“I guess,” she said quietly.
He carefully flicked a dangling strand of her hair. “You did your hair up like this for him?”
No. “Yes.”
“Uh huh…I see….” He ran his nose over her neck and inhaled. “And this lotion you used. What is it? Blackberries and vanilla?” She nodded. “You used it for him?”
No. “Yes.”
Both of his large hands spanned her stomach and tenderly caressed the area. “And this blouse that’s been driving me crazy all day, that was for him, too?” he punctuated the question by pressing a soft kiss against her neck.
What did he ask? It took her a moment to think through her lust induced fog to figure out what he’d just asked her. Oh, that’s right. “Yes.”
He flattened his hands on her stomach and moved them purposely down and over her hips and then down her legs until they were cupping her knees.
“And the skirt? Was that for him as well?” he asked as he leaned back in the chair, taking her with him until she was practically draped over him. His hands slid up and cupped her thighs while his mouth gently sucked on her neck.
She closed her eyes and licked her lips as he kissed, sucked and licked her neck. They were both panting heavily, but he refused to give her any quarter from his sensual attack. He adjusted his legs until they were suddenly between both of hers and then widened them, opening her legs wider. The action pushed her skirt all the way up to her hips, but she barely noticed. His mouth felt so good on her skin.
He knew that he should stop, but he couldn’t. She had no business going out with any guy while he was alive. She was his! Fuck doing the right thing. Where had that ever gotten him? He wanted her and he was sick of torturing himself so that she could waste her time on losers who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as her. She was his. He’d always known that and he was done with pretending that she wasn’t.
“What color panties did you wear for him?” he whispered against her ear then sucked on the lobe, earning a low moan.
“Black.” For you, she thought.
“Mmm,” he moaned against her skin while his tongue made a wet trail back to the spot on her neck where he’d been suckling her and continued. He shifted in the chair and widened her legs further. His hands slowly moved up her thighs, hooking his fingers in her skirt and tugging it up a few more inches. One hand remained behind while the other moved up her stomach and traced her ribs until it slid up and cupped her breast the same time that his other hand dipped between her legs. He cupped her through her panties.
“Oh, God…,” she choked out a moan, unable to stop herself.
Tristan broke out in a sweat as his fingers traced her damp panties. So many nights of fantasizing about touching her. He pressed a reverent kiss to her neck while one finger snaked beneath her panties and pulled them aside. He was glad that he couldn’t see what he’d revealed, afraid he’d embarrass himself.
Not that he had much experience with women. He didn’t and shouldn’t know how to navigate her body this way, but something about touching her this way made him feel as though he’d done it a hundred times before. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the connection he felt with her or years of fantasies, but he knew, just knew, what she liked and what she didn’t.
Without having to ask, he knew that she hated having her nipples teased with his teeth. It reminded her of rough fabric and turned her off quickly. She loved it when he used his tongue on her and he knew that if he did it just right that she would come a hell of a lot faster and harder. He also knew that she hated having her feet touched or any teasing touches on the side of stomach during sex, because it would make her giggle. He also knew what it would do to her if he focused solely on her clit. She’d thrash under his mouth, screaming at him to fuck her even as she threatened to kill him if he even thought about stopping.
It should worry him that he knew what she liked in bed, but he didn’t care. He’d already decided that he was going to use this knowledge to his advantage and enjoy every second of it. His fingers pinched her hard nipple through the material as he teased her bare slit with his fingers. She was so goddamn wet that he had to grit his teeth as pleasure shot through his painful erection.
“So wet….so beautiful…,” he mumbled against her skin.
He sucked harder on her neck as he slid a finger inside her. She gave an inarticulate cry as he entered her. It was loud, too loud. With his other hand, he covered her mouth. She moaned and licked his hand as he added another finger to his slow torturous assault.
Marty cried against his hand, begging him to go faster, but he stubbornly maintained his pace. It was too much for her. Every nerve in her body was on fire and this slow pace was killing her. He was going to make her come painfully if he kept it up. Unable to stand it any longer, she flexed her hips against his hand and, as a result, his erection.
Her skirt rode up until it was above her hips, leaving her barely covered bottom pressed intimately against him. Every thrust of her body enveloped his erection in a firm caress, a familiar caress that had pleasure and relief soaring throughout her body as she gave in and enjoyed his touch.
“That’s it, baby, keep doing that,” Tristan moaned against her neck as he rubbed himself against her in time with the thrust of his fingers. He wasn’t going to come like this. Correction, he wasn’t going to allow himself to come like this. The first time he came with her, he would be buried deep inside her body. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to enjoy it.
He could feel her body tighten around his fingers. She was close, he knew it instinctively. Using the hand covering her mouth, he moved her face to the side and covered her lips with his own. This was no first date peck or even a buildup. This was intense and carnal as they deepened the kiss the instant their lips met. Their tongues fought for dominance as Tristan quickened his thrusts.
His now free hand cupped and squeezed her breast as she came undone. “Say it!” he demanded. “I want to hear it,” he demanded harshly against her lips.
“Tristan…oh, Tristan!” she moaned into his mouth, pleasing him to no end as she rode his fingers hard, damn near breaking them off.
He pulled back from the kiss, leaving her panting against him as he ran his tongue over her neck, smiling when she shivered. He moved his mouth next to her ear.
“You might have dressed like this for him, but never forget that it was my name that you moaned as you fucked my fingers.”
Chapter 11 Marty glared at him as she angrily fixed her skirt. Somehow he’d managed to break through her lust filled craze and brought reality crashing down on them with that one little statement. He’d just given her the most erotic experience of her life, only to stomp on it when it was over.
Holding her glare, he slowly brought the fingers that he’d just used to pleasure her to his mouth and sucked them clean, groaning loudly as he did it, much to her embarrassment.
“You’re an asshole!”
He smiled charmingly up at her from his lazy position in his chair. “Yes, but an asshole that you want.”
She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”
Tristan scoffed. “That moment damn near broke my fingers off.”
Heat scorched her cheeks as memories of her behavior shot through her head. She was never going to live down her behavior and, judging by the expression on his face, he had no intentions of ever letting her forget.
“Asshole,” she muttered.
He sighed as he stretched in his chair. “That’s really getting old, baby.”
“Don’t call me that!”
He shrugged. “So, what am I ordering out for tonight? Chinese food, pizza, subs?”
She eyed him warily. “Ordering out for what?”
“Supper. If we’re going to spend all night in my bed, then I’m going to need sustenance,” he said charmingly, damn him.
Startled, her mouth dropped open. “You really are arrogant, aren’t you?”
/> “Only when it comes to you.”
“This,” she gestured wildly between them, “was a mistake. A momentary lapse of judgment. Nothing more. I have a date tonight with a really nice guy and I intend to forget all about this and go have a nice time with him!”
Tristan scratched the top of his head in a bored fashion, ignoring everything she’d just said. “Should I just order or do you want me to wait until you come over to decide?”
She laughed. She really couldn’t help it. The man was beyond conceited. “What makes you think that I’m coming over to your house tonight? I just told you that I have a date.”
He sighed heavily as he looked up at the clock on the wall above her desk. “What time is this date of yours supposed to pick you up?”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “Are you planning on waiting around for him?”
He shook his head as he stood up to organize the files and place them into his briefcase. Marty’s eyes briefly dropped to his lap and sighed with relief when she didn’t see his erection straining against his pants.
“I’m heading home now, but I just wanted to have a rough idea of what time I should expect you.”
She opened her mouth and then shut it, searching for the right words. Had he always been this conceited? She didn’t remember him being this way when they were younger. She remembered that he’d always acted indifferently towards the girls throwing themselves at him. At least, she thought he had.
“I told you,” she pressed a hand to her forehead, hoping it would be enough to fight off the headache that she was sure was coming, “I’m going out with Roger tonight. If you must know he’ll be here in an hour to pick me up. Then I’ll be with him for the rest of the night.”
“Uh huh, sure,” he said as he shut down his computer. “So, I’ll see you around, what….six?”
“I’m not coming over! What on earth makes you think that I’m going to be there when I have a date?”
He smiled knowingly at her. “You’ll be there and, as far as your date is concerned, I can guarantee you right now that isn’t going to happen tonight,” he promised with such conviction that she knew that he was up to something.
“What are you planning on doing?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just know that your date isn’t going to take you out tonight, not when he realizes that you belong to me.”
“Belong to you?” she repeated dumbly. Then she laughed coldly. “You are an arrogant son of a bitch! I do not belong to you or any other man!” A partial lie considering that she’d always felt like she belonged to him in some strange way, but right now was not the time to think about that.
“What we did was a mistake and it will never ever happen again! And I will not be coming to your house tonight. I can guarantee that right now!”
He ignored her little outburst and grabbed his briefcase. He headed for the door only to pause in front of her. For a moment she thought that he was going to kiss her and try to convince her of his claim, which she was forty percent sure that she’d be able to resist. Instead, and much to her surprise, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against her neck.
“I’ll be counting the minutes,” he said with the sexiest grin she’d ever seen as he walked out, leaving her dazed.
No matter what she’d said, she wanted nothing more than to go home with him and live out every single fantasy that she’d had over the past fourteen years, but she refused to feed his ego. She really didn’t want to go on this date, never had, but she’d let her friends push her into it. It had been the only way to shut them up at the time.
Besides, Roger seemed nice and harmless enough. It was supposed to be dinner and a movie, but she’d already decided that she was going to cut their date short after dinner. If she couldn’t be with Tristan, she’d rather be alone, which was the problem that she’d always had when it came to men. She’d never been attracted to them and had no real interests in dating.
She’d had a few boyfriends over the years, but when all was said and done they’d never been anything more than friends that she’d hung out with a few times. It didn’t matter what she did to convince herself otherwise, she was in love with Tristan and no other man would ever take his place. That didn’t mean that she was going to be a bitch and stand Roger up. She’d agreed to the date so she’d go, but she already knew that nothing would ever come of it.
Deciding the best thing for her to do was to go through with the date, she pulled out her small handheld compact and fixed her makeup. Her hair surprisingly looked good considering what they'd just done. When she was finished, she sat down and focused on her work while she waited for six o’clock to roll around. The time went by quickly and before she knew it there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she said as she grabbed her purse and shut down her computer.
“Hi, I hope I’m not too early.”
Marty smiled. “No, I just finished.” She turned to face him. He was cute in a boy next-door kind of way where Tristan had panty-melting good looks. He was tall, but not as tall as Tristan. Just as she was silently reprimanding her brain for making unwarranted comparisons, she noted his frown of displeasure.
“What?” she asked, looking down at her blouse, wondering if she’d spilled something.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
“What?”
He rubbed the back of his neck while shaking his head in disbelief or disgust, she really wasn’t sure at the moment.
“Just a bit of advice, don’t screw around with another guy the same night that you have a date.”
“What?”
They could tell those things?
Was she wearing a sign or something?
He gestured to her neck. “Looks like whoever it was wanted to make sure everyone knew that you were spoken for.” He put his hands up in surrender and stepped back. “My loss,” he sighed. “Have a good night.” With that he left her standing there with a feeling of absolute dread.
Slowly, or so it seemed in her mind, but in reality she was probably moving fast enough to scare the hell out of the Road Runner, she dumped her purse on the desk and found her mirror. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and angled it towards her neck and stared at the large and obviously fresh hickey on her neck.
“That little…son of……asshole….I’m…..I’m……argh!”
*-*-*-*
“Why are ye grinning like an idiot?” Shayne asked, never looking away from the television where a low budget seventies porn was playing.
Tristan hummed happily as he towel dried his hair and chest. He probably should have finished drying off before he pulled on his jeans, but he’d been too damn anxious to wait.
Marty was coming over, he thought, grinning like a fool and not really caring.
“No reason,” he replied happily as he walked through the living room and headed towards the kitchen.
Shayne, surprisingly followed after him, shutting off his porn, which he only did under dire emergencies or because Tristan’s mother was visiting. He followed Tristan into the kitchen, saying nothing as Tristan looked through the drawer full of take out menus.
“Are we ordering out tonight?” Shayne asked. In all the years he’d watched over the lad, he’d never once seen him this happy. The closest he’d ever come was when Marty was around.
“Yes, Marty’s coming over.”
His brows flew up at that bit of news. “Ye have a date with Marty?” He didn’t try to hide his surprise. Tristan had been in love with the girl for years and never once, to his aggravation, had the lad acted on it.
Tristan shifted uncomfortably. “Not a date so much as her coming over here to kill me.”
“What?”
“I, uh,” he cleared his throat loudly, “might have done something to um, piss her off enough to come here and kick my ass.”
“I think I should sit down for this,” Shayne said as he stumbled over to the kitchen table and sat down on the chair. He gestured for Tristan to cont
inue even though he was sure this wasn’t going to be good and might end up with Hank coming after the lad with a shotgun.
“Do you think she’ll want Chinese?” Tristan asked, making a piss poor attempt to distract Shayne.
“Lad,” that one word was laced with warning, a tone that had always worked on Tristan. Where his natural father hadn’t given a flying fuck about him, he had three men who eagerly took over the job.
Tom, his real dad as far as he was concerned, was protective. He’d been the first person to show Tristan unconditional love. He’d also taught him how to fish, ride a bike, and everything and anything about the medical field.
Hank had immediately taken Tristan under his wing at the ripe old age of six. He’d quickly became one of his best friends. He’d taught Tristan how to protect himself and when it was appropriate to throw a punch and when to walk away. He’d always introduced Tristan as his boy and, when Tom was around, he referred to him as “our” boy, earning curious looks.
Shayne had taught Tristan how to trust. He was also the more motherly of the three men, which was a sharp contrast to his tough Irish persona. When Tristan broke his arm when he’d been fifteen, during a football game, it had been Shayne running around the field screaming like a banshee as Tristan was loaded into the ambulance. It was also Shayne who, for the next two weeks, haunted the hell out of the linebacker who’d broken his arm. He was fiercely protective, but he could also be one of the sternest men in his life, like now.
“What. Did. Ye. Do?”
As big a pervert as Shayne was when it came to porn and women, Tristan had no doubt whatsoever as to what his reaction would be when he found out what Tristan did to Marty. Shayne believed in treating a lady with respect even if she was a whore. Considering how much Shayne liked Marty, Tristan was going to be in deep shit.
“I, uh, that is, we may have fooled around a bit after you left,” he said quickly.
Shayne’s scowl swiftly turned into a grin. “Finally. It’s about time the two of ye stopped acting like idiots.” After a moment, his happiness turned into confusion. “I don’t see how messing around would upset her…...ye didn’t hurt her, did ye, lad?”
Black Heart Page 11
