Chapter 29 Tristan
TRISTAN
I take in the glorious sight of Ligaya naked on my bed. Her body has definitely changed to accommodate lush breasts and the protruding bump on her lower abdominals. She’s never been sexier. Knowing it’s our babies that are causing this transformation is a damn turn-on.
I am dying to fuck the mother of my children.
“You wanted me to turn down the light? How could you deny me this? You’re a fucking goddess.”
She rubs her stomach tentatively. “Sometimes, my body feels strange to me. But at other times, nothing feels more natural than these changes.”
I lie down beside her, kissing her gently as my hand roams to where hers awaits.
“Move my hand. Show me where our babies are growing. Teach me how to touch you there.”
She places her palm over mine as our eyes stay locked.
Every movement is controlled by Ligaya. She guides me over the new terrain of her stomach that grows to give life to our children.
Up and around the stomach, along the hardened crease underneath her belly, over the cute indent of her bellybutton.
I’m in awe of her. It’s one thing to touch these changes, a whole other experience to see them. Before I can reposition to enjoy her new curves up close, Ligaya has other things in mind. With my hand still under hers, she pushes it down till it covers her entire sex.
She is soaked.
“Need me to take care this perfect pussy, sweetheart?”
“No joke, Tristan, I’ve never been so horny. They say it’s normal to have more sexual energy after the first trimester, and it’s true. All my cantaloupe cravings have turned to wet dreams.”
I chuckle at her quirky honesty. I move her hand to the side because I know exactly how to touch her there.
“I’ve got it from here.”
I shift her legs so I can nestle between her fleshy thighs.
I feast, licking her entrance and rubbing my lips along her folds.
My tongue plays with her clit as my fingers start to prod the soaked opening.
Ligaya begins swirling her hips erratically.
I drink her arousal with an appetite that can never be satisfied. She is my absolute favorite flavor.
“Right there. Oh, Tristan, that’s . . .”
She comes all over my mouth, her body bucking as I suck on her clit. Delicious arousal floods my senses. I’m so turned on, I nearly blow. I grab my cock tightly and close my eyes to calm the hell down.
After a few seconds, I open my eyes to the sight of Ligaya kneading her breasts and tweaking her nipples. Moving up her torso slowly, I rub my lips against her growing bump and lick around her belly button. She makes a sound that is somehow both sexy and cute.
“I love that sound,” I admit.
“What?”
“When you giggle and sigh. That should be the ringtone for Mama, don’t you think, kids?” I talk into her tummy where I’m still lavishing kisses with the lightest suction.
“I will toss your phone out the window if you ever record me, Tristan Thorne.”
“That’s littering,” I throw her earlier accusation back at her.
We both laugh. But as I move up her body and let my teeth graze the side of her boobs, no one is laughing. I kiss Ligaya hard, plunging deep so she can experience the taste of my favorite flavor. She meets me with equally eager strokes of her tongue.
“Open your legs, sweetheart, nice and wide.”
She smiles and lifts her legs with knees open. Her feet wrap around my lower back.
“I’ve never been inside a woman without protection.”
Ligaya touches my face.
“I want you to come inside me so hard.”
Fuck, that’s hot. She grasps my ass and guides me to her entrance. With a full stroke, I bury myself to the hilt.
For the sake of all that is good in the world, I pray not to come immediately.
But damn, it’s nearly impossible to stave off the surging heat collecting along my spine.
Her channel is a velvet glove stroking in ways I never imagined.
To the hilt, I feel all of the intricate textures of her walls.
The pleasure is so acute, it’s nearly painful.
“You feel too fucking good. Don’t move yet,” I mumble and close my eyes.
Although she doesn’t grind against me, Ligaya presses kisses along my jaw and neck. I focus on the sweet touch of her lips instead of the suctioning fist of her pussy.
When I manage a sliver of control, I withdraw a few inches before sliding in and out with long, slow strokes. She digs her fingers into my back and lifts her hips with each thrust, moaning my name. Maintaining a steady rhythm, we’re suspended at the edge of a climax.
“Oh god, I’m right there. Faster, please, Tristan,” she begs. “I need to come.”
Keeping myself inside with shallow pushes, I use my thumb to rub her clit.
Ligaya detonates under me, her body contracting as if electric currents are buzzing in her veins.
Or maybe that’s me attached to a live wire.
I’m nearly shaking with the effort to hold back.
When she grabs my face and sucks my tongue, it’s too much.
With a final drive, I let go.
I’ve never had an orgasm so explosive. It keeps going as my hips thrust. My roar is muffled in the crook of her neck.
The mix of our climax coats the heavenly friction we’re creating.
As my spill surges, Ligaya tilts her groin upward and I feel another fluttering of her cunt.
The world tunnels down to this raw, primal moment.
That’s when I realize there is no one else for me. There will never be anyone else but Ligaya. The mother of my children cries out my name, and I don’t want this with anyone else. Ever.
It takes a few minutes for my eyesight to recover from a complete short circuit. When it does, I’m treated to a smile so satisfied, I’m likely to pound my chest in possessive caveman mode. She’s so beautiful like this. So mine.
“We’re gonna have to do that again,” I say.
“Not before I’m fed. Do you have any chips?”
“No, but I can make you something.”
“If you say salad, I’m leaving.”
My arm wraps around her, and I pull her tight.
“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
She lets out a playful giggle that makes my dick twitch. My hands roam the softness of her flawless skin. After a beat, she relaxes into the embrace.
“Let me clean up and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Surprise me.”
Ligaya kisses my cheek and heads to the bathroom.
I’m boiling water for pasta when she comes out of the bedroom wearing one of my sweatshirts that hits above her knees. I don’t think she realizes how much it affects me seeing her like this, wrapped in my clothes.
Ligaya wanders slowly through the living room, taking in the condo with a detached air. She walks past the blank walls, the corporate-issued furniture, the coffee table with a single coaster and nothing else.
“Are these your things?” she asks.
I turn back to the stove. “No,” I say. “The place came furnished.”
She’s quiet for a beat. “All your stuff is still in Denver?”
I nod, then realize she might not see it. “Yeah.”
“In storage?”
“In my house.”
I bought it after the championship season because I had no idea an injury was going to derail my life. No one ever sees that shit coming.
Another silence. I stir the pasta to keep my hands busy. I can feel the shift in the air between us. She’s analyzing the situation, and I know whatever I say next matters.
“Were you planning to sell it?” she asks.
I let the spoon rest on the edge of the pot and turn to face her fully.
“I’m leasing it out this year,” I admit. “There was no indication the Mavericks wanted me for more than one season, so it didn’t make sense to put it on sale.”
“You’re leaving after this season?” The way she mutters the words, as if it’s a shocking realization instead of a genuine question, is hard to watch. I’ve surprised her. Upset her. And it’s the last thing I want to do.
“Honestly, Ligaya, all I can control is how I play. But fighting for a spot here wasn’t something I thought about until you gave me a reason to stay.” That’s the truth as simply as I can express it.
Her expression doesn’t change, but her fingers tighten around the hem of the sweatshirt.
“I’m a bit surprised, that’s all. Had no idea you were still living out of a suitcase,” she utters with a tentative gesture at my bland surroundings.
I recoil at her choice of words. “It’s not like that.”
Her eyes meet mine unflinchingly. “It’s hard not to feel you’re halfway out of town, Tristan.”
“I’m not,” I assure her. “But it’s true I haven’t planned anything solid. That’s the problem. I’ve been reacting. Trying to keep up. You tell me we’re having twins, and suddenly every plan feels too inadequate.”
I watch her take that in. Her features are both sympathetic and guarded. The timer dings for the pasta and I plate it, laying meatballs over the top. We sit side by side at the counter. Her shoulders are close but turned slightly away.
She glances at me, her fork paused halfway to her mouth.
“Is it likely they’ll renew your contract here?”
“The Mavericks front office isn’t allowed to negotiate with me directly. My agent will have to be involved.”
She lowers her fork and leans on the table.
“I’m not asking you to decide anything tonight. This isn’t the kind of decision you should rush. Though, eventually, I’ll need to know if I’m building something with you here. Together. Or if this is a long-distance scenario.” Her voice doesn’t shake, but it still sounds fragile. Hurt, almost.
“I don’t plan to be a long-distance father, Ligaya.”
That’s a fact. I refuse to be an absentee father, either physically or emotionally. She holds my gaze, eyes searching. Whatever she finds in my expression relaxes her.
“Thanks for the pasta. It’s delicious.”
“You’re welcome. Any time. When does your holiday break end?”
“I’m back in the classroom on January fifth. How about you? What’s your schedule like?”
“We have our longest road trip of the season coming up. It’s a West Coast run. I’m leaving the day after tomorrow and won’t be back till mid-January.”
She rubs her tummy with one hand. “Who will join me in my craving of salt and vinegar chips dipped in Nutella if you’re in California?”
“We can video call every day if you have time,” I offer, my chest tightening at the realization of how much of the pregnancy I’m missing out on.
“You’re busier than I am, Tristan.”
“I’ll make time. I want to watch you eat whatever monstrosity you come up with next.”
A hint of a smile crosses her lips. “And when you get back?”
“We’ll tell my parents about the twins.”
“Twins,” she murmurs fondly. “That still sounds like a punchline.”
I reach over and gently touch her knee.
“No punchline. No joking around, sweetheart. I want to do this right.”
She studies me for another moment, then lays her hand over mine.