Wicked Knight

by Tierney O'Malley

  Thinking he already emptied the water tank, he hopped out of the shower, feeling a mighty bit better. With his hair still dripping wet, he went back downstairs.

  The house was eerily quiet. He wondered how Julie could stay in the house without any music on to accompany her. He grew up in a big house full of boys that seemed to make every room small, but he preferred it anytime to living in Julie's cold, quiet, and lifeless mansion. He even liked the one bedroom condo his brother, Bors, let him use.

  Even with its upper class appliances and furniture, the house looked dreary, except when Julie walked in the room. The house needed only the minx to make it look like a home.

  She was the opposite of the house—warm and passionate, full of life and vibrancy. She had that effect on anything, anyone, on him.

  Someday her children would probably fill this house, their voices bouncing against the Tudor ceiling, crayons and markers would stain the pristine white walls. They would be like Julie, a prankster, a brat, silly, passionate, with green eyes that flared when angry like her flaming reddish-orange hair. Her daughter would be beautiful like her and the sons would look like...

  He rubbed his face with his hand, feeling the anger bubbling inside him. Fuckin’ eh. Every time he thought about Julie with another man, his stomach would twist into knots. Why? God knows why, he thought. He didn't have the answer to it, just as he didn't know the answer to why he felt a strong urge to protect and hold her forever.

  Forever. What a strong word to throw around.

  Wearing only his white Churidar, a cotton knee-length pants he bought from India, he prowled around the house.

  At the end of the long hallway, he found a room that housed Julie's family portraits. Baby pictures covered one wall. One customized frame held elementary school pictures from Kindergarten through sixth grade.

  Tristan smiled as he looked at Julie's picture. She must be seven, smiling, showing her missing two front teeth.

  “Terrible, huh.”

  His heart thudded, hearing Julie's voice. Damn. Tristan kept his back on her. “No. I think you looked cute.” Moving to the next frame, he read the caption aloud. “Julie M. Parrish, age seven. First communion. Pretty dress and veil. You looked virginal. Who would have thought you'd grow up to be a prankster?”

  “My mom. She said that the moment she saw my flaming hair, she knew that I would turn out to be a hellion.”

  Tristan looked at Julie. She was smiling at him, unaware of the captivating picture she made when she smiled. Quickly he looked away before his mind started wandering again. “Hmm...Julie M. Parrish, Altar Girl, Holy Rosary Church, Edmonds.” Tristan felt her beside him. A scent of lavender assaulted his senses. Man, scent of a freshly showered woman was his weakness. His dick stood at attention.

  Down, boy.

  Dark green pajama pants printed with frog heads and an old University of Washington shirt two sizes smaller than her size, showing all her womanly curves, completed her ensemble. The shirt was old, but on her—sexy. He throbbed. Jesus, the woman would kill him before the weekend was over.

  “You were an altar girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you give the priest a hard time?”

  “All the time. I drank the wine and snacked on the wafers. I stole the chalice, too.”

  He pulled a strand of her hair. “You're joking, right?”

  “About the chalice, yes.”

  He raised an eyebrow. She lowered hers and punched him in the arm.

  “I wasn't as bad as you think.”

  “Tsk. Tsk. Testy, aren't we? By the way, I like the pajamas.”

  “I like yours, too. They look comfy.”

  “Yup. I have another one. It'll be big for you, but you can have it if you want.”

  “Aww...thank you. I'll find it when I run out of clean pajamas.”

  I'd rather you stay naked. He quickly shook the image off his mind. “Hope you don't mind me looking around your house.”

  “Not at all.”

  “So is this supposed to be a Julie Shrine?”

  “Parrish shrine, I suppose. My Mother was a catholic. She raised me like one, or at least she tried. She had these pictures put up here as a reminder, I imagine, that we were once a happy family, that I was once an obedient altar girl.”

  “I could see you had a good childhood life. Lots of memories here.”

  “Yeah, I would add my own someday. I meant to keep this house for my future children. So, what have you seen so far? You want a night tour of the house?”

  “Sure.” And a tour around your body.

  “Do you have other family other than your dad, Marla, and Sebastian?”

  “Yeah. Mom's family. They're all in Canada. Don't have any contacts with them. Saw my aunt during Mom's funeral, but that was it. Mom was a cast-out, you see, because she got pregnant before she was married. Dad, as far as I know, has family in Florida. Never met them, though. He came here to work for Seattle PI, but lost his job after a year because he missed work a lot.”

  “Because of his drinking habit,” Kirsten told him that.

  “He met Mom in one of the conventions they both attended. Mom fell in love with him, Dad saw Mom as a lifesaver. They got married when Mom got pregnant.”

  “How come no pictures of the wedding?”

  “Mom told me they went to the city hall in the morning and got married. That same day she went back to work. So unromantic.”

  Tristan followed Julie around the house. She showed him every room, telling fun and sad memories each one held. He was fascinated by the way she spoke with enthusiasm and animation. He noticed Julie's mannerisms, like tapping her fingers on her arm and chewing her bottom lip. Other things about her, like how her long hair reached the middle of her back. She made him laugh and feel comfortable, but a tension like a tight bowstring hummed around them. He could feel it. The way she would jump as if fire licked her skin when he brushed against her, he knew she felt it, too.

  He listened to everything she was saying, but truth be told, all he wanted to do was pull her in his arms, bury his fingers in her hair and make love with her—downstairs and upstairs.

  “What about upstairs?” Cool it, boy, a warning voice whispered in his head. He couldn't believe he voiced what he wanted.

  “What about it?”

  “Nothing. I thought maybe you have rooms up there other than bedrooms.”

  “We do have a library on the west side. And an office that used to be my Mom's. I use it now. There is nothing worth seeing up there.”

  “Ah,” Tristan said. Really, what else could he say? I want to see your bedroom? Feel your sheets on my back while you ride... Fuck.

  Their long tortuous round in the house ended in the kitchen. Tristan let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally, he didn't have to stand too close to her and smell her heavenly scent, bump into the arms he so wanted to wrap around him. Now he could just look at her and see how her breasts... Damn it to purgatory, she wasn't wearing a bra.

  “You want some milk and Oreo cookies?” She reached in a cupboard. Her shirt rode up, exposing the small of her back. “Earth to Tristan, you want Oreos?”

  Hmmm... I'd rather snack on those breasts. “What about real food like...dinner?”

  “I thought about calling for pizza.”

  “Pizza sounds good.”

  “Or we could just share this bag of Oreos.”

  “That is not dinner.”

  “To me it is.”

  “Your grandchildren will love you someday. Bet you'd feed them Oreos for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

  Julie turned around, shaking her head. “With milk.” She reached in the box and before Tristan figured out what she was up to, an Oreo whizzed past his ear.

  Tristan laughed and ducked when another Oreo flew and hit him square on the chest. He caught the cookie and popped it inside his mouth. “Geez, you wasted one.” He bent down to pick up a broken piece, blew on it and put it in his mouth.

  “You still be
lieve in the two second rule?” Julie poured milk in two tall glasses and handed him one.

  “In my house, it's a two minute rule. For Gawain, even if the food has already been on the floor for an hour and there were ants crawling all over it, it's still good. The man's a pig.”

  She laughed again. Tristan felt elated. He liked making her laugh.

  “I love all of your brothers. I think they're all wonderful. You're lucky. Having brothers like them would be like hitting the Washington Lottery.”

  Tristan drank his milk. She didn't say she loved him, too. He didn't know what to think of that.

  “Most of the time they're wonderful.”

  “Your parents are sweet and your sister, well, no need to tell you how much I love her. She's the sister I never had.”

  “She'll be your sister-in-law soon.”

  “Oh yeah! And brothers-in-law, too. Neat. There is something good about this wedding other than shutting Marla off.”

  “My sister would love to hear you'll be her sister-in-law. I'm not sure about my brothers.”

  “Why? They like me, I know that.”

  “I didn't say they didn't like you. I am sure they love you, too. What I am saying is I don't think they would like the idea of me being married to the woman they wish they could kiss.”

  “Awww...Well, they could kiss me on the cheek.”

  “If they could get past me. I would beat all of them if they even tried to kiss you. Bors is a good punch, trained. It might take me longer to drag him away from you. Gawain, well, so long as you stay away from his planes, he won't be able to kidnap you. Percy. Now, I could probably lure him with computer software to make him leave you alone,” he said, taking an Oreo from a pack.

  “Well, who's going to beat you away from me?” She smiled and an Oreo lodged in his throat.

  God, that smile was a definite turn-on. He took a sip of his cold milk, wishing he could pour it on his dick instead.

  “I have full control of my situation.” Who was he fucking kidding? His dick throbbed like a headache—painful and blinding. He needed a diversion. On the floor, he spotted the other half of Oreo, picked it up, and took a bite.

  “Do you tell your patients about your two minute rule?”

  “Of course not. The kids I see every day have enough germs on them. They don't need to know another way to get more.”

  “Someday I'll have a dozen kids.” Julie sighed, her eyes focused above his shoulders turned dreamy.

  “You are?”

  She split the Oreo in half and licked the white cream. “Uh-huh. Hmm...this is good. You got to try licking the cream.”

  Tristan took a big gulp of his milk and looked up the ceiling. He'd do anything to avoid looking at her sensual display. He doubted though that she knew the effect of what she was doing to him.

  “Here, try it. I don't have germs.”

  The cream on the Oreo glistened, wet from Julie's saliva. Tristan looked at it for a second, then took it from Julie's outstretched hand. Sticking his tongue out, he licked the cream. Sweet Jesus, he nearly exploded. The taste of cream and Julie wrapped around his senses. Images of Julie began forming in his head. Her lovely head bent low in front on his erect cock, licking the engorged head with her pink tongue the way she did with the cream—slowly and with apparent delight on her on face, but she didn't stop there. Opening her mouth, she wrapped her plump, shiny lips around his dick's head and began sucking him.

  Sweet pain in his groin made Tristan groaned low in his throat.

  “You don't like it?”

  “I do.”

  “You can have that one. See, if I have two dozen kids, I won't have to eat a whole bag of Oreos.

  “Well, you have a house big enough for two dozen.”

  “Yeah. You should eat more of these, otherwise, I'll finish the whole pack. I'll look like a cow before I turn twenty-six.”

  “Hmmm...that's all right. Your figure will match your cow tongue.”

  Smack! It happened so fast. Julie whacked his head with a package of Oreo.

  “You are a dead man, Doctor. And no one here will save you.” Another smack. “I do not have a cow tongue, eewww!”

  “Quit it!” Laughing hard, he tried to dodge another blow. “You're pulverizing your favorite snack.”

  “I don't care. As long as I pulverize your head first.”

  Thunk. Oreos flew all over the floor and the counter. Tristan took pity on the pack and grabbed Julie's slender arm. Julie's free arm managed to hit him on the side of the head.

  “Oww! You witch. You will pay for that!”

  Grabbing her free arm, he pulled her against him. The moment their bodies made contact, Tristan knew he was a goner. Lust surged through his entire body. He stared at Julie's eyes and stared some more.

  She'd be his wife soon. The idea brought convoluted feelings he couldn't sort out. The wedding would take place because he agreed to help her, but searching his heart deeply, he said yes to Kirsten as fast as he could say hell because of Armand. His attraction for her was stronger than antibiotics killing microorganisms and curing bacterial infections. Like right now, he wanted to make love with her again, but she wasn't really his fiance, just a friend he promised to help. This, what they had right now, would end in a month. In a fucking month! That, too, muddled his thinking. Now that he knew how magical it was to be with her, how in the world was he going to walk away from her? She spoke of babies. She could be carrying one already. Damn it, wasn't fate done playing with his life?

  Tristan touched his forehead against Julie's. “Julie, Julie.” Gathering her into his arms, he held her snugly, burying his face in her hair. Julie needed help, not complications in her life. He was the more experienced one in this situation, therefore, he should take the steps to prevent it. She deserved respect, for crap's sake. Touching, fondling, taking her anywhere, was so wrong. “If we continue on like this, I'll be exercising my husbandly right, before we are even married.”

  “And you don't want that,” Julie mumbled in his shirt.

  “Julie, can't you feel me right now? I want you so badly. You'd be scared if you could read my thoughts about what I want to do with you and how to do it. Still, making love with you—”

  “Is not like making love with your wife.”

  “Don't bring up Carly. You are different, Julie. Remember that.”

  Julie stepped out of his embrace. “I will.”

  He tried to reach for her again, but she stepped back and swatted his hand. “Now wait a minute. You don't understand.”

  “What is so hard to understand about you holding back because you are still thinking about your wife?”

  “Julie, I am freaking holding back because...because you are not a whore I can use whenever I want to. My whole body is shaking with need to have you, but you are neither my wife, nor my girlfriend. This whole thing between us would only replace your problem with Marla once we're married.” Tristan raked his hair with his fingers. Even to himself his words didn't make sense. God. The only thing clear to him right now was the fact that he'd face hell again once this whole arrangement was over.

  “I know.” Julie wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to take advantage of your offer. It's hard enough that you'd be married again, albeit temporarily, but to tangle with a woman—”

  In one swift move, he reached for her arm and pulled her roughly against him.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  * * * *

  Julie pushed against Tristan's chest, but he didn't budge. Instead, he tightened his hold on her. “Let me go.”

  “No.”

  “I see your point, Tristan. In fact, for the first time, I can see clearly what's ahead of me. You and your family decided you should come here because you all care. And what do I do? Open myself like a slut born in a gutter. No, don't shake your head. I am not an invalid incapable of blocking your wiles. What
happened was as much my fault as yours. You are right. We are just creating a totally different problem by being close. One is ruining our friendship. We are just friends, and this physical affair is just that. A physical affair. After the marriage, I don't think I'd be able to look at you as my sparring partner.” Tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice, but she didn't care. It hurt too much to think Tristan considered their intimacy as another problem.

  “Love, I don't think you understand anything.”

  “Oh, now I am stupid?”

  “That's not what I mean.”

  “Whatever. You know what? While we wait for the marriage license, you should stay away.”

  “Why, because you're afraid Marla would find me here? Guess what? She'd need strong evidence to prove you didn't follow the terms in your will. Now, if you want me to leave because you are tired of my company, I'll leave.”

  “Don't turn the table on me. You clearly indicated that you regret—”

  Tristan stopped her with his searing kiss. “Obviously, you're as confused as me. So stop talking for a minute and kiss me.”

  Like the burning edge of a paper, the fire quickly spread from her mouth to the tips of her toes. She leaned on him for support. He gave it right away. Tristan encircled his arm around her waist and back.

  With eagerness, she returned his kisses, eliciting a groan from him. The sound was so alluring she had to grab his head to have more of him, more of his taste and heat.

  Without breaking their kiss, Tristan reached down and lifted her. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. The intimacy was achingly sweet. Julie's mind went wild with desire.

  “Julie, love. What do you say we make the best of what we have right now until we sort things out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want me and I want to exercise my right as your fiance. We'll have to forget about the no honeymoon deal. I want my honeymoon. I want you. Now.”

  After this, he'd move on and start dating again. Julie winced at the rippling pain that struck her heart. She'd probably die after their split. Right now, though, she had him, so why not make the best of it? “Me, too.”