“I trust you.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. His head jerks back, his eyes wild with desire, and alight with something else, as they meet mine. “To stay.” I clarify, just to make sure he understands what I’m telling him. “I trust you to stay.”
“Mo Chuisle.” The words are said reverently. “You humble me.”
I arch a brow. “Is that all I do?”
His answering grin causes my heart to flip in my chest. “Not even by a long shot. Let me show you.”
One wide palm closes over my breast, the already pebbled nipple hardening almost painfully beneath his touch. I tip my head back, a long, low moan escaping as those talented fingers dive inside of my bra, plucking expertly. Impatient, I reach up behind me, my own fingers fumbling with the clasp along my back. I want nothing between us. In my desperation to get my bra off, I lose my balance and feel myself tipping backward off his lap. His arms wrap around me before I slide completely off. He pulls me forward, managing to rid me of my bra and close his mouth over the tip of my breast in the space of a heartbeat.
The pleasure rolls through me in waves, and I feel my body rolling with the motion as if it is a tangible thing. When his mouth moves to my other breast, desperation bursts inside of me. My eyes flash open, my hands scrambling to pull up his Henley, my fingers greedy to feel the sleek muscle I know is hiding beneath. His mouth pulls away long enough for me to pull his shirt over his head. I smooth my hands down over his chest, across his taut abs, straight to the snap of his jeans.
I have to wiggle backward along his legs, my balance once again precarious as I make room for my fingers to grasp his zipper. The sound echoes like a gunshot between us. The second I have the zipper all the way down, I plunge my hands into the material, closing my fingers around him.
He groans at the contact, his head tipping back, eyes closed, lips parted as I smooth my hand up and down his heated flesh.
“Tristan.” My name is torn from his mouth.
Suddenly it isn’t enough to have just my hands on him. I wiggle out of his grasp, sinking to the floor between his legs. I spread his knees apart to make room before reaching up and yanking on his jeans, pulling them farther down his hips.
His head has tilted forward again. He watches me through hooded eyes. I glide my hands back up his thighs, and keeping my eyes locked on his, I lean forward. I close my mouth around him.
Closing my eyes, I give myself over to the moment. To the pleasure I’m giving myself by pleasuring him.
I wrap one hand around the base of his cock, the other slipping down past the waistband of my sweatpants. Where he is hard and hot, I am soft and wet. One finger dances over my clit just as my tongue slides across his salty skin. When I reach the top, I swirl my tongue around the tip and sink one finger inside myself. His hands move up, tangling in my hair as I suck him down as far as I can.
He’s gentle even though I can feel the barely restrained desire that pulses through him. I swallow him down as far as I can and sink a second finger inside myself while twirling my thumb over my clit. I’m the one moaning now, the sound vibrating around his cock, causing him to stiffen even more. He doesn’t yank, but pulls gently at my hair until I have no choice but to release him from my mouth with a little pop. I lean back, my butt resting on my heels, finger still buried inside myself.
“That is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His eyes zero in on my fingers, following them as I pull them free. I reach up, but before I can lift my hand too far, he grasps my wrist, pulling me forward until he can wrap his lips around my fingers. He swirls his tongue around my fingers much like I had just done to him.
“Now,” I whisper hoarsely. “I need you now.” I scramble up, tripping over my own feet in my haste to get my pants off. I don’t give either of us any time to think as I position myself over him. I hesitate only long enough to lock my eyes with his and then I’m sinking down, filling myself with him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tristan
Any post-reconnecting, amazing get-back-together-sex glow that might have even thought about showing up the next morning is viscously murdered when Gloria Clemmens calls me at five-thirty.
Owen only grunts when the phone rings, rolling away from the noise and throwing an arm across his eyes. I scowl at his back even while I grab my phone off the bedside table. “Fuck,” I mutter when I see her name flash across my screen. “Fuck, fuck fuck.”
“I need sleep, woman, and food.” Owen’s voice is muffled from where his face is smooshed up against his pillow. “And Stella’s going to be awake soon.” He rolls over to face me. “How do parents have sex when they have kids?”
I smirk. “We managed just fine last night. But if you have any questions, you could always ask your parents. They managed to have four kids.”
“We were all delivered by the stork.” The phone stops vibrating in my hands, but there’s no time to celebrate missing Gloria’s call before the phone starts ringing again.
“Who’s calling this early on a Sunday?”
“Gloria.” I flop back in the bed with a groan. I tilt my head in his direction and give him a hopeful smile. “Do you want to talk to her?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I gave you a fantastic blow job last night. You owe me.”
Now his grin turns wicked. “I’m pretty sure I paid that debt in the shower. In fact, you might owe me now after the kitchen.”
I will never look at my kitchen counter the same way again. We certainly made up for lost time. Very enthusiastically. Multiple times. I am pretty damn proud of our stamina, and creativity. “How are you worried about our sex life after last night?”
“Didn’t they give her something to help her sleep last night before we left the hospital? I wasn’t worried about her accidently waking up and hearing us.”
The phone stops vibrating again, but I don’t hold out hope that she’s going to stop calling. I’m only putting off the inevitable, but I’m okay with that at the moment. I don’t want the smear of Gloria’s general bad attitude to ruin our morning-after glow entirely. In the silence after the phone stops ringing, I reach over and run a hand across his chest. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against the palm of my hand.
His fingers dance along my spine, moving up to tangle in the hair at the base of my neck. Using the hold on my hair, he pulls me down until his lips can claim mine. I let myself sink into him, reveling in the press of my body against his. Hard to soft. Silk to steel.
Even though we made up for lost time last night, and in the early morning hours, I feel my blood start to heat again as his tongue sweeps along my bottom lip. It doesn’t take a whole lot of convincing before my mouth widens enough for his tongue to sweep inside. A growl of my own vibrates up the back of my throat as a hand closes over my breast, the palm rubbing across my tightened nipple.
“Owen,” I gasp his name, pulling my mouth away from his.
My phone starts to vibrate again, pulling a groan from my lips for entirely the wrong reason. Just seconds after the phone stops, I hear the distinct sound of Stella’s feet hitting the ground in her bedroom, followed, in short order, by Huck’s feet hitting the ground. My forehead drops down. “Of course.”