She taps her chin, shrugging. “I’ll bury it under the pillow and pretend I am just enjoying myself.”
“You won’t have to pretend,” I say through a set jaw.
She slaps a hand over her mouth, muffling her giggles, and I crack my neck, the talk about her with someone else making me rage.
Not even tipsy does she spill, which is impressive, and I am done trying tonight.
Needing my fix, with my index and middle fingers, I gesture for her to come to me. In a trance, she sashays to me—both of us at each other’s mercy. She changed everything, rewrote the rules. No wonder I forsake power. I have none when it comes to her.
When she’s within arm’s reach, I drag her onto my lap, and she ends up straddling me.
Her lips thrust out in a cute pout. “You’re so beautiful, Tristan.”
I chuckle as she cups my cheeks and smooches them together. Then she plays with the ends of my hair. “There’s nothing not to like, although…”
A line digs between her brows, and taking full advantage of her being tipsy, I ask, “What?”
“You don’t want a baby. I want a baby, Tristan. Not now, but eventually,” she sighs, the sound chock-full of dejection.
She looks so sad, and I hate to disappoint her even in her inebriated state. “You can have the world, whatever you want instead.”
“But I want a sweet little girl who has your eyes, your hair, your ‘I am bigger than the world’ attitude.”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “Sorry,mo run.”
“Neither of us had the family we needed, so let us create our own.” There’s so much desperation clamoring in her words.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “We don’t need a kid to be a family, a unit. You’ll be surrounded by enough kids at the preschool. You can get a dog.”
“It’s not the same, Tristan,” she murmurs and buries her face in the crook of my neck. “Why don’t you want one?”
“Because I don’t want to continue a rotten bloodline. The patricide ends with me,” I confess and expect her to look disgusted at me. Instead, her soft snores fill my ears.
Such a lightweight.
I gather her in my arms and carry her to bed.
Undressing her with careful moves, I inch her to her side of the bed. Even in her sleep, she calls my name, and I wrap my arm around her belly, slowly easing my cock inside of her.
She welcomes me in with a moan but continues to sleep. Sheathed in her tight core, I close my eyes, savoring being inside heaven, all my troubles forgotten.
It’s the pleasure shooting up my marrow that wakes me as she grinds her pussy on my dick, wanting more.
In one go, I roll her onto her belly, knowing that from this angle I can go the deepest inside of her.
She cries out a stuttered breath, her nails digging into the sheet. “So deep, Tristan… so good.”
“Couldn’t wait to get fucked?” I groan, instantly awake and driven by an all-encompassing instinct to possess her.
A playful smile teases her lips. “You were already hard inside of me.”
“How could I not be when I am buried in this fucking perfect pussy?”
She meets my every thrust by arching her spine, my body pressed against hers with no inch of space between us, just the way I prefer.
I pin her hands above her head, intertwining them, bodies joined, yet it’s not enough. I still try to cover all of her with my lips and hands, like a madman wanting to prove his sanity but only falling deeper into the proverbial rabbit hole.
“I know a part of you that is a monster,” she breathes out.
