BLYSS (Blyss Trilogy #1)

by J. C. Cliff

  Travis rolls over onto his back, lying flat on the bed. He looks frustrated, running both hands over his face and through his hair. He groans as if he’s in deep pain. I prop myself up on my elbow and lean over him, willing him to say yes to me. He stays silent, and I second-guess myself, wondering if he doesn’t want me after all. Being one to hate the back-and-forth drama from lack of communication, I ask, “Why won’t you have me? Don’t you want me?”

  He lets out a pained sigh. “You’re not mine to have, sweetheart. You belong to Nick.” I peer over his stonewall exterior, and I can truly see the warring conflict going on behind his eyes. I can tell he wants me, and how hard this really is for him. “But do I want you? Yeah, I do, more than my next breath,” he softly murmurs. His confession relieves me of the quarreling emotions I have over Travis. Despite the fact he’s a criminal, there is something undeniable building between the two of us that continues to strengthen; I can feel it.

  No matter how messed up it is, I want Travis, and I felt something from the second I laid eyes on him. I can’t deny the fact he feels so right at this very moment, and I decide I will take him any way he will give himself to me. I roll my body on top of his, placing a hand on either side of his broad shoulders as I dust my lips across his. His hands fly to my shoulders and he pushes me back, his brow furrowing in question.

  “Julianna, what are you doing?” Strike one. I move on to plan B and shake off his hands, scooching back between his legs. He raises an eyebrow. “Julianna?”

  “Shhh…let me have this…please.” The way he’d taken care of me this afternoon had to have been the ultimate experience for losing my virginity, even though, technically I haven’t lost it yet. Of course, I’m under the influence of drugs, but he truly cared and wanted to make me feel good. Since I’m being trained to be Nick’s, truthfully he’s the one who should have been here today, but I’m glad it wasn’t him, though. Travis is the one who’s been by my side, holding my hand and picking up the broken pieces every single time I’ve fallen apart.

  I decide that if he won’t make love to me, I can at least show him, convince him how much I want him. I’m desperate for him, and it calls for desperate measures. I tentatively look into his eyes for permission as I reach for the button on his jeans. He takes a deep breath, holds it in and closes his eyes, as if he’s warring with himself.

  “Julianna, no...no,” he whispers on his exhale, but there’s no conviction behind the word, and I know it really means yes. His hands clench into tight fists as I forge ahead, unbuttoning his pants. I slide down his zipper, revealing dark blue boxer shorts. “This is not a good idea,” he warns, but he doesn’t even attempt to stop me. His words are weak, said only out of obligation.

  “Shh, I need this. Please, don’t stop me,” I murmur, my fingers steadily pulling down his underwear and exposing the tip of his penis. Holding back the elastic band of his underwear with one hand, I tenderly remove his swollen cock from its confines using the other. He’s beautiful, thick, hard, and supple all at the same time. My hand gently wraps around his length, and Travis lets out a low moan as his body visibly shudders. There’s a drop of pre-cum on the tip, and I immediately snake my tongue out to lap it up.

  “Holy fuck, baby,” he groans, making me grin. He wants this; if he didn’t, he would’ve stopped me. Using my tongue, I pass over his soft tip again, gentle and slow. I’m no stranger to this type of intimacy. It’s what I used to do for Adam to keep from reaching home plate, and I’d like to think I became rather proficient at it. Seductively, I peer up into Travis’ eyes one last time, giving him the option to stop me. Need swirls in his eyes, and he doesn’t utter a single word. All he can seem to do is pant heavily, hoping I won’t stop now that I’ve started.

  I tug on either side of his underwear, and he automatically raises his hips for me to slide them down. When his underwear is mid-thigh, I stop, frozen in my tracks and taken aback by what I see. At the base of his cock, his balls look painfully engorged; they’re huge, and the veins under the thin skin of his penis visibly throb with his racing pulse. “Oh, my God, Travis, are you all right?”

  “Fuck no, I’m not all right. It hurts like a son-of-a-bitch,” he growls through clenched teeth.

  “Is this what they call blue balls? I thought it was an exaggeration.” I’m fascinated, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes to study him. It can’t be comfortable, and I’m so transfixed by his situation I forget what I was doing.

  Travis’ deep voice startles me, pulling me back to the task at hand. “Hell, baby, you keep staring at it and it’s just going to get worse. Now please, for fuck’s sake, do something about it…anything.” I look into his eyes and see the intense panic in his expression. “And before you ask, it won’t get better until I release.”

  “What does it feel like?” I ask, truly curious.

  He growls a reverberating sound from deep within his chest, and I get the hint he’s not in the mood to discuss his ailment, but still, he humors me. “Imagine your nipples being the size of a jawbreaker and they’re throbbing, then someone bites down on them…hard.”

  “Oh!” I gasp wide-eyed, and then I look back down at his swollen tissue with hesitation. “Won’t it hurt for me to touch it?”

  “Fucking hell!” he roars and clenches his fists. I take that as my cue to stop asking questions, and I immediately engulf his entire length with my wet, warm mouth. As the tip of his cock touches the back of my throat, he gasps several times, trying to catch his breath as he threads his fingers through my hair. “Oh, shit, baby.”

  His words are all the encouragement I need. I put everything I have into giving him pleasure, not only wanting to relieve his pain, but to make him feel what I felt when he did those magical things to my body only minutes ago. Being careful not to be too rough near the base of his cock, I wrap my hand around his shaft, stroking it gracefully up and down, my mouth following the rhythm my fist has set.

  I feel the pulsating veins against my fingers, and as the ridged muscles of his thick thighs flex and jerk on either side of my body, I know he’s already close. Taking a lesson from his book, I know that a little added pain will cause the pleasure to surmount ten-fold, so I take the hand fisted around his cock and slide it down until I cup it around his engorged sac. My palm is soaked from my saliva, and as I begin to carefully knead and rub him there, I slide his rock-hard erection between my lips, over my tongue, and to the back of my throat. Pulling my final trick, hoping it will be the thing to send him over the edge and give him the relief he needs, I take in a deep breath through my nose and let out a long, low moan at the same time I squeeze his balls in a firm but tender grip.

  His whole body tenses, and he practically pulls himself into full crunch as he lets out a feral howl. His hands shoot to the back of my head, threading through my hair almost painfully as he forces my head to stay in place as he pumps his hips once…twice…and on the third thrust of his cock as I continue to moan, he detonates, shooting spurt after spurt of hot cum down my throat.

  I’ve never swallowed semen before, always having pulled away at the last moment to finish Adam off with my hand, making him come on his own stomach. So as Travis’ body finally goes completely limp after the last jet coats my tongue, I take a moment to taste his essence. The mix of the salty taste and sticky texture isn’t as bad as I imagined, and I find myself bathing his still semi-hard cock with my mouth, lapping up the little bit that lingers at the very tip.

  I’m so distracted by his dramatic climax and my discovery afterwards that I don’t notice until I look at him long moments later that he’s been watching me worship his manhood. The look on his face is one of complete and utter awe, and the feeling of pride and…something else…swells inside me, knowing I’ve just given him such intense pleasure.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I wake up before the alarm, hearing sounds of activity just outside my bedroom door. It’s fleeting, and I realize whoever they were had just been passing by. It’s the first sou
nds I’ve heard outside my door since I’ve been here; usually it stays completely quiet up and down the hallways. I roll over in my bed to look at the time. It’s five minutes before the alarm is set to go off at 7:30. I don’t know why they bother making me get up and dressed for the day, since I go nowhere. I sit in this room all damn day with nothing to do. I need some sunshine, and I need to start exercising because I’m starting to go stir-crazy.

  There are only three entertaining things to do in this room—read books, watch a movie channel, or do an exercise video…that’s it. I’ve mostly been passing my time with reading. I’m currently skimming through Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and I’m actually having a little fun with it. The man had a wicked sense of humor, but because so much can be lost in translation, sometimes the irony gets hidden in the complexity of the story. It’s a book I haven’t read before, and I wish I had it growing up. There is only so much reading I can do, however, before I really get bored out of my mind.

  I sit up and place my medicine that awaits me on the nightstand into the palm of my hand. I look up and notice a pretty little black dress hanging on the outside of my closet door, with matching shoes sitting underneath. My brow furrows, and I instantly go on high-alert. I haven’t had any clothes laid out for me since the second day I was here, which was seven days ago. Someone—presumably Nick—had my closet filled to the brim with new clothes.

  The tallboy dresser in the room was also filled with undergarments and pajamas. I’m glad they put in a couple jeans and t-shirts, because I always want to wear those more than anything else. They’re comfortable, and really, why get dressed if I have no place to go? I ignore the dress; it will be there after my shower. I’m not really excited by anything anymore. I’ve been holed up here for a week now with no sign of a rescue. I shake the thoughts, trying not to lose hope. Where are you, Dad?

  I place the pill in my mouth, take a sip of water, and swallow then make my way to the shower. This has been my routine for the past few days without hesitation. While I’m under the shower’s spray, feeling the warm water cascade over my body, I begin to speculate all the ‘what ifs’ of my current situation. I don’t like living with this type of mindset, but that’s exactly what I find myself doing. I could probably write an entire anthology of shoulda, coulda, wouldas, but they never solve anything, and it’s always a waste of time. I scoff at myself internally; time...that seems to be something I have a lot of lately.

  I get out of the shower, dry off, and put on a cozy bathrobe. Thank goodness this one has a belt to go with it. Walking out of the bathroom, I pause to take a look in the mirror. Tilting my head in varying degrees, I begin to assess the fading bruises along my neck. Looking at me now, one wouldn’t know I was almost strangled to death. I close my eyes at the thought; that night seems so long ago.

  For some reason, I’m feeling a little groggy this morning, and I entertain the idea of having a nice, hot cup of coffee. I thought I slept fairly well, but it could be the stresses of having one hell of a week. I smirk at myself in the mirror, proud of my sly abilities to trick that stupid ‘Intelligent’ toilet. The idiom isn’t lost on me. It’s been three days straight I haven’t taken those drugs. I got the idea when I recently took a scalding hot bath, trying to sweat the drugs out of my system. There was so much condensation on the walls I figured there would be no way in hell a camera could see through the steamy fog. So I made it a habit to run the shower full steam ahead both morning and night, pretending it’s my normal routine to bathe twice a day.

  I keep an empty water bottle in the tank of the toilet, filling it with shower water once the steam is thick and heavy in the room. I break open the capsule I hide between my cheek and gum, and then let it dissipate in the water bottle. I don’t think these people have cameras in the bathroom, because I haven’t been called out on it yet. Every time I use the restroom, I dump about a fourth of the contaminated contents into the toilet bowl. I take extra security measures during the daytime, when I’m not running the shower for its camouflage, and try my damnedest to be as discreet as possible. I’ve been off them for a couple of days, and I can finally feel my head beginning to clear.

  I stifle a yawn, thinking about that cup of coffee again, and make my way to the kitchen. When I’m halfway there, I stop dead in my tracks. A colorfully-wrapped gift with a bow on top catches my eye as it sits on the kitchenette table. I gasp in a breath; I totally forgot today is my birthday. I back up until I collide against the wall with a thud. My stomach is twisted in knots and I feel like I’m going to be sick. In a daze, my face is cradled in my hands, which cover my eyes as I begin to cry.

  Thoughts rush in like a tidal wave. My father had a huge bash planned for me today. Some of my friends who were home on summer break planned to celebrate with me, some I hadn’t seen for over a year. This was my big two-one. It was supposed to mark a new era for me, the beginning of my life as an adult with my fiancée. I cry out loud, holding nothing back, and my body is wracked with gut-wrenching sobs. Yes, this is a new era in my life, indeed…one of epic proportions.

  I can feel my body shaking uncontrollably, my eyes and nose stinging from the torrent of tears. It’s my birthday, and I am giving myself a present—the gift of allowing myself to finally have a major breakdown, full of self-pity and all wrapped up with a gigantic, sobbing bow on top.

  I feel my body sliding down the wall, just like a falling tree that has been struck by a bolt of lightning. It’s what I feel like, too—Nick struck me with a lightning bolt, severing me right at the base. I fall to the floor sobbing with loud, convulsive gasps. They’re breaking me down; I can feel it, and I don’t know how much fight I have left in me before I become a mindless drone. With every new thought of my father and accumulated loss, I find new tears to shed.

  I’ve lost all track of time, and out of nowhere, I feel a set of strong, muscled arms scoot under my lifeless body, lifting me up. I didn’t even hear him come in. I know it’s Travis without even looking, just from his scent of leather and the way he touches me. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he whispers. I wrap my arms around his neck and gasp for air through my pitiful tirade.

  I feel hollow inside, so cold and empty. I’m beginning to think I’m fighting a losing battle, losing all hope. I can’t take this despair much longer. I don’t think I will ever make it home. I feel Travis moving, making his way to the bed, and he gently lays me down on the soft comforter. He climbs in beside me and pulls me into his arms, kissing the side of my head.

  “I know your world has fallen apart, Julianna,” he whispers in my ear, “and I know you don’t believe me, but it’s going to be okay.” His words stop my heart, because for some reason, a part of me does believe him. I nuzzle into his neck, seeking the comfort he’s willing to give me. The gentle kisses on my temple and his soothing, soft voice begin to calm me. I take another shaky breath, trying to relax.

  “Sweetheart, I have no words, and I’m not going to sugar-coat this either.” He pulls me in, embracing me tighter to his body. He lightly whispers in my ear so only I can hear him, “You have to believe me when I tell you I care. It’s not a lie; I care more than I should, and I’ve never felt this way before.”

  “Oh, God,” I whisper back. I’m left speechless from his confession, but I’m not sure I can believe him. I pull back to peer up at him through my blurry eyes, and I’m greeted with a pained grimace and eyes that say he’s sincere.

  “Shh, don’t say anything.” He scoots my head back into the crook of his arm and holds me tightly. He methodically and gently strokes my back up and down, creating a placid effect on my raw nerves. Closing my eyes, I meld further into him and take a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve got you, sweetheart...I’ve got you.” I listen to the thrumming beat of his heart, and it calms me down even more. I know it’s a bad idea, but I take refuge in his words. He makes me feel safe and protected, despite the fact he’s a party to this massive crime going on around me. I don’t ponder too much on the dilemma; I’m too emotionally-spent, and
before I know it, I’ve drifted off into a warm and peaceful sleep.

  *~*~*

  I wake with my head resting against something firm, definitely not a pillow. I turn my head and come face-to-face with a green-eyed Travis. Has he been here the entire time, silently watching over me?

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, whispering softly.

  “What time is it?”

  He turns his head to look at the bedside clock behind him, then turns back to me. “Twelve o’clock.”

  “I’ve slept for over two hours?”

  “They were well-spent hours, for both of us,” he adds sincerely. My heart swells at his sweet words, and I believe him. “Your body has been under a lot of stress during the past week; you needed the rest.” I look over his handsome face, stopping at his lips. I want to kiss him. This moment right here, between the two of us, just feels so right. He’s been nothing but comforting and tender, and I don’t want this to end. “So?”

  “So, what?” I ask in confusion.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I think about it for a second before I answer, “A little groggy, but warm and cozy.” I grin and wiggle my body into the side of his warm chest, and he gives me a beautiful smile and wraps his other arm around me, pulling me in for a tight embrace. I feel his lips lightly kiss the top of my head, and I can’t help but think we belong together. I wonder if he will make love to me, be my first lover. Maybe I can ask him. No, you stupid girl. I shake my head. You need to quit entertaining those senseless thoughts.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” I whisper.

  “What was that head shake for then? What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing, really,” I say, and I’m thankful he can’t see the lie written all over my face. “I just miss my father and all the festivities I’ll be missing out on with family and friends. He had made special birthday plans for me today, since it’s my big two-one.”