I blink back tears as I hug her. “You have no idea.”
She looks at me, gently arranging my hair in that way that mothers do. “I always wondered why you didn’t date anyone or seem interested. You were waiting for him to come back, weren’t you.” It’s not a question.
“Yeah, I was.”
“Then I’m happy for you,” she says, blinking back her own tears. “Give your father and me a little time. We’ll get used to the idea.”
“I know you will,” I say. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Tristan clears his throat. “Bruce, Valerie. Could I have a moment with Nicola? We’ll rejoin the party in a few minutes.”
“Of course,” my mom says, grabbing my dad’s hand. He looks more reluctant to leave us alone but he doesn’t resist my mother guiding him back into the ballroom.
The minute they disappear Tristan’s lips crash down on mine. “God you feel so fucking good.” He pulls me further into the dark lobby. “I’m happy it’s done. I want to be able to kiss you whenever you want.”
“Yes,” I breathe, but that’s not what’s happening right now.
“Where are we going?”
This hotel features a grand staircase in the main lobby, though the entire lobby is darkened and empty. There’s a little alcove behind and under the stairs where he pulls us, and spins me to face the wall. “We’re going right here.”
“Tristan, what—”
“You promised me that if you won I could do dirty things to you, and I’m collecting. I’ve been hard since I saw you walk through that door, and if I’m not inside your pussy in the next ten seconds I’m going to explode. Bend over.”
The command in his voice makes me obey. I place my hands on the wall and bend as he flips the skirt of my dress up over my ass. He groans. “You look so hot with that plug in your ass.”
I don’t even have time to think about the fact that we’re basically out in the open because I hear his zipper and then he’s slipping inside me and slamming hard. “Oh, fuck.” It’s the only words I can get out. The pent up tension from the night explodes through me and in only seconds I’m nearly there.
Tristan’s hands land on my hips, yanking me back onto his cock with the same force that he’s plunging with, and god, it feels so fucking good. He reaches around, long fingers finding my clit and I have to press my lips together to keep from crying out and having the echoes let everyone at the party know that we’re fucking.
The first wave of my orgasm spirals through me and I can’t even breathe, or see or speak or think—I just feel. The second wave bursts across my eyelids in a flash of color. Something about this angle with the wall and my high heels has Tristan hitting me exactly right, and I lose track of the waves of pleasure ricocheting around inside me.
I’m lost in that sea when Tristan comes deep inside me, grunting and holding himself flush against me while he savors his climax. “Fucking hell,” he says.
“I know.”
“What was that?”
I grin over my shoulder. “Chemistry. And high heels.”
He pulls out of me and tucks himself back inside the tuxedo. “The next time you wear those will be in bed,” he says, with utter seriousness. “And your feet will be near your head.”
I shiver as I stand, the fact that he spoke the truth earlier and that his cum is in fact dripping down my thighs is not lost on me. “Let’s get back to the party,” I say. “That went well enough that I don’t actually want my parents figuring out what just happened.”
Tristan’s grin is feral. “You sure about that?”
I blush. “Yes. I am sure about that.”
“Oh fine.” He takes my arm and loops it through his, stopping me just before we re-enter the doors. “But I have no problem with people knowing that you’re mine.”
“Down, caveman,” I say, laughing.
He smirks. “You like my caveman.”
“I really do.”
Every eye is on us as we walk back into the ballroom, but the stares are ‘what the hell just happened’ stares and not ‘oh my god they just fucked’ stares. Everyone is going to have questions and congratulations, and honestly I’m glad. It’s so much easier to face when I’m holding his hand.
Tristan weaves his hand through mine and lifts the back of my hand to his lips. “Ready?” he asks.
“Ready.”
Epilogue
Nicola
Six Months Later
Holding my cup of coffee in both hands, I peek through the curtains at Tristan. He’s on the balcony off our bedroom, reading a book. It’s still early in the morning and usually I’d be asleep, but the jitters have me awake.
The wedding is in three days, and even though Jill is a beast of a party planner and everything is completely under control, my brain is still dizzily spinning with all the possibilities of things that can go wrong. And so I end up waking up early and get to observe my fiancé in one of his natural habitats.