by KC Falls
"That's very good. Because I am so ready to fuck you in a real bed." He pulled me back against him and pressed his already erect cock into the small of my back. He moved my hips with his hands against his body for emphasis.
We went straight to my bedroom. The curtains had been closed and the covers were turned down on one side.
"That looks inviting," I said as I slipped out of my shoes and carefully put them under the side table. Even in the throes of lust, I was not about to treat my new Louboutin heels with anything but respect.
"Let me undress the rest of you." Tristan was at my side sliding the zipper down the back of my red dress, letting it slip to the floor. He gave a low, slow wolf whistle when he saw the bustier, thong and lace top stockings I had worn under the dress. "I'm going to have to insist you put those heels back on, just for a few moments."
I did what he told me to and returned to stand in front of him. He had removed his jacket and tie and I started to unbutton his shirt. It seemed like months had passed since I last saw his gorgeous body naked, even though I knew it had only been a matter of days.
As soon as I had his shirt open enough, I tangled my fingers in the soft waves of his golden chest hair. Then I nuzzled the spot with my nose, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his flesh. The man smelled better than any human being I'd ever smelled. Of all the subtle cues that go into one person's attraction for another, I've always felt the sense of smell the most complex and the least understood. I couldn't say what Tristan smelled like, only that he smelled completely right.
He reached for the top of my bustier and folded the cups down so that my breasts were exposed; cradled with crescents of black satin under them. My nipples flushed dark and strained away from my body in the tightness of blissful anticipation. He leaned over and took one into his mouth while he twisted the other in his fingers. He murmured "my perfect, perfect girls" as he pressed them together, burying his face between them.
Every time he sucked on a nipple, I could feel a tug all the way down in my clit. It was like a wire or a string ran between one spot and the other. He rose as I slipped his shirt off of his broad shoulders and trailed my wet nipples over his silky-haired chest. Kisses across my collar bones were followed by little nibbles and licks right at the fold of my arm. I shuddered when he held my arms above my head with one hand and traced the sensitive skin from the inside of my elbow to my armpit with the soft pads of his fingers.
All I could feel was Tristan. My world narrowed swiftly to that room, that moment, that man. I think an earthquake or hurricane could have gone unnoticed when his thumbs hooked the strings at my hips and pushed my tiny thong to the floor. I could feel the slickness of hot moisture snake unimpeded down my thighs. He backed me toward the bed, his mouth hard against mine and his fingers playing at the folded wet petals of my sex.
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him free his rock hard erection from his pants as he removed the last of his clothes. He kneeled in front of me and pushed me back against the bed as he put his body between my legs. He took one of my legs and crooked my knee over his shoulder. He pulled the other knee up onto the mattress so that I was spread open wide. I felt vulnerable but utterly desirable at the same time. The red sole of the black shoe that pointed at him suddenly became a thousand times sexier. He turned his head and nibbled at the knee across his shoulder while his thumb massaged my clit with that masterful touch I could never forget. His mouth took an agonizing eternity to trail down the inside of my thigh.
"What do you want, Raina?"
"You."
"Not enough. Tell me what you want me to do."
I hesitated.
"They're just words. Tell me. Say the words."
I'd never asked for anything like that. Not the way I knew he wanted me to ask. "I want…I want you to suck on me. Take me with your mouth. Eat me." God, it felt sexy and naughty and erotic to say something like that to him. My desire shifted like a fine, smooth engine up another gear.
He smiled and inclined his head just a tiny bit. "My queen." Then he brought his mouth between my legs. First I felt the warmth of his breath and I knew he was inhaling my scent. His tongue flicked a few tantalizing strokes against my clit before he sucked my pussy lips into his mouth, one after the other. He took the width of his tongue and spread it over my folds from bottom to top before he finally turned his attention to my erection that was practically screaming to be relieved.
Pulling me into his mouth, he held my throbbing pearl between his lips while his tongue worked back and forth against it. I looped my hand around the knee resting on the bed and pulled my leg to open still wider to his touch. The pleasure took my breath away, the intimacy struck deep inside my core.
With two fingers inside me, he worked inside me while his oh-so-talented mouth moved my clit in ever faster, ever harder circles of building lust. The urgency of orgasm soon had me bucking back against his mouth. There was a part of me that was afraid to let go. He must have sensed it because he gripped my ass with his free hand and began to push me into his face, harder. All the while he was making noises into me…noises of encouragement, growls of arousal, humming sounds of appreciation.
"Oh fuck, Tristan. That's it…oh don't stop." I was there. The room narrowed like an old-fashioned movie into a small circle of focus in the middle of a frame. There was nothing but Tristan's face buried in my body just as I had imagined the day we met. Only my imagination and my rabbit were a pale, pale imitation of the real Tristan.
I pressed my head into the bed and clutched his head with one hand and a handful of sheet with the other. When the first contraction tightened me around his hand he plunged his fingers deeper into me and pulled hard on my clit literally sucking my climax into his mouth. I came from deep inside me, down to the bone baring soul of my desire. I sobbed at the utter perfection of it--the unbearable beauty of pleasure I had never known was possible.
Tristan didn't give me time to bask in any afterglow this time. He turned me over onto my stomach while I was still heaving with the breathlessness of orgasm. He put his arm under my hips and lifted me up so that my knees rested against the edge of the mattress. I was ass in the air and he was going to take me from behind.
"I wish you could see how fucking delicious your ass looks this way." Tristan slapped me, not gently, on my ass cheeks. I cried out more from the surprise than the pain. "I'm going to take your ass hard someday. Would you like that?"
Never having been taken in the ass, I didn't know. It sounded fantastically sexy and possibly extremely painful.
He slapped my ass again, this time a little harder. "I asked you whether you'd like to be fucked in the ass?"
"I want to give you my body," I answered. "Whatever way you want to have it." He slid the warm head of his cock up and down the wet folds of my pussy and stopped at my asshole. He pressed against me and I had the urge to press back at him and find out what it felt like to be penetrated there.
But then Tristan entered my pussy with a huge thrust that nearly knocked me flat. He held fast to my hips and pumped himself into me with urgent, selfish strokes. It was as if he couldn't hold himself back. I didn't want him to. I wanted him to take me with the brutal force of his most primal need. His desire fed and sustained me. With each thrust, I could feel him bump against the mouth of my womb. He could go no deeper.
He slowed for a moment and his rhythm grew gentle and sensuous. I felt a finger tracing around my sphincter, trailing down to borrow some of the wetness from my dripping sex. Then I felt him stretch that tight muscle until it yielded. Once his finger was inside my ass, his pace quickened again and my body matched his.
It felt wicked and forbidden to have him inside me in two places at once. The sensation of having my ass penetrated for the first time was a completely unexpected thrill. It was a unique intimacy. It made me happier than I could have imagined to be taken in such a way by Tristan--only by Tristan.
"Rub you clit," he ordered. His smooth silky voice had a husky
edge I'd never heard before. "I want you to come with me. Oh god…soon."
His words, the sounds of his flesh smacking against mine and the slurp of wet pussy against rock-hard cock made the music of desire fill the room. I pushed myself to orgasm with fast, hard strokes that blended with his urgent thumping into my body.
I heard the noises of his crescendo and felt myself reach the peak. He twitched inside me, pouring his spunk into me with great grunting explosions as my muscles massaged him from within. I could feel my ass contracting around his finger and I knew he could feel it too. I matched each spasm with a cry of pure, unbound pleasure until, spent, he collapsed against my back and I flattened against the rumpled bed.
His weight felt glorious against me. I had the whole man on me and in me. I was complete and completely his. Tristan kept murmuring my name over and over as he gulped deep breaths of contented release against my hair.
When he finally rolled away from me, I mewed a small protest. I hated for it to end.
He patted my ass gently. "You are amazing. The most responsive, giving lover anyone could ask for. God, Raina. Perfect."
I propped myself up on my elbows and leaned over his face to kiss him. "And you, my unbearably sexy Tristan, bring out the best in me."
Eleven
Tristan slipped away after I had fallen asleep in his arms, as I thought he would. Even though my mother clearly knew we were more than friends and certainly didn't imagine I was some blushing virgin, it was still bad form for us to greet her in hotel bathrobes over coffee in the morning. I felt him kiss my cheek and heard him dressing, but it seemed appropriate to pretend I didn't and let him make a graceful exit.
Mom and I were getting into the hotel thing. We ordered a room service breakfast. I had eggs Benedict with smoked salmon and Mom had hers with a crab cake. It seemed a shame to go to the dining room when we had our own private one right there in the suite.
Tristan arrived around ten and sent Mom in the car with Kwan to visit my father. We'd talked to him first thing in the morning and he was itching to get discharged as soon as possible.
As soon as she was gone, Tristan sat me down and told me what he had discovered about the attackers.
"They aren't local construction union guys. They're attached to a very secretive chapter that has ties to the mafia. They've been causing trouble everywhere they find a guy like your dad who's willing to question a forty dollar rivet or a ten dollar roofing nail."
"I wish Daddy would just stay out of it. He's got about ten years left to work…why can't he let someone else fight these battles?"
"What's done is done. Your father has earned himself a reputation as a white knight and he's got enemies both in the union ranks and in City Hall. Someone has chosen to make an example of him. Next time it might be far worse than a couple of broken ribs."
"So what do we do now?"
"I'd like to suggest that your parents get out of town. Your father's injuries are serious enough to prevent him from working for several weeks--more with the right doctor's signature."
"He'll be fighting to get back to work as soon as he can. I know my father."
"Maybe so, but when I finish telling him the whole story, I think he'll come around." Tristan paced in front of the window and a terrific view of Central Park. "He's not going to want to put Marjorie in danger and I'm pretty sure I can convince him that these hoodlums aren't above targeting your mother--or you for that matter."
"Me?"
"Not to worry little one. I'm going to keep you close to me. We'll be safe enough back in the Berkshire Hills."
By the end of the day, Tristan had not only convinced my father of the seriousness of his situation, but persuaded my parents to spend some time at his 'cabin' in Maine near Bar Harbor. He assured them they would be comfortable, safe and well out of harm's way there. Kwan was to accompany them and get them settled in. Before the sun set, Mom and Dad were on their way north and Tristan and I were getting on a helicopter that was Berkshire bound.
I wanted to stay another night in New York, enjoying a perspective on the city I grew up in that I had never seen before. But Tristan felt responsible to the play. He told me we had both made a commitment to it and that there'd be plenty of time for fun in the city later. Of course that pleased me immensely. I wanted--I craved--any indication from him that he and I were an 'us' and had a future, however vague and full of unanswered questions that future might be.
I knew things were moving fast, at least in a physical sense, but I still didn't know Tristan nearly as well as I wanted to in so many other ways. His talent amazed me, his power seduced me and his take-charge manner made me feel safe and secure. But there were his flashes of temper, the limitations he imposed on what we could discuss and the mystery of his past--both recent and distant--that frustrated me. I wondered if I was kidding myself. I questioned whether all the solicitude, the lavish way he spent money on me and on my parents and the mind-blowing sex was carefully engineered to provide an illusion of closeness where there was none.
Pushing him was going to get me nowhere, of that much I was certain. But at some point, there had to be a quiet moment unhindered by crisis or seduction when I'd be able to really know him better. He couldn't keep himself locked up forever. Could he?
***
Tom was grateful for the effort we made to get back into the rehearsals given what I'd told him about my father's injuries and the scare we'd had. Rehearsal that night was spotty, and it was pretty obvious that both Tristan and I were exhausted. By the time we wrapped up, I was ready for only one thing--a hot bath and bed. I was feeling achy all over, like I was coming down with something.
Tristan drove me home to the duplex where we said goodnight. "You look pale," he told me as he gently kissed me goodnight. "Get a good night's rest. We'll talk tomorrow."
The steamy bath nearly put me to sleep right in the tub. It was all I could do to dry my hair and stumble into bed. When I woke at three in the morning, I was drenched in sweat and obviously had a fever. My throat felt like it was on fire and every joint in my body was throbbing. I had the flu and a rotten case of it at that.
When Tristan called me the next morning, I absolutely forbade him to get within twenty feet of me. He insisted that I should have someone to look after me. It was my turn to put my foot down.
"I've had the flu before. Twice in college as a matter of fact. Just leave me alone and I promise I'll drink lots of fluids and be back on my feet in no time." I coughed and it sounded like I brought up half a lung. "You don't want this. Trust me."
Unbelievably, he accepted my wisdom and promised to check on me later in the day--by phone. "I'm talking to the PI around noon. I'll let you know what he says."
Before I put the phone back on my nightstand I called Mom in Maine. All I wanted to do was fall back into bed, but I knew I needed to talk to her first.
"I'm so sorry you're sick, honey," she said. "You probably caught something in the hospital. God knows a hospital is a great place to pick up germs."
"It's just the flu, Mom."
"Well if it feels like anything unusual, promise you'll get yourself to a doctor. You never know."
"I promise. How's the cabin?"
Mom laughed hard and called out to my father. "She wants to know how we like the 'cabin'." I could hear my father's belly laugh in the background. "The 'cabin' is an ocean side mansion that looks like it came out of some movie about historic Maine. I counted eight bedrooms last night, but I could have missed a couple. It's all done in cedar shake siding, slate roof, lots of stone. I guess it's what Architectural Digest would call 'rustic elegance'. There seems to be a fireplace in every room."
"His place here is way over the top."
"Well this house isn't. It's perfect--comfortable, homey, and down-to earth in an expensive sort of way. I'd kill for a kitchen like this. It's a cook's paradise."
"Sounds a lot more like Tristan than the French Chateau he's got here. I'd like to see it." I coughed again, so
hard it made my head spin. "But not now, Mom. I gotta go back to sleep."
"Take care of yourself, sweetie. We're fine."
"K, Mom. Love you."
"Love you too."
By three in the afternoon I had been dragged from my bed four times. The drugstore delivered a vaporizer--something I hadn't seen since I was a kid--and a veritable medicine chest full of over-the-counter remedies. The deli delivered chicken soup and cookies. The florist delivered a huge bouquet of star-gazer lilies. Finally, a very large teddy bear arrived with helium balloons and a box of candy.
Tristan called at three-thirty.
"Thank you for all the thoughtful things."
"I wish I could do more."
"You've done so much already. And not just for me. Mom and Dad love the cabin."
"Great. They need to stay there. Artie, the PI called."
"And?"
"These are some freakin' dangerous characters. The word is that they want to 'make an example' of your father. It's going to take some time to figure out how to stop them."
"Maybe you should talk to the police."
"Not yet, not 'til we find out exactly who's involved and at what level."
"Tristan, I don't want you to get yourself in any kind of trouble."
"Trust me, that's not going to happen. Nobody knows I'm even involved. Artie's the one doing all the digging. I don't want anything or anybody connecting the dots."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that when you get back to the theater I think we need to keep a low profile. These people are professional criminals. If they put a tail on you…"
"Why in heaven's name would they do that?"
"Your father has just disappeared into the dark. Who better to get him back into the light than his daughter?"
"Oh come on…do you really think?"
"I really think. And if they connect you and I it won't be too hard to find out where your parents are hiding. My house in Maine isn't exactly a state secret."
