LIGAYA
Tristan looks like he’s walked onto the wrong movie set: romcom hero stumbling into an adults-only production. His face registers the change as his expression transforms from excited and eager to dark and feral.
When he finally puts the camera and champagne away, I throw myself at him. His arms wrap around me instantly and our mouths slam together. He kisses me like the world is ending and he’ll never let me go.
We’re in a large house, but his arms are my home.
“Why did you bring champagne? I thought we were going out for dinner,” I prompt.
His eyes graze over my face and then lower, where my heavy breasts are pressing against his chest.
“You’re not going out for dinner in this outfit, sweetheart. I’ll have to fight off every guy who drools over you, and that’s just bad manners.”
He kisses me again. Harder this time. In a move that takes superhuman strength considering I’m still carrying quite a bit of my pregnancy weight, Tristan maneuvers my legs around his waist and holds me up with one forearm under my ass and the other bracketing my upper back.
God, he tastes so good. Like mint and sugar and Tristan. I’ll never get enough.
“I need you on a bed,” he grunts in frustration. Tristan walks forward, pauses over the stairs, and looks to the side toward our kitchen. “Or the next hard surface.”
“Take me upstairs. I have a surprise.”
It’s been so long since Tristan and I have had sex. Don’t get me wrong, there’s been all kinds of feeling up and kissing. We’re horny teenagers, grabbing and rubbing every chance we get.
We’ve held back from full intimacy. We’ve been too busy with the babies, the new house, the new life as parents. Tristan doesn’t want to rush the recovery. And when we finally make love, he wants to take his time.
Honestly, I don’t need much time at all.
The moment the doctor gave us the green light, I was ready for a quickie in the elevator.
Tristan, being the responsible father and thoughtful lover, reminded me that public indecency is not a good look for a new mom.
Today, I’m having my way.
We walk up the stairs, and I lead him to our new bedroom. On the floor by the gas fireplace, I have blankets and a picnic basket. Today, we celebrate our first afternoon alone together in months.
Although what’s really on the menu isn’t the charcuterie board, it’s this man.
He’s pliant as I guide him to the blankets where I kneel.
“What are you doing, Ligaya?” he asks raspingly.
“I’m congratulating you with a kiss,” I say innocently while my hands tug at the belt, the zipper, the fabric, so his large cock springs up at my eye level.
He’s long and thick, the head of his cock glistening with pre-cum. I stick my tongue out to lick the moisture and glide along the underside of his plum-red tip.
“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Goddamn, Ligaya, I fucking miss being inside you.”
I take him all the way in, gagging at the girth but loving every minute.
He fills me completely, even though he’s only halfway.
My cheeks hollow as I suck hard. He hisses with surprise.
Tristan’s hips tilt forward, his cock grazing the back of my throat.
I look up and find him dazed and lost in the pleasure.
I slide him out and then go back to take more.
“Stop. It’s been too long. You want my cock, Ligaya? Lie back and take it.”
There’s no arguing when that’s exactly what I want.
I find a comfortable position on the blanket while watching Tristan strip to nothing. He looms over me with his sculpted, naked body before joining me on the floor. He massages my thighs, widens my legs, and hooks them over his hips.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Tristan, please fuck me. Please. I’m hurting without you.”
That does it. He tugs me closer. His cock crests my entrance. I’m so wet and ready, he glides inside smoothly and to the hilt.
“Oh, fuck, I missed your pussy. I just need—” He gives me a handful of gloriously hard drives, his powerful hockey player thighs plunging him all the way. I nearly come at the pleasure of being filled, but he stops and begins grinding.
“More. I’m so close.”
“Dammit, me too,” he admits with a grimace. “Ligaya, take it easy, sweetheart.”
Tristan’s face is flushed, his hair falling over an eye, and his mouth pinched with the effort to hold back.
I push my hips up and meet his every thrust. Tristan uses one hand to take his weight and the other to cup my breasts.
The lingerie is shoved aside and serves up my tits like a platter.
His mouth opens and his nostrils flare with hunger.
“So beautiful,” he mumbles but looks away and up at the celling, shaking his head like it’s too much to see my tits spilling out of the lace.
Breast milk leaks out and I freeze, unsure of whether this will repel him. I just pumped a few minutes before he arrived, but all the kneading is waking up every cell in my body, especially where I’m most sensitive.
“Ligaya, you’re incredible,” he says desperately. “Permission to fuck you harder.”
“Granted,” I say immediately.
“God, I love you.” At that announcement, Tristan leans forward and kisses me hard while he pumps in a steady, blissful rhythm.
My breast milk makes our chests glide smoothly.
It’s a sensual contrast to the rough clamoring of our bodies and the relentless thrusts of his cock.
Everything tightens as he pulls back to press on my clit.
I lose it to a climax as powerful as a freight train.
My walls pulse over and over and over again.
“Fuuuck,” Tristan groans as his thrusts turn erratic. A surge of heat fills my body. His explosion detonates another orgasm inside me.
When it’s over, I’m a boneless heap of satisfaction.
Tristan collapses beside me and turns sideways.
I have just enough energy to face his sated smile.
Thick fingers graze my chin and travel down my neck.
They trace my collarbone where some of the breast milk has pooled.
With the tips of his fingers, he moves the breast milk over and around my chest in large circles that get tighter and tighter until he lightly pinches my diamond-hard nipple.
“So sexy. Goddamn. You’re a dream, Ligaya.”
“You’re pretty sexy yourself,” I gush.
His hand goes lower and tugs the G-string aside, which we never bothered to remove.
He cups my mound and it’s like he’s pushing his spill inside me.
It should be weird to enjoy his rough palm against my tender entrance.
Instead, I’m loving the sensation of his seed thickening.
I’m so aroused and in love, there’s no filter to my thoughts.
“Marry me,” I blurt.
Déjà vu, I know. He did the same thing months ago, and I had walked away because I couldn’t believe he was serious. Now I get it. I couldn’t hold back the words if I tried.
He stares at me for a long time. Suddenly, I’m not sure if my spontaneous proposal wasn’t wrong-footed, after all. Then Tristan stands up and walks away.
Dread makes the hair behind my neck stand. A chill runs down my spine. Isn’t that exactly what I did when he asked me to marry him? I had walked away and accused him of joking around.
What if today’s candid proposal is the wrong move at the wrong time? I’m paralyzed by uncertainty.
Meanwhile, Tristan moves with urgency. He pats his trousers, spreads them on the ground, checks the pockets. “Aha!” he says, half triumph, half relief. His hand closes around something as he climbs over the blankets and lies down beside me.
“Say it again.”
“Marry me?” I whisper past the ball of nerves blocking my airways.
He brushes my hair off my forehead and tilts his head down to capture my gaze.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to ask you exactly that question again,” he says, voice catching.
Tristan opens the velvet box to reveal a brilliant diamond ring. His eyes are glued to my face while he speaks.
“Ligaya Torres, you are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. When we were younger, you were the person who challenged me, who intrigued me, who drove me nuts.”
“We drove each other nuts,” I agree with a satisfied sigh.
He nods in agreement. Tristan’s smile is so pure, so sincere, I can’t help but swoon.
“Today, you still challenge and intrigue me with your smarts and humor and talent. More than anything, you are the person whose love gives me purpose. I want to spend my life knowing your beautiful face is the first one I see in the morning and the last one I kiss at night. Our children are blessed to have you as their mother. I would be the luckiest man on earth to have you as my wife.”
There’s no holding back. I kiss him hard and nod and cry while our lips are still connected. When we come up for oxygen, Tristan’s forehead rests against mine.
“I’m gonna take the ring as a yes to my question,” I state giddily.
He chuckles. “Yes, Ligaya. A hundred times yes.”