Page 91 of Tips and Trysts

“I like that you marked me,” she murmurs. “I like having something aside from the scar.”

She doesn’t wait for a response before she slides into the hot water and motions for me to join her.

I position myself behind her and run my hands over her stomach before cupping her breasts. I caress them. I trickle handfuls of water over them. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, watching a droplet slide and make contact with the ball end of her piercing.

“Beautiful.” Cora closes her eyes. “Nobody has ever said that to me.”

“Impossible.”

She sinks lower into the water. “I’ve been called cute. Sweet.Exotic.” Her sigh is languid. “I could go on, or I could send you some peer reviewed studies on Asian fetishization.”

I snort. “You’re the most interesting drunk I’ve ever met.”

She gives me a soft smile. “I guess I can add ‘interesting drunk’ to the list of things I’ve been called.”

“You’re so beautiful. And I would never call you cute or sweet.”

“What about exotic?”

“Well, actually—” I begin, clearly messing around, but she still splashes me.

Laughing, I touch her naked body, exploring her slowly for once. I tweak her pierced nipples. I walk my fingertips down her lush thighs. I graze the rim of her asshole and wonder if it’s tender.

I move my hands back to her stomach and hold her there while kissing her shoulder.

“Touch me,” she urges, placing one of her hands on mine and guiding it to her pussy.

“Not when you’re drunk like this.”

“But I’m ready for you to fuck me again.”

“I know you are, but no more tonight.”

Cora whimpers. “Please? I’m so worked up.”

“I know, princess. I know,” I assure her before I kiss her cheek. “In the morning. I promise.”

She sticks out her lower lip and a pang of unease immediately strikes me. Apparently, I can’t physically sit still when she needs something.

As a consolation, I place my fingers on her clit and rub a slow circle. Her groan could end me.

“Will you fuck me, please? Please, Everett?”

She’s starting to beg, and I hate it. Cora should never have to beg for anything.

I want to give her everything.

I touch the piercing at her entrance—the fourchette she got three months ago. I knew the precise date she got it and looked up how long it would take to heal. For four to six weeks, I was content knowing she couldn’t be with anyone else.

“You had this done after you met me.” I drag my fingertip over the metal. “Were you thinking of me when you got it? I thought of you when I got my cock done.” I slip three fingers into her pussy. “I was excited to show you one day. To put it inside you.”

Cora lets out a breathy exhale when my palm presses on her clit.

“I’ll make you come on my hand, but I need you to be loud for me—okay? We’re alone for once. I want to hear it.”

“Oh god,” she groans as I insert a fourth finger into her. The words are strained, mostly a gasp, when she says, “I was thinking of you.”

“Look at me,” I whisper.

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