DomNextDoor
Page 5
“Fine,” she blurted. “I don’t have any laundry, are you happy? You’re right as usual and you’re superior, etcetera, etcetera. I’m just Tristy the fuck up and—”
Next thing he knew, he was holding her in his arms. He hadn’t expected her to break down so quickly but with Tristy you never quite knew what to expect.
“I’m the one who’s supposed to feel bad,” he murmured, stroking her hair.
“What for? You are…perfect as always.”
He laughed. “Hardly, kiddo.”
She shook her head. “I messed everything up.”
Grant held her at arm’s length, determined to get through to her with good solid eye contact. “Nothing important between us can be messed up, you got it?”
“So we’re…still friends?” She sniffed, exhaling the words and though he should have felt joy at the prospect, he was consumed by blackness.
Friends…
That had meant the world to him twenty-four hours ago. And now? It wasn’t enough.
“Of course we are,” he soothed. “You think I am going to cut you off and unleash you on society?”
Tristy laughed softly, making his heart sing. What a terrifying place to be, so dependent on her reactions, her joy. Was this what love felt like? It had been so long and even then it hadn’t shown itself like this, like a delicate butterfly as magnificent as it was vulnerable.
Any sudden moves and the thing would take flight.
“I am a danger, aren’t I?”
If only you knew.
“You’re not on the top ten most-wanted list if that’s what you mean,” he quipped.
“I’m a danger to myself,” she decided.
He said nothing as they kept looking into each other’s eyes. Too long. Talk about danger.
“I should go get some laundry,” she whispered.
“And I should check on mine.” Did I even put it in? Why couldn’t he remember anything before this conversation?
“All right then,” she said.
“All right,” he repeated though it was anything but right.
They tried to walk around each other. It was awkward at best. Nearly bumping his nose on hers, he diverted slightly and found himself with his lips on hers.
She moaned in shock and then in startled acceptance. Her arms reached for his body and his reached for hers. The embrace was painfully familiar but charged with new possibility.
Tristy sighed and relaxed as his tongue worked its way into her mouth.
This is a mistake, another fucking mistake. But he couldn’t say a word. He didn’t dare hurt her again. Besides his cock had never been so hard.
She touched it. Just as she had before. But this was not the same shy, tentative Tristy.
“Let me…” she whispered.
He knew what she wanted and this was not the time or the place.
“No,” he told her, though it was too late.
Tristy was already sinking to her knees. Grant had the good sense to reach out and lock the laundry-room door. He grabbed her shoulders as she reached for his zipper. She worked fast and he was hardly in a position to resist.
Some domination.
Deftly she reached inside his pants and pulled his cock through the opening in his jeans. Luckily for her, and unluckily for him, he had worn no underwear.
Moaning softly, Tristy licked her lips.
This was insanity. They were in a public place and he was a law-enforcement officer. Tristy kissed the tip of his cock, taking the time to lick away a drip of pre-come from his uncircumcised head.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said.
“And you are so naughty,” he replied.
“I want to please you…want…”
He groaned, feeling the sensation of her tongue along the underside of his shaft, along the thick vein. Looking down seeing this gorgeous creature serving at his feet, he couldn’t help but be moved to the point of utter ecstasy.
In fact, this was not going to last long. Grant would never be able to hold out. He could feel his cock swelling already. He leaned forward slightly as he arched his neck. The roaring sound started deep in his chest. He was able to keep it mostly silent but it was full of emotion as the orgasm overtook him.
A powerful rush of sensation washed over him as the hot, thick jets of semen poured from the end of his cock into Tristy’s waiting and willing mouth.
“Tristy,” he said, “you don’t have to…”
But she was already doing it, swallowing down every little bit as fast as he could produce it. She continued sucking him and holding him fast, her hands wrapped around his waist.
Finally she released him, having licked him clean.
Grant pulled her to her feet. “And what exactly was that supposed to be?” he asked, finding it more than a little difficult to muster any real discontent over her actions.
“If you don’t know by now,” she teased, “we’re both in trouble.”
“We’re supposed to be friends,” he reminded her.
“So I was just doing a solid for my good pal.” She offered a grin and a wink. “You could say thanks.”
Grant arched a brow. “You know what we call girls like you?”
“I can hardly imagine.”
“We call them brats. They are submissives who try to manipulate a man into taking control.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It can be. If the couple doesn’t work together.”
“And how would we be, as a couple, I mean?”
“Like fire and ice,” he said without hesitation.
“Which one am I?”
“It depends.”
Tristy put out her hand. “Still friends?”
“Always.”
Her hand was small in his, so easily enveloped. He felt such a strange combination of desires—to protect, to consume, to possess.
“I will hold you to it,” she declared as she turned toward the door.
He unlocked the door for her and let her out. Quickly he closed it behind her. Before she could see the expression on his face. There was pain there and he knew it. Not the sort of thing you showed a friend.
At least not the ones you were in love with.
* * * * *
Tristy didn’t look back. When she was safely inside her apartment she locked the door, not that it would protect her. Not from the things she was feeling. She felt foolish and stupid and…betrayed.
Not by Grant.
How could she blame him? He had done nothing to her. He was the perfect gentleman always, ever above board, never deceiving or leading her on.
He was and always would be a friend.
But why not more? What the hell kept them apart?
Was it just the BDSM, which she played at but still feared, or were they both afraid of a real relationship? Did they feel unworthy of happiness?
She needed time to think. And her life back on track. She definitely needed some non-Grant time. Some nice long baths, pay-per-view movies. Maybe get to know herself a little better.
Then maybe she could look for someone else. Someone not in her building. It was a good solid idea.
So why was she wiping tears from her eyes?
* * * * *
It was well after midnight when the knock came on Tristy’s door. Bleary eyed, she looked at the television and realized she had fallen asleep on the couch.
In a flash it all came back to her, the memories of the last twenty-four hours, the excruciating highs and lows.
Grant.
Was it him knocking? It had to be. Should she answer?
Her heart pounded. She wanted to tell him to go away. Then again she wanted to let him in and tell him off. Didn’t he realize what time it was? Decent people were trying to sleep. Not that she felt very decent.
Resisting the urge to slide the chain across the door, Tristy used the peephole. A quick gasp followed. It most certainly was not Grant.
Brian. Of hello-let-me-lead-you-on-and-then-tell-you-all-
about-my-lovely-wife-and-kids fame. Not that he had even had the decency to tell her himself. She’d had to find the information on his cell phone. The suspicion had obviously been there. She had just been ignoring it all along.
“Tristy, I know you’re in there, I can hear you breathing.”
Just barely, she thought. “Go away, Brian, you shouldn’t have come.”
“I know. I’m an even bigger ass than I already was, but look, I came to apologize,” he said.
Tristy waited for the hidden agenda.
Five…four…three…two…one.
“And…and maybe to talk a little?”
Blast off! “There isn’t anything to talk about.”
“I just want to make it right.” She could hear the slur in his voice.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“A little,” he confessed. “But it just makes me bolder. Tristy, I’m separated now and I love you.”
“Go away, Brian, or I will call the cops.” One of whom lives right down the hall. Not that she wanted to involve Grant any further in her sorry excuse for a life.
“Go ahead,” he said, emboldened by the scotch or whatever else was in his system. “I’ll shout it to the world here or in jail. I love Tristy! I love Tristy!”
That was it. Enough was enough. She really didn’t want him to be arrested. He was harmless enough but she had to get him home. Undoing the chain, she turned the deadbolt and opened the door. Brian looked even worse than he had through the peephole.
“You look good,” he slurred, practically falling on her. “You look like a million bucks.”
“Brian, get off me!”
He was still clinging when she heard the door fling open down the hall.
Grant had heard enough.
He had been willing to let the situation go provided Tristy was up to dealing with it herself. But now she had gone and done the worst thing by opening her door to an obviously drunken punk.
One look at him said he was a potential threat to her now that the alcohol had removed whatever tenuous morals he might have possessed.
“Can I help you with something?” asked the surly, soused Brian.
“Sure,” said Grant. “You can drop your ass to the floor before I do it for you.”
Brian was laughing but he had that wary look in his eye. He’d also managed to release his grip on Tristy’s arm.
“You know this character?” Brian asked Tristy.
Grant’s teeth clenched. The very idea of Brian talking to Tristy any further, much less touching her again, was more than he could stand.
“I’m an interested third party, bud, and right now my interest is in getting you away from this young woman.”
“Grant, I can speak for myself,” Tristy snapped, as though he were the aggressor and not the one trying to save her ass.
Brian laughed, sniffing a potential wedge in the situation. He reached out again for Tristy and that was all she wrote.
“Wanna grab somebody, how about me?” Grant asked as he took Brian by the collar, pivoting him about and setting him on his feet a safe distance from Tristy.
It was at that point that Brian revealed just how stupid he was. Grant easily blocked the punch and landed one of his own in Brian’s solar plexus. The man ended up on his knees, groaning and looking skyward.
Grant pulled him back to his feet. “How about you hit the road, pal?”
Brian didn’t need to be asked again. Still holding his stomach, he staggered down the hall muttering the whole way about crazy bitches and psycho boyfriends.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tristy called after him.
Grant shook his head. “Heaven forbid.”
“I suppose you want me to thank you?” She whirled on him.
“I want you to be all right, that’s all.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.”
“Good,” she echoed. “Well, good night then.”
“Goodnight.”
Neither one of them moved. A second later they fell into a kiss. It was hard to tell who moved first. Grant’s arms snaked around Tristy and she collapsed into him. He could feel the tension releasing from her.
He wanted to hold her like that forever. At the same time there were so many other things he wanted to do with her, things he wanted to show her and teach her.
“Come with me,” he murmured. “Back to my apartment. There are some things I want to tell you. Beginning with…I’m pretty damn sure I love you.”
The words caught them both off guard. But they had been building and building. In a way it made sense…though it surely opened a whole new path, something other than friends with benefits.
Her face lit, dreamy and filled with desire. His heart clenched in response.
“Yes,” she said. “Master.”
About the Author
Reese Gabriel is a born romantic with a taste for the edgier side of love. Having traveled the world and sampled many of the finer things, Reese now enjoys the greater simplicities—barefoot walks by the ocean, kisses under moonlight and whispers of passion in the darkness with that one special person.
Preferring to remain behind the scenes, cherished by a precious few, Reese hopes to awaken in the lives of many the possibilities of true love through stories of far off places and enchanted lives.
For the sake of love and hope and imagination, these stories are told. May they be enjoyed as much in the reading as in the writing.
Reese welcomes comments from readers. You can find Reese’s website and email addresses on the author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
Tell Us What You Think
We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at Comments@EllorasCave.com.
Also by Reese Gabriel
A Centaur for Libby
A Filly for Doug
Auctioning Charity
Chaining His Heart
Chance’s Rules
Come and Get Me
Commanding Kat
Dance of Submission
Exposing Victoria
His Sahvria
His Submissive
Ian’s Way
Kimberlee’s Keeper
Laila’s Bargain
More Than Male 1: Nyssa’s Guardian
More Than Male 2: Seria’s Star Warrior
More Than Male 3: Azar’s Prize
More Than Male 4: Jaxey’s Master
More Than Male 5: A Dominant for Desela
More Than Male 6: Vandar’s War
More Than Male 7: An Obedient for Samharin
More Than Male 8: Dominating Dekalia
My Carina
Prisoner of Shera-Sa
Reflecting Jesyca
Roping His Filly
Scorching Sammie
Soul Master
Submissive with Benefits
Tall, Dark and Dominant 1: Managing Macy
Tall, Dark and Dominant 2: Taking on Tabytha
Tall, Dark and Dominant 3: Legally Binding
Taming Delaney
Temporary Slave
Tie Me, Tease Me
Tying Tempest
Print books by Reese Gabriel
Exposing Command
Holiday Reflections anthology
More Than Male 1: Nyssa’s Guardian
More Than Male 2 & 3: Primale Possession
More Than Male 4 & 5: Primale Pleasures
More Than Male 6: Vandar’s War
More Than Male 7: An Obedient for Samharin
Prisoner of Shera-Sa
Roping Their Fillies
Temporary Slave
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
www.ellorascave.com
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