I wrap my arms around his shoulders and nip his earlobe. "Fuck me," I whisper in his ear.
He groans and starts to move. He's still buried in my neck and he's got a bruising grip on my hips as he starts to thrust into me. And with every motion, I lose more and more of my mind.
"Oh my god,Tristan," I gasp. I grab at his arms, his shoulders, as I try to gain control of what's building inside me. Even though I just came a few minutes ago, I'm already bordering on another overwhelming orgasm.
He pulls back a little so he can look at my face. When he sees my struggle, sees that I'm close, he growls in approval and kisses me roughly.
"Come for me," he whispers into my mouth. "Scream for me."
And when one of his thrusts hits the right spot inside me, I do. I scream as my orgasm erupts.
He smothers the sound with another hard kiss. He wraps an arm around my waist as his other hand braces himself against the counter. "Oh,fuck," he groans, increasing his pace. As my pussy starts to clench around his dick, he reaches his release, too.
I pant against his lips as my pulsing continues to drain him. When the sensations finally abate, he leans his forehead against mine, breathing heavily.
After a few moments, Tristan chuckles lightly and kisses the edge of my mouth. He pulls away and flashes me a playful smile. "You'll notice when you look in the mirror that my description of what you look like when you've been properly fucked is 100% accurate."
I scowl but can't stop the blush that flames my cheeks. "Shut up," I mutter. I hop off the counter and reach for my clothes.
I pull my thong on but I'm so skittish and confused in my post-orgasm haze that I abandon the idea of pulling on my pants and instead turn to bolt up the stairs.
But before I can make it more than a step, Tristan grabs my arm and spins me back to face him. He grips the back of my neck and pulls my face close to his.
"I hope this solidified it in your brain that this isn't stopping anytime soon," he growls against my lips.
My eyes go wide but I don't say anything. "I'm serious," he growls, nipping my lower lip. "Stop running from me."
"I—I don’t—” I stammer, wide eyed and still completely clueless about how to answer.
When he realizes he won't get anything more out of me, he sighs and steps back to give me my space. Without another word, I run up the stairs and back to the safety of my own room.
12
Remy
So much for never sleeping with Tristan again.
I frown for the fiftieth time at my desk, unable to stop reliving last night. It has not been a very productive day. Honestly, I blame Tristan’s hate-inducing personality. Everyone knows hate sex is the best sex.
I'm not really sure what's happening or what I need to do next. On paper I definitely shouldn't be sleeping with him, for multiple reasons: I don't want to date him, he definitely isn't interested in me, Jax wouldn't approve, he's only going to ruin me for other men… etc. etc. Any of the above reasons, even by themselves, should be making me run for the hills.
Yet somehow, I can't bring myself to regret the past few days. I'm fairly certain Tristan knows how to distance sex from feelings, so other than having him lord this over me for the rest of eternity, it most likely won't change much between us. Though that's not to say we should tempt fate by continuing to do it.
I make another vow to stay away from him, despite the tickle in the back of my subconscious that's practically cackling at the half-assed attempt. I shove that voice to the recesses of my mind and turn back to my work.
I somehow manage to focus enough to get through my workday, though I'm so eager to get a workout in that I'm practically bouncing in my seat by 5:00. Even the knowledge that I'll run into Tristan doesn't distract me from the idea of a good workout. Seeing him might even encourage me to punch the bag harder, since the idea that I shouldn't have sex with him again is enough to make me all kinds of sexually frustrated.
Despite the fact that I had two screaming orgasms not long ago.
Tristan must be in the gym office when I walk in because I manage to avoid him for most of the night. I only see him once when he's showing a new student around the gym. We share the briefest of glances in that one second, his gaze completely impassive when he meets my eyes. I can't read anything on his face—not regret, or longing, or arrogance. He's just… blank.
It further confuses my post-sex brain.
I should've known he's not as affected by our two nights as I am. Sleeping with women is Tristan'sthing, the game that he's best at. Of course he's not walking around reliving a brief twenty minute affair. I'm an idiot for thinking he'd be pining for more.
I make my millionth vow to sign off of Tristan and move on from whatever these past few days have been. We need to just go back to normal and forget anything ever happened. I turn back to my heavy bag with renewed vigor.
The two hours of training easily puts me on my ass—which is exactly what I needed it to do. I'm finally tired enough that my brain has stopped freaking out about anything Tristan-related. By the time I get back to the house I'm only spending every other minute wondering if Tristan regretted sleeping with me—instead of every thirty seconds.