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“Good girl.” He exhales a long, slow breath, fingers skimming my sex. “You thought about it, though.”
“But I waited for you.”
He pulls my head back and turns my face so he can kiss me. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. All fucking day, Bea. I couldn’t wait to get home.”
Everything feels heightened. I’m aching for him. Desperate and needy. I don’t want to think about how this will have to end. How, despite his mercurial moods, I want more of him. Of this. Of us.
He releases my hair and puts a hand between my shoulder blades. He pushes me forward until my chest meets the granite, making my already hard nipples tighten further. He taps the outside of my right thigh. “Bring this knee up,” he orders.
I do as I’m told, and he helps get my knee on the counter. He adjusts my position, stretching my right leg along the edge of the granite. His fingers move between my thighs, and I moan when he skims over my already sensitive clit. His hands run over my ass and along the backs of my thighs, then reverse the circuit, thumbs skimming the edge of my pussy.
“Such a good girl. I want to make you feel so good tonight.” His hips press against my ass, and he leans in as he pushes his thumb between my lips. I suck as he kisses my cheek. He pulls it free and grips my chin, turning my head enough to kiss me again. When he pulls back, he asks, “Do I always make you feel good?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“But if I’m ever pushing you too far, tell me, and I’ll always stop. Okay, Bea?”
“Okay,” I agree. This means he has a plan, and it probably involves something new. Anticipation and anxiety spike my heart rate, and my stomach clenches.
“That’s my sweet girl.” He brushes his nose against mine. This is it, this is where sweet Tristan turns into dirty Tristan, and I’m here for it. One side of his mouth pulls up in a lascivious grin. “Should I get you ready for my cock?”
“Yes, please.”
He shifts his position, so his hip rests against the back of my leg stretched along the counter. At the same time, he grabs the English cucumber and splays his other hand between my shoulder blades.
“Oh my God.” For a hot second I consider tapping out, but he’s right. He always makes me feel good. And honestly, an English cucumber isn’t much different from a regular dildo. It just happens to be edible and biodegradable. And I washed it, so it’s clean.
He slides the tip along my slit, rubbing over my clit, then pushes it in before pulling back again. My toes curl when he rubs it over my clit again. He keeps up with the slow teasing, only giving me an inch or two before he pulls out and rubs my juices all over the insides of my legs. I bite my knuckle to stop myself from begging for more. I have no idea if this is normal.
I seriously can’t believe I’m being fucked with produce. And enjoying it.
“How much do you think you can take?” he asks.
“Why don’t you find out?”
This time when he pushes in, I feel it hit my cervix and moan.
He pulls out, and I groan my irritation.
“Look at this, Bea.” He holds it up for me to see. My juices are dripping down the sides onto his fist. “You haven’t even come yet, and you’re making a mess.” He aggressively bites off the end, then slides it back inside me while chewing. I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but I moan when he pushes in deep, then pulls it out again.
The hand between my shoulders disappears, and he shifts again, pulling my leg off the counter. He sets the cucumber on the cutting board, pulls me to a stand, and spins me around to set me on the counter. It’s momentarily disorienting. But God, the look on his face. He looks like he’s ready to devour me. And I want it. Him. This version of us, where it’s all about pleasure, not fighting.
“I want you to watch me fuck you with tonight’s salad.” He hooks my right leg under his left arm, drags me to the edge, grabs the cucumber, and starts fucking me with it again. I splay my hands out behind me so I can keep my balance.
It’s obscene, watching him use the cucumber like a freaking dildo. My legs start shaking, so I know I’m getting close. “Let’s make it ribbed for your pleasure.” He pulls it out, then bites around the outside about an inch from the jagged top before sliding it back inside me. It absolutely does the trick. He’s still chewing when I come.
When my eyes finally roll back down, he slaps his wallet on the counter. “Get a condom out so I can get in on the action.” He bites off another chunk of the cucumber while I fumble to retrieve the condom. I hold it out for him.
