Holly Madison (Sins of the Father, 2)

by Khan, Jen

  This is the most amazing kiss I have ever had. It is wild, carnal, passionate, intense, earth shattering, insanely deep, and astonishingly explosive.

  Yes! All of that in one kiss.

  By the time Tristan breaks his mouth from mine, his hand is cupping my ass while the other is planted to the wall next to me to steady himself. I can feel the evidence of his arousal against my core. We are breathing heavily, our chests heaving with excitement.

  “Do you want red or white wine tonight with dinner? I made you lasagna.”

  He made me lasagna?

  “I’ll go with red.”

  Tristan takes my hand in his and we leisurely make our way to the kitchen, where he has set up our meal on the breakfast bar that divides the living space. I climb onto a stool. He grabs the bottle and pops the cork. Next, he nabs two long-stem wine glasses from his cupboard filling them up and setting them on the bar by me. Then he returns, the cork to the bottle, rounds the bar, and slides into the stool next to me.

  We eat and talk. The conversation is fun and flirty. We go through two bottles of red before we start making out on the couch like two teenagers. Tonight, we’re having a hard time keeping our hands off each other, and before my brain catches on to what is happening, I am lifted into Tristan’s arms so he can carry me down the hall to the door that leads out to the gym.

  “Umm…Tristan?”

  “Time for a workout, cupcake.”

  The stereo comes on, blasting Five Finger Death Punch, one of my favorite bands. Yes, a girl who wears pencil skirts and high heels loves metal. Don’t judge me.

  Tristan has a predatory swagger as he approaches. When he reaches me, he skims my arms with his fingers. I want to moan, but I refrain. It’s insane how my body reacts to him.

  “Maybe you should step out of these heels,” Tristan suggests, his lips turning up in a smartass smirk. “I also think that you’re wearing too many clothes. Let me rectify this situation.” He slowly lifts the hem of my dress up and over my head.

  I raise my arms to give him a hand. He leans down and places a tender kiss to the exposed skin of my shoulder, causing my eyes to slowly flutter and roll. I set my sights on his eyes, watching him closely. He is cooking up a scheme and I am suddenly very turned on.

  “I think we should make this class a tad more challenging.”

  At that, I swallow hard. “How do you propose we do that?” I question.

  “Well, cupcake. Distraction can be very dangerous. You want to be alert and aware of your surroundings at all times. But what happens if you allow yourself to get distracted?”

  I know where this is going. I like where this is going.

  “You see, I have to feel comfortable knowing that, while you’re out there in the big, bad world all by yourself, you’ll be smart and vigilant.”

  “Ummm…Tristan? I don’t think that there will ever be a time that I’m going to be walking the streets in a bra and panties.”

  He flashes his devastatingly gorgeous yet devious smile. “Maybe not, but I prefer you like this while in my company.”

  Oh boy.

  “Do you remember what I told you was the best self-defense?” he whispers in my ear.

  “To run?” I answer.

  “To never put yourself in a vulnerable situation,” he corrects, running his tongue up the right side of my neck.

  I feel my breath hitch, and it takes everything in me to will myself to breathe again. “I think it’s a little too late for that.” I exhale, and Tristan chuckles.

  “Touché, cupcake. Now that you find yourself in this little predicament, it is up to you to follow these simple rules in order to survive. One, do not allow for distraction. Stay alert.” He drops to his knees before me, running his talented hands up my thighs.

  “Oh, shit,” I moan, and it echoes throughout the gym.

  He tugs my panties down to my ankles and urges me to step out of them. “Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’re going to answer them. Don’t allow my actions to cloud your thoughts. Understood?”

  I nod in agreement, but I have no idea what that even means.

  His hands travel up my legs, reaching my thighs, where he nudges them apart. His finger finds my wet heat and massages my clit in agonizingly, slow circles. My head falls back while my eyes close.

  “Pay attention, Holly. This could one day be a matter of life or death.”

  Pay attention? Pay attention? Is he fucking delusional? How the hell does he expect me to— No! No! Don’t stop. Why is he stopping?

  “Holly, you’re not listening to me. I asked what the best self-defense move is,” he says before he returns to his assault on my clit.

  I didn’t even hear him ask me the first time. I am going to fail this little challenge miserably.

  “I… Oh! I…” I can’t form a coherent sentence. Hell, I can’t even form a proper thought at this point. I’m so screwed.

  My eyes close while another moan slides from my lips. I can feel Tristan lift my left leg, steadying me and placing it over his shoulder. He uses his fingers to spread me, exposing me to him, and a wet, warm tongue continues the previous attack on my swollen clit. My breath are growing choppier and I desperately try to focus on the question. My hips begin to rock in an attempt to increase the friction so that I can find the relief my body so greatly desires.

  Tristan pulls back, causing my eyes to shoot open.

  “Why are you stopping?” I cry.

  He shrugs. “You’re not answering my question,” he replies.

  Fuck! He’s serious about this little game of his. “Run, Tristan. The answer is to fucking run!”

  “Good girl.”

  My hand fists in his hair, holding his face closer to the one place that needs his attention the most. His tongue gets back to work.

  Oh. Shit.

  I look down at this beautiful man on his knees as he sucks my clit into his hungry mouth. I clutch him firmly in place and then let go. I rock my hips, and so help me God, I shamelessly fuck his face. The orgasm builds higher and higher. I’m on the edge, ready to leap.

  “I’m going to come,” I groan. It’s so close. My release just within reach. My knees start to shake, but Tristan is supporting me enough to where I don’t run the risk of falling. The sight of him on his knees and the feel of his tongue licking the length of me and swirling my clit is too much. “Please.”

  I can’t contain the sensations running—no, powering—through me. I come with such force that Tristan has to take the bulk of my weight. He continues licking and sucking, helping me ride it out.

  While I’m coming down from my post orgasm high, he stands. “Question number two.” He winks.

  Question number two? Holy shit. The hunger I see reflecting in his eyes tells me that this little quiz was far from over.

  “Well, it’s more like a demonstration than a question.”

  I feel my eyes do a slow blink. “Wha…what kind of demonstration?” I question.

  His lips turn up in a sexy-as-all-hell grin when he orders, “In the fucking ring, cupcake.”

  I move to the ring in the middle of the gym, where I have seen countless members grappling. When we reach it, Tristan slips his hands around my waist, hoists me up, and sets me on the outer edge. Our gazes meet, his hooded with desire. It is the most amazing feeling to know that I did that to him.

  I scoot my ass back and under the ropes. Tristan follows, grips my waist again, and whispers into my ear, “Now, when someone attacks you from behind, what are you going to do to ward them off?”

  I am about to respond when his hand glides up to my breast, pinching my nipple and causing me to groan. He snakes his tongue out and kisses the area on my neck that is like a direct line to my pussy. I feel it clench and almost can’t stand it any longer. “

  I love how turned on you are right now, but what I need is for you to answer the question.”

  I don’t know what comes over me. Adrenaline, insanity, or the smartass in me decides to
make her appearance. “Do you really want me to kick you in the dick? I mean, I will if that is all part of this little training session, but I prefer not to, seeing that I want to use that dick at some point this evening. Shall I demonstrate?” I respond with a shrug.

  Before I know it, I am lifted into Tristan’s massive arms and I’m on my back. As soon as I land on my back, I am flipped over until I am facedown on my knees.

  “Just for that, cupcake,” he says, moving to stand in front of me with a big grin, “I want to feel your mouth on my cock.”

  His fingers sift into my hair, gripping it to hold me firmly in place while releasing his cock with the other. He guides it between my lips. I am still so turned on that I am eager to make him come. Using my tongue, I lick and swirl around the head before taking it fully in my mouth. I am feasting on him as Tristan thrusts his hips, causing him to go deeper. I peer up to see his eyes shut and his head fall back as he moans.

  Fucking hot.

  The taste of him is electrifying. The feel of his fingers lacing through my hair and urging my movement is even more exhilarating. I squirm, trying to find any way to relieve the pressure between my legs. The noises he makes spur me on to take in his impressive cock. I feel him turn to solid stone in my mouth, and Tristan growls. I continue to lick and stroke and glide my tongue all over him. I am going for the growls and moans he rewards me with every time he enjoys something I do to him.

  I am performing an all-out assault on this man’s dick. I slip my hand between my legs to relieve the building ache between them and moan against his cock. Then it’s gone.

  Slowly sitting back on my haunches, I give him a questioning look.

  “It’s time for me to fuck you now.”

  That simple little statement almost takes me straight over the edge. I can see the obituary now: “Death by violent orgasm.”

  I am ready for him. Hell, I am willing to beg at this point. I can feel the rush of my blood through my veins, the heat running over my skin, and the wet pooling between my legs. I am soaked. I don’t think I have ever been this primed.

  Ever.

  “Do you want me to fuck you, cupcake?”

  My eyes flew to his. Is he crazy? If he doesn’t fuck me right now, I will probably become the attacker in all of those scenarios he presented. I will throw him down and hump him to death.

  “Yes, I want you to fuck me, Tristan,” I whimper as he moves behind me.

  His hands roam until they find my breasts, where he squeezes, holding my back firmly against his chest. He guides me back to all fours and teases with his cock at my entrance, rubbing himself along the length of me. I thrust my hips back, trying to get more of him. Anything.

  I hear the rumble through his chest as his body tenses, his hands gripping me harder. “Holy shit, woman. I am always amazed at how responsive your body is to me.” In one thrust of his hips, he is seated fully inside me.

  I moan when I feel him stroke my clit.

  He is fondling and thrusting all while licking the back of my neck. It’s magnificent. I can feel my orgasm building, so I try to chase it by meeting his thrusts with more force.

  “You are so fucking tight this way. Fuck,” he whispers.

  I need more. I reach down between my legs to take over when he stops.

  “Don’t you fucking dare. If anyone is going to get you off, it’s going to be me.”

  Tristan’s hands clutch my hips as he pounds harder and harder into me. He is losing his control. He is fucking me like I have never been fucked in my life—and it is remarkable. He reaches over, fists his hand in my hair, and pulls my head back, forcing me to arch my neck and back. He continues his glorious invasion of my body, the friction sending me into orbit. My orgasm rips through me and I scream his name repeatedly.

  “That’s right, babe,” he growls followed by an increase in his pace.

  “Please,” I beg, still coming.

  His movements become erratic as he releases my hair, bringing his hands back to my hips, and there is a deep bellow as he comes. His thrusting slows as he glides in and out, his hands lightly trailing across the skin of my ass and then up my back. I take some of his weight on me as I lower myself to the floor. Tristan pulls out and lies down, wrapping his arms around me, positioning us both so I am half on him with my head on his chest. I nestle into his side and throw my arm across his stomach while propping a leg around his hips. He kisses my forehead and lets out a sigh that sounds as though it were held for hours.

  Tristan pulls me closer and rests his chin on the top of my head while stroking my back with his fingertips. “Kiss me,” he orders.

  I lean in, tipping my head back, and he drops his head and kisses me. Our lips and tongues move together for a while, deep and sweet. He lifts his lips from mine and touches them to the tip of my nose and my forehead before he shifts down. Then he places them against my neck, where he buries his face and gives me a good squeeze with his arms.

  “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up, cupcake.”

  I nod against his chest and pull myself to a sitting position. He stands, taking my hand and bringing me up with him, and we head to the steps of his apartment while retrieving the clothing we discarded in the throes of passion.

  In this moment, I realize just how much this man can hurt me. I’m in deep this time, and that scares the shit out of me. I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen. It’s going to end so very badly, knowing what I know now. How can I do this?

  I love him. Oh my god! I freaking love him! This isn’t like me. I don’t let my guard down. I don’t open myself up to catch feelings for anyone so intimately. I know better, and damn if I did it anyhow.

  I fucking fell in love with Tristan Holt.

  I am power-walking from my office, the sound of my heels clicking on the marble tiles echoing through the halls. For the past few days, I have felt extremely nauseated. My mouth waters and I feel the bile marching up my throat. I pick up the pace and end in a full-on sprint, making it to the bathroom in just enough time.

  After my stomach empties itself into the toilet, I rinse my mouth and splash water on my face. I stare at myself in the mirror, taking in my skin, which is pale and a bit clammy. My eyes appear dull too. Earlier in the day, it dawned on me that I haven’t had my period yet this month, which puts me at three weeks late. Three weeks! How the hell did I miss that?

  There’s a loud knock at the door, causing me to jump. “Open up, sugar. I have it.”

  Curtis.

  I shift my gaze from my reflection, open the door, and let him in. On his lunch break, he ran out to buy me a pregnancy test.

  Another kick to the gut today? It’s the twentieth anniversary of when my father killed Tristan’s mother.

  A kick to the face? The local newspaper just ran a story about that fateful night.

  A kick to the head? I haven’t read it yet, but the countless messages I have received from Emma told me that I was mentioned in that story as one of the survivors and the daughter to the man charged in Alexis Holt’s death.

  Shit!

  Curtis opens the box, removing the contents and placing them on the counter. “According to the directions, you pee on this stick, wait two minutes, and voila. We’ll know if we’re going to be the proud parents of a little bundle of joy.”

  “Shit,” I whisper.

  I take the stick and observe it for a second while examining my life choices in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong.

  Well, here goes nothing. “All right. I’ll be out in a moment.”

  Curtis eyes me carefully. “It’s going to be okay, babe. No matter what the results, I’m here for you.”

  On a whimper, I ask, “Do you think that everyone knows by now, or do you think I may still have some time to get to Tristan before anyone else does?”

  He throws an arm around me, bringing me to his chest and kissing the top of my head. I don’t know, honey. One thing at a time.”

  I nod my head against him and take a deep
, shaky breath. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

  I arrive at the gym in hopes of getting to Tristan first. He is about to find out the one thing I have tried to keep silent about for years. I knew that it would come out eventually. Little did I know that it would come out and destroy the one man I have ever loved.

  My God! How could this be happening? The Tryon Daily Bulletin made it a front-page story. They reported that Joshua Hart had been charged in the hit-and-run that killed Alexis Holt all those years ago. No one knew the connection because of the last name until they mentioned that one small detail: “Holt is the ex-husband of Elizabeth Madison, mother of survivor Holly Madison.”

  I am living in a nightmare that is about to rip Tristan to shreds. The tears in my eyes are blurring my sight. I can barely see the building as I sprint from the car to the gym. I reach for the door, aggressively yanking it open and running at full speed past the men grappling on mats and pounding on punching bags. I make it to the office and stop dead in my tracks.

  The expression on his face says that I didn’t get to him first. I feel my face go pale and my breath hitch in my throat when his cold, lifeless eyes find mine.

  All of the air has left the room. He stands, kicking his chair behind him with such force that it slams against the wall and topples over. He turns and reaches down, lifting the chair up and tossing it across the room. It crashes into the window that separates the office from the rest of the gym.

  His eyes are murderous, his nostrils are flaring ,and his chest is visibly rising and falling. “When were you going to tell me? Or did you just think I would never find out?” he roars at me as his long legs eat the space between us. He stops mere inches from me with his fists clenched at his sides.

  A sob escapes me as my chin trembles followed by the rest of my body.

  “Yeah! Saw the paper, cupcake,” he sarcastically announces.

  I nod because that is all I can do at this point. I have no excuses. Plus, he looks beyond enraged and I don’t think that this is the right time to speak up about anything.

  He leans forward, which makes me take a step back, and he yells, “I saw the fucking paper! How could you keep something like this from me? From my family? You play me so that you could get into my family’s good graces and report back to your murdering sack-of-shit father?”