Page 78 of Hockey Halloween
Ligaya
While alone in my car, I think about all the ways this could go wrong. Tristan is coming over. To my place. To hang out. To have a drink. Possibly to sleep with me. Possibly to see my messy sock drawer and my conditioner graveyard in the shower.
Oh, god, did I clean up the kitchen before I left?
I haven’t had a man spend the night in over a year. Not since John and I broke up. And even that relationship, which technically lasted two years, had a fraction of the passion Tristan and I have shared in a costume closet or against a kitchen counter.
What if the chemistry fizzles once our clothes come off and he realizes I’m not exactly a sex goddess? What if I get a leg cramp? What if I do something stupid or make an embarrassing sound?
The old Tristan would never miss the chance to make fun of me.
I know I’m spiraling. I talk a big game, but I’ve never had a one-night stand.
He’s standing by my door when I pull into my driveway.
On autopilot, I walk on the porch to let us in, willing my hands to stop shaking.
By the time we enter the house, I’m both dazed and nervous.
It’s an awkward combination, resulting in my ramblings about pouring him a drink. Isn’t that what good hosts do ?
I open a bottle of red and immediately slosh it onto the counter.
“Your hands are shaking.”
“No, they’re—” I pause to assess my mess. “Yeah. They are.”
Tristan doesn’t make a joke or flash a cocky grin. He simply grabs a paper towel to clean up the wine.
“We don’t have to do anything, Ligaya.”
I love the way my name sounds breathy when he says it. But the message wakes me up. I put the wine down and turn to him.
“If you don’t at least kiss me, I’ll be pissed,” I blurt honestly.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he jests while stepping closer and offering a brilliant smile.
Now that he’s in front of me, my ability to take risks resurfaces.
The doubts that made me spiral on the ride here vanish.
I pull him down. Tristan’s mouth parts in invitation and his hands cradle my head.
We crush our lips without restraint and sweep our tongues without thought.
We might still have our clothes on, but every stroke of his tongue and the solid hardness of his body feels incredible.
Without warning, I’m lifted and carried to the couch. I straddle his hips, pressing my aching center against his hard bulge.
He pulls back just long enough to whisper, “Been wanting to do this all night long.” His fingers pull at the ties that hold my top, releasing them one at a time till everything gapes and I’m bare.
Tristan’s palms cup my breasts from the sides and plump them together.
His thumbs tease each nipple. My back arches at the surge of pleasure.
“Your tits are so fucking sweet,” he mutters, while taking one into his mouth, and then the other.
“Oh god, just like that,” I whimper.
“This?” He grazes his teeth at my pulse point. “Or maybe you like this,” he mumbles while his rough tongue circles a nipple and his hands grab my ass.
“You’re such a showoff,” I say between moans.
He leans back and pushes his pelvis up against my soaked pussy and grabs my hips. With tight, erotic circles, Tristan rubs his hardness against my clit. My eyes cross in pleasure.
“Want me to stop? ”
“No. I never want you to stop,” the words spill out with no filter.
Lust takes over my mouth, compelling me to remove Tristan’s shirt.
Rippling muscles undulate under his smooth skin.
My palms glide over his sculpted torso. When my finger traces down the trench of his abdominals and past his jeans to graze his cock, Tristan hisses.
“Can I?” I ask, my hand tugging at his pants to release his erection.
“No need to ask, Ligaya. You can do anything your like with me, sweetheart.”
“Anything? Really? So, you’d be OK if I painted your nails or?—”
He kisses me and sucks all the teasing from my lips.
When we come up for air, our mouths are so close our lips graze as he speaks.
“Take it out, Ligaya. Now. ”