I moved into his condo a few days after the gala. My parents were honestly more scandalized by that than the fact that we’re together in the first place, which made me laugh. But the transition has been mostly seamless and amazing. We fit well into each other’s lives, and the amount of incredibly loud sex we have makes me glad these condos don’t have connected walls. The neighbors would hate us.
I suppose it’s not just the wedding jitters that have me awake and drinking coffee at seven in the morning, it’s that I have nothing to do. My last day at Thompson’s Ice Cream was yesterday, since after our honeymoon I start at the new restaurant. Tristan followed through, the interviews went well, and it’s all on me to create the menu. My stomach flips just thinking about it.
One of the things that helped was that infernal orange and basil ice cream. Much to everyone’s surprise—including mine—it’s quickly become the best-selling flavor of ice cream that we’ve ever had and has helped launch into at least one new market. Tristan is working on a plan for the rest. Those sales numbers and that flavor combination went a long way toward landing me the job at the restaurant. And not once has Tristan ever taken credit for the fact that he put me on the right track for that flavor.
Wedding, restaurant, and the one other thing that I’m excited about and terrified about and have no idea how to process.
Outside, Tristan turns the page in the book that he’s reading, and I get distracted by his muscular forearm. God, you would think that after six months of constant sex and the fact that we’re about to get married would make it so that I don’t always want him. But that’s simply not the case. I want him all the time. Clearly, to the point where I can be turned on by him turning a page in a fucking book. I go over to his nightstand and grab a part of the surprise that I have for the morning. There are a couple different things.
As I walk, the butt plug I have in makes me incredibly aware that it’s there. We’ve been working our way up in size over the last six months, and now the plug I have inside me is nearly big enough. The final stretch will be Tristan’s cock. I made that decision, and today feels right. I need something to distract me and making my almost-husband’s fantasy come true is one thing that I can do. Quickly, I slip off my panties and shove them in the pocket of the hoodie.
I slide the door to the balcony open, and Tristan turns to look at me. When he does, his eyes go wide. Now I’m wearing nothing but his hoodie—the one that he let me borrow after ripping my shirt six months ago—and the plug. Granted, he can’t see that that’s all I’m wearing because his hoodie is so long, but he’ll find out soon enough. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Morning.”
He smiles. “I didn’t know you were physically capable of being awake at this hour.”
“I’m usually not. But everything has my brain running and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” I place my cup of coffee next to his on the table and straddle his lap. The Adirondack chair he’s sitting in makes it a fun angle, tilting me into him.
Tristan pulls me against him kissing me too deeply for first thing in the morning. But that’s good. I’m hopeful he’ll be in the mood to do what I suggest. I can already feel him getting hard through the soft pajama pants that he’s wearing. “I’m not sure how you manage to make something as old and baggy as this fucking sexy, but you do.”
I bump my nose against his. “Apologize to the hoodie. It’s done a lot for you.”
“No,” he chuckles, “I won’t.”
Grabbing his hands, I place them on my thighs and guide them upward, and upward still, until together we reach the crease of my hips and he realizes that I have no panties on at all. He continues to explore, and when he finds the plug in my ass he goes entirely still for a moment, his cock pressing against me just where I need it through his pants. I rock my hips, causing just a little bit of friction, and he groans. “Okay fine, I apologize to the hoodie and thank it for bringing you out here naked underneath.”
“Very good.”
Tristan grazes his teeth over my earlobe. “How about I pull these pants down and make you come right here on this balcony?”
My nipples are rock hard under the hoodie and I’m growing wet. I wonder if he can feel that wetness through his pajama bottoms. “That’s what I had in mind, but maybe not the way you intended.” I pull the little bottle of lube out of the hoodie’s pocket and hold it up.