For those of you who want the unabridged version of the shower scene, I cut this down and focused more on their feelings, and particularly Tristan’s remorse over being a jerk. (This full scene exists in the paperback and audio versions).
By the time I get home, the pit in my stomach feels like a giant crater. My sex pact with Tristan did not include exclusivity. So it’s very possible he’ll hook up with someone else tonight. Nausea rolls through me at the prospect that he might bring someone back here. Yeah. I need my own place. The orgasms are great, but I can’t handle the humiliation of having to listen to him fuck another woman in the bedroom under me.
I stress-chop vegetables for tomorrow so I can make omelets for breakfast and scan the want ads for apartments. I circle two potential places while I try to reassure myself that I’ll be fine if Tristan brings someone home. We’re just having sex. I’m a big girl. Besides, I don’t even like him. He’s a means to an orgasm.
Tristan walks through the door as I finish putting everything away. He’s alone. Tension melts from my body so quickly I worry I’ll leave a puddle on the floor. Which is bad. So, so bad. Maybe I don’t not-like him as much as I thought.
“Hey.” I wipe my damp hands on my jeans. I should have changed into bed wear. Or something sexy. Anything other than the jeans-and-shirt combo I’m currently sporting that now has wet spots on it.
As soon as he sees me, his jaw clenches. “I’m not in the mood.”
All the relief I felt a second ago goes right out the window, along with my bruised, deflated ego. I can’t handle asshole Tristan tonight.
“Neither am I.”
He brushes by me, heading for the fridge. He yanks it open and pulls out the freshly squeezed orange juice. He spins around, angry. “I don’t need to deal with your shit tonight, Beat.”
“You’re the one biting my head off, not the other way around,” I snap.
“Biting your head off? What are you doing down here? Why aren’t you in bed?” He tips his head. “Were you waiting for me to come home?”
I bite my lips together. The answer is sort of yes. But I won’t admit it. Not when he’s being like this. Instead of incriminating myself, I head for the bathroom. It’s the only room I can escape to for privacy. And I could use a shower.
“Dick.” I shut the door and turn on the hot water.
My frustration mounts as I strip out of my clothes. I put on some music and step under the hot spray. I’ve finished washing my hair when there’s a knock on the door.
“If you need to pee, you have a kitchen sink and a balcony!” I say.
The door opens. Because I forgot to lock it.
“Don’t you dare pee in here while I’m in the shower!” I shout. “Or flush!”
The shower door opens a few inches. Tristan’s eyeball appears.
“Fuck you!” I try to close the door on him, but he’s stronger by a lot. I bar an arm across my chest to hide my nipples. “You don’t get to invite yourself in here after you shit all over me.”
“I’m sorry. I had a really bad game. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Flip wanted me to come out. And it’s fucking with me because I’m lying to him.” He takes a deep breath.
“Then we stop doing this and tell him,” I counter. “But if he knows, there’s no way he’ll be okay with it. So figure yourself out, Tristan.”
His exhale feels like every piece of his bad mood leaving his body. “But I don’t want to stop.”
His conflict is real, and I get it, but it doesn’t excuse his behavior. “You were a dick. I did nothing to deserve that. I’m tired of this bullshit. I’m not fourteen hoping you’ll look my way again.”
“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He bites his bottom lip and has the gall to look boyishly handsome and contrite. “Can I make it up to you?”
I glare at him.
“Please, Bea? I mean it. I’m sorry.”
I sigh and step back.
He strips out of his clothes and steps into the shower. He’s already hard. “Will you let me make it better?” He moves to stand behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. The affection is unexpected. He drops his head and nuzzles my neck. “You know I’ll make you feel good, Bea.”
“What about Flip?” I tip my head back, and he bites the edge of my jaw.
“He went to the bar. He won’t be home for a while.” His erection presses into the small of my back. “How could I ever stay away when I know your sweet, tight pussy is right here, waiting for me to fill it with my tongue, or fingers, or my massive cock?” He kisses down the side of my neck.
I snort. “Check your ego, Tristan.”
“But I make you feel good, don’t I? Make you come every single time.” He squeezes my breast and nips at my earlobe.
“Yeah, you make me feel good.” I rest my head on his chest. “When you’re not being mean.”
“I’ll be nice tonight, okay?” His fingers skate over the patch of curls at the apex of my thighs. He gives them a tug, then dips lower, rubbing a slow circle on my clit. I whimper and push my ass against his cock. “That’s one of my favorite sounds, little Bea.”
He spins me around and presses my back against the cold tiles, hands coming up to cup my face. He parts my lips with his tongue, the kiss desperate and needy. One hand stays on my cheek, and the other moves to grip my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. Then he pinches the peak between his fingers.
He bites his way down my neck and sucks the flesh before claiming my mouth again. His hand moves between my thighs, and he pushes two fingers inside me, pumping slowly, his thumb brushing my clit. I let my head fall back, watching him through lidded eyes.
Steam billows around us, and his biceps flex as he works another finger inside me.
“Do you like it when I finger-fuck you, Bea?”
I moan and roll my hips.
“Tell me,” he murmurs against my lips, thumb sweeping back and forth along the edge of my jaw. “I want to hear you say it.” There’s something in his tone, a hint of vulnerability fused with desperation.
I don’t understand where it’s coming from or what it means, but I want to come, so I tell him what he wants to hear. It’s also the truth. “It feels so good,” I whimper.
“What does?” He nibbles my bottom lip.
“Your fingers inside me. I can’t get enough,” I tell him.
“What else can’t you get enough of?” He bites the edge of my jaw. “Tell me and I’ll make you come.”
“Your mouth on me. The way you tongue-fuck my pussy.”
He curls his fingers, hitting exactly the right spot. My eyes roll up. “Is that it?”
I shake my head.
“What else, then?” His thumb circles my clit.
“When you fuck me so hard I see stars.”
“I can’t get enough of that either,” he admits.
“And when you call me your sweet, filthy girl. I love that.”
He grins. “Yeah, you do.”
He crushes his mouth to mine and starts finger-fucking me in earnest. I move the hand that’s currently cupping my cheek to wrap around my throat. It’s definitely my new kink, because thirty seconds later I’m clawing at his shoulder, moaning my way through an intense orgasm.
He kisses me, soft and slow. “See?” He rubs his nose against mine. “I can be nice.”
I laugh and run my hands over his chest, then lace them behind his neck. My knees are weak, and my body is humming. “You were very nice.”
“Will you let me take you to bed and show you how nice I can be?”
I smile and nod.
“I might be a little dirty, though,” he warns. “But the nice kind of dirty.”
“I can handle that.”
“Good.”
Tristan turns off the water. He opens the shower door, hoists me up, and wraps my legs around his waist. His cock bobs against my ass, and he drips water all over the floor as he carries me to his bedroom.
Soft Tristan is exactly what I need tonight. I wish it could stay like this. But I’ll do my best to enjoy it while it lasts.
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