Tristan
Chloe makes a plaintive little noise in her throat at my words, and I press my mouth to her inner thigh and feel her muscles jump at the contact.
I work my way up slowly, taking my time, pressing my lips to her skin in a trail that makes her shift on the bench beneath me.
When I reach the top, I nip at the soft skin there, not hard, just enough, and she squirms and sucks in a breath.
The scent of her arousal fills my nostrils, and my cock pulses hard against my pants.
I drag my tongue slowly up her pussy and flick it against her clit, and she arches off the bench with a hiss, her fingers flying to my hair.
I do it again, slower this time, circling the little bud with my tongue without giving her quite enough, and the frustrated sound she makes goes straight to my cock.
“Please,” she breathes, her hips shifting toward my mouth.
That’s all I need. I close my mouth over her and start eating her out properly, my tongue working her over, and her sounds shift from soft and restrained to filthy and raw in about thirty seconds.
She doesn’t hold back with me anymore, not like she used to, and I love that.
I love that I get this version of her, the one who doesn’t try to manage her reactions or stay quiet.
Her thighs tighten against my head, her hips roll toward my mouth, and I take everything she gives me and push for more.
I lick into her pussy, curling my tongue, alternating between fucking her with it and teasing her clit in slow, deliberate strokes, reading every sound and every shift of her body. She tastes incredible. She always does, and I still haven’t gotten my fill of it. I don’t think I ever will.
“Right there,” she gasps, tossing her head. “Don’t stop.”
“I’ve got you,” I say against her, my lips brushing her clit as I speak. “Give it to me.”
She’s close. I can feel it in the way her thighs have started to shake and the way her grip on my hair has gone tight enough to sting.
I slide two fingers inside her as I work her clit with my tongue, curling them forward, and the sound she makes is loud enough that I’d be surprised if anyone left in the building didn’t hear it.
Good. I want them to hear it. I want everyone to know exactly what’s happening in here.
My tongue and fingers work together as I pick up the pace. When I can tell she’s right at the edge, I draw my fingers out and wrap her legs up around my head, pulling her closer, burying my face fully between her thighs.
She locks her legs around me immediately, her thighs clamping against my head, and comes hard, crying out into the empty gym.
“Ah! Ah, Tristan, oh my god!”
I can barely breathe with her thighs locked around my head, but I don’t give a single fuck. I work her through every wave of it, my tongue not letting up, until the last tremor has passed and her legs finally go slack and drop from my shoulders.
I pull back and look up at her, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, and she’s lying there completely wrecked, flushed from her chest to her hairline, her chest rising and falling in long, ragged pulls.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, my voice reverent.
Before she’s had more than a few seconds to recover, I grip her waist and flip her over, positioning her on her hands and knees on the bench.
She makes a soft sound of surprise, her arms catching her weight, and then she looks back at me over her shoulder.
Her lip is caught between her teeth, her hair falls around her face, and her cheeks are still flushed dark from her orgasm.
I take a moment to just look at her, appreciating a goddamn spectacular view.
The curve of her ass, the slick pink of her pussy between her legs, the flush still climbing her throat.
This gorgeous woman, on her knees on a weight bench in a gym I bought this morning on what most people would consider a whim.
Fuck, I don’t consider it a whim.
I’d buy ten gyms if it meant she could move through her life without having to brace herself every time she walked into a room.
“My wife.” I drag out the words, running my palm over the curve of her ass. “So beautiful. So filthy.” My thumb traces down through her wet pussy lips, and she shudders. “You have no idea what you do to me. Every single time.”
“Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice shaky and a little wrecked. The sound of it is almost enough to finish me off before I’ve even started. “Please. I need you inside me. God, please, Tristan.”
“You beg so prettily,” I praise in a low voice, my cock straining against my pants. “I can never say no to you when you ask so fucking nicely. You know that.”
I shove my pants down to my thighs, wrap my hand around my cock, and tease her entrance with the tip of it. She rocks her hips back toward me, chasing the contact, and we both groan as I slip a few inches inside her.
“Please,” she repeats, the words coming faster this time, more urgent. “I need you. Please.”
God, I could never resist her. I could never deny her anything.
I keep going, sinking into her with several strokes, filling her deeper each time. When I’m fully seated, I go still, running my hands greedily over the curve of her spine and the globes of her ass.
“This is where your husband’s cock belongs,” I rasp. “Right here. Doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” she breathes, her head dropping forward. “God, yes. Please move.”
I pull back and drive forward, and the force of it makes her ass shake and pulls a cry out of her that echoes off the glass walls.
I grip her hips harder and do it again, setting a pace that’s harder and deeper than I’d normally start with.
But she’s already come once, and she’s wet enough that she takes every stroke easily, her pussy gripping me like it’s trying to drag me back in every time.
The gym fills with the echo of my hips slapping against hers, the sounds she’s making, the bench creaking as it shifts slightly beneath her. We’re not being quiet, but I don’t care. There’s no one here to hear it…
…or at least, that’s what I think, until I hear a small sound off to my left and catch movement in my peripheral vision.
I keep my rhythm without breaking it, turning my head just slightly, ready to tell whoever it is to get the hell out.
Fucking Iris is standing in the doorway across the room, completely still, her eyes wide.
She must have slipped back in through a side entrance or talked her way past one of the staff.
She doesn’t know I’ve seen her. Her gaze is fixed on Chloe’s back, and her face is twisted into an expression of jealousy.
I look back down at Chloe, at the line of her spine and the way she’s moving with me, her hair swaying with every thrust. Then I lean forward without slowing down and bring my mouth close to her good ear.
“Don’t look now,” I murmur, “but we have an audience.”
She stiffens slightly, her breath catching. “Who?”
“Iris.” I press my lips to the curve of her neck, feeling her pulse under my mouth. “Want me to kick her out again, dimples? Or should we show her what she can never have again? Show her how good I’m making you feel?”
She reacts immediately. A moan tears out of her that’s louder than anything she’s made so far, her pussy clenching hard around me in a way that makes my cock pulse.
I grip her hips and start moving harder, the force of every thrust pushing her forward slightly on the bench, her hands bracing against it.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I tell her, my voice carrying easily across the empty gym. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” I drive into her again, our bodies moving in sync. “My perfect wife.” Another thrust, harder this time. “I’ll never want anyone else. Ever.”
“Tristan,” she moans, her voice breaking on my name.
“I know,” I grate out roughly, reaching around her hip to find her clit with my fingers. “Come for me. Let me hear you.”
She gets louder as she gets closer, her body working toward it, her hips pushing back to meet mine, her breath coming in short bursts.
I work her clit steadily with my fingers while I keep moving inside her, and when she finally comes, she cries out my name at a volume that bounces off every glass wall in the building and probably into the parking lot.
The sound of it, my name in her wrecked, breathless voice, sends me over the edge with her. I come hard, my grip on her hips tightening as I drive in once, twice, three more times before going still, filling her up, both of us shaking from the exertion.
As we come down from it, the gym goes quiet again.
I’m still inside her, both of us breathing hard, her hands still braced on the bench.
I wrap one arm around her waist and cover her chest with my other arm, pulling her back upright against me, her back to my chest. She’s warm and flushed and her heart is going as fast as mine.
I press my lips to the side of her neck, just below her ear.
“I think we’ve made our point,” I murmur against her skin.
She makes a soft sound, her head falling back against my shoulder. “Mm. Me too.”
I look over at Iris, making no effort to hide it this time, and Chloe’s gaze follows mine a second later. Iris jerks visibly at the realization that we’ve both seen her, her face flushing scarlet, her body going rigid.
“I closed the gym for a reason,” I say pointedly.
Chloe surprises me by adding, “Looks like you and Tristan won’t be getting back together in three years after all.”
About a dozen emotions flash across my ex’s face, but the only one I care about is the look of defeat.
She spins on her heel and storms out, her bag swinging, the door slamming behind her.
I laugh, pulling out of Chloe and turning her around to face me on the bench.
I cup her face in my hands and kiss her, and she laughs too when we pull apart, still slightly breathless, her eyes bright.
“Oh my god, I’ve never done anything like that in my life,” she says, pressing her lips together to try to contain her grin. “I feel so debauched, and it’s entirely your fault.”
“Oh, don’t worry, dimples. I’d be happy to take full credit, although I really don’t think I can.” I smirk, brushing her hair back from her face. “I like seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Possessive.” I drag my thumb over her lower lip. “It suits you. I like knowing you want me as badly as I want you.”
She rolls her eyes slightly at my pride in her possessiveness, but doesn’t argue the point, which I take as confirmation. Then her eyes drift around the gym, taking in the empty space and abandoned equipment, and her expression shifts slightly.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” she says. “Buy the whole place. You could’ve made your point another way.”
“Maybe,” I agree. “But I wanted to. I want you to be able to come here and not spend the whole time bracing for whatever bullshit Iris is going to say.” I run my thumb along her jaw. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”
She inhales, those eyes that I once thought were so cold are soft and warm.
“And besides,” I add, “like my father always used to say, it never hurts to diversify your assets.”
She laughs at that and leans in to kiss me.