Forbidden Bride

“Okay.”

“I’m pretty tired,” I say. “I’m going to turn in early.”

He still doesn’t look entirely comfortable and I wonder if he suspects more than he’s actually saying. “Sleep well.”

“I’ll try.” Honestly, after everything, I won’t have to try. I don’t even get undressed before I flop on my bed and send a couple of text messages. The first one is to Tristan telling him that I’m home, and the next one is to Jill.

Thanks for the alibi, girl. It was well worth it!

She’s typing practically before I send the message.

If it was that worth it then you owe me details.

I send her a gif of a celebrity rolling their eyes.

I’m not going to tell you graphic details about my sex life.

Pleeeeeease? I’m dying over here.

Girl, I say, you know I’m still new to this. It’s going to take a while before I’m really okay with sharing how big Tristan’s dick is.

She types for a while.

So it’s big? It’s big isn’t it. He has such fucking Big Dick Energy I would be surprised if it were small.

I laugh out loud, but I’m not giving in. Those moments with Tristan are private, and right now they’re too special to me to share casually like that. And I can’t imagine describing the way he tackled my fantasies to her—both the way I asked and the ways that I didn’t.

This morning, when he took control, I came so hard I thought I might be going blind. I wouldn’t consider myself that kinky, but there’s something so hot about not being given a choice in pleasure. Maybe not every time, but some of the time. And his fantasy still makes me blush every time I think about it.

I can honestly say that anal sex isn’t really something that I’ve thought a lot about. Obviously in searching porn I’ve seen some. But I’ve never tried anything with that, even in my experimentation with toys. Tristan’s cock is big enough that I feel stretched when he’s fucking me normally. In my ass? I can’t even imagine. And I have absolutely no concept of how it might feel.

Good night, Jill.

She sends back a heart. My phone buzzes again, and I think she might be about to beg one more time, but it’s Tristan.

Glad you’re home, but wishing you were with me here. Send me a fantasy video. I need inspiration when you’re not here.

After all the sex you need porn?

I can almost hear him laughing.

I need to be able to plan your next fantasy fuck.

The ability that this man has to turn me on with a simple sentence is fucking astounding. What can I send him? It takes me a moment to think about my favorite videos—the ones that I always go to when I’m looking for something quick and easy to get me off.

One comes to mind, and I pull it up quickly on my phone.

Fine. Here.

It’s a video of a couple in a darkened space, and she’s being fucked against a wall. The man has her arms spread, pinning her wrists against the wall as he pounds into her, and her legs are wrapped around his waist. Effectively the only thing holding her up is his cock, and there’s something about that to me that makes me wet imagining it.

I don’t dare let the image of me and Tristan doing that into my mind, because I know that it will have me reaching for my vibrator and I’ve already had so much sex that I think my body needs a break from it all.

My phone vibrates.

Naughty girl.

I laugh. You asked. I’m passing out now. You wore me out.

A second later another text comes through.

Dream of me.

* * *

I wake up far earlier than I intend to Sunday morning. I crashed so hard that my body pops awake in a way I wish it would do on weekdays. I’m not a morning person.

I don’t have any texts from Tristan yet, so I’m assuming that he’s not awake. He’s made it a habit of texting me good morning, and I like it. It makes me feel loved and cared for.

I really hadn’t meant to tell him I loved him like that. But it’s the truth. And that sits uncomfortably in my stomach, because I know that now it’s time to find the real truth. I’ve ignored what Jill said for long enough, and now I have to face whatever it is.

It’s a little shocking to me that I didn’t think to google Tristan while he was away, but I never needed to. We’re friends on social media, and he had enough pictures to keep me satisfied—and every time he posted a photo without a woman I was relieved. In the four years he was gone he never posted a photo with a woman. I’m not naive enough to think that he was entirely celibate during that time, but I’m glad that I didn’t have to witness it.