by Ashley Lyn
The story a couple days ago about Tess and Carter calmed my racing thoughts, but then I thought he dropped the idea of me pretty quickly when Carter “had a bad night.” What happens if he has another one? Is our relationship forever going to hinge on Carter and his drama?
I’ve never really been good with leaps of faith, but I’m ready to find my happiness. Ready for the marriage, the picket fence, the kids.
Sitting on my bed, I glance at the value-sized box of condoms sitting on top. At twenty-five, the whole ‘cherry popping’ business was handled years ago, so I’m not worried about the pain of sex. A naked woman is at her most vulnerable, and I’m freaked out about Tristan seeing me naked. I’ve gained more confidence lately and have learned to love my curves, but the love affair with me and all my imperfections are new.
I never expected to be a virgin at twenty-five, but my heart had settled on Tristan, and then it was shattered. It took so long to pick up the pieces, and by the time I slotted the last piece in and gorilla glued it all in place, I had turned timid. The few dates I went on, only brought out my inner murderess, not seductress.
Tristan most definitely brings out the seductress, as well as my inner whore. I smile, thinking of the sexy negligee I packed. My phone rings and I grab my old rotary phone. “Yo!” I say sliding off the bed and grabbing the base dragging it into the bathroom.
“Hello, love.” Grinning when I hear Tristan, I cradle the phone between my shoulder and ear while putting on my eyeliner.
“What’s up?”
“You’re going to have to drive up without me. I got some stuff I have to line out here and Miranda’s running late.”
“That’s fine. That way, if I start driving you batshit crazy, you can hightail it back to the civilized world.”
“All right, baby, I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
“Later, gator.”
“After while, crocodile.” Laughing as I hang up the phone, I finish slapping my makeup on and load up the car to head out. For a second, I feel like someone’s watching me. Looking up, I see a man checking the mail across the street, watching me. I wave and he waves back, smiling. The smile is fake and creepy, and a slimy feeling washes over me. I quickly jump in my car and start it up, locking my doors as I do.
BECCA
I’m sitting on the back porch. He said “see you in a couple hours” and now it’s midnight. A couple hours turned into six. I was beginning to think he wasn’t coming. My internal monologue went from understanding to for sure, he changed his mind and wasn’t coming. I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear him knock on the door, and anticipation knots my gut. I hear the gravel under his boots crunch against every rock and twig as he makes his way around the side of the house. It just makes more tears fall. My stomach flies up into my throat as I’m picked up. Warmth against my ass and that unique woodsy citrus scent fill my senses as he sets me on his lap.
I bury my face in his neck and unleash the Kraken. He hugs me like he’s trying to hold me together as I break apart, sobbing into his arms. “I didn’t think you were coming and you didn’t call, you dick!”
“Miranda took forever, and what we had to go over took more time than I’d anticipated. For some stupid reason, I packed my phone in my bag. I didn’t want to stop and waste more time digging it out. Then I figured you would be asleep by now. I should’ve called. I’m sorry, baby.” We both quiet down and just sit and listen to the nothing, and yet everything.
No cars, police sirens, dogs, or arguing couples. The sounds of nature are my soundtrack right now.
“Becca?”
I tense. “Yeah?”
“I’m not leaving ever again. Maybe physically to go to work, but never mentally or emotionally. I’m in this completely, heart and soul, baby. That first night you sauntered into Carter’s, all piss and vinegar and honest words, and those fucking eyes, I hooked my star to yours.”
“Shit!” he suddenly yells.
“What?”
“In order for you to really understand why I backed off, I need to tell you things that had been told me in confidence.” He shifts me a bit and pulls out his cell phone.
I hear it ringing, and then, of all the people I expect to hear, Carter isn’t one of them.
“Carter.”
“Holy shit, she threw you out on your big ass already?” I bust up laughing. “Shit, am I on speaker phone?” he groans.
“No, but she’s on my lap.” I tense, waiting for the blow-up.
“I don’t want to know that shit.”
“There are some things I need to explain to Bec, and I can’t do that without dragging some of your shit into it.”
“Fucking hell.” Carter sounds tortured. I glance at Tristan, worriedly.
“Step into the light, Carter,” Tristan says.
“Okay, just…I don’t want her to talk to me about it. I’m still working on it myself. Listen, I’m at the airport. I’m taking your advice, as much as it pains me to admit it.”
“Good. Tell Mary I said hi.” I jerk the phone out of his hand.
“You’re going to see Mom?”
“Yeah.”
“Does she know?”
“No, I was planning on a surprise.”
“You should call, trust me. Roger and Mom are….man, how do I put this without scarring you for life? They have an active sex life. You know what? I had to put up with the surprise naked butts from time to time, so I’ll just leave you to it.”
Dead silence, and then a groan. “I’ll call her now.”
“Good call, brother. Trust me on that one. I surprised them once, and I will never look at Roger the same way again. There were props, fluids, duct tape, and sounds…lots of sounds.”
Tristan is cracking up laughing, and Carter is so silent, I think he hung up. “Hello?”
“I’m calling every five minutes until I’m at the door.”
“Just tell her what time you’re getting in and she’ll pick you up from the airport.”
“I need a car. I was just going to rent one.”
“Roger is a car nut. They have, like, four. Trust me. That way, if they get antsy waiting, they won’t try to fit in a quickie—been there done that. This is the easiest way to keep their parts apart.”
Tristan’s hand sneaks under my shirt, just enough for his bare hand to touch my sides, and I work hard to the moan inside as I suck in my gut. He pinches my side when he realizes what I’m doing. Giving him dirty look, he just smiles and continues on with his traveling hand.
“All right. I’ll listen to the voice of reason.”
Clearing my throat, I look at Tristan, who’s grinning like a crazy person.
“I love you, Becca. I don’t think I ever told you that and I’m sorry. Tristan will explain more, I just…I can’t talk about it yet. It’s still not a good reason to treat you the way I did, but it might help you understand better.”
Tears clog my throat. “I love you too, big brother.”
“Give that big bastard a chance, yeah?”
I look at Tristan, and the look he gives me is full of meaning. Serious, lusty, and loving, taking my breath away.
“All right, little sis, I’ll let you go.”
“Give Mom a hug for me.”
“I will. Bye”
“Bye.”
Tristan hits the end button. “Okay. So, even though we’ve never had the chance to explore the connection between us, there is a connection—a soul-deep connection, at least on my part. That kind of a connection for a man, I don’t know what it’s like for a woman, it’s just a knowing, like, that is her, that is your person, your girl, your wife. Carter had that with Rayleen.” I suck in a huge breath.
“One minute she was there, living with Carter, then one day she was just gone and Carter wasn’t Carter, and no one knew what the fuck was going on. He was walking a bad path, babe, drinking himself into a fucking coma, daily. Multiple times, we had to take his ass to the hospital to pump his stomach. He was at the peak of his
shit when you came on the scene. I don’t know if you noticed because he pretty much ignored you for the most part. When he came in the day after you stopped by, he told everyone they’d better keep their hands, eyes, and everything else off you, or he was going to kill someone. You weren’t to be courted, fucked, or spoken to. I was fucking devastated. When I got home that night after I met you, I broke it off with Tess. I knew what I wanted and it wasn’t her.”
He brushes the tears away. “For a long time, Carter was a fucking mess. Hell, he still is. We basically forced his ass into rehab. When he got out, he stayed away from the booze. I didn’t find out the whole story until that night at your house. She left him for someone else. Carter used to tell her that she was his liquid sunshine, what he got drunk on daily. Apparently, she used the same words to describe her new fiancé.”
“Shit.”
“I didn’t want to rock the boat. He said hands off, and I didn’t want to be the pebble that pushed him over the edge, so I decided to back off my plans for you. I figured I would give him time to get his shit together and you time to grow up a bit, get done with school and shit. Then a year turned into two, and three, and then here we are at six. The days blended together and before I knew it, so many years had passed.”
He leans down and kisses me, and there’s so much emotion behind it, my insides quake and I feel like I’m home.
“Staying away was no longer hurting just me—that I could handle. It was hurting you too, and that I will not stand for.” He takes a deep breath and cups my cheeks. “There hasn’t been anyone since Tess. It was only you, baby, for six years. My heart beats only for you.”
I shift my hips around and straddle his lap, kissing the shit out of him. I probably broke a tooth, I attacked his mouth so hard, but I don’t care.
Everything I’ve ever wanted was just laid at my feet. My brother may not have been there for me, but Tristan was. He sacrificed himself for Carter, in a roundabout way, he sacrificed my happiness, but from what it sounds like, Carter was licking Hell’s door.
I pull back from the kiss and lean my forehead against his. “There’s so much to get through. Yes, we lost time, and I know that probably both our initial reaction is to catch up quickly. But I need time—time to trust this. I’ve been shit on for so long, trying to hold on to the few people I had in my life, hold onto my sanity and my dreams. No one has ever held me up, supported me, helped me realize my dreams. I want you to be that person. I want to be your person, supporting you, helping you make every dream you ever had come true. I need time to get used the idea of us.”
He kisses me again, not as aggressive as me, but no less heartfelt.
“Whatever you want, baby, it’s yours. You need time, it’s yours, within reason.” He winks at me and I giggle. “When you say time, do you mean sex? Or like, moving in, getting married and shit? ’Cause I have to say, six years is a long time. I’m afraid my balls just might explode.”
I snuggle down and shove my nose in his neck. My trust is tentative, but my heart’s bouncing in its cage, happy to be back. I love him, but he needs to prove his staying power first.
I yawn and squeeze him tighter. My eyes flutter and I drift into the first contented sleep since I laid eyes on Tristan.
BECCA
You know that feeling when you’re dead asleep, and for a second you feel like you’re falling and you can’t help but jerk awake with a gasp? Your heart’s racing so bad, you go from dead to the world asleep to wide fucking awake in the matter of one breath?
That’s what happened. I fell asleep with Tristan, and feeling around on the bed, I realize he’s gone. I growl in frustration, hitting the pillow.
I get my second heart-stopping scare of the night when my door slams open, smacking the wall so hard, I swear to God the handle on the door gets lodged in the wall.
“What’s wrong?”
My mouth drops open when I get a good look. Every time I’ve ever seen him, he was in requisite black pants, and black, long-sleeved shirt. I, unfortunately, have never seen him in the buff, and sweet fucking hell! His chest and abs are like an exquisitely carved statue of Adonis.
His left nipple is pierced, and I swear the goddess of lust is responsible for the orgasm-inducing, lickable, fuckable, beautifully built male specimen.
“You have metal in your boob.”
He bursts out laughing.
“I thought you left. I woke up and you were gone.”
He sighs. “Becca, I told you I wouldn’t ever leave you. I didn’t know if you would be okay with me sleeping in the same bed as you.”
“Christ on a crutch, Tristan, we’re getting married eventually. Sleep next to me for fuck’s sake. I’m sorry, I just woke up and you were gone, and for a second I thought…never mind what I thought.”
Okay, so If I wasn’t groggy from sleep, that might not have slipped out about the whole marriage thing. It’s one thing for him to tell me, and another for me to agree.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
“You want to get married?”
“Fucking shit. I’m groggy from sleep, so you can’t hold crap I say half asleep against me.” I bury my face in my hands and pray for a hole to open up and deliver me to Hell.
I feel the bed move and the covers pulled back, and then a fucking furnace at my back.
He adjusts the pillows and pulls me closer.
“Hello, little spoon,” he whispers, making me giggle.
My eyes drift closed with a stillness to my heart that I never thought I’d feel, and right this moment, I think I’ve just found heaven on Earth.
BECCA
There’s a large hand on my breast.
The wetness between my legs registers at the same moment I feel a hard appendage slip between my legs, and I immediately slide out of bed.
I’m sitting on the floor, staring at the wall. My heart’s pounding so hard, I put my hand over it.
“Becca.” His sleep rough voice slides over my nerves and I shiver.
“I’m going to the bathroom…I’ll be back.”
Standing up, I concentrate on not running, and possibly moaning my way to the bathroom. Sliding into the bathroom, I close the door quietly. Squeezing my eyes shut, I brace my hands on the bathroom counter and practice breathing.
So I might have freaked out a tad, but holy penis! Opening my eyes, I take in my appearance. My hair looks like squirrels had an orgy in it overnight, but my eyes are bright, cheeks flushed, and my pupils are blown out. I desperately want to crawl back in bed with Tristan.
Instead, I peek out the door and hear nothing but snores, so I grab my sneakers and go out the back door. I need a minute to get my poop in a group.
“Fucking Tristan and his giant penis, making my brains and good sense leak out of my cock socket.”
I trip over the waste of steel and wood, also known as my axe. Initially, I named him Tristan because for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to work the fucking thing.
Here I am, faced with a penis, and I have no earthly clue what to do with it.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what makes a good fuck? Do I have to do something special? Is it a muscle thing? Cosmo taught me how to work the Kegels, not that my dildo tells me if the exercises feel pleasurable or not, but the practice I did.
Nightly.
Moaning in frustration, I kick the axe and regret it immediately.
I miss and end up the ass in the dirt.
I’m going to own that fucker. Come Hell or high water, I’m going to make this motherfucker my bitch.
My hands grip the handle and I swear, I can feel the damn thing talking shit to me.
“You’re going to be singing my name, you wooden piece of shit.”
Gripping the handle and listening to Barry the Woodsman in my head (the lovely gentleman on YouTube who taught me) I grab a chunk of wood and set it on the chopping block. Sliding my hand down the handle, I take an upswing and swing down with as much strength as possible.
Dead. Fuc
king. Center.
The satisfaction of watching the piece of wood split in two is better than the first bite of a cupcake, the first zip of orgasm, or the first twist of the cork screw on a good bottle of wine.
Okay, So Tristan is it. He’s the one for me, and sex is a part of that. Sex that he has had in the past so he knows what he is doing. Men like it when they have control. So, I just need to chill and let him do his thing with his thing.
I don’t want our first sexual encounter to be when I look like cold shit on a winter morning, so I’m going to work out my sexual frustration on some wood.
I giggle. “She said wood,” I say out loud. Will it fit? My dildo is way smaller. Is that normal? I wonder what he tastes like? When push comes to shove, or spit or swallow as the case may be, what will I do? Did I bring any lube?
Setting another hunk of wood on the block, the answers I seek are about as elusive as fog or a G-spot orgasm, a man who will ask for directions, or a pair of underwear that doesn’t ride up and split your taco in half.
I take another swing and can feel my belly and back fat waving at me, and I cringe. Why the fuck does Tristan want me? It’s like a fat man in a little jacket situation, except it’s more like a fat chick and a shit hot man sort of thing.
Hello insecurities, you assholes.
I freak out at the first sight of a penis, or technically, the feel of a penis.
The first image that popped into my head was of Tristan. That ripped, beautiful man, thrusting, while I lay there doing my impression of a bowl of jello. I take another swing of the axe.
The satisfying thwack as the axe meets another piece of wood isn’t as satisfying, mostly because my eyes have filled with tears and my heart feels like a lead weight in my chest.
Me and my bullshit thoughts. It’s like a nauseating trip on a depression merry-go-round. Then I hear him in my head, telling me how beautiful he thinks I am. I hear Jace tell me the same thing, and finally, I hear it myself. I’m beautiful, dammit, and I will not hate on myself.
