She is about to laugh when her jaw falls open slightly. “Not quite done. A horse walks into a bar. What does the bartender say?”
“Oh, Jesus.” I slap my forehead. “Hay.”
“Say hay to your horse, Elly.” She twirls me around, and I look right into the eyes of Tristan. He’s here. He’s here, in the flesh, in front of me.
My heart somersaults in my chest.
His lips twitch as he registers my shock.
“You stayed?” I approach him and try to calm the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “I thought you had…” I’m too excited and nervous to think straight. “Did the boat not get fixed?”
“It’s fixed,” he says, looking me directly in the eye. “I wanted to see you again. You left without saying goodbye.” His smile slips slightly.
“Oh!” A ridiculous squeal escapes me. “You stayed because of me?”
“You left eighty euros on the bedside table. Did you think I’d let you get away with that? I felt like a prostitute.”
I lean across the bar, trying to hold it together. “But I thought you had important business back in
London?”
“I do,” he says, deadpan. “But I realised I have very important unfinished business in Mykonos. There’s a lady who has been eating street gyros for weeks and hasn’t been for dinner at Botrini’s yet.
It’s a crime.”
“Uh, I…” Christ, I can’t speak.
Damn. “I can’t go for dinner tonight,” I say, dismayed. “I’m working until midnight.” “I guess my important business back in London will have to wait even longer then.” Oh.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like a prostitute.” I laugh. “I kept twenty euros for a tip, four euros for each hour you spent at the bar.”
“Very precise. And under-charged if you ask me.” He grins, pulling out his wallet and places a number of twenty euro notes on the bar. “Since I’m going to have to tolerate this shithole for another night just to be in your company, here’s my tip in advance. That’s for five hours. Then hopefully you’ll let me show you how much I enjoyed last night by reliving it all over again.” I choke a little as I swallow too much air.
Play it cool, woman.
“What makes you so sure it’s a done deal?” I ask defiantly.
He raises his eyebrows.
He was right. I’m all talk. The deal was done the minute he set foot in the bar tonight.
“Well, if we are playing this game,” Tristan starts with a smirk. “Last night I discovered there is nothing hotter than watching you come while you moan my name in your lovely accent. So tonight, what I want is to make you come so loudly that every room in the hotel hears your little pants and screams. That’s worth sitting in this sweaty bar watching a load of lads half my age throw up on each other for five hours. Does that sound like a good plan?” Oh my God. This is fifty shades of fuck.
“You seem like a thorough planner,” I squeak.
“I’m direct, I say what I want,” he continues with unwavering eye contact. That, he does.
“And I get what I want.”
I let out a laugh but he’s not joking. This man is going to ravage me tonight. God help me.
And he does get what he wants. I’m a bag of nerves as he opens the hotel room door with one hand while the other rests on my lower back. The outline of his hardness is visible through his trousers, and I wonder if my ravaged body can handle round two so quickly after last night.
And just like that, we are attacking each other again, hands, tongues, thighs everywhere, trying to cover as much body surface as possible, like we both know this might be the last time. Taking off our clothes like they are on fire until I’m wearing nothing but my mascara.
He pushes me up against the wall, so I’ve got nowhere to go, no way to escape his demanding erection pushing up into my apex. Half kissing me, half panting into my mouth, he unbuttons his jeans.
He’s not waiting around tonight.
God, he smells fantastic. It’s a man-musk I want to take back to Wales. I yank his jeans down over his thick thighs, his cock springs free, curving upward, and I drop to my knees. He was so attentive to me last night. It was all about me; I want to show Tristan that I can give as good as I take.
Looking up at him with big eyes, I wrap both hands around his shaft and take his cock in my mouth. He lets out a shudder that sounds almost painful. “It’s been a long time.”
My hands tighten further around his straining shaft. I pulse gently first, then more aggressively as his low husky grunts become louder and his grip around my hair tightens.
He groans my name as I speed up, and I wrap my hands around his buttocks so I can take him as deep as I can. Pushing himself deeper into me, he hisses as he hits the back of my throat each time. No one has ever fucked my mouth like this before, and it feels so damn good to be in control of this man’s pleasure.
“Elena.” He groans. “I’m coming. I’m going to come in your mouth if you let me pull out,” he warns, his breathing ragged.
I tilt my head up to look him dead in the eyes. It’s so sexy to watch him losing control. I pull him out of my mouth just in time. His eyes, hooded with arousal, meet mine and his face contorts into a mix of pain and pleasure as warm liquid sprays over my breasts. “I couldn’t,” I whisper.
“I don’t expect you to.”
As he picks me up from the floor, he grabs my thighs and pulls me up, so I’m straddling him in midair. He walks us slowly over to the large armchair beside the mirror. Holding me in his arms, he lowers himself into the chair. He makes it look easy, like I’m weightless. I straddle his thighs, running my hand over his pectorals; I can feel his heart hammering in his chest.
He exhales a deep breath and gives himself long strokes up and down to refuel. His thick cock springs to life again, nudging my inner thigh.
“I thought older men took longer to recover.”
“Older men?” he mutters, slapping my ass. “Cheeky mare.”