Ollie Vance - Book Two: Ashes and Smoke

Chapter Nine

“Come on. Get up.”

I opened one eye and squinted at the morning light seeping through the curtains of my bedroom window. I temporarily forgot what day it was and what I was supposed to be doing but as a pair of strong arms slid under me and lifted me off the bed, the memories of last night quickly rushed back.

“What are you doing?” I asked sleepily as Tristan carried me off somewhere.

“Tossing you into the shower. You reek of sex,” he said with a wicked smile as he elbowed away the shower curtain and put me down on my feet. I was already naked and warm water was already gushing out of the shower head.

I giggled as stepped in next to me, as gloriously naked as I was, and kissed me hard on the mouth as his hands fumbled with the shower gel pump behind me.

I kissed him back and purred as he lathered soap on my shoulders and down my back before stopping to massage my butt.

“We had sex three times last night, all the way till four in the morning, and after you gave me a couple of hours of sleep, you’re back to wanting it again,” I murmured against his mouth with a laugh as my hands slipped betweens us and grasped his quickly growing erection.

“What can I say? I have incredible stamina,” he murmured back at me as his fingers strayed between my legs and slipped inside me. “And I have an all-consuming desire for you. We’ll do this all day if we didn’t have responsibilities.”

I sighed deeply as Tristan picked me up and let me wrap my legs around his hips. Without saying anything else, he pinned me against the wall, the large, rigid, throbbing part of him sheathing itself inside of me.

I may have no other experience to compare it to but sex with Tristan was mind-blowing. He’s gentle and sweet one minute, he’s ravaging me the next. It was an assortment of experiences, all out of this world, and although I complained about having been completely exhausted, I really wasn’t. I was fast adopting a stamina that surprised even myself.

Twenty minutes later, we were drying ourselves off and I grinned at the sight of Tristan with a white fluffy towel around his waist, patting his head with a small pink one that had purple rose prints on them.

I was wrapped in the bigger version of the floral-print towel and we stood side by side as we brushed our teeth in front of the mirror. 

He changed into the clean clothes he brought with him—dark jeans, a dark green shirt and his bomber jacket. I was scheduled to come into the bakeshop today and check in on the furnishings now that all the major reconstruction has been done so I dressed casually in faded jeans, sneakers and a peach-colored cotton shirt.

I gathered my hair into a loose braid and slung on my small, brown leather saddle bag.

We made breakfast together—I baked some buttermilk biscuits and he scrambled some eggs and fried up some bacon. It was only about nine when were sitting by the breakfast bar, eating our food and sipping freshly brewed coffee.

I locked up and watered my plants before we left—we were returning to the mansion that evening. 

He dropped me off at the bakeshop where both Mary Anne’s and Patrick’s cars were already parked out front instead of the usual employee spots on the side because it was taken up by two big industrial dumpsters that held stuff from the renovation.

“I’ll pick you up later,” he said as I opened the passenger side door. “Call me whenever you’re ready. I’m expecting a couple of visits today. If I’m not able to get out at all, I’ll send you Stigger.”

I scrunched up my nose. “You know this would be easier on both of us if you’d just let me drive myself. I know this town like the back of my hand.”