Chapter 25
RIX
“ D elivery for Beatrix Madden,” says Harold, the guy who works the front desk, when I answer the phone. “I can bring it up for you, unless you’d like us to hold it in the lobby.”
“I can come down.” I ordered new running gear—on sale seventy-five percent off—but I figured it would take a few days to arrive.
“I have three other deliveries. It’s really no problem,” Harold says.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’ll be up shortly, Miss Madden.”
“Thanks, Harold.”
A minute later, there’s a knock on the door. Except it’s not Harold, it’s Roman and Hollis. “Hey, Rix. You and Hammer ready to roll out?”
“Hammer’s changing for the seventeenth time. And Harold is coming up with a delivery. Otherwise we’re good to go.” Tonight, it’s a home game against Florida. Last time we lost, but their goalie is out with an injury, which gives Toronto a distinct advantage. “Ready for tonight’s game?”
“Looking forward to putting another win under our belt,” Roman says.
“Same here,” Hollis agrees.
“Any special requests for meals next week? I’m shopping tomorrow.
” I’ve been prepping a few meals a week for Hollis and Roman since I moved in with Hammer.
I missed doing it for Tristan and Flip, so I was excited when they asked me.
It’s a nice side hustle, and they pay me cash, which goes into my entertainment fund.
“That breakfast hash. I could eat it three meals a day,” Hollis replies.
“And your Bolognese sauce. I only have one container left,” Roman adds.
“Got it.” I pull out my phone and make a note in my grocery list. “If you think of anything else, just let me know.”
Hammer comes out of her room. She’s wearing her ice blue and black Hammerstein jersey, a pair of black jeans, and knee-high boots. Her hair is curled.
I give her two thumbs-up. “You look hot.”
“So do you.” She high-fives me, then gives gun fingers to Hollis and Roman. “And so do you and you. This calls for a selfie.”
“I hate selfies,” Roman grumbles.
“Same,” Hollis says.
“Don’t be a curmudgeon, Daddy. You either, Hollis. It’s good for your social media.” Roman rolls his eyes as she pulls out her phone. She pokes Hollis in the cheek until he reluctantly smiles. She gives kissy lips to the camera and snaps a pic.
There’s another knock on the door. “That’s Harold. I think my new workout gear arrived.”
Hollis opens the door. The box Harold is holding most definitely doesn’t contain workout gear. Hollis gives him a twenty-dollar tip and takes the box. I try to give him the money back, but he waves it away.
“Your workout gear looks more like it might be a cake,” Hammer says.
“It’s from my favorite bakery.” The other day I said I would give my left boob for a slice of white chocolate mousse cake after Tristan and I had three-hour marathon sex.
But it was late, and the only thing open was the convenience store down the street.
Tristan brought back a cake from the frozen section.
It curbed the craving but doesn’t hold a candle to anything from Just Desserts.
“Is it your birthday?” Hollis asks.
“No. It’s in the summer.”
“Did Tristan buy you cake because he loves your vagina?” Hammer asks.
Roman coughs.
“Chill out, Daddy. Everyone knows they’re boning. It’s borderline NSFW when they look at each other.” She waves her dad off. “Is there a card? Let’s see what he got you.”
“I don’t know for sure that it’s from Tristan.” Although the odds are in his favor. There’s no card though. I peel the sticker free and flip open the lid.
Hammer barks out a laugh. “Only Tristan would do this.”
“I’d like to say I can’t believe this, but I can totally believe this.”
Roman looks over my shoulder and chuckles while rubbing his chin. “Boy’s in deep.”
“What do you mean?” I ask as my face heats.
Hollis moves in for a closer look. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Any man who has a cake like this made has to be head over ass in love. He literally can’t get enough of you. And it’s good to know he’s taking care of all your needs. He’s not worth your time if he’s not going downtown. Isn’t that right, Hollis?”
“Oh my God, Dad.” Hammer looks scandalized.
“Yup, one hundred percent.” Hollis thumbs over his shoulder. “I’m going to pull the car around. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Seriously. If he’s obsessed enough to send you this cake, the guy is in love.” Roman pats me on the shoulder.
I snap a pic of the pretty icing flowers and the loopy cursive that reads Please sit on my face . In a few clicks, I send it on to Tristan with a message.
Rix
Happily.
“Looks like I’m spending the night at your place, Dad,” Hammer says.
“ O h my God, that’s it. Don’t stop, don’t stop!
So goddamn close.” I’m gripping the headboard, straddling Tristan’s face while he hoovers my clit like he’s performing an exorcism.
They won the game tonight. We went to the bar, I humped his leg and ground my ass on his cock on the dance floor, and now here we are.
Me doing exactly what his cake requested.
“You gonna come on my face?” Tristan slaps my right ass cheek.
I moan, grab a fistful of hair, and grind down on his mouth.
How he can breathe with his nose jammed against my pubic bone is a wonder, but he’s not tapping out.
He grabs my ass and helps move me over his mouth.
My legs are shaking as the orgasm builds.
He knows exactly how to keep me on the edge and make me want more.
Suddenly a finger presses against door number two.
My grinding falters. “What are you doing?”
He takes a brief break from fucking my pussy with his tongue to reply, “Priming you.” He eases a finger into my ass and latches onto my clit, sucking hard.
The orgasm slams into me like a bulldozer.
I make a bunch of excessively loud noises that are half moan/half scream, interspersed with garbled words that don’t make any sense.
The world turns into a starburst for several seconds as sensation drags me into the blissful abyss.
I’m so out of it that I don’t even realize he’s flipped me onto my back until the world comes back into focus and I’m staring at the ceiling.
Tristan is stretched out between my thighs, massive shoulders forcing my legs wide. His chin glistens with girl-gasm. His hot gaze meets mine as he gently laps my clit and that insidious finger slides in deeper.
“Oh my God.” My hips buck involuntarily. I’m on sensation overload. And I’m still coming.
He prowls up my body. When we’re face to face, a second finger presses against my opening and joins the first, stretching me. “I’m getting in here tonight, little Bea.”
“What if I can’t handle it?” I whimper.
“You can and you will.” His lips brush mine. “First, I’ll get you ready with my fingers.” He curls them as they slide out to the first knuckle, then pushes back in deep.
My eyes roll up when his thumb circles my clit.
“My sweet, filthy girl.” He sucks my bottom lip and drags it between his teeth. “You’re gonna come from having your ass finger-fucked, aren’t you?”
I nod and bear down as they ease back in. His free hand comes up to circle my throat. “How close are you?”
“So close.” My legs are already shaking.
He circles my clit again and adds a third finger.
I groan at the hot sting as he stretches me further. His thumb doesn’t stop circling my clit, though, and his fingers flex against the edge of my jaw. And then I’m coming, my entire body rigid as I moan, and my hips roll and jerk.
The hand around my throat disappears as Tristan rummages in my nightstand, where all my sex toys are. Two items land beside me on the bed: anal lube and the butt plug. We’ve used it several times since we started seeing each other for real.
“I’m going to plug your ass and fuck your pussy, but you don’t come again until my cock is in your ass, understand?”
“Okay?” I’m delirious from the endless orgasm, so I don’t fully consider what I’m agreeing to. One second I’m full of his fingers, the next I’m empty.
“I’ll be right back.” Tristan kisses me, then rolls off the bed, his erection straining.
“What? Where are you going?”
He disappears into the bathroom and the water comes on. Right . He’s washing his hands so he can touch me again. Nerves make my hands shake as I grab the plug and the lube. I squirt some onto the tapered tip, coating the black silicone. He returns as I set the lube on the nightstand.
“Look at you, all eager to get your ass filled.” He strokes himself and holds out his other hand. “Let’s get you ready for my cock.”
I pass him the plug, but before I can move into position, he cups my cheek in his palm and leans in to kiss me tenderly. “We’ll take it nice and slow, okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
“We only do what makes you feel good.” He straightens. “On your stomach for me.”
I flip over. Tristan sets the plug on the nightstand and runs his hands from my shoulders all the way down to my calves. I’m nervous, obviously, but everything about the way he touches me is gentle, reverent. I feel worshipped. Cared for.
“So fucking beautiful.” He kisses the dip in my spine and taps my ass. “On your hands and knees.”
I push back, like a cat stretching, so my ass is in the air. The bed dips behind me, and Tristan’s hand glides over my ass. He kisses a path up my spine, then brushes his lips against my cheek as he grabs a pillow and tucks it under my head.
“I promise you’ll love this, little Bea.”
I bite my lip and nod. He tucks his hand under my cheek and twists my head enough that he can slant his mouth over mine. His erection presses against me, and I moan.