I don’t take my mouth off Tristan’s this whole time. The more sensation I’m feeling in other parts of my body, the easier it is for me to transform the experience of pain into pleasure. Even though I had a steady boyfriend for two years, I’m pretty sure I’ve never kissed someone for so long during actual sex.
Of course, it’s not like it means anything. None of this means anything other than that…that I wanted to come the way they made me come before, again. That’s why I’m here, drunk at a party, having secret sex in a stranger’s bedroom. Because I’m horny and I wanted more, that’s it. Fuck. I need my brain to turn off again.
I break from Tristan’s lips, dip my head down, and find the most bitable part of his neck. I wind my arms under his shoulder blades, grip onto them as hard as I can and rock myself forward. I slide up their cocks, only a few inches but I feel my ass zip up immediately. I open my mouth, wrap my teeth around Tristan’s neck, and push backward.
“Fuuuucckk,” I whimper, biting Tristan to muffle my moaning cries as I slide back down their cocks. I feel like I’m going to be split apart. I honestly can’t tell if this sensation is more pain or pleasure, but either way I want to feel more.
“Not yet, Mia,” Julian whispers, his voice strained and husky. “You’re not stretched enough yet.”
A low grumble rumbles up from Tristan’s chest. He rocks up into me, then back down. I throw my head back as my pussy instinctually clenches and curves to swallow his cock. Miraculously, Julian keeps his grip on my hips, keeping my ass in place despite Tristan’s movement.
Tristan’s rocking turns into gyrating thrusts, and my gasps of mingled pleasure and pain grow quicker and raspier. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers in my ear, one hand in my hair, one hand wrapped tight and desperate around my back, crushing me to his chest.
As Tristan picks up speed the momentum becomes too intense for Julian to keep me completely still, so the base of his cock rims around the entrance to my ass. Although the sensation is much bigger, it feels a little bit like when his tongue licked me inside. The same nerves are getting triggered, including the ones that seem to have a direct connection to my clitoris.
I jerk my hips just a little, just enough to get that extra burst of arousal that comes from rubbing my nub against Tristan’s pubic mound. It’s like I can feel the electricity running all around my entrance, past the perineum and back to my ass. The sensations of one become the sensations of all. Pain bleeds into pleasure, this time enhancing it, rather than detracting from it.
Tristan snarls into my neck. His thrusts go from powerful to animalistic. He is up and down, in and out, around, around, rocking, grinding, gyrating, like he’s melding our flesh together, merging us. My calves flex, ankles twist, my toes stretch out, then curl in, and the tension between my legs is becoming unbearable.
“Please,” I find myself gasping, clinging to Tristan with one hand, the other wrapped behind me, desperately holding Julian’s thigh, not wanting to feel even a millimeter less of him inside of me. The tension builds and builds, sending terrible, wonderful aches jolting down the back of my thighs. “Pleeeease…”
I cannot help it. I’m so close. I’ve never felt anything like this. I am nothing, absolutely nothing, but nerve endings that feel like they’re going to melt and explode at the same time.
I buck my hips back and forth, so fast and shallow that I’m practically vibrating. Tristan’s cock presses perfectly into my G-spot, and I almost swoon with pleasure. The inner lips of my pussy are swollen, throbbing, and trying to suck him even deeper into me. My ass is spread wide, a bastion of pain and pleasure, and Julian’s cock holds me like a lightning rod. And my clit—rubbed almost raw, but not quite—is electrified.
“Faster,” I gasp, my lips on Tristan’s ear. He pulls me back by the hair and bites my neck as he plummets deeper and deeper.
“Please, please, please,” I pant. The shakes are overtaking me. I can’t stop vibrating. I lose track of where my body ends and theirs begin.
Tristan swings his hips wide, thrusting up so hard that I think he’s lifted us off the bed. He pulls my hips up with him, then forces them back down, plunging both his cock and Julian’s deeper into me. As sensation rushes over me, I can feel the crescendo. The flood gates are at their limit. One more thrust. Just one more—
I bite down on Tristan’s neck so I don’t scream again, this time in pleasure—so, so much pleasure. Sound disappears, colors explode in front of my closed eyes. Utter loss of control envelopes me, clearing the way for a wave of ecstasy I could never have imagined.
Tickling, teasing, tugging sensation pools just behind my belly button and then warm, tingling aches leak down through my insides, melting and melding. The lips of my entrance pulse radically around Tristan’s cock, and my ass is practically swallowing Julian’s. I am painted in pleasure that trickles to my thighs like sugary acid, dissolving my muscles, my tendons, my sanity.
“Fuck,” Tristan growls, his neck curling around mine as he bites me back. Even in the thick haze of euphoria, I can feel his body vibrating too. I can feel his cock pulse as he releases into me, and I can feel my muscles sucking up his seed. Seconds later, Julian’s lips are on my back, his hot breath tickles my spine, and I feel a second rushing gush of heat spill into me.
Julian leans down, sliding halfway out of me, as he kisses and sucks the back of my neck. Tristan’s head falls back onto the blankets beneath us, his hair spilling out in every direction like a white-gold halo. Julian releases my neck, kisses me chastely on the cheek, and then, leaning forward to sandwich me in the middle, kisses Tristan softly on the lips.
I am complete putty, a blob of gelatinous oxytocin draped over Tristan’s body, held in place by the light pressure of Julian’s chest on my back and his knees against my outer thighs.
As I watch them kiss, I don’t see lust or animalistic desire…I see honesty and innocence and love. I watch the way Tristan’s jaw tilts open, the way he gently captures Julian’s lower lip, the tiny upward quirk at the corner of Julian’s mouth, soft, tender, filled with love and even protection. I spent two and a half years in a committed, long-term relationship filled with “I love you’s” and promise rings and talks about the future…but as I watch them now, I’m not sure I’ve ever actually felt a kiss like that.
When their lips finally part, Julian flops to one side and I, slick with sweat, slide off of Tristan. I don’t nuzzle or cuddle him, but I don’t jump up and run away either. I just stay where I am, next to him, my shoulder pressed into his armpit, my neck curved over his elbow. On his other side, Julian lays with a big, dopey grin visible in the moonlight. We’re all breathing hard, and I’m pretty sure I’ve gone numb from the waist down.
I don’t know how long we lay there, breathing in silence, listening to the muffled cacophony of noises coming from the party below. I am tempted to grab my wine—I was drinking wine, right?—but I’m afraid of shattering the delicate glass this moment is made out of.
It’s not that I’m being romantic or that I want it to last. I just don’t want this peaceful feeling to end and the thinking to start. I know it’s just the hormones doing their job, yet I feel content in a way I’ve never felt. But of course, all good things must come to an end. And this one does, with a swift hard knock on the door, quickly followed by a turning knob.
Tristan leaps up from between us at nearly the speed of light and hurls himself at the locked door.
“Tristan?” Theo’s voice calls. “Are you in there, mate? We’ve got a game of shots about to start but we’re short one player!”
“Shit,” Tristan whispers. Julian and I rouse ourselves, but with less urgency.
“A little busy, if you catch my drift,” Tristan calls back, his voice again smarmy, self-importantly charmed, and utterly fake. Then he turns back to me and Julian, drunkenly looking around for our clothes, and his voice is back to, I guess, real. “Hide in the closet,” he hisses to Julian. “Winters, go out first.”
“What?”
I whisper back feeling delirious, my brain and body flooded with oxytocin. “Why? They’re looking for you.”
“We’ll hold the round for you!” Theo chortles back. I think he might have had a decent amount of whatever he’s drinking too.
“No need,” Tristan replies, instantly back to smarmy-charming-fake. Then, he turns to me, and the fear, the panic, the clenched jaw all return. It’s so strange to watch someone flip in and out of dramatically different masks.
“Because,” he hisses in answer to my question, “if you walk out first no one will question what I was doing up here this whole time, and no one will be looking for anyone to come out after me, so Julian will be able to sneak out later.”
I almost argue, but the panic in his eyes is so intense, it stirs empathy in me. He really cares about no one knowing he’s into guys. “Fine.” I sigh.
Ding. Delicate glass, shattered. Moment gone.
I find my dress and sloppily pull it on. When it’s over my head, I open my eyes to see Tristan has moved away from the doorway and is standing right in front of me. With sincere, serious eyes he whispers, “Thank you.”
Oh shit, I think as I watch him tuck his shirt in and pull his shoes on. Actually feeling, well, feelings for Tristan is…is…something I was too stupid to not see coming. It turns out that no matter what I may have deluded myself into believing, I am not the kind of girl who can have sex with a guy three times and not develop some sort of vague warm fuzziness for him. Fuck.
Julian hands me my shoes. I slip into them as he slips into the closet. I look at my reflection in the dim light provided by the moon and the streetlamps. I gather my hair into a ponytail only to discover that there is no band waiting on my wrist.
With one last incidental glance at Tristan I grab the nearest cup, which I later realize is his, not mine, unlock the door, and open it. Theo’s eyes register surprise when I step out, but that surprise quickly transforms into something smug, satisfied, something like I knew it.
“Great scotch,” I say with a big drunk smile because I have absolutely nothing else to say, but I don’t want him to think I care that he’s caught me hooking up with Tristan. I head downstairs, hoping that by now at least Azzi is ready to go.
I find Leanne first. She is talking to Chase and Heather Sinclair, who is a fellow pre-law junior. I weave my arm through hers and instantly feel her tense up. Great, I think, she’s still in “impress everyone” mode. Out of respect for this, I resist the urge to lean my chin on her shoulder.
“Hi,” I say to Chase and Heather when there is a break in conversation. “Leanne, have you seen Azzi?” I ask, knowing that I’m not going to be able to drag her away from such delightful company.
“Check the balcony,” Leanne says. I do not frown and say, That’s the first place I checked, like I want to. Instead I take the out and, with a little wave to Heather and Chase, decide to double back to the kitchen.
I reach out to grab the edge of my purse, a nervous habit, but there is no purse waiting for me to grab. I must have left it upstairs, I realize. Damn it.
I head back up. There is no one in the loft and the door has been left hanging a few inches shy of closed. I’m a step from simply walking right inside when I hear Tristan’s schmoozing laughter harmonizing with Theo’s cheesy chortling.
“Of course not, no, no—Mia Winters? No!”
I freeze. They’re talking about me? And judging by Tristan’s tone, it doesn’t sound like anything nice is being said.
“Good to hear. Don’t get me wrong,” Theo snickers, “I wouldn’t throw her out of bed myself, but she’s not really what a Keyman, or prospective Keyman, wants in a partner.”
What a crass, disgusting—
“Not at all,” Tristan heartily agrees. “I’m just following my father’s advice.”
“And what’s that?” Theo asks.
“College is for sleeping with all the women you’d never marry.”
“Smart man, your father,” Theo replies, with a whole new round of chortles quickly followed by a hearty slap to the back. “I could tell you were out to bag Mia when you supported her ridiculous nitpicking at the last Y.U.P.S. meeting. That’s why I invited her tonight, figured I’d help a friend out.”
Disgusting fucking little—
“You and the bartender!” Tristan laughs like this is absolute high comedy.
I gnash my teeth together, no longer interested in restraining the snarls bubbling up inside. Allowing righteous anger to take control, I push the door open.
Surprise registers on both of their faces. For a split second I think perhaps I see something like regret or fear in Tristan’s, but given what I’ve just heard, I’m quite sure I’m imagining it.
I walk right past the two of them and grab my purse at the edge of the bed. I sling it over my shoulder and then fix Tristan with the iciest stare I can manage.
“I won’t bother to categorically break down why you both bring shame to our species.” I slide my cold, hard eyes to Theo. “As more than one recent conversation has illustrated, you’re most likely not intelligent enough to understand. However, for your information, I didn’t sleep with Tristan because you invited me to a party with alcohol—I had already slept with Tristan and Ju—”
Something deeper than panic flashes in Tristan’s eyes. Something more intense than fear. And when our eyes lock, my heart feels constricted. Fuck. Even now, at this moment, when I hate him more than I have ever even come close to hating him before, I am actually feeling sympathy for that lying asshole. Fuck.
“—just wanted to get off.”
I see Tristan’s tight chest fall as he exhales. Now he looks at me with utter disbelief, and traces of something like gratitude or hope. I don’t know or care. I need him to know that just because I’m a decent human being and I’m not ratting out his dirty little secret, that doesn’t mean I have any interest in ever speaking to him again.
“He was convenient,” I say to Theo, but keep my eyes on Tristan’s, wishing I had Superman heat-vision, “but apparently more drama than he’s worth.”
Without caring if either of them has anything to say in response, I spin on my heel and walk out, my head held high.
Back downstairs I resume my hunt for Azzi with a new vigor. I need to leave before the righteous anger consuming me reaches its half-life and I become vulnerable to the feelings of stupidity and self-anger that I already know are inevitable. I can’t even think about that right now though. I just need to leave.
I really don’t give a fuck what Tristan, Theo, or any of their little secret society friends might think. I don’t care if leaving makes it obvious that I’m upset. I didn’t want to come to this party in the first place. Leanne can stay if she wants to, but I’m out of here.
— Julian —
Shit! I internally curse the second I hear Mia’s voice. The sentiment just repeats as I stand trapped in the closet, powerless to correct what is happening. To say Mia is angry would be an understatement, and why wouldn’t she be? She doesn’t know Tristan well enough to understand what she just overheard.
My muscles are tense with the instinct to go after her, to explain, to try to stop all the misunderstandings and consequential drama that will inevitably interrupt the lovely little something that’s just begun. If I open these doors though, both Tristan and I are going to end up in a very awkward situation.
Theo is a well-trained dog of Skeleton Key and even though it’s been a few years, my rejection of their invitation obviously still hasn’t been forgotten or forgiven. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if, with the encouragement of former members, he told the department about the TA hiding in the closet, spying on undergrads having sex, purely for spite. Even if Theo didn’t, any association with me beyond my being his TA is bad for Tristan’s ambitions to join the Brotherhood. So I have no choice but to sit in this closet until they leave.
“Guess you won’t be tapping that again!” Theo comments jovially.
“Not a major loss,”
Tristan drawls in response. That little drag at the beginning though…Theo won’t have detected it, but I know that’s a sign Tristan is lying.
Tristan hasn’t said it, but I can tell there is something special about Mia. She gets under his skin. The few times we’ve brought a woman into bed, it’s never been more than once and she’s never been anyone who knew anything about our personal lives, much less one Tristan shared a college and a dorm with.
“I’ve got the number of a great professional agency if you ever need one, by the way. Real classy, all business, no drama, good selection, often available last minute. Wonderful service,” Theo offers.
How sweet, I sarcastically think, settling into a corner with the comfiest looking pile of unidentifiable objects. The Brotherhood must really want Tristan if they’re offering up prostitutes.
“Appreciated, but I prefer to pursue and bag,” Tristan replies.
“Ah, a sportsman!” I hear Theo slap his back, like the good ol’ boy he is.
“Exactly,” Tristan chortles back. “Speaking of which, shots?”
“Shots!”
If my brain could barf it would. This conversation has done nothing but reaffirm my certainty that rejecting the Brotherhood’s invitation was the correct decision.
I hear footsteps and then a definitive click of the bedroom door. I wait a few moments in the closet, just in case they dally on the loft. Then, I wait in the empty room with my ear at the door for another minute or so before stepping back into the noise of the party.
I get downstairs and immediately start looking for Mia. Although she’s demonstrated a tendency to bolt in the past, I have a fool’s hope that she may still be here. However, that hope dissipates after two circles of the apartment. There is no sign of either her or Azar. I am too late.
I don’t wait long to leave the party either. I suppose I just shouldn’t have come, but when I found out Mia would be at a party that I knew Tristan would be at, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get both of them naked without any nonsense about blackmail as an excuse. And I got my way, but the consequences weren’t worth it.
Blackmail (Skeleton Key Book 1) Page 12
