by Wren Weston
Lila wiggled her ankles, but he held on, grinning wider. Oh, how she hated that grin, the grin that let him get away with so much, so often. “Why did you come? You used to be all about the job. You used to send me message after message about nothing but work. Kids are missing, and you don’t seem to care.”
His hands stopped. “I care. I care a great deal, but I almost lost you because of the job. I almost lost Dixon because of the job. I almost lost the two people I care about most because—” He looked away. “If I hadn’t been so focused on the job, you wouldn’t have nearly gotten pinched on Leclerc Street. Peter Kruger wouldn’t have almost killed you. Reaper wouldn’t have had a knife to your neck, either. I’m done living for the job, Lila. There’s more to life than work. I want both. I’ll have both.”
“I applaud the sentiment, but there are children missing.”
“We’ll find them.” He looked her in the eye and started rubbing her feet again. “I know I’m annoying you, but I can’t help myself.”
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow almost didn’t come for you. Twice. Tomorrow almost didn’t come for Dixon, either. I find myself unable to pretend patience.”
Lila squirmed in her chair, unsure what to say.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to know what you’ve found now that you’ve mentioned it, but I’m going to keep playing with your feet. I like them.”
“Great, you have a foot fetish. If you start licking my toes, I swear to the gods I’ll beat you with my militia boots.”
“Maybe I’ll lick them too. Maybe I’ll lick you in other places. You liked it last night.”
Lila looked away, knowing she’d blushed again.
Gods, when had she begun to do that?
Lila tried to wiggle her toes away again unsuccessfully, then told him about the tracers, about everything that Shaw had found in his investigations, and about everything she’d found on Natalie’s star drive and palms. Everything except the brothels. Tristan wouldn’t have the patience to wait, and Lila needed more time to ensure she found them all.
Tristan didn’t seem surprised about the rest. “So the Germans did take Oskar.”
“Yes, but which faction? The traditionalist tried to buy him in the auction, and the loyalists tried to murder him. Perhaps King Lucas wants his corpse as proof.”
“Perhaps the traditionalists are taking him to Germany.”
“At least he’d be alive. Either way, you should prepare Maria. I don’t think I’m going to find Oskar in time. Perhaps if I’d ordered my list differently.”
“Lila, that wasn’t your fault. They’d been dead all morning, and you know it.”
“I fooled around too long with the oracle. I fooled around with you. If I hadn’t—”
“The oracle needs our help too.”
“Trying to save both groups means I’m failing both of them.”
Tristan knelt beside her. “You can only do so much, Lila. You do too much.”
“It doesn’t look like I’m doing enough, or else I would have found them by now. You should go home. I have to find Natalie’s friend. I have to look into the missing girls.”
Tristan yanked her closer, and her butt slid forward in the wooden chair. He slipped his arms around her and put his lips against hers.
Lila couldn’t help but kiss back, pushing all thought to the back of her mind. Only Tristan’s mouth existed, his arms around her, stroking the small of her back. She jerked as his tongue entered her mouth. Every flick promised more than a kiss.
But she didn’t have time for that.
“We’ll find them,” he said, resting his forehead upon hers. “Come to bed. You’re long past exhaustion, and I’ve missed you.” He stared at her eyes, looking for…something. Perhaps he wanted to see if she’d smile, pull away, or if she’d wince. She blanked her face, trying not to show anything.
Seemingly not completely annoyed at what he found in her eyes, he tilted his head and kissed her again. Pulling her to the front of her seat, he caught hold of her ass and stood with a little grunt. Lila wrapped her legs around his waist, but felt nothing press between her legs. He merely held on to her. Perhaps he hadn’t come for sex after all.
He stopped before her bed and put her down gently. “You’re going to sleep for the next four hours. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Lila knew she wasn’t relaxed enough to sleep. “I’ll take a nap later. I’m not tired yet. I should—”
“Four hours.”
“I’m not tired.”
He grabbed the waist of her workout pants. “Fine, I’ll make you tired.”
Lila glanced back at her desktop computer, her resolve wavering. Perhaps she did need some sleep before continuing her search. Her mind had grown fuzzier and fuzzier as the hours stretched on. Besides, her only lead was Natalie’s friend, but that lead wasn’t a great one.
And the missing girls? Bullstow and the purplecoats were trying to find them.
She reached for the hem of her militia shirt, but Tristan stilled her hand. “No, leave it on. You have no idea how hard it’s making me right now.”
Lila started to pull down her pajama pants, but she barely got a chance. A wave of heat snaked up her belly as Tristan slipped his hand under her shirt and grazed her nipples. They hardened into nubs as his tongue entered her mouth.
His mouth bobbled while he kicked off his boots.
Lila pulled away and unzipped his hoodie, the sharp hiss lost amid their labored breathing. His gray t-shirt came next, the fabric cheap and new, discarded onto the growing pile on the floor. She spread her hands over his smooth skin, her thumbs grazing his body just as he had grazed her nipple, exploring every bulge of his arm, every ridge of his abdomen.
She fumbled at the button of his trousers, the zipper another hiss in the quiet. They undressed one another piecemeal, the lights on, staring at one another with every item that came off their bodies, kissing the newly revealed flesh, their hands passing over the exposed skin in waves of heat.
It was a type of foreplay, a dance without music, and it lasted much longer than the hurried job the night before.
At last, Tristan stood in his boxer briefs before her. He tugged off her panties, falling down to his knees as he pulled them down, tracing a finger from her navel all the way down to her thigh. Before she could step out, he stared up at her eyes, slipping a curling tongue between her legs, seeking, searching.
Lila jumped as the warm wetness of his tongue brushed her clit. “Fuck.”
“That’s the general idea.” He chuckled, moving back to lavish attention on it once more.
Lila pushed him away gently. “You’re rushing ahead.”
He hopped up, keen to finish the game they’d begun playing. Lila reached for his boxer briefs, tracing the erection within, already waiting to be used.
He breathed hard as she grasped his waistband, falling to her knees as he had done before her. Once his boxers hit the floor, she licked his cock underneath from base to tip, then let her fingers play in the wetness she’d left behind. Then she put her lips around the tip and sucked him in.
Tristan moaned, his fingers flexing as he gripped her shoulders. “No,” he panted, freeing his cock and helping her from the floor. “I told you. I didn’t come for that. I’m trying to put you to sleep, not get off.”
He yanked the blankets off her bed with one quick pull, then gently laid her onto the mattress. Tilting her head, she watched him kneel at the foot of the bed.
He grabbed her foot, kissed the bottom and the top of it, then moved up her ankle, her calf, the side of her knee. He kissed and licked his way up her thigh, and she breathed in, watching him make his way to her clit.
She grabbed her headboard and squeezed so hard she thought she might break the wood.
At the last moment, Tristan turned his mouth away. “
Now who’s rushing?”
“I—”
Any response she might have made was taken away as he kissed her hipbone and her navel. His tongue shot out and he slowly, carefully licked up her breasts, pushing her t-shirt up to her neck. Latching on, he sucked each one into his mouth, nibbling until her nipple swelled and hardened in his mouth.
She grew wet between her legs, and she began to ache.
Tristan’s cock poked her in the hip, in the belly, and tickled between her thighs so often that she wrapped one leg around his hips in an effort to wiggle him in, but Tristan did not thrust inside her. He merely kissed her lips, her neck, and her breasts. His body warmed her. His chest rose and fell. The clock marched on as though mischievous sprites had taken charge.
His finger curled around her clit.
She gasped, sinking into the bed. His tongue reached farther into her mouth, arching and curling. One skillful finger slipped inside her, doing the same, moving so slowly that she gripped her headboard out of frustration, rather than to steady herself.
A booming chuckle worked itself down her navel, interrupted with a nip. He moved down her hips and the inside of her thigh, his stubble brushing her smooth skin, her blood pumping throughout her body, moaning as the voice inside her head screamed along. All at once, a welcome, warm mouth fastened on her clit, claiming it as his own.
His tongue brushed her.
Lila nearly came from the expectation alone.
Tristan pulled his head back, letting her pant herself calm, then leaned forward again. She writhed on the bed as he worked at her, the pressure building higher and higher. The bed rocked back and forth from her shivers, and she stopped worrying about what she might do or might say. She stopped worrying about his feelings or hers. No thoughts of pulling away entered her mind. All she wanted was everything that was him inside of her.
A wave rushed through her as she came.
Tristan let it pass this time, his mouth still working.
He didn’t pull away once she was done. His fingers returned, slipping in and out. Over and over and over he licked and thrust, his stubble brushing her thighs.
Her clit swelled wide, and her moans carried farther than the bed.
She couldn’t take not having him inside her.
“Enough.” She panted, pulling him up to her chest. He grinned and crawled atop her as she removed her shirt.
His grin was far too cocky.
Lila rolled him onto his back. She slid up his body as though he were a pole, tonguing each ridge, letting her hair tickle his skin from his knees to his chest, loving the way he sucked in his breath, enjoying the feel of him on her body.
She took his mouth as he had taken hers.
He thrust his hips.
She dodged.
“Sucks, doesn’t it.” Lila snickered, retreating down his body.
“Absolutely nothing about this sucks. This is all things—”
Suddenly, Lila put her lips around his cock and sucked hard.
“Fuck,” he growled, quietening his voice before she had a chance to admonish him. He gripped her headboard as she had gripped it while she ran her tongue up and down his cock, gripping the rest with her hands, tight and warm. She squeezed and licked and stroked and sucked as though it were all of him, as if she could place her tongue on his entire body from that one handle of flesh like a joystick in a game.
“Stop.”
Lila pulled her hands and mouth away. “What do—”
He didn’t even stop to explain. He tossed her under him on the bed and slid inside her, thrusting quick and hard.
Three times.
She only needed two.
They moaned together, a harmonious little tune, played quietly so as not to disturb anyone but the players.
“Fuck,” Tristan said as he flopped onto the bed beside her. “That was supposed to last longer. A lot longer.” He hid his face under his arm and grabbed himself absently, trying to inspire his cock to come back to life. “Fuck.”
“We could try again.”
Tristan peered out from under his arm, and Lila laughed. She’d never seen him look so dejected. “You’re good with your mouth. Too good.”
“You’re good with yours as well. Your fingers, too.”
Lila traced her finger from his chin and across his throat, grinning as his body jerked to meet it. She snaked down his chest, down his navel, and trailed toward his cock. A shiver ran along his skin. Her fingers drifted along his shaft languidly as though she were nearly bored.
“Hello,” he said, turning his head at his erection. “That usually lasts longer too. I think he likes you.”
“I like him too.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” She climbed atop him, spreading her legs and guiding his cock into her. “It’s my turn.”
“My turn didn’t last as long as I would have—”
“Tough.” She chuckled as he gripped the headboard.
She thrust her hips, tilting and bobbing as if in a dance. Warm, strong hands gripped her waist, and he joined in, both hearing the same tune, louder this time, and fiercer. She covered his hands with hers, enjoying the feel of him, enjoying the strong grip, the pumping.
The determination on his face, as though he wanted to last for hours this time.
She bit back a chuckle as she came, arching her back as he pumped.
Her moans were not joined. Instead he rolled her on the bed. His tongue entered her mouth, and he thrust inside her, his hands tracing her thighs as she curled her legs around his waist, squeezing as he pumped over and over again, both of them pressing their bodies together in a crush of hips and a mixing of tongues and limbs.
He got what he wanted in the end. He lasted while she came again in quiet moans.
Lifting her head, she sucked on his ear. “Come for me, Tristan,” she whispered.
It was calling him by name that did it. He moaned softly in her ear while he spent himself inside her.
Chapter 20
Lila yawned and groggily sat up, her motion greatly retarded by the pair of arms fixed around her waist. She wormed out of Tristan’s grip and slithered onto the floor, digging through a few stray pillows and extra sheets for her vibrating palm. It was likely Commander Sutton, calling with some bit of militia business that needed Lila’s touch, an heir who had been placed in a holding cell in lieu of an arrest, the lenience of another heir demanded and required.
Screw that. They’d picked the wrong night for it. She didn’t care if it was Jewel in a holding cell. She’d see them hanged for disturbing her, for disturbing this…whatever it was going on between her and Tristan.
Lila turned back around, eyeing her bedmate. Given the sleepy frown on his face, Tristan felt the same way. He ran a finger down her shoulders in silent protest and let her fumble with the knotted sheets on the floor, sore and annoyed.
When she turned on a light, both winced.
And snuck peeks at one another.
Tristan threw back the covers so she’d get a better view.
Snorting, Lila picked up the tangle of sheets and shook it, finally rewarded with a soft patter as her palm hit the floor. She snatched it up and sat on the bed to answer it while Tristan yawned and stroked his cock in that absent way men rubbed themselves in the morning. She’d never been able to understand it. Women didn’t grab their crotches straight out of the gate. Why did men reach for theirs so often?
“Hello,” she muttered sleepily into her palm, turning off video.
“Your father has requested your services, Chief Randolph. Our plane leaves shortly.”
“Plane? What plane?”
“Are you drunk, chief?” he said, sounding both inconvenienced and amused at the same time.
“No, I’m just not awake yet.” She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. “What time is it?�
��
“Four thirty.”
Lila nearly retched. She’d barely had two hours of sleep.
So much for her promised four hours.
“Where are we going?”
“Sioux Falls, La Verde. Rebecca was taken from foster care this morning, only a few hours before she was scheduled to return home. Her mother asked for you specifically, said you were the only one she trusted to find her daughter. We’ll leave as soon as you can get out to NBI. Your father has lent us his plane.”
“Okay, give me an hour,” Lila said, desperate for a shower even though it was the least of her problems. She still had to get Tristan out of the great house.
“Chief Randolph, we need to—”
“I’ll be an hour. If you can’t handle that, then leave without me. I was in the middle of something, and I’m more than content to stay where I am.”
“Chief, I don’t think you…” The implication finally snuck in a little late. “Oh, yes, well, then. One hour,” Shaw muttered, and ended the call.
Tristan grinned. “Was that the middle? Because that definitely could have been the middle. Just give me five minutes and—”
“Cute.” Lila pulled a sheet over her breasts and typed in the ID of the New Bristol oracle, turning on video this time.
She wanted to look the oracle in the eyes.
“I convinced my father to let the girl go,” Lila said when the oracle answered. “You lied to me. What the—”
“It wasn’t us, Chief Randolph,” the oracle said. She’d evidently been awake for some time, as she’d brushed her hair and held a steaming mug. “We were afraid of this happening, which is why we asked you to free Rebecca. Many of the oracles have had the same vision over the last few days. I even had it again myself a few hours ago. It ends badly, chief, and it’s very blurry. Until we met on Monday, I assumed you were the reason for it, but perhaps I should have blamed your father.”
“No, we spoke yesterday. I assure you, he was going to release her.”
“Perhaps our vision is blurry for another reason, but I don’t know why. I don’t know what else to do, chief. We know that we can trust you and that you’re the one who will help us. Have you made any progress on finding our girls?”
