Love Me More

by R. S. Medina

  I hold the icon so I can watch the video again. Thank God for Snapchat's rewatch feature. This time I just use my hand. I'm so fucking wet and turned on that it doesn't take long. I come all over my hand. Damn, two orgasms in one night. I don't even remember the last time that happened.

  Still shaking, I text him back.

  Me: That was so fucking hot. I came again watching your video.

  Tristan: God Blair, you're fucking wild. Where have you been all my life?

  Me: Making the fucked up choices that led me here.

  Present

  I clean myself off after sending Blair the video, and I have to admit, that was a first—an interesting first. I've never had a girl ask to see me cum on video before. It was kind of sexy in a crazy way.

  Blair is ridiculously sexy, and I can't believe all of that just happened. I wonder if I should feel bad for taking advantage of the situation and allowing it to happen. I also wonder if that was Blair or the alcohol talking, or both.

  Just the idea of having her in bed and the sex we could have makes me start to get a hard-on again, and I have to think about something else, but it's so hard to think about anything other than her perky pink little nipples. I should have asked for a return video since I sent one of me. I'll have to ask next time if I'm lucky enough to get a next time.

  Better yet, hopefully, next time I'll be bending her over her bed and fucking her till she cums. I won't stop until she's begging me to make her cum.

  Fuck. And I'm hard. Again.

  I slide my hand into my favorite green boxers and wrap my hand around my hard dick. I think about Blair being on her knees in front of me, and thrusting into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, watching her gag. What I wouldn't give to finish all over those pretty, perky tits of hers. I think about her fucking herself with her hand. After a final pump, I'm finishing again, and have to clean up, again.

  When I get back to bed and have changed into a new pair of boxers, I have a text from Blair.

  Blair: Good night. Sweet Dreams. Sleep well.

  She used to text me that every night before we went to bed when we were dating. I smile at my phone. I text her back the response I sent to her every night.

  Me: Good night, pretty girl. I'll dream of you.

  Present

  I'm sitting in my black office chair at work, and I'm looking across the desk at Amber. She is talking excitedly about the cute guy in our office, and her hands are all over the place. I think it's so cute how she talks with her hands when she gets excited. She cracks me up. She's telling me about how he finally asked her out on a date this weekend.

  "It's about time," she exclaims, falling back into her chair a little bit. I laugh.

  "Why didn't you just ask him out? You guys have been flirting off and on since you started." I point out. "It's 2017. Girls ask out guys all the time and have been for years."

  "Guys love the chase," she said, winking. "Not all of us meet our soul mates and get married as quickly as you and Finn," she says smiling. I don't smile back. I have been avoiding talking about him. I change the subject.

  "So where do you think you're going on your date?" I ask her trying to get her interest back on her date. It works. She starts thinking of ideas animatedly. I help throw out a couple of ideas, and she says finally that she will leave it up to him.

  "I like a guy who can take charge," she says with another wink. I laugh again. She slaps her hands down on the arms of her chair and shakes the hair out of her eyes. "Ugh, back to work, I guess," she says, smiling. She stands up. "I'll talk to you later." And she leaves to walk back to her desk.

  I start working again, and after a while, I see I have a text message. It's from Tristan.

  Tristan: You busy?

  Me: Working. Why? I'm about to take my lunch break.

  Tristan: Come outside.

  I panic a little bit. My heart jumps. Tristan better not be outside. I grab my purse and keys and head out to the parking lot to my car. I walk a little faster than normal, partially hoping he's here and part of me is hoping he's playing some kind of prank.

  And there Tristan is, leaned up against my car, his dark hair, shining in the sun. He smiles and starts walking toward me when he sees me.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask incredulously. I don't know what part of me to go with – the part of me that is happy he's here or the part of me that feels guilty that he's here.

  "I'm taking you to lunch. I was in the area running errands and thought I'd say hey," he says, offering me one of his most heart fluttering smiles. I feel so conflicted. Part of me is surprised, and I love surprises. Part of me feels guilty. Is this a date? Are Finn and I technically separated? We haven't talked about the status of our arrangement yet. I just know he's staying with his dad right now for "perspective." He did also say he "didn't want to do this anymore."

  I stop at my car and hesitate. I'm not sure if this is wrong or not. I mean it's not dinner. It's not a date. It's lunch. Lunch is harmless, right?

  "Okay," I say slowly. "But you're driving," I tell him. He smiles triumphantly. He starts walking to his white truck parked a few spots down from my car. He opens the passenger door for me, grinning from ear to ear. I pull myself up into his truck and settle into the seat. His truck interior is clean and taken care of.

  "This doesn't count as a drink, though," I say stubbornly before he closes the door. He laughs. He walks around the driver's side and hops in settling behind the wheel.

  "Where to, pretty girl?" he asks, looking at me. Fuck. I hate making decisions. I'm the least decisive person I know. I fidget and tug at my dress nervously, wishing that it covered more leg. It's perfectly acceptable work attire, but suddenly I am super self-conscience and aware of my body.

  "There's a really good burger place down the road," I suggest, uncertain.

  "Sounds great!" he exclaims, shifting the truck into gear. He starts driving to the restaurant, and I recognize the notes to "Never Saw It Coming" by Tiger Jaw playing out of his truck speakers. I love this song. I smile.

  "I see you're listening to my song," I tease, looking at him. There are so many butterflies in my stomach, I feel like I'm going to throw up. Pull it the fuck together, I scold myself. It's only Tristan.

  "I hate his voice," Tristan says, scanning my eyes. "But I love the words." I nod, even though I don't agree with the statement about the singer's voice. But the song speaks to both of us. They say you can tell a lot about a person by their favorite song, and this song is our current favorite. The lyrics say everything we can't say right now. We listen to the rest of the song in silence as Tristan drives.

  He pulls into a parking spot in front of the restaurant, but neither of us moves as the song ends. It's quiet for a moment, and then last night flashes to my mind, and I'm instantly embarrassed. My face flushes and my hands fly to my face to cover the redness.

  "What?" Tristan asks curiously. I can't look at him. I'm mortified.

  "I'm so embarrassed," I say, squeezing my eyes shut. "About last night," I hint. Realization lights up his eyes. He taps the steering wheel and laughs.

  "Yeah, Drunk Blair is a little promiscuous. You were out of control," he teases. And I inhale a sharp breath. That kind of offended me and hurt my feelings. I am not promiscuous.

  "Well, I'm sorry," I say defensively. I'm not a slut. I know my actions might say otherwise about me, but I've never done that before. I am not sure what came over me. I've never been one to excuse behavior just because someone is drunk, but lately, I don't know who I am anymore. I'm acting in ways I don't even understand anymore. I never thought I was that person.

  "Not that I didn't like it," he says quickly. "You're sexy as hell, Blair," he says. I can feel his eyes on me. I peek up at him. He grins. "Plus, you have great tits," he says with a wink. I blush so hard my cheeks hurt. I can't believe he just said that to me. I forgive him and open the door to the truck and hop out.

  "Are you feeding me or not?" I ask, still a lit
tle irritated. He smirks and hops out of the truck and walks with me to the door, and he opens that door for me as well.

  "After you," he says. I roll my eyes and walk through the door. This place is my favorite. They have the best burgers in the area. They always play amazing music, and the food never disappoints. I can smell the burgers on the grill and my mouth waters.

  I walk up to the counter and place my usual order of a bacon cheeseburger with fries. Tristan orders and pays, and I thank him.

  We find a booth and wait for our food. He sits across from me, and I instantly get jittery. I find it hard to look at him too much like I'm in high school again and an inexperienced girl.

  "I'm nervous," I admit. I tap my foot nervously against the floor.

  "Why?" he smirks. He's getting a kick out of my discomfort. I look down at the table and fidget with a button on my cardigan.

  "I don't know," I mutter. I'm not admitting that he makes my stomach somersault every time I look at him. I'm not admitting that he makes me melt. Especially after he called me promiscuous.

  "Want to know the truth?" he asks, and I nod, not looking up. He takes a deep breath. I'm worried about what he's going to say. "I had to hold my breath and count to three when I saw you earlier," he admits.

  My heart swells, and I feel a goofy grin spreading across my face. Why is he so adorable? I try to fight it, but I can't help it. My cheeks are blushing again, and I hate having fair skin. I look up at him from under my eyelashes, and he's looking at me with that look, and I can't look away. And this is what it feels like to be looked at like someone is falling in love with you. It's captivating.

  Before anything can be said, the waitress who took our order brings our tray to our table. Tristan thanks her without looking away from me. His eyes are only for me. I look down. It feels like too much. Too much, too soon.

  I unwrap my burger, and take a bite, trying to distract myself. I'm not even hungry because I'm too nervous to have an appetite, but I don't want to be rude. So, I make myself eat as much as I can stomach of the burger Tristan paid for. It's only about half.

  "So what errands are you in town doing?" I ask, trying to start up an easy conversation.

  "I'm picking up parts for my truck. I'm working on it this afternoon," Tristan says, taking a bite of his food.

  "Fun. I like your truck," I say. "I meant to tell you earlier. It's super nice."

  "Thank you," he beams, tight-lipped with food in his mouth. "I'm super proud of it. It's my baby," he says.

  I don't know what to say to that, so I push fries around my tray.

  "How are things going for you lately?" he asks.

  I hesitate. "Finn left. It's just Olivia and me right now," I say.

  Tristan stops chewing. He swallows. "I'm sorry," he says. "Are you ok?"

  I nod, but don't speak. "It's probably for the best," I say trying to lighten things back up. Tristan just nods. We finish our food.

  "Thank you for lunch," I say, smiling.

  "It was really good," Tristan says, impressed with my choice of restaurant. I smile.

  "It's my favorite place to eat," I tell him.

  "I can see why," he says. "I guess I should get you back to work," he sighs. I laugh, checking the time.

  "Yeah, I don't have much longer," I say. We dump the trash from our trays and head back to the truck. He opens the door for me again, and I thank him. He hops in the driver's side, and before he can start the car, his phone goes off. He checks it, and I take the opportunity for his attention to be on something else to check him out.

  I can't get over how good he looks now. He's tall and muscular. And he's so handsome. His hair is on the shaggier side, and he looks good with the beard, especially since you can tell he takes great care grooming it. It makes him look clean but rugged. It's sexy as hell. I wonder what his beard feels like. I want to touch it so badly. I wonder if he would freak out if I just reach out and touch it. I'm so close.

  "Let me touch your beard." I blurt and then blush. Tristan busts out with loud laughter, looking up from his phone.

  "What?" he asks confusion in his eyes.

  "Can I touch your beard?" I ask more gently, rephrasing. He's shaking with laughter, but nods. I slowly put my hand on his cheek, and my fingers touch his beard. As well-groomed as he keeps it, it feels rough and scruffy on my fingertips, but I'm captivated. When I look back up at his warm brown eyes, they aren't light with laughter anymore. They're dark with something that I haven't seen in a long time. Longing.

  "Blair, I have to," he says, interrupting himself. And then his lips are on mine, needy and consuming mine. I gasp into his mouth, and his tongue uses the opportunity to enter and explore. His hands are in my hair, fisted, keeping me held in place. I feel myself melt into the kiss and follow his lead. The kiss softens and takes a slower pace. His beard is scratchy against my face, and it turns me on.

  He pulls back and looks me deep in the eyes and smiles a drunken, lazy smile. With a sudden move, he pulls me across the bench seat and into his lap, and I squeal in delighted surprise. He kisses me again. Without breaking the kiss, I reposition myself to straddle his lap, and my butt bumps into the truck horn, and I jump. We both laugh, but his lips are back on mine again, and I can't see anything else but Tristan.

  I feel him grow hard inside his jeans and it's pressing against me, and my mind isn't working. My body takes over, and I feel myself grinding against him as subtly as I can. He groans into my mouth, and I devour it. His hands are all over my hips and back and ass. I feel him palm my ass, and I want more. I feel him slide his hand up my skirt and touch my thigh. It's climbing my thigh and going higher and higher. I don't want him to stop.

  I pull away and push against his chest. I need a minute to breath. My head is swimming. And my heart is full of guilt. I feel heavy. My chest is heaving. His eyes are heated with lust and need. His chest is hard against my hands. He presses his erection up against me, and if it weren't for the clothes between us...

  He puts his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, breathing hard. "Fuck, Blair." Those two little words say so much. They are filled with so much need that I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. I close my eyes too. And then I scoot off him and press myself as far into the passenger side door as I can.

  This doesn't help my case that I'm not easy or a slut. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.

  "I need to go back to work," My voice comes out more strained and husky than I intended. Tristan white knuckles the steering wheel and puts his forehead against it.

  "Okay," he says. "Just...give me a minute." I peek a look at his bulge straining in his pants. It's impressive. I want to slide my hand over it, but I don't want to be a tease. I wring my hands together in my lap and clasp them so tightly together that they're snow white to keep from touching him. Why is it so hard to keep my hands off him?

  He leans back up and takes a deep breath and then puts his truck in reverse and swings his arm over the back of my seat to look as he backs up. I keep my eyes lowered, so I don't look at him. When he brings his hand down, he grabs my hand in his and intertwines our fingers.

  "I have to touch you," he says. "Please just let me do this." It sounds more like begging than a question. I nod and give his hand a soft squeeze. I watch the road as we get closer and closer to my office. I'm going to regret this, but right now, I don't care.

  "Turn onto this street," I tell him, pointing to the upcoming street. He looks confused but does as he's told. He slows down to turn and then creeps down the street.

  "Pull over," I instruct. We're on a side road near my work. There are a few houses, but it's one of the more barren streets. Everyone is at work, and there's no movement on this street. Tristan looks confused as hell, but before he can ask questions, I have my seat belt unbuckled, releasing me, and I'm crawling into his lap again, kicking over my purse into the floor board of his truck in the process.

  I know I'm going to feel guilty and regret this later, but I have to know. I have to know
what being with Tristan feels like. I have to know if it feels as good and right as I imagine. Tristan doesn't argue when I straddle him on the seat again. He looks surprised, but pleasantly so.

  I hesitate, looking into his warm cognac-colored eyes. I don't like being the one to take charge. Tristan presses his hands firmly into my back, pulling me to him. He kisses me slowly, gently this time. I give in.

  I feel for Tristan's zipper while our lips and hands are exploring each other's bodies. I wouldn't have chosen for our first time to be in a vehicle, but I'll take what I can get. Tristan pushes his seat as far back as it will go and leans it back all the way.

  He shimmies out of his jeans and boxers, and I ogle his impressive erection. It's even better in person. Pictures don't do it justice. Tristan reaches for my face and grabs my hair in his fist, pulling my lips to his. His tongue traces my lips, and my lips part to let him in. This is what heaven would taste like if heaven tasted like anything. Or is this what hell would taste like? Because he's so fucking delicious, it's sinful. I am so wet, and Tristan reaches his other hand under my dress and slides my underwear to the side. He slips a finger into me and moans into my mouth.

  "God, you're so wet," he says against my lips. I just nod and whimper wanting more.

  "I'm ready," I beg. He takes the hint. I have fifteen minutes before I have to be back at the office from lunch. He quickly retrieves a condom from his glove box compartment and slides it on. I'm a little disappointed because I hate condoms, but I don't know who he's been with, so I'm not going to ask him not to wear one. I'm not stupid.