Chapter 85: MIDNIGHT IN MILAN

LAURA

It was a long night with Tristan.

We fucked until my thighs ached. Until my lips were sore.

He flipped me in every possible position and ground his cock deep inside me. I was crying and begging at some point, when I was too sore to take it. But he pounded me still and it felt so good, until I climaxed around his enormous size again and again uncontrollably, pussy spasming around him. He left bite marks everywhere on my body, spilling dirty things about how he alone owned me.

He spilled more than a few times himself, spurting thick ropes of cum inside me, so hot that I could feel it leaking all the way deep in my womb.

God. It was such a rollercoaster ride. Everything I’d spent the past five years fantasizing about, and more.

After a long time giving pleasure to each other, and taking from each other, we lay there, breathing hard and staring up at the ceiling, our bodies slick with the heat of how much and hard we’d gone.

His hand snaked across the bed and found mine, fingers interlacing. “Can I ask?”

Heart beating hard, I turn my head and look at him. “What?”

“You and Harlan,” he slurred, his eyes sliding shut, “is there anything there?”

I tried to pull my hand free and he tugged me hard to his chest. “Don’t run from me,” he murmured into my hair as he pulled my face against his neck. “At least not tonight. Please.”

God. I would have to get used to hearing Tristan beg.

I didn’t say anything for a long moment, my heart beating hard against his arm. When I finally summoned the courage to tell him that what I should do is run, he was already snoring.

Fuck. Now that I’d had sex with him again, I knew I was in trouble. Because I wanted more, and more, and more of him.

Was there going to be a way around this? If this even continued…would we have to sneak around.

I lay there thinking about the tragedy of our connection. It was never given any chance to grow into something meaningful.

I mean…it would be nice to sneak around if it meant hurting Madison. But for how long would it be about her, and not me?

Twenty minutes later, when I was sure that Tristan was deeply asleep, I gently moved his hand and got off the bed. Then I slipped on my panties and gathered the rest of my clothes. And snuck back to my room.

I took a long shower to wash away the traces of what we’d done, and every time I touched my swollen pussy, I thought about his tongue teasing them apart and diving deep inside me.

I sucked in a deep breath after the fifth time and quickly rinsed off the soap suds. Then I donned a fresh fluffy robe and fell into a deep sleep.

Tristan came to my dream and made sure he licked off every last drop of the juices leaking from between my legs.

The next morning, it turned out that Tristan and I were the only ones who missed the dinner that Tristan had proposed, himself.

It was after I heard it that I understood why everyone had their eyes on me when I joined the crew on set. I had initially thought they somehow caught wind of what went down between him and I.

About the incredible midnight in Milan, spent in Tristan’s bed.

Now if I ever thought back to this trip, it would be the memory at the top of the list of the best.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Layla’s voice rang from behind me, disrupting my thoughts. “You look a little tired, but God, you’re glowing.”

My cheeks grew hot and I cleared my throat. Of course I’d glow after last night.

“I’m good, Layla.”

“So why weren’t you at the dinner?” she pressed.

“I told you. After a long night shooting, I dozed off as soon as I got to my room,” I lied through my teeth. “I wasn’t even hungry.”

“If you say so.”

Today’s shoot was in the hotel lobby, on a red carpet.

Tristan stood just outside with his assistant, engrossed in a conversation that had his face contorted into serious lines. I couldn’t bring myself to look away, even though he hadn’t noticed me once.

Could he also be explaining why he wasn’t at the dinner to his assistant?

What did last night even mean to him? Was he perhaps…upset that I snuck out later? Would he ever bring it up? Because I wouldn’t.

So many questions ran through my mind as I stared at him, while the set got busy around us. Then he turned his head sometime into the conversation, while Peter was saying something. His blue eyes rested on me like hot orbs, heating me up, and I could instantly tell he had been thinking of last night too.

Electricity raced through my veins when the eye contact lasted for more than ten seconds.

Every memory of how he’d handled my body last night came unfurling fast in my mind. My breath stalled, and my skin tingled.

I want him again. Right here, right now.

Was it possible for everyone to disappear?

God, this was a fucking problem. Because I knew there were several more flashbacks to come. They would hit me at work, when I’m involved in an important duty that has to do with my kid, when I come across even the slightest hint of pornographic content.

After some time, he finally moved his gaze back to his assistant’s face and I felt cold instantly.

Just then, Peter answered a call and whispered something in Tristan’s ear. And Tristan’s countenance changed into a dark scowl.

I watched him move away, retrieving his phone with a certain urgency in his movements.

Did something happen?

“They need you at the dressing cubicle,” Layla whispered behind me, drawing my attention away from Tristan. I turned and followed her, an ugly feeling nagging at the back of my mind.

A feeling that history might just repeat itself again…and things might go downhill because I slept with the one man that knew how to satisfy me to the core.

Indeed, a bad omen was in the air.

Because just as the make-up artist prepared to touch up my face, Layla burst into the cubicle looking a bit flushed and confused. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Pierce is leaving.”

I sat up straighter in the seat. “What do you mean? Is he going somewhere?”

“He’s going back to New York.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. “What? Why?”

I bolted from the seat without thinking and tore off the apron around my neck. “Why would he leave?”

Why would he leave without saying a word to me?

Layla shrugged. “I don’t know, but he seemed to be in a hurry.”

I began to storm towards the door. “I need to ask him what’s going on.”

He couldn’t leave after the night we shared. Not until we met face-to-face and spoke to each other about it. About what happened from here onwards.

But Layla’s next words stopped me dead in my tracks.

“I’m afraid he’s boarded the jet already, Ms. Hayes.”