Page 51 of The Tryst List
The Next Morning
Good Lord, I needed a good night’s sleep.
Stretching languidly, appreciating Peter’s extraordinarily comfortable mattress, I roll over to find the bed empty beside me. I clutch the pillow and take a deep whiff, savoring the lingering warm, woodsy scent of his essential oil cologne. Surprisingly, I feel refreshed, though we stayed up most of the night making love.
Slipping out of bed, I pull on one of Peter’s T-shirts and barefoot it to the kitchen to find him and get some coffee.
Peter’s condo is modern and eco-friendly, with sleek lines and an airy, open-plan design. It's peaceful here. His dedication to maintaining a net-zero footprint is admirable, and while I always considered myself environmentally conscious, I’m learning a ton from him.
I pad silently across the cool, polished floor toward Peter's voice but realize he’s on the balcony, engaged in what sounds like a heated phone conversation. I pause, not wanting to eavesdrop, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
Making my way to the kitchen, I stop to pour myself a cup of coffee then quietly step out onto the balcony. The Seattle waterfront view is breathtaking, with the morning sun casting a golden hue over Puget Sound.
Peter, wearing nothing but joggers, leans over the railing. His posture is tense, but the phone call apparently ended. Lost in thought, he doesn't notice me at first. In stark contrast to the usual calm-and-collected man I've come to know, his agitation is palpable.
“Everything okay?” I step closer to him and place my hand on his shoulder. Though it’s still cold outside, the patio is heated using solar power, making it cozy even though I'm wearing barely anything.
Slightly stunned, he turns toward me, managing a half smile. “Oh, hey. Yeah, it's nothing. Just some family stuff.”
“Family stuff with your mom?” I take a seat on one of his loungers and sip my coffee. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but she seems to call him quite a bit.
He nods, looking out over the water. “Yeah, she… She can be demanding. It's complicated.”
“You can talk to me about it, you know. Whatever it is.” Part of me doesn’t want to upset him, but the other part doesn’t want him to keep things from me anymore. “Just like you can tell me about London.”
Peter runs a hand through his hair. “It's the usual. She has this way of making me feel responsible for everything that goes wrong in her life, especially when it comes to my brothers. It's exhausting.”
“That sucks.” I can hear the frustration in his voice. It's a rare glimpse into the challenges he faces with his family. “I'm sorry you have to deal with it. But remember, you're not alone anymore. I'm here for you.”
He turns to me and puffs out a huge breath. “I know, and I appreciate it. It's hard sometimes, trying to balance everything. They rely on me for money, and it feels like a never-ending cycle.”
“Maybe it's time to set even more boundaries. You can't be everything to everyone.” Hooking my fingers in his waistband, I tug him toward me, intending to offer what comfort I can.
He grins down at me. “You're right. It's not easy to change years of bullshit.”
It's a moment of vulnerability for Peter, a side of him I've only begun to understand. I want to make him feel better. Peering up into his bright, blue eyes, I press kisses along the tight muscles of his abs down the smattering of silky hair under his belly button.
“Ah, babe. What are you doing to me?” Peter cups the sides of my face.
I peel down his joggers and his cock springs free against his stomach. “If it’s not obvious, I’m doing a terrible job.”
“Fuuuuckkkk.” He groans when I stroke him firmly in the way I know he likes. My man needs a little peace. To know I’ll always be a safe place for him. I’ll always be on his side.
Peter fists his hands at his sides, flexing and gripping as I get to work. His gaze is hot on me when I lift his shaft and suck his sac into my mouth. His nostrils flare when I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, following the pulsing vein to his crown. His entire body shivers when my mouth envelops him and I take him to the back of my throat.
“Jordan, your mouth is fucking heaven.” He caresses my cheeks; his thumbs press against the corners of my mouth.
Relaxing my jaw and throat, I allow him to push deeper. When I swallow the tip, Peter groans and his head lolls. His thighs quake with the effort it’s taking not to come. He pushes in deep, causing me to gag and choke. Saliva pools out of my mouth. He pulls free. “Sorry, baby. I’m too big. It’s too much.”
“I like it.” And I do. Blowjobs aren't usually my thing. Then again, Peter is religious about eating clean. It makes a difference. He tastes amazing, I'll happily suck his cock any time he wants it.
I take him back into my mouth. This time, Peter covers my hands with his, threading our fingers as he slowly thrusts between my lips. We find a smooth, easy rhythm. He goes a little deeper each time and I drift into a dreamlike trance—savoring his taste on my tongue while he stretches my lips with each pass. His tempo slowly ramps up and I lean forward, changing the angle.
From his labored breathing and guttural groans strangling out of him, I know Peter’s close. His cock flexes and he grips my hair. Flattening my tongue, I’m able to take him deeper.
“Jesus…oh, Fuck…baby…” Peter’s hips snap forward when he releases down my throat. I swallow everything he has to give and suck and lick him until he’s empty and slips free.
Chest heaving, Peter sags down, bracing his arms on either side of me. Gripping his ass, I ease him down and curl my arms around his neck until he settles. When his breathing returns to normal, he fits himself behind me and bands his arm around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. His other hand combs through my hair.