Tristan pulls himself out, and cum leaks out of me.
“You okay?” Tristan asks, tucking himself back into his pants. “Isolde.”
I need to shower immediately, but it seems like now is hardly the time to complain about sensory issues when I quite literally begged him to fuck me again.
“Isolde, baby?” Tristan cups my cheeks.
“I’m fine,” I say, but I don’t understand the look on his face. His touch is gentle, like he’s afraid I might shatter.
He presses his lips to mine, and surprise sweeps over me. The sweetness is a stark contrast to the hurried, frenzied nature of needing a quick fuck in a somewhat public place.
“Okay,” he says more to himself. He fixes the band of my underpants, zipping my jeans back up for me.
CHAPTER 18
Isolde
The drive back to my flat is completely silent. Luis doesn’t look back once at us. I’m not sure if it’s because he knows I’ve got no bra on or if he’s terrified at Tristan’s sudden arrival.
I’m aware at every moment that Tristan’s semen is inside me, leaking out. All the girls in the smutty books Len makes us read act like it’s no big deal, but the neurodivergent sensory overload is at an all-time high.
It doesn’t help that I have plenty of time on the way home to wonder about Tristan’s sudden arrival. And how he fucked me again.
Tristan is out of the car before we’ve come to a complete stop. He opens my door, and I scoot out of the seat, miserable.
“Thanks, Luis,” I mumble, unable to give up my manners.
Tristan leads us up the six stories, unlocking my door. “Go take a shower,” he demands, but something is wrong with me because the bossiness swirls something deep in my belly. It helps that his own demands are punctuated with actions. He actually strides forward to the bathroom, turning on the shower for me.
I’m carefully stripping off my clothes when he places his hand on my lower back and bends down to help me take off my jeans. I know I’m acting like some decrepit fool, but he doesn’t joke as he strips off my underwear, the material soaked with cum.
He sticks around, making sure I climb into the tub.
I stand under the showerhead, like a wet cat.
“Isolde. Wash yourself.”
I blink at Tristan. He’s changed out of his suit and wears sweatpants. He motions for me to move before placing a large T-shirt next to the sink.
I’ve been standing under the water, my arms crossed over my chest. I force my muscles to relax.
“Are you going to shower too?” I ask when he turns to leave.
“I’ll do it after.”
“You can shower with me if you want,” I offer, lifting my voice so he can hear it over the running water since he’s disappeared again. “Tris?” I call out when he doesn’t respond.
Soap slicks down my arms before I pull them tight, holding myself again. He doesn’t reappear, but I ask anyway. “Do you like fucking me, or do you just feel sad for me?”
There’s a clatter like he dropped something.
His head pops back into the doorframe. “Why would you say that?”
Water splashes in my face.
He steps further into the bathroom. “Why would you say that?”
“B-because. . . I don’t know if you like me or not.” The burning shame scalds hotter than the water.
