Zoey leaned against the leather backing behind her and folded her arms across her tiny chest. "It's just a matter of time before some network makes a television show about us."
Nicole and I both snorted at her idea before raising an eyebrow at each other over the words that were about to spew out of our friend's mouth. "What kind of show would it be?" Nikki asked, taking the bait.
"It's going to be called Porn Wives, hello." she mused loudly. "Nikki is going to be the one married to the really popular porn star. Kat, you're going to be the girlfriend hoping to get engaged soon—"
"Umm, I really don't think—," I started to cut her off.
A small index finger came up to shush me before Zoey kept rolling with her idea. "I'm going to be the single girl looking for a relationship, and then we have Josh, who can be our oddball in the group because he has nothing to do with porn but we love him anyway."
Nikki looked at me, her hazel eyes were wide with amusement as a big smirk covered her face. "Well that's settled then. Are you going to start pitching ideas out to networks?"
"On it," she sang the response.
"Hold on, you need to wait until Kat puts out. She can't be in the show if she hasn't at least gotten Tristan's dick in her mouth," Nikki cackled.
One of the men in the table behind us started choking loudly after Nicole's words. I cringed and wanted to die. With my luck, Zoey would scream out my entire name for the world to know that Katherine Alba Berger hadn't had sex or had a dick in her mouth.
"Oh yeah," Zoey hissed out with a nod. "Are you gonna put it in your mouth soon?"
"Zo, is the sky blue?" Nicole snorted in a very unladylike manner.
Chapter 45
There were very few things that were easy for me. Things like writing, peeing on myself, snorting, wasting time, and spending time with my loved ones came naturally to me. On the other hand, there were other things like peeling oranges, reversing, cutting in a straight line, and meeting strangers that were both difficult and tedious for me.
Spending time with Tristan, even after our talk the day before, changed things for us but it was still easy as air. When he came to pick me up, he gave me that crooked grin that could make a lesbian's panties wet and squeezed the bare skin of my knee.
We talked the same way that we always did, but only now there was no doubt that he was a lot more affectionate. He touched my hair, the expanse of skin on my shoulders, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders each chance he got. I ate it all up like a starved animal and did my best to refrain from molesting his bubble butt when he bent over to retrieve the lasagna he made from the oven.
"You were looking at my ass, weren't you?" he asked smugly with his back to me.
I guffawed a little too exaggerated to be believable. "No."
"Tell me the truth," he said, his voice laced with pure smugness.
"Why are you always fishing for compliments?" I asked, trying to steer away from only inflating his steady ego.
Tristan looked at me over his shoulder with a playful smirk. "I'd like to know that you appreciate me."
"Oh my God," I groaned, shifting in the stool that surrounded his kitchen island. "I'm pretty sure I should be the one fishing for compliments not you, jackass."
"You already know that I think you're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."
I felt warmth erupt over my cheekbones and ears at his words. Yes, he had told me that I was pretty and cute a few times but not to that extent. I knew I wasn't unattractive, but I was no Nicole either. "Tristan—"
He turned his entire body to face me, pulling off the manly floral print oven mitts that covered his hands. "I'm serious, Kat," he strode toward me, tossing the mitts onto the counter.
It should be said that Tristan in the kitchen cooking was one of the most attractive things I had ever seen in my life. A big man with lean, perfectly defined muscles that looked to have been carved from marble, towering over the stove would give a chef a heart attack. Tristan taking off oven mitts was way more sexy than any man I'd ever seen at a strip club with Josh.
"You don't have to tell me things you think I want to hear," I said to him in a low voice.
Those light green eyes rolled before he sighed in exasperation, stopping so close to me that our knees touched. "I won't ever tell you something because I think you want to hear it," that silky voice murmured from above me. "You're perfect." He leaned over and pressed his warm, wet lips against mine. My inner whore kicked in, and I opened my mouth to suck his top lip between mine. He moaned and wrapped an arm around my lower back to tug me forward on the stool so my ass hung on the edge. "You have the best tasting mouth," he whispered when he briefly pulled away from me only to dart his tongue back in.
We took turns exchanging loud groans as the kiss deepened and then lightened over and over again in the most amazing repetitive cycle of all time. His hands were clamped onto my hips, keeping me from falling over or scooting forward because all I really wanted right then was some good grinding action but he was too far away. Yoda's big head pushed at my leg, bringing us both out of the tongue-induced daze we were in. I couldn't help but be glad that Tristan had shaved so he didn't really much more than a little bit of scruff, otherwise my face would be irritated as hell.
He smiled at me in such a seductive way that I didn't know how I restrained myself from grabbing his hand and dragging him upstairs. He pecked me on the corner of the mouth before he patted Yoda on his big, square head and turned back to face the lasagna he had left on top of the stove. "You're going to be the death of me," he sighed loudly.
"Shut up," I said while licking my lips to soak up the moisture he left there.
