Chapter 12
RIX
A few days post waking up in Tristan’s bed, I’m in the kitchen, prepping dinner when he walks through the door. Flip isn’t with him. He has a dinner meeting with his agent.
The other night, when I got back from drinks with Hemi and Hammer, Flip had gone out, so I was alone with Tristan.
I failed to resist his snack status and jumped on him like a dick-hungry puck bunny.
I got three orgasms out of the deal. And again the next night.
And the next. I believe that brings us to yesterday.
“Hey.” Tristan drops his keys on the side table.
“Hey,” I reply, but I don’t look his way as he crosses the room.
He props his hip against the counter. “How’s it going?”
Just the feel of his eyes on me makes everything below the waist clench. I reach for the closest vegetable, which is an English cucumber, and move to the sink. I’m making cucumber salad because I bought a three pack. “I’m good. You?”
“Spent a lot of time today thinking about last night, if I’m honest.” His voice is deceptively soft. “Helped keep me occupied during the boring parts of the team meeting.”
Last night Flip didn’t come home, so I spent a good part of it getting railed. I slept in the loft, though, unfortunately, as we were unsure if Flip was spending the whole night elsewhere. “That’s nice.” I run the cucumber under cold water and, like an idiot, start stroking it.
Tristan’s chest brushes my back, and he presses his hips against mine, pinning me to the counter as he sets down a pint of my favorite ice cream. “I got you a treat. Moose Tracks is your favorite, right?”
“It is. That’s really sweet of you.” And unexpected. I didn’t realize he paid attention to the things I like.
“I felt like you deserved it after last night.” His hands land on either side of me. His erection nudges my lower back as his lips ghost along the column of my throat. “What are you doing?”
“Making dinner. What does it look like?”
He nips my earlobe. “Like you’re giving a hand job to a cucumber.” One palm leaves the counter and slides under my shirt. His fingertips travel over my stomach, and he cups one bare breast. “You thinking about getting fucked?”
I shrug, but anticipation makes my heart gallop and my voice shake. “You’re rubbing your dick on my ass. Hard not to think about it.”
He steps back and tugs my shorts over my hips. “What happened to your panties, Bea?” He kneads the bare flesh and gives it a swat.
I moan as I drop the cucumber on the counter and push my ass toward him. He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head, leaving me naked in the middle of the kitchen.
He wraps my ponytail around his fist. His other hand splays out over my stomach. “I asked you a question. Where’d your panties go?”
“I took them off when I got home.” After I realized Flip would be out, I wanted to be ready for Tristan. Especially since I don’t have to be quiet. The ache between my thighs is almost unbearable.
“And why was that?” His nose brushes my cheek.
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about last night either, and I soaked through them,” I admit.
“Did you think about getting fucked again all day?” He peppers kisses along my shoulder.
“Yes. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” It’s never been like this for me. I’ve never felt so utterly consumed by someone.
“Even on the train ride home?” His hand glides down my stomach and cups me.
I nod.
“Did you take care of yourself when you got home?” He nibbles my neck.
I shake my head and tip it to give him better access. I love this part, when his hands are all over me, when he’s kissing me, soft before he gets dirty.
“Good girl.” He exhales a long, slow breath, fingers skimming my sex. “You thought about it, though.”
“But I waited for you.”
He pulls my head back and turns my face so he can kiss me. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. All fucking day, Bea. I couldn’t wait to get home.”
Everything feels heightened. I’m aching for him. Desperate and needy. I don’t want to think about how this will have to end. How, despite his mercurial moods, I want more of him. Of this. Of us.
He releases my hair and puts a hand between my shoulder blades. He pushes me forward until my chest meets the granite, making my already hard nipples tighten further. He taps the outside of my right thigh. “Bring this knee up,” he orders.
I do as I’m told, and he helps get my knee on the counter.
He adjusts my position, stretching my right leg along the edge of the granite.
His fingers move between my thighs, and I moan when he skims over my already sensitive clit.
His hands run over my ass and along the backs of my thighs, then reverse the circuit, thumbs skimming the edge of my pussy.
“Such a good girl. I want to make you feel so good tonight.” His hips press against my ass, and he leans in as he pushes his thumb between my lips.
I suck as he kisses my cheek. He pulls it free and grips my chin, turning my head enough to kiss me again.
When he pulls back, he asks, “Do I always make you feel good?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“But if I’m ever pushing you too far, tell me, and I’ll always stop. Okay, Bea?”
“Okay,” I agree. This means he has a plan, and it probably involves something new. Anticipation and anxiety spike my heart rate, and my stomach clenches.
“That’s my sweet girl.” He brushes his nose against mine. This is it, this is where sweet Tristan turns into dirty Tristan, and I’m here for it. One side of his mouth pulls up in a lascivious grin. “Should I get you ready for my cock?”
“Yes, please.”
He shifts his position, so his hip rests against the back of my leg stretched along the counter. At the same time, he grabs the English cucumber and splays his other hand between my shoulder blades.
“Oh my God.” For a hot second I consider tapping out, but he’s right. He always makes me feel good. And honestly, an English cucumber isn’t much different from a regular dildo. It just happens to be edible and biodegradable. And I washed it, so it’s clean.
He slides the tip along my slit, rubbing over my clit, then pushes it in before pulling back again.
My toes curl when he rubs it over my clit again.
He keeps up with the slow teasing, only giving me an inch or two before he pulls out and rubs my juices all over the insides of my legs.
I bite my knuckle to stop myself from begging for more. I have no idea if this is normal.
I seriously can’t believe I’m being fucked with produce. And enjoying it.
“How much do you think you can take?” he asks.
“Why don’t you find out?”
This time when he pushes in, I feel it hit my cervix and moan.
He pulls out, and I groan my irritation.
“Look at this, Bea.” He holds it up for me to see.
My juices are dripping down the sides onto his fist. “You haven’t even come yet, and you’re making a mess.
” He aggressively bites off the end, then slides it back inside me while chewing.
I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but I moan when he pushes in deep, then pulls it out again.
The hand between my shoulders disappears, and he shifts again, pulling my leg off the counter.
He sets the cucumber on the cutting board, pulls me to a stand, and spins me around to set me on the counter.
It’s momentarily disorienting. But God, the look on his face.
He looks like he’s ready to devour me. And I want it.
Him. This version of us, where it’s all about pleasure, not fighting.
“I want you to watch me fuck you with tonight’s salad.” He hooks my right leg under his left arm, drags me to the edge, grabs the cucumber, and starts fucking me with it again. I splay my hands out behind me so I can keep my balance.
It’s obscene, watching him use the cucumber like a freaking dildo.
My legs start shaking, so I know I’m getting close.
“Let’s make it ribbed for your pleasure.
” He pulls it out, then bites around the outside about an inch from the jagged top before sliding it back inside me.
It absolutely does the trick. He’s still chewing when I come.
When my eyes finally roll back down, he slaps his wallet on the counter. “Get a condom out so I can get in on the action.” He bites off another chunk of the cucumber while I fumble to retrieve the condom. I hold it out for him.
He points to the cucumber, which is literally coated in my orgasm.
It’s dripping down his hand and onto the floor at our feet.
“Why don’t you take care of that while I have my snack?
” He nibbles the end. “Best cucumber I’ve ever eaten.
Hands fucking down.” He follows that with another enormous bite.
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing and slap a hand over my mouth. “Is there something wrong with us?”
“Dunno, but if there is, I don’t want to fix it.” He points to his crotch. “My hands are full. Do me a favor and get my cock out.”
I set the condom beside me on the counter and work the buckle free on his belt, pop the button on his jeans, and drag the zipper down. I slide my hand into his boxers and wrap my fingers around his thick length, freeing him from the fabric.
He takes another bite of the cucumber and then holds it alongside his erection. He’s significantly girthier, but now that he’s eaten part of it—I don’t know that I’ll ever get over this—it’s closer to his length. “I wonder if they’d both fit,” he muses.
“What?” Shock makes my voice pitchy.
His gaze lifts, along with one corner of his mouth. “Nothing. Just thinking aloud.” He tosses the cucumber on the counter and nabs the condom.
“About trying to get your cock and a cucumber inside me at the same freaking time?” At least I sound more incredulous than I do curious.