“I remember everything about you,” hereplied.
Despite his best efforts, their first sexual experience didn’t live up toexpectations.
“I’m so sorry.” His out-of-breath statement hung in the air between them as Izzie propped herself on her arms when they weredone.
“Why? I’m the one who should be apologizing. I got too self-conscious, I guess. I didn’t know what to do, how to move, orbehave.”
“Okay, okay.” He threw his hands up, laughing. “Let’s compromise here. We both screw this up? You know what they say, though. Practice makes it perfect.” Her smoldering smile encouraged him, so Tristan crawled down the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Brace yourself for roundtwo.”
She squealed, when he placed a kiss on her navel, but didn’t try to escape his mouth. His lips curved up against her skin as his fingers drew a slow path downward, faintly caressing Izzie, and stoking his fire as her skin came alive with goosebumps. He stopped his fingers short of her sex, replacing them with hislips.
A quick touch to teaseher.
Then, Tristan retraced his movements, crawling up the mattress. He braced himself above her body to shower open-mouthed kisses on her face, down her neck, lingering on the hollow of her throat, the underside of her breasts, on her belly button, and back to her sex. His desire took over and he latched his lips onto her clit, pulling it inside his mouth, sucking it until Izzie’s round thighs trembled, her fingers clawed through hishair.
Izzie moaned, and arched her back, so he sucked harder, adding a finger to take her over the edge. When her sighs escalated to sobs, her flesh quivering around his tongue and teeth, the first wave of orgasm hit her. Tristan sat upright on the bed, gathering her into his arms and onto his lap, thrusting his cock deep inside her. Izzie’s sex gripped his erection as if it would never let it go. Tristan exploded inside her warmth as Izzie whispered sweet nothings in his ear, cradling his face in the crook of herneck.
Blissful.
Sinful.
Unforgettable.
* * *
The alarm clockwent off and Tristan snoozed it. When he opened his eyes again, he found out he had turned off the alarm, and slept for another hour. He groaned into the pillow as he buried his face in its softness. But, the real embarrassment came when he realized he was sporting a morning wood like he hadn’t inyears.
“Just what I needed today,” he mumbled, throwing the sheets off him and climbing out ofbed.
He took care of the hard-on with a quick cold shower and a little help from his five best friends. They never failed him. He got dressed, gobbled down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, then closed the lid of the traveling mug to keep the remaining latte warm as he drove to his destination through the light late morningtraffic.
Snagging the last spot in the covered structure, Tristan killed the engine of his M4 GTS, and climbed out of it. As much as he loved Lilly, visiting his mom at the nursing home depressed him every time. As he emerged from the parking building, he took in the peaceful gardens with the extensive grassed area, trickling fountains, and colorful flowers dotting the beautiful landscape design. In the distance he spotted the orchard, a favorite with seniors and visitors alike, because it offered an inviting shade to escape the scorching tropical sun. Surprised not to locate Lilly there, Tristan steered towards the main building, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. He let out a sigh of relief when he found his mom sitting in the commonarea.
“Hey, hon,” Lilly grinned as he kissed her cheek. “Lose the frown, Tristan Knight. A hundred fifteen is way too hot, even for a California girl, with the humidity we’ve gothere.”
“Didn’t sayanything.”
“Don’t need to. I’m your mother.” She winked, thencoughed.
“That cough doesn’t sound good.” Tristan searched around for a staff member, when the whooping got Lilly out ofbreath.
She gripped his wrist at the same time as she clutched her flattened hand to her chest as if that could stop the wheeze. “It’s okay. There’s nothing they can do aboutit.”
Tristan was aware dialysis increased the risk of infections, so a simple cold could turn into something nasty, but he didn’t want to alarm Lilly. “If you say so,” he grumbled. Not wanting to alarm her didn’t mean he agreed with thesituation.
“It’s just a cough, silly. Stop worrying and sit down so we can talk.” She patted the cushion beside her on the couch. “You’re giving me a neckcramp.”
It was like Lilly was using her Super Mom powers to turn him into an eight-year-old again and he wondered how moms did that. Surveying her one last time to make sure she didn’t need medical attention, he disregarded a comfortable-looking armchair nearby and sat beside Lilly on the couch. The subdued yellow upholstery harmonized with the elegant old-Europe décor of the spacious room, where half a dozen similar couches, set up in cozy semi-circles with matching chairs, offered privacy and comfort. He slung an arm around her shoulders and tucked Lilly against his chest. They didn’t talk, and he savored the warm sensation of hugging his mom. He was a hugger and wasn’t ashamed of that. At least, not aroundLilly.
“It’s beautiful in here. I like it,” he observed, and she simply nodded. Apparently, his mom was enjoying the quiet moment with her onlyson.
The large windows provided healthy natural light and he admired the kaleidoscopic patterns that a beam painted on the floor and walls as it bounced off a Tiffany lamp on one of the side tables. He was trying his damnedest to accept Lilly’s deteriorating health, which wasn’t the Brazilian doctors’ fault. At all. Lilly lived in California when she was diagnosed, and Tristan went back to the United States. The doctors told him it was unlikely she would survive more than five years. He convinced her to come live in Brazil, where it would be easier to keep an eye on her. That was ten yearsago.
For most of her life, Lilly partied hard, drinking anything with an alcohol content of fifteen percent or higher and experimenting with different drugs, both legal and not so legal. He had a pretty tame life compared to his mom’s. Now, her sixty-two-year-old abused system was threatening to shut down. He wasterrified.
“What’s eating you, boy?” She leaned her head on his shoulder, but didn’t look up. Not necessary. She knew him toowell.
Bullshitting her wouldn’t do, so he went for a minor reason for his worries. “I lost a boatload of money on those stocks I bought a couple of years ago and haven’t recouped the investment I put in when we opened ChezNous.”
