prepare for what she’s about to do next.

I wait in barely contained anticipation.

Slowly, she curls her fingers in until only her index finger is extended, and she begins to search. To tease. She runs her finger up and down, through her folds, over her clit, then back down to—aw, fuck—plunge it inside her body. She does it again. And again. The same pattern. Search, circle clit, insert, pull out, then start all over.

I’m fascinated. I can’t tear my eyes away from the spot where she’s touching herself. She gives up on the pattern and focuses on her clit, rubbing it, her eyes opening to check if I’m still watching her.

Fuck yeah, I am. I can’t stop.

“Is this really what you do when you’re alone?” I ask, surprised I can actually string words into a complete sentence. My cock feels like it’s going to explode and I tear off the condom, wanting to stroke myself uninhibited.

Her gaze drops to my hand on my dick, those pretty eyes glazing over with lust. “Sometimes.”

My imagination just filled up with all sorts of possibilities. “What else do you do?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Her gaze still hasn’t strayed from my hand stroking my cock.

“I would never laugh at you, angel. I hope you realize that.” I bite off a groan when she licks her lips. What I would give to have that mouth on me.

“Sometimes I use…a vibrator.”

My hand goes still. “You have one?”

She nods. “I got it as a gag gift a few years ago.”

“And you use it.”

“Well…yeah.” Her cheeks go pink.

“And you like it.”

A silent nod is my answer.

“Is it a big one or one of those tiny bullet looking things?” I’ve never used one on a girl in my life. But I have watched the entire Sex and the City series so I think I’m fairly well versed in vibrators, dildos and other various sex toys. “Don’t tell me you got a rabbit vibrator.”

“No!” Her face is on fire now. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“Baby, you are the only woman I want to have this conversation with.” And that is the damn truth. I can’t imagine talking about vibrators with anyone else. That we can pause in what we were doing—and it was pretty fucking hot—to start joking around about vibrators. I love that about us.

“When was the last time you used your vibrator?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything.

“It’s been weeks,” she admits.

“Did you use it after we met?”

A reluctant nod.

“Did you use it and think of me?”

No response at all.

I let go of my cock and reach out to place my hand over hers, the heat from her pussy warming my skin. “Did you, Ali?”

She sighs. “Fine. Yes. I did.”

Grinning, I remove her hand and replace it with my own, letting my fingers sink into her warm, wet depths. “What did you think about?”

“The night you kissed me in my room and Steven interrupted us,” she confesses. “I imagined what would’ve happened if he never knocked on my door.”

“Oh, I can tell you exactly what would’ve happened.” It’s my turn to search her folds, to insert my index finger inside her body, then add another finger. She moans when I start to fuck her, her hips moving, her eyes falling shut. She’s so fucking responsive.

“Tell me,” she whispers.

His thick fingers move in and out of my body and oh my God, I’m close to coming already. Making me forget all the shitty things he said, which is a good thing. A very good thing.

Now I can concentrate on how good he makes me feel.

“We would’ve kissed for a long time,” he murmurs, removing his fingers from my body so he can readjust his position. I immediately miss their presence but tell myself we have the rest of the night. He’s always good for a couple of orgasms.

Always.

He lies next to me, nestled up close, his hand returning to my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. “Kissing is what we do best, don’t you think?” he asks.

To prove his point, he takes my mouth in a tongue filled, passionate kiss that ends much too soon. But at least he keeps talking.

“I would’ve slowly taken off your clothes and discovered you wear the sexiest underwear I’ve ever seen. After getting myself under control, I would stroke you everywhere, get you nice and wet for me.”

I grow wetter just hearing him say that.

“I’d suck your nipples deep into my mouth all while I was fingering your pussy until you were squirming and begging for more.”

I start to squirm when he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. His words, his actions are making me hot. And wet. His thumb slides around my clit with ease and that sweet, familiar ache starts to build. I sink my hands into his hair, holding him close.

“That would’ve been the first time you pushed your fingers into my hair because I’ve noticed you do that a lot. Pull on it too,” he observes, his mouth moving against my breast, his breath hot as it blows across my sensitive nipple. “I don’t mind though. I actually like it.”

I give his hair a tug for good measure.

“I probably would’ve gone down on you. And found out you have the sweetest pussy in the world. Nothing has ever tasted better.”

“Please,” I mumble sarcastically, because I can’t help myself. He has to be kidding.

“I’m serious.” He slides his fingers between my legs, touching every sensitive inch, then brings them up to his mouth, sucking them deep. “Fucking delicious,” he says when he pulls his fingers out.

A shaky breath leaves me when I see the way his lips shine from my juices. Oh, and then he licks them. My belly flutters. Maybe some girls get squicked out by that sort of thing but not me. Everything Tristan does is a turn on.

“What next?” I encourage him.

He smiles. “Because I’m a man, I would’ve somehow got those perfect, pink lips of yours wrapped around my dick, and you would’ve loved it.”

I smile in return. “I do like sucking your cock.”

His smile fades, replaced with a dark, hungry look that makes my body tighten with anticipation. He looks like he wants to jump me. “Woman, you can’t say things like that to me without getting a reaction.”

“What sort of reaction?” I ask innocently.

“Hand me another condom and you’ll see.”

I grab one of the many condoms that lie scattered on top of his bedside table and give it to him, watching with fascination as he gets on his knees and rolls it on. I love watching him do this. His brows furrowed in concentration, his lip caught between his teeth, his fingers brushing over the head of his cock and making it sway. He rolls that condom on and always gives it a good tug, stroking himself once. Twice. Then he’s good. He’s ready.

It’s the hottest thing ever.

“You ready for the big D?” he asks once the condom is securely in place. He’s grinning again, his expression so adorable despite what he just said. I’m sure he’s waiting for me to say something equally ridiculous.