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“About the time I agreed to be Mrs. Evans,” I quip and wait for him to comprehend what I just said through his sleepiness.
I can hear his bedframe creak as he jostles. “You agreed to what?”
“He asked last night.” I can’t stop the massive smile that spreads across my face.
“Just locking that big old cock down,” he teases, and I can’t hold back my laughter. “How does it feel to be God’s favorite because he couldn’t seem to gift me a single gay Evans.”
Jorge’s playful jealousy has only grown since he learned that Conor and Tristan aren’t just similar looking from the neck up.
“Seriously though, I’m so fucking happy for you, sweetie. Jealous as hell, but so fucking happy for you.”
“Come to the club tomorrow night and celebrate with me,” I offer. “I’ll get a VIP card sent over to you today. I can’t get you an Evans, but I’m sure we can find you something.”
“Is there a menu or anything? Because I could totally go for a silver fox that likes to be called Daddy.”
“I’ll see what I can do. See you tomorrow night. Love ya,” I chuckle.
“Love you, sweetie.”
By the time we hang up, I’ve made my way to the kitchen and am leaning against the counter, enjoying a cup of coffee. The elevator dinging startles me.
I wasn’t expecting him back nearly this soon.
“Good morning, mo cuishle,” he greets me when he steps from the elevator.
“You’re back early.”
“I couldn’t fucking stay away.” He presses behind me and teases his lips along my neck as his fingers find their way beneath my robe.
“You didn’t get enough last night?” I taunt.
“I’ll never fucking get enough.” He slips two fingers into my pussy. “But this isn’t the tight little hole I’ve spent my morning thinking about.”
My ass cheeks involuntary clench. “You’re ready,” he encourages me.
Tristan has been preparing me to take him in my ass for weeks. Starting slowly with a finger as he ate my pussy, giving me just enough to show me how good it can feel. He’s worked me through various plugs and stretched me with his fingers, but I have yet to take anything near the size of him.
He spins me between him and the counter, then quickly hoists me onto it. Pushing lightly against my chest, he urges me to lay back against the cool, marble surface. His hands slide down my legs to my ankles, gripping them both and placing my feet on the edge of the counter. He slides them apart, so my legs are spread wide and I’m on full display for him.
Reaching between my knees, he slips the knot of my robe and slides it open. His fingers wrap around my wrists, and he puts my hands on my bare breasts. “I want to watch you squeeze these perfect tits and pull at those sweet little buds while I lick your clit until you’ve coated my face with your sweet cum.”
Tristan fists the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head before diving between my thighs. He works me with precision, staring up at my stomach as his tongue swirls around my clit. I’m on the brink, pulling at my nipples and trying to force myself over the edge when he presses his fingers into my pussy. They curl, and I come undone, writhing over his face and begging for another.
He pulls his fingers from me as he continues to lick and suck at my tender clit. I tense when he rubs them both around my ass, smearing my arousal and massaging to warm me up. He sucks hard on my clit and presses one finger inside my tight hole.
Eating at me like a starved man, he drips his saliva and my arousal over his finger until I’m taking it with ease. Pulling back, he slides in again with a fullness.
The other finger.
No longer sucking at my pussy, he watches himself fuck my ass with his fingers. “Look at you, taking three fingers in that tight little ass of yours.”
What? Three?
He gingerly pulls them from me, leaving me so empty. Pulling me to him, he carries me to the bedroom, lays me on the bed, and removes his pants as I shed my robe. He grabs lube from the nightstand and climbs onto the bed. I expect him to settle behind me, but he lies on his back.
Popping the cap on the lube, he squeezes what looks like an excessive amount into his hand. He rubs it over his length until he’s glistening from tip to base.
“Straddle my waist,” he demands. As I climb on, he further instructs, “And put your hands on my chest.”
