by KC Falls
I typed in "Tristan King Elsa Maynard". Sure enough, I came up with an engagement announcement. The engagement had been five years before and there was a picture of the happy couple. Tristan was as handsome as ever. It was apparent the ensuing five years hadn't aged him much. Elsa was a female version of Roger. Just as I thought, the features suited a female face. She was pretty, but in a very natural, girl-next-door way.
I stared at the photo of the woman Tristan had loved enough to want to marry her. Her eyes were fixed on him and brimming with love. I wanted to cry. Not because he had lost the love of his life…no. Because he had had a love of his life.
I filled in as many of the blanks as I could over the next hour or so. I found the obituary. It said nothing at all about the circumstances of her death. I tried every phrase I could think of-- "Elsa Maynard death", "Elsa Maynard killed", "Elsa Maynard accident", and so on until I had exhausted my options.
There wasn't much more on Elsa. She was the daughter of a couple who apparently hadn't done anything more newsworthy than serve on a few high school planning committees. There was nothing about her family background; no social pedigree that I could find.
The engagement announcement mentioned that Elsa had graduated from a small state university. Beyond that, her major claim to fame was to get engaged to Tristan King. When I searched that name I came up with plenty.
I read enough to know that he was probably the most successful and secretive private investment guru on Wall Street. In a profession that values discretion, he seemed to be a master of it. In fact, most of what I read about him was pure speculation. Unschooled though I am about the world of finance, I knew enough to know when I'm reading filler bullshit in an article. A lot of his press centered on the fact that he had garnered vast power and wealth at such a young age. Apparently, that's all the reporters could come up with.
I did an image search next. Jenn and Tom hadn't been off the mark in their assessment. Tristan seemed to have a penchant for model/actress types. There were several pages of images of him arriving at this or that gallery opening, art show, theater, opera and on and on. Every woman seemed more beautiful than the last. He certainly got around.
I went back to the engagement announcement. The contrast was striking. Elsa looked like Jenn, or any number of pretty all-American girls I had known in college. The women Tristan appeared with in New York were far more like Victoria's Secret models or Hollywood types.
There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask Tristan. But just how does someone start a conversation with "I researched your background on the internet for hours after I learned your fiancé had been killed. Let's talk about it."?
***
Jenn and I had a great picnic. I caught her up on the 'situation' with Tristan. She seemed impressed that I would even have the courage to get as far as I had with him. She knew me pretty well, maybe better than anyone. She knew how out of my element I was.
I filled her in on the things I had learned about him--both the gossip from Tom and the internet research.
"You've got yourself a complicated man on your hands."
I chuckled. "I wouldn't go so far as to say 'on my hands', Jenn. But I do agree that he's complicated."
"You better keep me posted. This ships-passing-in-the-night thing of ours is keeping me too much in the dark."
"It's only going to get worse, too. Tom called and said that Brian is having an early cast party to celebrate the christening of the set tomorrow night."
"I know how that goes. Get ready for some heavy partying and late nights."
"So I've been told. I sure would like to get Tristan alone. But I don't see much chance of that happening tomorrow."
"Raina," Jenn took my hand and squeezed it. "Be careful, will ya? This guy is a lot of things. And now I'm wondering if he's not just a rich playboy, but maybe a dangerous man, too."
"No one has said anything like that! I didn't uncover even a hint of scandal."
"But you didn't find answers, either. Just keep your distance until you know him better."
"Umm…it's a little too late for that."
"You know what I mean. You don't have to take the sex any further and you can certainly reign in the emotions until you know more."
"You're right, Jenn," I agreed. But was she? I felt like a virgin teenager who goes to third base and can't get her mind off of what a home run would feel like. The thought of really fucking Tristan was pretty much running in a continuous playback in my mind.
And the emotional part? There was so much more to him than I originally imagined. I wanted to know more. I had to know more.
Six
Rehearsal couldn't have been better. Somehow having the set nearly complete made the actors really kick their performances up. It was the first run through for Act 2. The men all had their lines pretty much down pat and Tom blocked it quickly with me furiously taking notes of every move the five players would make.
I didn't have any opportunity to talk to Tristan at all. Once in a while we'd make eye contact--enough to raise my pulse a notch or two--and then it was back to work. It was quite amazing to see the ensemble evolve. Every time they took the stage the roles crystallized a little more.
Brian wasn't wasting any time giving his party a kick start. Single malt scotch played very prominently in the script. It was the drink of choice for all the characters and copious amounts were consumed during the action of the play. Brian had decided to liven up rehearsal by replacing the iced tea I always stocked in the decanter with the real deal.
The guys had given me lots of grief about my lousy iced tea. I had been setting up the 'bar' on a couple of saw horses. The 'glasses' were Styrofoam cups and the decanter was a plastic pitcher. With the real bar from Suze's grandmother in place, we had graduated to a nice cut glass decanter and tumblers, also courtesy of Brian who seemed to know his way around a whiskey bottle.
By the time rehearsal broke up, the actors had loosened up and were having a great time with the script. I was glad that the weekend had dispelled the moodiness caused by Roger's visit to Friday's rehearsal. Now that I knew the cause of all the darkness, I wasn't anxious to see it return.
Brian had an old house right in town, only a couple of blocks from the theater. I left my car in the theater parking lot as did Cole, Tom and Tristan. There wasn't much parking at Brian's and to my disappointment, 'the girls' including Suze and Nicky plus a few other crew members were already at his house getting the food ready.
I have to admit the spread was divine. There was a beautiful ham and little finger rolls from the bakery in town, several different salads, cheeses, little pastries with all sorts of savory fillings and an entire table of luscious looking desserts. It was way more than it seemed a group maybe fifteen people could consume.
Tom and I kind of hung around in the kitchen, nibbling at this and that, listening to the gang carrying on in the living room. I very much wanted to maneuver myself near Tristan, but he seemed content to hang out with the group in the living room. I didn't feel like I quite fit in. I think Tom felt the same.
Suze was quite accomplished on the piano. She was plunking out show tunes while a few of the others belted out the words. Tristan had taken a turn and had everyone in stitches with his excellent rendition of "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof. He threw in a convincing accent and even managed a little dance to go along with it.
I was beginning to feel a little sad and neglected when I noticed over Tom's shoulder that Tristan had started up the narrow spiral stairs at the back of the kitchen. Tristan put a finger to his lips and then crooked it around indicating I should follow him. I waited a few minutes until Tom went out into the living room to get another plate. I quickly ascended the stairs and disappeared before anyone returned to the kitchen.
Brian had converted the attic above his house to a loft. There wasn't much head room in parts and there were lots of huge cushions strewn around. In one corner there was a Jacuzzi tub and in another I saw a huge
television screen.
"Welcome to Brian's loft o' porn," Tristan greeted me. He was leaning back against a pile of pillows and patted the carpet beside him, inviting me to sit down. "In this room, there is a library of smut so vast that it would take more than a lifetime to view it all."
"Oh? Really?" What could I say to that?
"He's a collector. Little men often have issues, you know."
"What about big men? Do big men have issues?"
"None worth discussing tonight."
Tristan pulled my face toward his and claimed my mouth with a crushing kiss. There was an element of something dark in the way he took me into his arms. He held me hard against him and breathed into my hair. "It's time now, Raina. I want to fuck you now...here."
"Tristan, I think there are things we need to talk about first."
He pulled me on top of him and roughly positioned me so that I couldn't help but feel his erection against my groin. My traitorous body reacted immediately.
"Raina, there's only one kind of communication I'm interested in tonight. If that's not why you came up here, maybe we should go downstairs for some milk and cookies with the rest of the children." There was an edge to his words. It was the same edge I had heard from the stage when I corrected him. It was the hiss that I had heard when he held my face in his at practice that first night when I went back to his house.
If I backed away I'd probably never know what it was like to have Tristan King's cock inside me. He made it clear that it was going to be his way or not at all. I wasn't going to get any answers 'before'. The only kind of knowledge I had to look forward to at that moment was the carnal kind.
His eyes had narrowed slightly and his nostrils flared. He wasn't going to try to convince me. He had made it a challenge. It was my choice, but the stakes were high. I leaned down toward his face as if I was going to kiss him. Instead I put my mouth very close to his ear and ground my pelvis into his.
"No cookies…just milk," I whispered.
He rolled me over onto my back against the pillows. He got up and closed the loft door, sliding the bolt in place to lock it. He kneeled in front of me and pulled my light cotton sweater over my head. My bra followed. He leaned over and tugged at each of my nipples with his lips and then raked his teeth across the erections that sprang up at his touch.
My skirt slipped off easily and he hooked his thumbs into the elastic strings at the side of my thong and brought them off at the same time. He took my knees in his hands and spread my legs apart so that I lay in front of him utterly naked and exposed.
All the while he punctuated his touches and his movements with "beautiful", "perfect", "succulent", "gorgeous".
"Touch yourself."
I had never masturbated in front of a man. It seemed a terribly intimate thing to do.
"Touch yourself while I undress. Watch me get naked and get ready for me."
I put a tentative hand between my legs. I watched his face as he watched my hand. He began to slowly unbutton his shirt.
"Don't be shy. I know you know what to do with your own body."
He was right of course. I knew what to do with my body, but it was strange--strange and utterly arousing--to begin circling my clit with practiced fingers for someone else's eyes. I rubbed with the flat pads of my fingers, dipping down to gather some of my moisture to bring up to my clit. He saw me. He brought that hand to his mouth and sucked the fingers, wetting them even more. He put my hand back against my pussy.
"More, I want to see more." He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. I rubbed in a tighter, harder rhythm as I watched his muscles move under his bronzed skin. There was just the right amount of hair on his chest--a furry patch in the middle that just barely reached his nipples--and a little golden trail down to his navel and below. He pushed his shorts and boxers off and I gave a little groan when I saw his erection spring out from his body. It excited me beyond measure to know that it was his desire for me that swelled his cock. This man…this complex, shadowed, beautiful, talented man wanted me.
I spread my legs further apart wanting to welcome him. He leaned over me and began to kiss and softly bite my inner thighs. Every so often he would suck hard enough on the soft flesh so that it would sting and make me cry out. But the small pains made my fingers work harder and my clit reach out for more and more sensation.
He sat back on his haunches and pulled me onto his lap. My ass was on his powerful thighs and my legs at each side of his torso. My hand lost its rhythm. "Don't stop working yourself," he ordered. "I want to watch you make yourself come. Right here in front of me."
I didn't know if I could. It seemed almost clinical to have his face just above my furiously working fingers. I closed my eyes hoping I could let go easier that way. If he wanted me to climax, then I wanted it too. I just wasn't sure I would be able to do it.
"No. Don't. Open your eyes and look at me. I want to see your eyes. I want you to see mine." I locked onto his hazel depths and I could feel his will. I could feel the force of his desire almost as strongly as I felt my own.
I was more than naked. Raw, bare and utterly stripped, I pushed myself to release all shame and free myself to the pleasure he so insistently wanted me to find in myself. When I felt the first clenched pulse of orgasm on my clit, I gave into it. I saw his eyes widen as I breathed the sharp sighs of abandonment, my climax rushing over me and taking control. The contractions gripped my body and my free hand flew to my mouth to stifle my cries. He pulled it away.
"Oh god, oh fuck…"
"That's good, Raina. Tell me…no one can hear you up here. Tell me what you feel."
I let my incoherent grunts and moans speak as I coaxed the final spasms from my quaking flesh. When they subsided, I turned my face away from him, suddenly ashamed again at exposure so intimate.
He pulled me up to his face and kissed away the doubt. "That was insanely exquisite." He pushed his hips up slightly so that I could feel his hardness, now right under me. "Feel how you excite me?"
Still catching my breath, I could only nod. My chin quivered and a tear slipped from my eye. It was not a tear of sadness but of ecstasy realized. He kissed the drop that rolled down my cheek and lowered me gently to my back.
Placing his legs outside of mine, he slid his cock between my slick thighs just to the point of entry. The hot touch of his head teased the folds of my pussy and I instinctively tried to open up to him. But he kept me pinned in a powerful vice.
When he slid into me, my body arched up to receive him. He filled me in a way so complete that I knew in that moment that no man had ever really touched me before. In Tristan's embrace, I was newly made. He drew both of my arms above my head and held my wrists in one hand. He covered me and kept me from moving as he thrust deliberately into my body, each push snaking across my needy clit, each withdrawal petting the secret place inside me with his swollen cockhead.
I was a vessel. Nothing was asked of me except to take what he offered. The only response he required was my pleasure. The only movement he allowed was the rocking of my mound against him as he fucked me.
I squeezed my thighs harder around him with each outward stroke. He answered with a growled, "So damn good." He moved faster in and out of me and his breath became ragged and quick. When I realized that he was going to come soon, it flamed my arousal and made me burn to join him.
He released my hands and I immediately clutched the cheeks of his ass as he pumped into my pussy. He moved one of his thighs between my legs and then the other. I knew what to do. I spread my legs and grasped my knees drawing them up as far as I could at his sides. Opening my legs at last was all it took to take me to the point of no return. My clit was as rock hard as his shaft.
Tristan thrust once, twice and then held his cock inside me, as deep as it would go. His body jerked with a violent release. Knowing that his come was filling my depths pushed me over. My fingernails dug into the hard flesh of his ass. As my orgasm claimed me, I felt contractions deep in my womb as my bo
dy reached out to drink his essence.
The power of our mating overwhelmed me. As he rested his body against me, spent and panting, I found myself wishing that I could keep him inside me forever.
He rolled off of me and gave a great satisfied sigh as he relaxed against the cushions.
"Aren't you glad we didn't waste all that time talking?"
"It was perfect," I agreed. But even as I said it I wondered when or if the time was ever going to be right to ask about Elsa. All at once, her face filled room--innocent and pure--looking at her husband-to-be with eyes full of devotion. I wanted to tell him that I knew about her, about his loss. I wanted to somehow assure myself that, although he had loved her, he could love again.
"Tristan?"
"Yes, lovely Raina?" I loved the sound of that. I loved the smile that went with the words.
"I know it isn't the right time…" I blundered.
"If you know it isn't the right time, then why try to make it so?" His mood turned instantly cold. "You and I…can we just let it be? No analysis. No expectations." He began to casually put his clothes back on but I could see the conflict on his face.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spoil the moment."
He put his hands on my face and kissed me gently. "You didn't. Maybe I shouldn't have pursued you knowing…what I know about myself."
"What do you know?"
He took a deep breath. "I know I wanted you as much as I have ever wanted a woman."
I wanted him to stop right there. Don't say anything else, please. Let me live on that.
"I also know my limits. Respect them and we can enjoy one another…we can enjoy this for what it is."
"I can't respect your limits if I don't know what they are." I sounded whiny.
"I've told you. No expectations. No analysis. Don't make it hard when it should be so easy."
"Maybe I'm the one who should have thought about my limits."
"Perhaps you should have. But, considering what just happened here--and it was extraordinary--aren't you willing to take what I have to offer?"
