He pours more lube out, another item in my side drawer that he helped himself to.
“Looks like I’ll have to find other ways to entertain you.”
“Tristan,” I warn. Or is it a plea?
“Let me in,” he coaxes, his finger working my muscles.
I can’t help tensing.
“Let me in.” His voice washes over me, and I relax at the command. “Just like that. Good job, baby.”
“Tristan,” I moan. My hips rock back.
He presses his hand against my back again, forcing me to still. His finger thrusts in and out of me. He adds another one, the haze a dizzying blur.
He pours lube onto the plug, making sure more lands on my ass. I’m not even that bothered by the fact that I’ll have to change my bedsheets. All I care about is what he’s doing to my body.
The plug slides in. He twists it, eliciting a whimper.
Then his fingers find my clit again. It’s easywork. I’m full from the plug, high from the adrenaline, and I’m ready—always so ready—anytime Tristan plays with me.
My fingers curl into my pillow, hiding my scream.
Tristan chuckles, the edge of the mattress dipping with his weight. He kisses my shoulder, petting my hair back. “Look at me.”
I shyly peek up.
“I’m going to take your ass tonight.” He brushes my hair again, his fingers skimming my ear. “If you’re a good girl today, I’ll even let you come.”
My sensitive pussy throbs, and I stuff my mouth against the pillow when a whimper escapes.
He grabs the nape of my neck, lifting me so he can gain access to my lips.
But he stops right before he can press a kiss to my lips. “Is it obvious yet how much I fucking like you, Matheson?”
CHAPTER 19
Tristan
Luis keeps his hands on the wheel, eyes facing forward. He didn’t even crack a joke when we arrived downstairs.
Best case scenario, he’s upset I crashed his opportunity to prove himself. If that’s the case, I’ll have to come up with a way to prove it wasn’t that I doubted him. It’s just I’m coming to learn I have absolutely no control when it comes to Isolde.
Isolde, who is scooted all the way to the other side of the car, her face nearly flat against the window.
I’m afraid this might also be why Luis is laser focused on traffic instead of his usual nonchalant attitude toward driving.
The tension is thicker than when Roman Zimin would show up at Ren’s place. We all knew what was going on. They were fucking, and feelings were involved.
I don’t like gossip, and my cousin is a nosy motherfucker. Which means it’s only a matter of time before people start talking.
I close my eyes briefly, the car swaying.
Why the fuck did I wake Isolde up by fucking her with a butt plug?
It’s useless pretending like I don’t want to fuck her. It’s painfully obvious I do.
After last night, after she tiptoed in my room and started talking, I realized we needed to just stop dancing around it. Except now I’m wondering if I went too fast, too hard.
