“Something wrong, Tristan?” she asked lightly, smoothing her skirt as we stood on the doorstep, the bell ringing faintly indoors. Her clothes were completely appropriate, sexy co-ed without being too revealing, brown hair gleaming.
“Nothing’s the matter,” I ground out before plastering a smile on my face. Just then the door opened.
“Tristan!” a voice boomed. “Good to see you again man.”
A fat dude stepped out, one whom I almost didn’t recognize. Because Barry and I had been lacrosse teammates back during undergrad, running up and down the field, swinging our sticks while chasing the ball, beating the competition to a pulp. But shit, this guy was a walking whale now, a man mountain with loads of flesh and a florid complexion, blonde hair almost white.
“Hey hey hey,” he said jovially, clapping me on the back. “Long time no see Tristan, it’s been a while.”
And I nodded. I’d been up for reunion last year but hadn’t had a chance to catch up with my old buddy. But then again, last year I’d had no idea that I’d have a ward interested in attending Hudson. Back then, Daisy had just been a blip, less than a blip, just an afterthought on my radar.
“Good to see you,” I said smoothly, shaking the big man’s hand. To be honest, I was kind of surprised Barry was Dean of Admissions because way back in the day there’d been a brouhaha about some sexual misconduct, charges that were pressed against him either by the Academic Committee or the Ethics Committee, I couldn’t remember. So it was bizarre that Barry was now a major figure with respect to the student population, someone with sway over who got in and who stayed out. But I shrugged my shoulders. Nothing had come of the investigation as far as I remembered and the university vetted all job applicants like they were the NSA. Whatever happened must have been nothing.
So I just smiled, giving no clue as to my thoughts.
“Hey wassup, good to see you again. This is my former ward Daisy,” I ground out, turning to the girl by my side.
“Hi Dean Lang, Tristan was just telling me how much he adores his alma mater,” Daisy said with a genuine smile. “Ithaca is gorges,” she quipped.
And Barry laughed at the pun on gorgeous. Our campus has steep gorges in its ravines, there are kayaking classes for the students, the white water frothy, choppy and tumultuous at times.
“’Ithaca is Gorges’ is our best-selling t-shirt, our best-selling logo blanket, our best-selling baseball cap,” chuckled the big man, enormous belly heaving. “But don’t tell anyone because our gorges are also the site of a lot of sadness. Did you hear about the Hendricks kid?” he asked, turning to me.
And I sighed. Unfortunately, I’d heard and had wish it hadn’t happened.
“Yes, and shit, that fucking sucks,” I ground out. Every few years a student in the depths of despair threw himself into the gorges, thinking life was no longer worth living. It was terrible, my heart went out to these kids, the way they thought life was over because of one bad midterm, one bad interaction. The administration had seriously considered roping off the ravines, putting all that property under 24-hour surveillance as a deterrent. But ropes and cameras can only do so much, and a determined kid is a determined kid.
I sighed. This conversation was going nowhere, so I ignored Barry’s implicit invitation to dive deeper and instead switched subjects.
“Daisy here’s interested in a pre-law program,” I said smoothly, indicating my ward. “We thought you were just the guy to bounce ideas off of.”
And Barry laughed, stepping back to let us into his living room.
“I sure am, I see a ton of pre-law hopefuls every year, they come to Hudson and thrive,” he chuckled. “Did I mention that Hudson also has a law school? A lot of our undergrads love it here so much that they stick around for another three years to get their JDs. I swear, I don’t even have to sell this place, it sells itself.”
And I knew then that Barry was likely an excellent Dean because instead of Daisy feeling like she needed to prove she was a stellar applicant, he was selling the school to us while giving Daisy the space to open up, express herself. And so the conversation flowed, Daisy sharing her aspirations to be a public interest lawyer, her interest in the judiciary, in the academic study of law, in law practice.
“That’s something we like to hear,” said Barry, nodding approvingly as my little girl gave a brief sketch of her aspirations. “A lot of kids say they want to learn for the sake of learning, but law is a professional degree. The admissions committee likes to hear from people who want to practice.”
“Oh I get it,” said Daisy flushing. “I totally get it, some people are real nerds and I am too,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I want to put my skills to work, really make a difference, and I think I could do better as a practicing lawyer than if I were just learning for the sake of learning. I mean it’s fun to learn, I appreciate the opportunity, but I want to really make something of myself.”
And Barry let out another belly laugh, leaning back on the overstuffed couch.
“Well, that’s always refreshing to hear. So many kids these days have no direction, no idea what they want to do. You’ve got a good one, Tristan, you’ve got a really good one.”
And I merely nodded silently. I’d been astonished again by how eloquently Daisy had expressed herself, like she’d done real thinking about her career, her life. In fact, the only person at that age who’d done just as much introspection was me. When I was eighteen, I too had been hungry, determined to make my mark and so I knew how bright the fire could burn, how hot the flames, the little girl’s desire to impact the world.
And after the discussion was over, Barry stood up.
“You got a good one,” he chortled again. The jolly man looked me straight in the eye and winked. “A real good one.”
What the fuck was he saying? Was he implying something illicit between my ward and I? My hackles immediately rose even as I schooled my face in impassiveness. But the fat man just shook his head, letting out another big belly laugh and said, “I’d love to show you around myself but my gout’s been acting up and I can’t walk worth crap these days. Instead I’ve asked my son Lance to give you guys the campus tour. Lance!” he called into the back of the house. “Come out here and meet our guests.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” said Daisy quickly, “Tristan, I’m sure you still remember campus well, right? No need for a tour guide.”
And I growled.
“Absolutely, I know where all the buildings are. They haven’t changed locations, they don’t get up and walk,” I rumbled. I wanted some more alone time with the brunette, I wanted to show her the special nooks and crannies where I’d become a man so long ago.
But it was too late because a handsome son-of-a-bitch burst into the room, tall, athletic, filled with youth and energy. And fuck, but Barry’s son was like a version of him from twenty years ago, handsome and fit, with a shock of white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes.
“Sure Pop,” said the boy, “Is this the guy you used to play lacrosse with?” he asked, nodding my way while popping a stick of gum.
“Sure is,” replied Barry jovially. “Lance plays lacrosse for Hudson too, just like we did long ago. Thought you might like to meet finally, Tristan’s CEO of Marks Holdings, isn’t that right?” he said, squinting at me.
“That’s right, I’ve come a long ways,” I said smoothly. “A long ways from being a bench warmer on the lacrosse team while your dad ran up and down the field. But times have changed, haven’t they Barry boy?” I said with fake humor, clapping the Dean on the back. “Let’s go,” I said shortly.
And before anyone could say another word, we were out the door and into the car. I knew exactly why I was suddenly grouchy. The stupid boy in the backseat was a gnat, a smear on an otherwise perfect day and I silently cursed my old friend for saddling us with his son.
But then again, Barry had no idea that Daisy and I were an item, no reason to suspect, I assured myself. And it was only natural that he wa
nted Lance to come with us, after all I was a powerful man with powerful connections. I could hook Lance up with an internship, sure, so long as he kept his eyes off my ward and his dick in his pants.
Grumbling impatiently, I pressed my foot on the accelerator. What the fuck. I’d wanted to have a beautiful day with my best girl, and now I was fucking dragging around a man-puppy, a half-ass adolescent with us who was gazing at Daisy like she was a piece of tasty, juicy candy. But fuck that … because she was mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Daisy
It was kind of funny how grumpy Mr. Marks got when Lance bounded out. I mean, Mr. Marks is a handsome man, all tall, dark and gorgeous but Lance is attractive too, just in a completely different way. Lance is blonde and thin with some acne on his chin and neck but it’s okay, it’s not super-gross or anything.
But Tristan was pissed, I could tell.
“Get into the car,” he barked, and I hopped into the passenger seat, taking care to pull my legs in discreetly, tucking my skirt around my thighs. Because some masculine power struggle was already starting between Tristan and Lance and instead of hopping to, Lance slowly sauntered around the Maserati, dragging his eyes over the car’s curves sensuously, eating her up.
“Hmm, 2015 model, S-Class with all the hook-ups,” he gaggled. “What’d she cost you? 200K? 300K?”
I gasped. Isn’t it rude to talk about money, to ask how much other peoples’ stuff cost?
But Lance was even bolder than I thought.
“You know there’s the C-Class too,” he smirked. “Top of the line, why didn’t you go for that one?”
And my mouth hung open. Had he just implied that my guardian couldn’t afford the top of the line model? That Tristan was slumming it for some reason?
But the big man didn’t look bothered. Instead, he surveyed the car slowly as well.
“I thought about the C-class,” he said, “but there’ve been rumors of engine fires and didn’t want to get caught up in that shit,” he rumbled. “Not with Daisy potentially taking this to school with her.”
And I gasped again. He’d been planning on giving me the Maserati? I couldn’t. It was too much.
“No,” I said shakily. “That’s too generous, I can’t take it with me, the Accord is just fine.”
Because we had a Honda Accord at home, a blue one with not too many miles, it was perfect for the student life.
But Tristan ignored me.
“Yeah, I want Daisy to be safe,” he said smoothly, looking at Lance. “She’s amazing, right? I’ve got to take care of my best asset.”
And I gaped again. If I was reading this right, then Mr. Marks was marking off his territory in front of another male, not-so-subtly telling Lance to stay the fuck away from me.
And the teenage boy got it.
“Absolutely, a Maserati would be amazing in the hills around here, Daisy’s a lucky girl,” he said shooting me a glance. Did he suspect? Did he suspect that I was a lot more than Tristan’s ward?
But the adolescent folded himself into the backseat then and said, “Cool, thanks Mr. Marks, let’s drive up to the front gates of the school, they’ve erected a new statue there that I think you guys would get a kick out of.”
And it wasn’t bad after that. We parked the car and strolled around the grounds. Hudson really is gorgeous, all ivy-covered stone buildings and gothic spirals set against sprawling greens, paved walkways, the chatter of students as they meandered to class. Yes, I could see myself here, it wasn’t tough to imagine myself settling in, growing into a woman, exploring the world on these beautiful grounds.
And I had to share my happiness, my anticipation.
“Tristan,” I whispered turning to him as we ascended the steps of the library, “It’s beautiful here. Your alma mater’s amazing.”
And the big man acted like I’d just complimented him. A grin spread over his face, sparks dancing in his eyes.
“You think?” he ground out.
“I definitely think,” I winked as we passed through the turnstiles at the entrance, stopping at the circulation counter.
“Uh, if you don’t mind I’ll stick around here,” said Lance. “I get allergies whenever I’m around books.”
And I giggled. Lance was clearly a dumbass without an appreciation for the finer things in life. But even more obvious were the googly eyes he was making at a thin blonde at the check-out counter, a girl who was obviously bored, filing her nails disinterestedly while yawning at the clock.
“Tawny. Tawny!” he swaggered over, his pants practically falling off, they were so low on his hips. “Yo yo yo, that party last weekend fucking rocked.”
And Tristan and I just rolled our eyes. Everything about Lance was wrong, he was a dumb dolt and frat boy rolled into one, he’d probably only gotten into school here because his dad was the Dean of Admissions. As we watched him wink and smirk at the unimpressed girl, I realized that must have been it. This guy couldn’t have gotten in on his merits, he had nothing to offer judging from the drool practically hanging off his lips.
So Tristan and I walked off, leaving Lance to his shenanigans, glad to leave that train wreck behind. We wandered slowly, taking in the lighted atrium, the stacks of books soaring to the ceiling, the large study tables with banker’s lights shading each carrel.
“Did you study a lot when you were here?” I said flirtatiously.
And Mr. Marks seemed to get it immediately.
“More than you know,” he shot back. “There was a lot to learn.”
I giggled because I’d heard so much about library rendezvous, people getting it on in the back of the stacks.
“Come on, I want to show you,” he said, taking my hand, and my heart fluttered as he grabbed my fingers, big hand hard and warm. “This way, into the auxiliary wing.”
And I trailed him, wandering through a maze of stacks, wending this way and that, getting lost among millions of books.
“It’s amazing you still remember your way around here,” I said breathlessly as we took another left turn, then a right, then a left. “This place is like a labyrinth.”
But Tristan didn’t reply except to let out another grunt, dragging me past a couple potted ferns, then another left into a dark corridor until finally we came to a dimly lit area. Here there were rolling shelves everywhere, row after row of books stacked to the ceiling, the air mysteriously grey, heavy with the scent of deteriorating ancient tomes … and the scent of sex.
And as if on cue, a low moan rose in the air, a wail, a huffed sigh before dying down again.
I muffed a giggle.
“Oh my god, did we just really hear that?” I whispered. “Is this some X-rated section?”
“Baby, it’s the X-rated section,” he growled, pulling me off into one of the stacks, making a left, a right, another right, until I was positively dizzy. “But it’s not X-rated because of porno books or dirty mags or anything. It’s X-rated because this is where students get it on.”
And just like that, another sigh punctuated the air, some breathy gasps.
“Oh my god, this is so wrong,” I whispered to him as he pulled me against him, boobs pressed against the wall of muscle that was his chest.
“So wrong?” he murmured against my lips. “Tell me what’s wrong about this,” he growled before taking my mouth entirely, running his tongue against the seam, growling insistently until I opened, pulling my head back for better access, gently tugging at my hair, angling me so that he could consume.
“Ohhhh, Daddy,” I breathed, body going weak, insides gelatinous, cunt damp and steamy within seconds. “Oh god.”
But Tristan was a man with a mission.
“I popped your cherries last night,” he murmured into my ear. “And I just want to make sure my little girl’s okay, do a check-up of sorts.”
“Here?” I asked scandalized, cheeks flushing.
“There’s no place better,” he growled, his eyes looking at me ravenously. “Now turn around baby girl, bend
over so that Mr. Marks can get a look.”
And slowly I turned in the narrow aisle. Slowly, oh so slowly, I bent over while looking at him mischievously over my shoulder, running my hands up and down my thick thighs, caressing my calves.
“Like this Daddy?” I asked coyly once my head was between my knees.
And Tristan had stopped breathing, the big man was stock still, eyes fixed to my bottom. Because I know what he saw. I’d skipped the panties this morning, so as I leaned forward, the hem of my skirt had begun to rise, inch after inch of my creamy thighs revealing themselves, until the bottom lips of my cunt came into view, pink, plush, swollen and wet.
And as I bent further, my whole kitty appeared, inch by delicious inch as the skirt rode up, gleaming, wet already with desire, steaming and delicious, waiting for his touch.
With one final wiggle of my hips, I flipped the skirt over my back, everything bared now and jiggled my butt at him, baiting him with my cunt, butt cheeks jouncing up and down.
“Daddy, you like?” I cooed.
But the big man had iron control and he merely leaned close, spreading my cheeks, taking in the gorgeous sight before him.
“Baby, I just want to do a check,” he rumbled, expression neutral although his eyes flashed dangerously. “I want to make sure everything’s good to go after taking your cherries yesterday.”
“Then do it,” I whispered to him, eyes wide, giving another shimmy of my hips.
And without further ado, the big man pulled my pink lips apart, looking straight up into my channel, gazing at my slit, the ruby red walls pulsing, my clit standing straight up, pulsing, begging to be touched. Slowly, he rubbed my labia at first, caressing those fleshy lips before circling to the hole where his dick would go, grazing my clit with a knuckle.
I moaned breathily, big boobs heaving.
“Things seem to be good down here, but I want to do an internal inspection,” he murmured, his mouth breathing hot air onto my clit. “Just to make sure you’re a hundred percent.” And with that, a big finger probed, tracing my opening before sliding deep into my cunt, filling me, making my sore flesh stretch oh-so-deliciously. Even his finger was huge, making me moan, my little body unaccustomed to being penetrated so many times in twenty four hours, the stretching slightly uncomfortable at first, my hips squirming as I adjusted.
Claiming His Virgin In the Ring: The Filthy Wrestling Club Page 52
