30
Tristan
It’s hard to let her go.
Demi is only going into town to stop at the market and check in on her store.
I could advocate for going with her, but it’s the middle of the day, and I know she’s not exactly ready to introduce me to her family, who undoubtedly are downtown and could easily spot us.
Realistically, I don’t think I’ve processed being alive again enough to try to socialize or answer questions yet anyway.
But, still, I wasn’t lying this morning when I told her I never want to stop touching her.
When I begrudgingly release her from the circle of my arms, and she leaves for her errands, the house becomes so quiet. I feel the silence like an itching in my brain, an ache in my gut. A crowding emptiness caused by the absence of the woman I’ve fallen in love with.
Mittens sits by the door, waiting for Demi’s return. A pathetic, needy part of me thinks that maybe I, too, might want to sit by the door and wait. Instead, I decide it’s time to indulge in another mortal activity I’ve missed: a hot shower.
I use the en-suite in Demi’s room because it’s where I used to shower when I was alive. Her room was mine once upon a time. After turning the water as warm as my unfamiliar skin can stand, I step into the shower and let out a groan that echoes in the tiled room.
Yes. Yes, I’ve missed this.
I close my eyes and press one hand to the wall in front of me, letting the hot water beat against my back.
This is one of the simple pleasures I’ve been dreaming about for decades, something that I’m sure I took for granted when I was alive but grieved in death: the heat, the steam, the utterly human instinct to relax in and around water.
I turn toward the showerhead and use my hands to urge the water into my hair until it’s soaked and dripping, slicked back and clinging to my neck. Everything about the past twelve hours has been perfect, and now this shower is just the icing on the cake.
I don’t know how long I've been standing under the water, but it must be a while, because the glass shower doors are fogged up and the entire bathroom is thick with steam.
Demi has more products on the shelves in this shower than any normal person should.
Bars of soap and bottles of body wash in different scents.
Something called shower oil, which seems a little counterintuitive to me.
Face cleansers. Two different shampoos and at least five conditioners, all of which, according to their packaging, solve different hair problems.
I wash up with a bar of soap and the least expensive-looking option of shampoo. Then, curious, I set about opening the other bottles of body wash and hair products to see what they smell like. Everything leans toward the earthy side, with no candy or vanilla scent in sight .
When I open the other shampoo container and inhale, everything inside me seizes and stands at attention.
It’s Demi in a bottle.
The scent of that shampoo catapults my mind back to last night and the phenomenal beauty of the woman I spent it with.
Touching her for the first time, kissing her for the first time.
The taste of her mouth, her neck. Being so lost that I couldn’t help but rut between her thighs on the living room floor like a goddamn animal.
My cock grows hard and heavy at the memories, at the scent of her shampoo as I take another whiff from the bottle.
I give myself a firm stroke, and the pleasure makes my eyes roll.
All I can see in my head is Demi. Particularly when she pulled off that old Stevie Nicks t-shirt of hers and stood in front of me naked.
Her tits in my face, so full and pretty, I almost drooled.
They felt so good in my hands, tasted so good in my mouth.
I’d imagined her pink nipples between my lips and teeth more times than I can count… fuck .
I set the shampoo bottle down and grab the shower oil I spotted earlier, squeezing a few drops into my palm and then pumping my cock with it. I’m throbbing in my hand, leaking from the tip, all for the memory of my beautiful girl.
My head between her soft thighs, tasting her, feeling her grind against my face for more. The way she clenched around my fingers was so impossibly tight. The sound she made when she came .
“Oh, god, Demi,” I say out loud as I fuck my fist in earnest now, bracing myself on the wall with my free hand.
“Yeah?” she answers, voice low.
I freeze.
Heart pounding, my eyes open, and through the fogged doors, I see Demi’s silhouette in the steam. ?Part of me is mortified, part of me is thrilled.
“Shit. How long have you been there?” I’m panting, breathless, my muscles so tense that my shoulders are shaking.
“Don’t stop.”
I wipe the fog from the door to get a better look at her. The expression on her face destroys any hope I had of retaining my dignity enough to stop jerking off.
She looks at me with hunger.
“You like this?” I ask as I start back up again, slow strokes this time, watching her face as her eyes tick down to my cock.
“Is it for me?” she asks.
“Yes, it’s for you. Always for you.”
“What are you thinking about with your cock in your hand like that?
“You.”
A breathy laugh. “You can do better than that, Tristan Beaumont.”
Holy shit.
The soft dominance in her voice comes out as a rasp that’s almost a growl, and that kind of sound coming out of Demi sends my blood stirring.
This woman keeps surprising me. I knew she’d be good at this; she’s seductive without even trying, but I never imagined she’d be this ?good.
So good that I’d crawl around on my hands and knees for her if she asked.
“I’m thinking about making you come with my mouth,” I answer, turning to face her through the shower doors, letting her see just how hard that thought has made me.
She steps closer, almost up against the glass, and as she does, she starts to take her clothes off.
“Fuck, Demi,” I moan, my hand moving faster up and down my cock.
“How did I taste?” She asks this while she strips for me until she’s in nothing but a flimsy bra and panties set.
It’s so sheer it leaves nothing to the imagination, so thin I bet I could taste her through the negligible fabric.
I use my free hands to wipe away the fog and condensation from the shower glass again. I don’t want to miss a single detail.
“You tasted so fucking good.”
She presses her hands to the glass, caresses it with her fingers, at the very spot I’m pumping myself for her.
If the shower door weren’t between us now, her hands would be on my cock, and I’d be all over her.
I want to be all over her, my hands, my mouth.
I want her in here with me, on the other side of the glass, getting drenched by the shower and stretched by my need.
But she wants to watch me, and I have to exercise every ounce of self-control to give her what she wants.
“You’re so hard for me,” she says.
“Yes,” I manage. My throat is thick, brain scrambled. My pleasure and desire are ratcheting up, and I know I’m plummeting toward an orgasm that might break me in half.
But not yet, please, not yet .
“What else are you thinking about?”
My eyes drink up the sight of her before me. She’s pressing her body up against the glass now, her pretty nipples undisguised by the fabric of her bra. I wish they were pressed against my palms instead.
“Right now? I’m not thinking anymore. I’m looking.”
“And what do you see?” With that, she gracefully bends her knees, sinking down and pressing her forehead to the glass right in front of my cock.
Her fingers claw at the door over my stomach, like she’s trying to get to me.
The visual is enough to make every last thought fall right out of my head.
The illusion she’s creating is downright sinful.
My mind floods with the vision of her on her knees, wrapping her lips around my dick as my hands guide her head and pet her hair.
“I… fuck, I can’t think, Demi.” My hand is stroking furiously now.
Slowly, she rises and cups her breasts in her hands, squeezing. I swear to god, there’s nothing I could ever want more than her.
“Oh, do that again,” I beg.
“What do you see, Tristan?” she asks again, taking mercy on my plea and groping herself once more, passing her thumbs across her peaked nipples.
“Your tits, baby. Jesus, fuck, look at you.”
“You like my tits?” She raises an eyebrow, smirks, plays with her nipples again. This woman knows exactly ?what she’s doing.
“Obsessed with them. Obsessed with you.”
“I bet you wish you could touch them right now.”
“Get in the shower and let me.” ????????She smiles. Half angel, half devil .
“Make me,” she says.
That’s enough for me.
I yank open the shower door and reach out with one arm, snatching her around the waist and pulling her in with me.
She lets out a laugh, then a little gasp as the water hits her.
I turn her in my arms so her back is pressed to my chest, my cock grinding on her ass.
Leaning down, I devour her neck in hungry kisses as my hands knead and pull at her tits.
Her bra is soaked through now, and I drag the cups down so I can touch her skin-to-skin.
Demi turns her head, and I bend down to capture her plump lips in a kiss.
We moan into each other’s mouths. One of my hands travels down her soft stomach and into her panties, where I find her sweet pussy is hot and wet and waiting for my touch.
I rumble a groan and suck her bottom lip into my mouth.
I’ll never forget the way she touched herself in the library for me; it’s imprinted on the inside of my skull, on the skin behind my eyelids. So, I start working her clit the way she showed me when she sat on that desk, with the pads of my two fingers, firm and slow.
Her knees weaken a little, but I’ve got her. At the same time, my cock is so hard it almost hurts, straining and aching for this woman pressed up against me.
“Can I fuck you, baby?” I ask.
“Please.” Her response is a barely-there breath.