Page 55 of Meet Cute the Virgin

Tristan reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down and kicking them to the side. I stare as he removes all his clothes and then steps under the water in all his naked glory. How had he never had sex before?

The muscles, the scars, the water running down his chest, to his stomach, and then lower. Washing all the blood away. He’s beautiful and terrifying.

“You’re still staring,” he says, not glancing my way.

“Still doing that, yep.”

He turns, water hitting his back. “Happy now?”

“Getting there.” I pull my shirt over my head. Drop it on the floor.

“Lily—”

“What? I might have blood on me too.” I step out of my shorts. “And don’t ‘Lily’ me. I’m helping. That’s what tradwives do, I think.”

I’m naked before he can argue or I chicken out. I step into the shower, and he doesn’t move back but also doesn’t stop me. He simply watches me with dark eyes, water running down his face, and I can see he’s close to cracking. I have him right where I want him.

Tristan fills up most of the small space. I reach for the soap, lather my hands, and press my palms to his chest.

“Let me,” I whisper. “Please.” I want to explore him the same way he did me.

He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, breathing hard, as I wash the rest of the blood away. His chest, his shoulders, down his arms. The water runs clear between us. I go lower, to his stomach and hips, and he catches my wrist.

“Lily.”

“Shhh.” I sink to my knees in front of him. “Let me try something. If you hate it, I’ll stop.”

“If I hate it?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “You’re drunk,” he says again, weaker this time.

“You’re going to let me,” I tell him. “Because you can’t really say no to me.”

I don’t wait for an answer. I wrap my hand around his hard cock. When he was inside of me, I felt incredibly full, but I’m still shocked it fit. Thinking about that sweet burn when he first thrust into me makes me have to press my thighs together. I want to taste him first, though. I peek up at him through my lashes.

Tristan is beautiful. Terrifying. And all mine. Every single part of him.

I slide my hand down to the base, feeling it jerk in my palm, hot and heavy. Tentatively, I lean forward and drag my tongue up the underside, slowly, learning the shape of him, the salty sweet taste that is all him.

The groan that leaves him sounds painful.

“Lily,” he gasps, his hand finding my hair, not pulling, just holding. “Fuck.”

I take him into my mouth, as far as I can. I suck experimentally, and his hips jerk forward before he catches himself, freezing before he tries to pull back.

“No,” I mumble around him, and he stops, breathing hard.

I find a rhythm, hand stroking what I can’t fit, mouth working what I can. Watching him watch me on my knees infront of him makes me feel powerful. The pulse between my thighs has me squeezing them together.

Soon his hips start to move, small thrusts, and I relax my jaw, taking him deeper. I want this. I want to watch him lose control, want him using my mouth, doing all the dirty things he’s held back over the years.

“Lily.” His hold in my hair tightens. “You’re swallowing it.” I whimper, not letting up. It only turns me on more when he gives orders.

I suck harder, stroke faster, and he comes with a ragged shout of my name, spilling down my throat. I swallow and keep sucking as his entire body shudders.

I pull back, wipe my mouth, and look up at him smugly. “Told you.”

I watch his expression change, the last thread of his restraint snapping clean through.

He grabs me under my arms and lifts me like I weigh nothing, my back hitting the tile wall. The shock of cold against my heated skin makes me gasp, but his mouth crashes down on mine before I can make a sound.