Little Love | Chapter II (Patreon)

When Tristan gained consciousness once more, the clamping around his lungs seemed to have cleared. His breathing came far easier, and a cool stream of air tousled the hair against his forehead. The sheer red curtains danced in lazy waves around him, and he found himself lying in a large pile of pillows.

It hadn’t been a dream. So then, where was Lilith?

Tristan pushed himself to sitting and looked around. A few seconds of dizziness caused him to hesitate, made worse by the obscuring red fabric that turned the room’s furniture into blurry shadows. Once the dizziness passed, he shifted to his hands and knees. The bed was enormous, covered in a sea of crimson satin. He crawled over the sheets before pulling one piece of the sheer fabric aside. When the rest of the room came into view, he gasped.

It was massive. This one single bedroom was nearly twice the size of his apartment.

It would have to be to fit the bed, I guess, he thought as he looked around.

A polished vanity with a tall, oval mirror sat propped against the far wall. A dresser and desk made of the same rich, dark wood as the vanity stood side by side near the bed. Lush black carpeting covered the floor, embellished with various intricately patterned rugs. A red and black theme dominated the bedroom, and each piece of furniture and fabric complemented the other in a way that drew the eye back to the bed at the center.

Where are my clothes?

Tristan shuffled through the sheets, finding his pants intact but his shirt missing. Remembering the sensation of Lilith’s bare breasts against his skin brought a shiver down his spine, and he shook his head to clear the thought.

He slid on his jeans and stepped away from the bed, abandoning the search for his shirt. Another look around the room revealed three ornate sets of double doors that likely led to different parts of the house. With a frown, he picked one and walked toward it. He wrapped his hands around the carved handles and opened the doors carefully, as if any noise would disturb the rest of the silent room. What greeted him made his heart pound inside his ears.

Leather and lace, satin and silk, boots, high heels, and stockings lined shelves upon shelves of Lilith’s closet. His eyes locked on a particularly slinky get-up made of latex with more ties and strings than he could count. Blushing furiously, he closed the doors and tried a second set of doors.

As soon as his hand touched the handle, the delicious aroma of pancakes and bacon wafted to his nostrils. Throwing caution to the wind, he flung the door open, not realizing just how hungry he was, and hurried into the hallway. He let his nose lead him toward the scent, and, all the while, the memory of his meeting with Lilith returned to him.

Tristan had gone to his favorite corner restaurant, Ivy’s, for a drink after school. Ivy herself was kind enough to give him a soda and a sandwich on the house whenever he stopped by, so long as he swept the porch once he was done. And it was the best place to do his homework or, like today, catch up on a few chapters of the book he was reading. It helped him not feel so alone.

Once he’d settled in with his meal and started a few pages of his book, Lilith had appeared in his booth as if from thin air. What was it she had said to him? “That seems like difficult reading material for someone your age.”

And then she’d leaned forward and taken a sip of his soda. He recalled her lips encircling the straw; a casual gesture, but it had absolutely captivated him. When she pushed it back across the table, Tristan found a perfect circle of red lipstick staining the bright white of his straw.

“I would love to show you my library sometime. My name is Lilith, by the way.”

What had he said to her? Anything at all? Tristan struggled to recall more of the memory beyond her brilliant lipstick and steady gaze.

Tristan rounded the corner of the long hallway, and there she was, back to him, her attention focused on the stove. White, laced edges of an apron poked around her curves—and that was all she wore. He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to her naked, voluptuous behind. The delicious, full cheeks that filled out from the small of her back made him temporarily forget his hunger. The only thought on his mind was filling his hands and mouth with her skin.

Lilith looked over her shoulder, offering a smile that made him simultaneously melt and shiver.

“Ah, you’re awake, love.”

“How long have I been sleeping?” Tristan yawned, more as a nervous gesture than one of exhaustion. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, then changed his mind and crossed his arms over his chest. The amusement on her face made him blush, and he dropped them back down to his sides.

“Two days. But please don’t fret. You are safe here.” Lilith returned her gaze to the stove. She removed a pan from the burner and set it aside. The loud sound of sizzling bacon dulled, and Tristan’s mouth watered.

“But my apartment—”

She shook her head, closing the gap between them in a few easy steps. Lilith was more than a head taller than him. The top of his head stopped just above her breasts.

“You told me you lived alone.” She ran her fingertips gently through his hair.

“I did?” Tristan replayed the diner scene in his mind again. What she’d said to him was crystal clear, and then everything else was a blur. Regardless, it was true. His parents weren’t around anymore.

“Such a young boy to already need to fend for yourself,” she cooed. “Let me take care of you?”

The pity in her features cut deeply. He’d worked hard to put himself through school for the past two years. Kept food in his belly with odd jobs and selling essays to his classmates. What could he say to Lilith to not seem so weak?

She gently clasped her hands around his waist and lifted him off his feet, setting him on the granite countertop of the kitchen’s island as easily as she had lifted the pan of bacon.

There’s nothing I can say. Not like this.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Lilith murmured.

He felt the fierce blush of embarrassment burning his neck, but did what she asked. Sitting on the counter, he was eye level with her—their height difference all but forgotten. Those green eyes promised everything he desired: her protection, her adoration, her body. Lost in the sea of her, his heart pounded against his chest.

“You have nothing to be afraid of.” She smiled, and her face moved closer to his. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Tristan hesitated, but when her lips met his, it was as if she’d set fire to his every nerve.

His eyes widened, and he tensed. He’d never been kissed before. But the rhythm of her lips felt natural—as if they’d done this a thousand times. As he relaxed, he worked on mirroring her movements. At first, she kissed and caressed him gently—so frustratingly slowly—like she was testing his resolve. When his hunger grew more deliberate, so did hers.

The familiar labored breathing suddenly returned, and Tristan struggled for air. But the blood that rushed to his lower regions spoke of anything but pain.

Lilith laid her hands on his bare chest, and the tip of her tongue danced against his mouth. Tristan parted his lips and submitted to her askance with a throaty sigh. She worked her tongue against his, thoroughly exploring every crevice and hollow. She tasted hot and sweet, breathing his air and returning it tenfold.

Lilith shifted her weight against his chest, her fingertips denting his skin. Tristan wrapped his arms around her neck, and she kept moving forward, crawling onto the slick granite as he leaned backward. The cold stone beneath him seeped into his shoulders and back. However, when Lilith repositioned her hands on either side of his head and aligned her body to his, the discomfort vanished.

Her chest pressed against his, the hardened buds beneath her apron sliding over his skin. Her thighs were just within reach, leading up to her perfect ass.

All that separated Tristan from her skin was a thin, lacy piece of white fabric.

While they learned the lines and curves of each other’s lips and tongues, Tristan moved his hands behind her neck, searching for the knot that held her captive behind the apron. At last, he found it. Lilith’s breath became noticeably faster as his nimble fingers deftly picked it apart. In just a few heartbeats, he untied it. In a few more heartbeats, he would have it off of her. The fabric began to slip down her alabaster skin, his fingertips close behind. As her chest rose for another breath, he caressed the tops of her breasts—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Tristan froze, fighting to breathe inside of her kiss. Fearing the absence of her tongue from her mouth.

Lilith sighed and rested her head near his shoulder. “I seem to have forgotten the pie,” she murmured against his throat. She drew away from him, retying the strings of her apron.

The frigid feeling of the granite beneath him returned, and Tristan soaked the chill into his searing skin while his heart slowed. He pushed himself up to sitting and shuffled uncomfortably, trying to hide the erection in his jeans.

“Blocked by a pie,” he grumbled, staring at his dangling feet.

“What was that, my dear?” Lilith giggled and rewarded him with a sly glance as she leaned over the oven to remove the freshly baked pie. The way she bent enhanced the curve of her naked back, her ample cheeks, and exposed her immaculately groomed—

Tristan blushed furiously, pulling his knees to his chest and averting his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to recognize the lust that ate at his very being. In the span of the few seconds that it took for Lilith to take the pie from the oven, his mind wandered many times to fantasies of her straddling him, of the sensation of her naked skin against his, and how it would feel to be inside of her. He covered his face and shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts.

“Are you feeling well?” Genuine concern laced her tone.

“I’m fine,” he said through his hands.

She laughed, and her long fingers enclosed around his wrist, tenderly pulling his hand away from his face. Guiding his hand, she pushed his forefinger upward and dipped it into the center of the pie balancing on her other palm.

Despite the dessert having just left the oven, the filling was comfortably warm and soft. Like her skin. Like her mouth.

Drawing his wrist back out, she encircled his finger with her lips, licking the sweet fruit from it with long strokes of her tongue. A low moan escaped his throat, and images of her tongue on every other inch of him flooded his mind.

When she drew away, she left a circle of bright red lipstick around his finger.

“Let’s share breakfast, and then we can pick up where we left off, hmm?” she offered with one last flick of her tongue over her lips. She smiled in a way that was somehow simultaneously reassuring and incredibly erotic. It left him breathless. All he could do was nod. “It’s a deal, then. I hope you’re hungry!”

Tristan’s stomach growled in reply, and Lilith laughed, snatching two plates from a cabinet and piling each of them with bacon, eggs, hash browns, pancakes, and pie. She handed one to him with a smile.

“Let’s eat.”