Tristan laughed wickedly. He murmured, "Yes," as he continued licking me and flicking my erect nub with the tip of his tongue. He moved his hand over my stomach and rubbed circles over my lower belly. He untucked the towel, and I would have protested if he hadn't latched his mouth onto my neck at the same time. I rolled my head away from his attention to give him easier access. I whimpered when he moved the towel aside and fondled my dick. A couple of days ago I would not have been so relaxed, but the more time I spent with Tristan the more I yearned for his touch.
After a few seconds, he released my neck and looked me in the eyes. He panted as he whispered, "I want to fuck you so bad right now."
"But … ."
"I know. Your ass isn't ready for me yet either, but I'm saying it's going to be soon. I want you more than anything."
I spread my legs absently as he dipped his hand down over my balls. I closed my eyes.
"That's it, baby. I like how you respond." He roved his fingers all over me but covered me up with my towel way before I was stimulated enough to shoot.
I questioned him with my eyes.
"Claire's in the house. We're not going to be Teresa."
I chuckled, but not from humor. It was more like a sad laugh, because we both knew kids shouldn't have to see what she'd seen when she was ten.
He kissed me and then hopped off the bed. "Get dressed, and I'll take you home if you want."
I shook my head. "No, I think I'm okay. But if you see any spiders, please kill them."
"I will."
Just as he opened the door, I jumped up and stopped him from leaving. "Tristan?"
"Yeah?"
I may not have been overly confident about my body, or ready to strut my stuff openly around the house, but I could not deny the pull he had on me. Maybe it was his confidence, or the feel of him pressed up against me every morning we'd woken up together, but I felt it deep in my belly. I stepped up close and whispered, "I want you too." I rose up on my tiptoes and kissed him.
Tristan pushed us into the room far enough to shut the door and wrapped his warm arms around my bare back. I swear, if Claire hadn't been there, I would have begged.
Chapter 12: Parents, Friends, And Getting Fucked Out Of My Mind
MONDAY MORNING I called my mother as promised. She asked us to come to dinner that night because of other commitments. Tristan was reluctant but agreed, knowing we'd have to do the same with his mom and siblings eventually. We got in my car and headed to my mom's after Tristan grabbed a shower after work.
"Couldn't we just tell your family by inviting them to the wedding in May?" I asked. We hadn't set a date yet for our spring wedding, but I used May as an example.
He sighed, "I thought that too. We could, but I feel guilty knowing your mother knows and mine doesn't. It all came together so fast I haven't had time to think about anything else."
"Claire told Teresa, do you think she told your mom?" I asked, wondering how close his family was compared to mine. I basically only had my mom and my Aunt Crystal, who lived in Wyoming.
Tristan watched me as I drove. I rather liked the feeling of his eyes on me. It made me lightheaded. "No, I don't think so. We visit my mom the first Sunday of every month. Claire didn't know about you then, and I don't think she's called her since or I would have heard about it."
"What about Teresa?"
"My mom doesn't like Teresa. They get along for Claire's sake, but she never liked her to begin with. I think my mom was glad to find out I was gay rather than hearing I'd proposed to Teresa."
"So she was okay with it-your sexuality, I mean?" I asked because it had been a tough thing for me to admit, even though my mother was as liberal as they come. I'd been thirteen, and disclosing personal information that significant had taken every ounce of courage I'd possessed. After I'd told her, and she'd cried loving tears all over my shoulder as she hugged me, I had locked my bedroom door and cried silently in my bed for twenty minutes. It had been the scariest moment of my young life at the time.
Tristan said, "Yeah. I think so. She was quiet, but she hugged me. She told me the next day that she still loved me and was glad she'd have at least one grandchild from me. She loves Claire. My brother acted the weirdest. We didn't talk for two years, but after running into each other at Buffalo Wild Wings he apologized for being a dick."
"And your sister?" I remembered Tristan mentioning a sister.
"She's fine. We've always been close, and she told me she suspected when I was in high school, before I'd gotten Teresa pregnant. I told her I wished she'd said something, but then we both knew I'd never trade Claire for figuring out my sexual orientation earlier."
"Do you ever think about having more children?" I wasn't sure where that had come from, but my curiosity had never learned tact in the past, so it didn't surprise me when the question escaped my lips now.
Tristan was quiet. Too quiet. Maybe he didn't like my question. Perhaps it was too presumptuous or invasive. As soon as we stopped at a red light, I dared to glance over at him. He had turned his body toward mine and was watching me with the biggest smirk I'd seen yet. After the entire rotation of the light, probably two minutes, I stepped lightly on the gas. He had yet to say anything. It was starting to freak me out. My hands started shaking. Maybe he noticed, because he reached over and took my right hand off the steering wheel.
All he said was, "You're adorable."
My mom's house was five minutes away, and he still hadn't told me what was so funny. "Forget I asked. I'm sorry. I don't know why I say things like that. It just slipped out." I took my hand back as I turned the corner, using both hands to steer.
"You don't need to be defensive, Grant. I'm not bothered. I remember your response at the bank when you saw Claire's picture. You said you liked kids and that you'd like to have some of your own one day."
"Oh," I uttered nervously.
"And my answer's yes, I would like other children. I simply hadn't thought about it logistically until now. I've been alone for years. So … does that mean … you want … ." He left the question open-ended, but I understood. Then he added, "With me?"
Somehow I parked, mind whirling, thoughts exploding. I had always wanted children, and I couldn't restrain myself even if I should have. "Um, I, yes?"
"Is that a question?" He snickered and took my hand again. "Are you asking me, if you want children … with me?"
I'd done it again. Every time I got nervous and thought I'd say the wrong thing, I ended up wording it as a question. It wasn't really a question-I knew my answer. I didn't know his answer. "No," I moaned at my own ridiculousness. "I do want children." I heaved a sigh and finished my thought. "With you." I turned my attention back to him as he squeezed my hand.
Tristan had lost his smirk. His look was more … emotional than I'd anticipated. "You have no idea how good that makes me feel."
I could have cried, but I held it in since I was sitting in my mother's driveway and did not want to explain to her why I'd been crying. I think Tristan could see it in my eyes, because he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it several times.
"I love you, baby," he whispered.
I felt the words forming for the first time. Did I? I wasn't completely sure, but this moment in the car was certainly emotionally fueled. His expression, his tenderness, the topic of conversation, all prompted me toward love. But as I considered it, I noticed my mother standing in an open doorway. I cleared my throat and took back my hand.
"My mom's waiting," I said, opening my car door.
We would have to continue the conversation another time. I couldn't think about it now. I had to explain to my mother why I'd gotten married to a man I hardly knew and face her ridicule and possible disapproval. I needed all the strength I could muster.
DINNER WITH my mom had gone very well, but it left me drained. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
"Grant," Tristan whispered in my ear. He rubbed his nose up the shell of my ear and whispered again, "Grant. You need to get up for work soon."
I opened my eyes and read my clock. "Shit," I mumbled. I couldn't understand why I was so lethargic. I had never had a problem getting up to go to work. I liked my work. I didn't remember the alarm going off, but it must have. Had I turned it off and remained in bed? If so, why would I do that? It seemed so unlike me.