It’s like seeing the woman of your dreams in real life for the first time.
Ligaya approaches and does a little spin. The movement lifts the already seductive lingerie to reveal a G-string. My jaw drops, and I barely swallow my drool.
She’s both the woman of my dreams and the figment of my filthy imagination.
The champagne nearly slips from my grip.
Her eyes flit to the phone I’m holding.
“Tristan, are you recording me?”
“Huh?” Her lips moved, but I’m too distracted by the gloss on them to fully understand the words.
“Are you recording me?” Annoyance has crept into her voice.
That’s when I realize that I got all her sexy walk down the stairs in my phone. Plus that seductive spin when I glimpsed the curve of her ass. Oh, wow, and the way her nipples strain against the lace that can hardly contain her breasts. I zoom in. Gorgeous.
The memory of this seduction will get me hard for the rest of my life, but I get to watch over and over again? Hell, yeah.
“I wanted to get your reaction to my news, but this is much better. Straight to the spank bank,” I say with a grin.
“News? What news?”
“I signed the contract, baby. I am gainfully employed for at least another three years.”
Ligaya claps her hands before covering her gleeful face, like she’s holding back a yelp of joy.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” I say.
Her fingers grip my shirt to pull me down for a firm, closed-mouth kiss. “Put the camera away.” She grabs my hard cock straining against the zipper. “Why watch when you can have the real thing?”
“Right. Yes. Camera away.” I fumble so hard I nearly FaceTime the team group chat by accident.
Before I really do drop the champagne bottle, I put it on the floor and wrap Ligaya in my arms.
LIGAYA
Tristan looks like he’s walked onto the wrong movie set: romcom hero stumbling into an adults-only production. His face registers the change as his expression transforms from excited and eager to dark and feral.
When he finally puts the camera and champagne away, I throw myself at him. His arms wrap around me instantly and our mouths slam together. He kisses me like the world is ending and he’ll never let me go.
We’re in a large house, but his arms are my home.
“Why did you bring champagne? I thought we were going out for dinner,” I prompt.
His eyes graze over my face and then lower, where my heavy breasts are pressing against his chest.
“You’re not going out for dinner in this outfit, sweetheart. I’ll have to fight off every guy who drools over you, and that’s just bad manners.”
He kisses me again. Harder this time. In a move that takes superhuman strength considering I’m still carrying quite a bit of my pregnancy weight, Tristan maneuvers my legs around his waist and holds me up with one forearm under my ass and the other bracketing my upper back.
God, he tastes so good. Like mint and sugar and Tristan. I’ll never get enough.
“I need you on a bed,” he grunts in frustration. Tristan walks forward, pauses over the stairs, and looks to the side toward our kitchen. “Or the next hard surface.”
“Take me upstairs. I have a surprise.”
It’s been so long since Tristan and I have had sex. Don’t get me wrong, there’s been all kinds of feeling up and kissing. We’re horny teenagers, grabbing and rubbing every chance we get.
