Chapter 20
Tristan
Oh, sunshine.
Because of course he had to go and ask me, all flushy-sunset-pink and breathless and perfect gentleman to the end.
Damn, I’m not quite sure I’m not about to melt into a puddle at his feet.
Fuck yeah is what I think I mean to say, except for some reason, it comes out instead as a breathy, almost desperate, “Please.”
Jesse’s pupils blow wide, and against my hip, I can feel a telltale twitch. Oh, he likes me being needy for him, does he?
Well sunshine, that I can totally do without even having to try.
And then Jesse’s hands are on my waist and his mouth captures mine, all warm and plush and every bit as sweet as I’d known it would be.
But ohhhfuuck.
What I had not expected was the self-assured confidence of those soft, rosy lips. I’d been expecting tentative and shy. Not purposeful and firm, and fuuuck—
I’m not all that into kissing. What really is the point? Half the guys I’ve been with, I haven’t even kissed. The other half? Most of them left me kinda wishing I hadn’t bothered, to be honest.
Like with apparently everything else though, Jesse’s proved me wrong. Again.
And so, correction, I wasn’t all that into kissing. Or maybe I’m just not into being kissed by anyone who isn’t Jesse, ‘cause this? Ohhh I am so into this.
The tease of his tongue gliding over my lips snaps me out of the stupid-ass spiral of my thoughts, sending static crackling over my skin. Soft, broad hands slip up from my waist to cup the back of my neck, not holding me hard or tight, just anchoring me where I can’t spin off in distraction again.
And when he licks, slow and hot, over the seam of my lips for a second time? I don’t even have to part them on purpose. Ohh no, they open all on their own.
Next thing I know, his tongue strokes along the length of mine, and I let out an honest to god moan, not faked or for anyone’s benefit but my own.
Fucking hell—
“Sunshine,” I pant out when he pulls back—far too soon in my opinion. His chest is heaving and those lips of his that have just officially become my favorite obsession are trembling slightly. “That was…” I trail off, my head spinning and my own lips tingling with the memory of his touch.
“Yeah,” he rasps, “it was.”
He gives his head a small shake, like he’s trying to clear his brain. There’s a totally-out-of-it little smile spreading across his parted lips, and his glassy eyes are more black than grey-blue, all swallowed up by his pupils.
Shit, if he looks so totally wrecked already, how’s he gonna look later, all fucked out and cum drunk? My cock gives a hard kick against my jeans, making me bite back another moan.
“Let me—” He takes a step back, reaching toward the doorknob with his key.
Oh fuck yes, sunshine. Anything you want—
“Let me make you dinner?”
Oh.
Well damn.
And it’s not just the total disappointment of the fact that Jesse’s let me wasn’t the dirty request I was hoping for.
I have to admit to some serious mistrust at his actual question, remembering back to the contents of his cupboards.
Honestly, from what I saw this morning, the guy’s food selection looked about as good as his wardrobe.
For some reason though, the fact that I’m pretty sure accepting would mean dooming myself to whatever the dinner equivalent of plain oatmeal is doesn’t stop my stomach from going all swoopy at the idea of Jesse cooking for me.
Damn this guy is sweet.
Still doesn’t mean I’m not legitimately crushed that he wasn’t asking me to let him fuck me into his mattress until I couldn’t walk tomorrow…
“You don’t think I can cook, do you.” Jesse turns and points an accusing finger at me as he pushes open the door. The teasing smile that spreads across his face, lighting up his eyes, douses any worry his words might have sparked.
“I dunno,” I smirk, giving him a soft bump with my hip on my way through the door he’s now holding open for me. “I think I’m gonna have to have a taste before I’ll be willing to make any guesses about how good you are.”
Even Jesse’s ears go scarlet as he pulls the door shut behind him.
“You want some help with anything?” I ask over the noise of him pulling a couple pots and a baking sheet out of a floor level cupboard.
Getting down there’s got him all bent over, khakis stretched tight, leaving me with a perfect view of his ass and the backs of his thick, straight-up mouthwatering thighs.
Straightening up, he shakes his head, looking back at me with an unblushing smile that tells me that he’s totally oblivious to how I was just checking him out. Really, the guy has no idea what he does to me.
“I’m making dinner for you. Sit down and relax. Or,” his smile widens, “better yet, I bet you didn’t get a chance for that bath you’d wanted earlier. Do you want to go take one now?”
Ooh, and there’s that blush again. Just as scorching hot and sexy as it had been this morning when I’d oh-so-casually told him how much I love baths and how tragic it is that my apartment only has a shower.
It’s almost enough to make me ignore that fluttery swoop of butterflies that his sweetness always gives me.
I swear I can feel Jesse’s eyes burning a hole through the back of my jeans as I saunter off to the bathroom. Damn, but it takes all I have not to turn back and let him know I know he’s staring.
Instead, I make sure to take my sweet time, giving him plenty of a chance to get a good look before I finally shoot him a grin back over my shoulder when I stop at the bathroom door.
And if the way he tries to make it look like he was in the middle of pulling a cutting board out of the cupboard, rather than checking me out, isn’t the most adorable thing ever, I’m really not sure what is.
Too fucking cute, sunshine.
“You know, you’re welcome to join me, right?” I tilt my head to the side, leaning against the doorframe, innocent as can be. Like I’m inviting him to tag along for a grocery run instead of trying to coax him into some certain to be hot-as-fuck, sexy bath time.
It’s not like I’m actually expecting him to take me up on the offer. Even after that hella hot kiss just now, I can’t help thinking it seems like he wants to take things slow. Slower than I would if it were up to me, that’s for sure.
And of course I’m not trying to pressure him or some fucked-up shit like that. But honestly, who can blame me for having just a little fun? The guy’s scorching blushes are just too good to resist.
Besides, along with those blushes are those startled little smiles he gives me, like he can’t really believe I’d say the things I say to him. Like he really doesn’t have a clue how sexy he is.
Well that’s gotta change. Sunshine’s a snack and he needs to know it.
As for now, if it wasn’t for the fact that my teasing’s getting me all hot and bothered too, the slack-jawed, eyes-about-to-pop-out-of-his-head look Jesse gives me would have me doubled over laughing.
Which, of course, only has me thinking totally different thoughts that also include me and doubled over…
“I’ve got to—” Jesse turns so quickly as he gestures back at the kitchen that his head whacks the open cupboard door he’d obviously forgotten about.
“Shit—” His hand flies up to rub the side of his head as he stares at me, his face that hot, scorching pink I love. “—Get started,” he gasps out, reaching down to snatch up a clove of garlic from the back corner of the counter.
“You do that,” I grin at him. “But you know where I’ll be if you change your mind…”
Having said all I need to say, I reach down and strip my shirt up and off over my head, pausing just long enough to give him a totally-not-long-enough peek before I snap the door shut.
And, oh no! I haven’t gone and forgotten my change of clothes now, have I? What ever will Jesse think—okay, more to the point—what will Jesse do when I wander out of the bath in nothing but the towel he so sweetly left on the bathroom counter for me this morning?
He’d just better not try and pull some all-in-control-of-himself Jesse shit and act like he doesn’t even notice my cute ass wandering around in just that towel.
Here’s the trouble though. Now I’m stuck with the backlash of my own teasing.
Lying in steaming hot water in Jesse’s bathtub? Not remotely helping the situation, given the fact that it’s impossible not to get stuck imagining all the times he’s been here, naked… All the times he must have jacked off here…
Fuck— Wondering if that’s what he was doing in the shower this morning; closing his eyes and fisting that thick, sexy cock I’d felt oh-so-clearly through his pjs to thoughts of that tension-filled, not-gonna-let-you-have-it-no-matter-how-bad-we-both-need-it-now episode in his bed…
And just like that, that one thought has me letting out a low moan as my cock goes from halfway there to hard-as-a-fucking-rock in a single second.
Can he hear me, just on the other side of the door? Is he out there, imagining me touching myself just like I’m picturing him?
I’m not gonna lie, thinking about that has my cock jumping, smacking against my abs under the water.
Fuck though, I can picture it so perfectly.
Jesse in here in the shower this morning, with his big, thick-fingered hand wrapped around his straining shaft.
Those cheeks of his would be all flushed to that hot AF, totally addictive pink they get when he’s flustered, framed by his always-mussed-up, golden hair, all damp and dripping.
And ohhfuck, would all of him be stained that gorgeous sunsetty pink?
Because I think I might legitimately die if I don’t, I wrap my hand around the base of my shaft, dragging it loosely up and down again a few times, not bothering to hold back another moan when my thumb brushes up over my tip and I squeeze a bit harder.
Would those plush lips of his been parted to let out breathless gasps, or would he have had them pressed tight to try and keep quiet? I bet even if he did try, some noise would have slipped out. Did he moan out loud when he came? Fuuck.
I’ve spent the day so tightly wound that I can’t help squeezing a bit harder as I speed up. Just a little. Already, my body is all tingly-tight, electric pleasure building with every pass of my hand.
How about those sweet, big grey-blues of his? Were they all wide and glassy with blown pupils, or squeezed shut with that little crease pulling between his eyebrows?
Maybe he’d start out standing in the shower, streams of water running down his thick, totally edible body.
Down over his long, fat cock, dripping off the tip as he jerked himself.
His breathing would pick up, and as he got closer, he’d start fucking into his fist. Would his knees go all shaky as his body started to tense up?
And when he came?
Heat like liquid lightning rolls along my spine, gathering in my core, radiating down through my cock to my aching balls.
I imagine Jesse, body shuddering, his free hand slapping against the shower wall as he slumped forward, head hanging down as he stroked himself through it, painting the wall with hot streaks of cum. Ohhh fucking yess—
When my head tips back against the edge of the tub and my eyes fall shut, no surprises at all that it’s more images of Jesse that burst through my brain.
Him all flushed and naked, lying beside me, like this morning in his bed, leaning in, brushing his full, pink, fucking delicious lips along my neck.
Fucking god— Yess—
In my hand, my cock twitches, harder than ever as I remember how his warm breath raised goosebumps across my skin.
How the feel of his tongue and taste of his lips had driven me legitimately feral for more.
How wrecked he’d looked after just that one kiss.
How fucking bad I want to see him come totally apart, panting and moaning my name.
Mmmm, fuuuck—
And it’s not my hand, I tell myself, squeezing, stroking.
It’s Jesse’s hand, tugging and twisting up and down my length while the other disappears back between my thighs, slipping between my cheeks.
It’s his thick, soft fingers teasing over the sensitive skin of my hole until it relaxes and flutters, fucking begging for more.
Ohhfuuuck yes—
Crackles of pleasure zip through me, throbbing heavily in my balls and along the length of my cock.
I hadn’t planned to get myself off, not really, but with these criminally hot images playing out in my head, the tightening grip of my hand on my shaft, and the way I’ve let one finger push in—just a little—dipping in and out of my hole, teasing my rim, I can already feel my balls drawing up as pleasure builds, hot and tight, at the base of my cock.
When I want to be though, I can be stubborn AF, and since I can’t get the thought of it really being Jesse who gets me off out of my head for a goddamn second, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
So when the next pass of my hand and deeper brush of my finger starts to feel just too good, enough that my hips buck up into my grip and my breath is starting to come even faster, harder, I force myself to stop.
I’m not gonna lie, it takes me the entire rest of the time I’m in the bathroom to get myself even a teensy bit calmed down.
And I’m not saying I do a particularly good job either.
By the time I’m wrapping myself up in the towel that is my only option for attire since I so inconveniently, accidentally dropped my jeans in a puddle on the floor, I’m still more than halfway hard. And that towel? Not doing much to hide the situation.
Still, I’m not complaining. It’s not like it’s gonna be news to Jesse that he’s got me all kinds of hot and bothered if he notices…
Okay, so maybe I’m kinda hoping he’ll notice. Like, a lot.
‘Cause yeah, even though he didn’t take me up on the offer of joining me, I’ve been totally holding out hope that he’s been out in that kitchen, thinking about me the whole time.