“Uh, yeah, in fact…” he takes a second to pull out his cell phone from the front pocket of his sweats and holds it in front of his face, the light illuminating his features in a way that makes Tessa’s heart start to pound. “…She said, and I quote, Please go give her a good dicking, that floppy little British boy wasn’t packing much of a punch, if you know what I mean, end quote.”
Tessa groans and puts her hands over her face, the intense burn from the blush that is creeping across her skin making her itchy.
“I didn’t respond,” he says dryly, and Tessa removes her hands from her face. “But then she texted again as I was heading over here and said – Tessa let us know multiple times whatyouwere packing. She wanted to measure it but was too shy to ask you.”
“Jesus Christ,” Tessa turns and walks towards the small living area, flopping on the couch dramatically, and taking a throw pillow over her face to scream into. When she’s done, she takes the pillow off and sits up to see Tristan standing at the end of the couch with a shit eating grin on his face.
“It’s nine inches, baby girl. You been wondering that for a decade? When all you had to do was ask?”
“I’m gonna go kill myself now,” she stands, avoiding eye contact, and tries to dodge him by walking around the opposite side of the couch, but his long legs easily meet her and cut off her path, effectively stopping her in her tracks.
“Why are you here?” She asks, throwing her hands up in defeat. “This is exhausting.”
“You’re the one making this exhausting, Tessa,” he says, taking a step towards her, and she takes one back.
“I’m not trying to. I’m just….scared.”
“Scared of what, baby?”
He takes another step forward, and she takes one back.
“My feelings for you,” she whispers, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
She tries to take another step back, but only runs into the wall, and Tristan instantly plants both of his hands on either side of her head, essentially trapping her.
Her breathing comes out in shallow pants, her full lips parted, and eyes glossed over with an equal mixture of lust and apprehension.
“Tessa, I’m the last person you should ever be scared of,” he says, shaking his head, slowly lowering his face to inch closer to hers. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was take care of you, protect you, make you happy. Do you remember the day we first met? When Coach Adams introduced us in the library?”
Tessa simply nods her head, unable to form words from how close his body is to hers. She can smell his cedar scented body wash and the wintergreen mints he always used to chew on. Seems like he has the same habit 10 years later.
“You were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I was obsessed with you from that first day, and guess what? Not a goddamn thing has changed.”
He lifts a hand from the wall and snakes it through her blonde hair that is half wet, half dry, and slowly starting to form the little ringlet curls he loves so much. He spreads the large expanse of his hand over the nape of her neck, and gives the delicate hair a gentle squeeze, and a gasp escapes her lips beyond her control.
He smiles and leans in to nuzzle her neck, running his nose over the soft skin and inhaling slowly before placing small but open-mouthed kisses all the way down until he meets her shoulder.
Her heart is pounding, her skin feels warm, and she can feel a pulse deep in the core of her womanhood; it might as well have its own damn heartbeat at this point.
“Put me out of my misery, Tessa,” his voice is shaky, but still holds the deep timber that rattles her bones. “I’m starving for you, baby. Been starving since the fucking day you left me.”
His lips make their way back up her neck, to behind her ear, to her cheek, until their noses touch, and lips are merely a breath away. Her hands are clenched at her sides, her pussy feels hot and aching with an emptiness she knows only he can fill, and he’s not being shy about his own arousal tenting his sweatpants and digging into the soft flesh of her belly.
She slowly unclenches her hands and tentatively lifts them to his abdomen, placing them against his firm body, and slowly sliding up until she reaches his chest. She watches in amazement as his eyes close and his nostrils flair, nearly coming undone by her simple touch that he’s been waiting years for.
“Please, Tess,” he whispers again, waiting, torturously, for her signal.
Her hands grip his t-shirt, and she pulls his body towards her, so that their fronts are completely flushed together.
“Kiss me,” she whispers, and he doesn’t hesitate for a second before closing the minuscule distance between them, capturing her lips in his, breathing in deeply, his hand gripping her neck in a desperate hold as if she would disappear.
They waste no time to reacquaintance themselves, lips opening instantly, tongues eagerly sliding together, unbridled moans and whimpers filling the silence around them.
Tristan’s hands roam immediately, desperate to touch the body that has developed so beautifully over the time they were apart. His first destination is her ass, his hands sliding down her back and then gripping the supple flesh, giving it an appreciative squeeze and moaning unashamedly into her mouth at the way it fits generously into his hands.
He breaks away from her lips, desperate to get to her neck again, remembering very well how much of a reaction it would elicit from her.
A moment ago, his attention on her neck was cautious and gentle, but having a firm grip on Tessa’s ass was enough to lose any semblance of control he had, and within seconds he has her writhing and moaning against him, his lips, tongue, and teeth attacking the sensitive flesh of her neck.
