by Ash, Nikki
“Umm…no…your sister needs you to come over here. Well, actually I do. She’s locked herself in the bathroom and I can’t get her out.” What the hell?
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
“Thank you. You might want to find someone to watch Lexi. Your sister is kind of in a bad place.”
“Do you need to call an ambulance?” I ask, starting to freaking out.
“No, no, nothing like that. Just get here soon, please.”
“All right, I’ll be there shortly.” I hang up the phone and notice Charlie is nervously nibbling on her bottom lip. With her still sitting on my lap, she must’ve heard our conversation.
“I’m going to call Mason to come watch Lexi.” I tap the side of her hip, indicating I need her to get up, and she stands. I pull up my contacts to call Mason thinking I can drop Lexi off to him at the gym on my way. My heart is pounding in my chest not knowing what’s going on with my little sister.
The phone rings and rings and eventually goes to voicemail. Shit!
I dial again, and it does it again. I dial the gym’s number. Holly, the front desk receptionist, answers. “Hey Holly, it’s Tristan. Is Mason there?”
“Hey Tristan! He just ran out for a jog with Tommy.”
Damn it. “Okay, can you have him call me as soon as he gets back?”
“Sure thing.”
I hang up the phone, unsure of what to do, when Charlie says, “I can watch her.” I shoot a glance at her and she’s now biting down on her bottom lip. Hard.
“That’s okay. I’m just going to bring her with me. I don’t know what’s going on, so I’m just not sure if there should be an audience. Maybe you could stay in the car with Lexi?”
“Tristan,” Charlie replies. “I can watch her here.”
“Are you sure?” I assess her face for any indication she isn’t really sure.
“I’m sure.” Her voice comes out confident.
“Okay, thank you.” I pull her in for a quick kiss. “I’ll call you once I know something.” I walk over to Lexi. “I need to go see Auntie Morgan. Charlie is going to watch you. Be good for her. Okay?”
Lexi smiles and nods, and then goes back to watching the television.
I jump in my truck and haul ass over to Morgan’s apartment. I park and jog to the door. Without knocking, I use my key and let myself in. Adam is sitting against the bathroom door.
“She in there?” I ask. He looks up and nods.
“What’s going on?”
“We messed up.” He swallows thickly. “We used protection every single time but once.” Oh, shit.
“She’s pregnant,” I state, and he nods. “Morgan, open up.” I knock on the bathroom door. I can hear her sniffling, and a few seconds later, the door swings open, and my sister is in my arms. My barely twenty-year-old little sister.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, rubbing her back. “It’s going to be okay.”
Chapter Thirty
Charlie
Tristan walks out the door and it takes everything in me not to freak the hell out. The first thing I do is double check all the doors to make sure they’re locked. There’s a chain on the front door, so I slide it in place. It’s high, so if something happens Lexi won’t be able to get out…but then what if something happens and she needs to get out?
“Hey Lexi, do you know what to do if there’s an emergency?”
Lexi’s eyes move from the television to me. “Like stop, drop, and roll?” Her adorable little button nose scrunches up.
“Umm…yeah, like that, but also like if something happens to me.” This gets me Lexi’s undivided attention. She sits up, crossing her legs Indian style, the show she was watching no longer on her mind.
“What’s going to happen to you?” She frowns and I hate that I’m probably scaring her, but I’m not taking a chance. I’ve already lost one little girl, I’m not going to let history repeat itself.
“Well, hopefully nothing,” I say calmly, sitting next to Lexi on the couch. “But if something did happen, like if I passed out or hit my head.” When I say this my brain struggles to conjure up a memory. I push against my temples trying to let it come forth but too quickly it’s gone.
“Are you okay, Charlie?” Lexi asks.
“Yes, sweet girl. Sorry. What I mean is if something were to happen, do you know how to call 911?”
“Oh yeah! Daddy showed me a long time ago. He showed me that if I forget his code I can press the red button and it will call the police and fireman and ambulance.” It never ceases to amaze me how wonderful of a father Tristan is.
“Yep! Just like that. I have a cell phone as well.” I take it out to show her. “If there’s an emergency you just press this circle here and the word emergency will come up.”
“That’s like my daddy’s phone!” Lexi says excitedly.
“Good. So I was thinking maybe we can do some coloring while your dad is gone?”
Lexi perks up. “Come see my turkey! Daddy forgot to make me take it down, but I’ll show you because when he remembers, I’ll have to.” She scowls, and grabbing my hand pulls me into her room. On the same wall as before, where she drew the tree, there’s a massive turkey with colored feathers. It reminds me I should ask Tristan about painting the wall with chalkboard paint.
“It’s beautiful!” Lexi beams then goes to her bins to grab her coloring stuff. We spend the rest of the time Tristan is gone coloring, and it feels really good to be able to experience this with Lexi without the fear of getting caught.
Chapter Thirty-One
Charlie
“Is a blindfold really necessary?” I ask as Tristan guides me blindly out of the truck. I have no clue where we are or what we’re doing but Tristan insisted I need to keep an open mind and not say no right away.
“Yes, it is.” We come to a stop and I hear keys jingling and then cold air whooshing. We start walking again and the change in temperature tells me we’re now inside somewhere. I feel Tristan’s body come up behind mine, his arms enveloping me, and his gruff voice hitting my ear. “Remember, I need you to be open minded.” I nod in agreement and he unties the blindfold.
As I glance around the empty open space, I’m puzzled. The walls are bare and the floor is dark hardwood. There is a counter near the front, but other than that, there’s nothing—it’s completely bare. Then I notice a blanket laid out on the floor in the corner, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of some type of alcohol.
Taking me by my hand, Tristan pulls me toward the center of the room. “Imagine this. Dark wood tables lined up with painting easels. Matching comfortable seats for the women—or kids—to sit on.” He points to the wall to the left. “You can have all the different canvases displayed. One for every theme.” He points to the other wall. “Over here is where you can have your bar for the food and drinks for the parties.” He points to the door on the back wall. “And through there are two areas. One for the kids’ room you talked about, and the other is a huge storage area to store all the paints and materials. There’s even a bathroom. All we would need is an extra sink for the customers to wash their hands.”
My mind is racing as he describes every detail of the dream I told him about while we were lying in bed. Not only did he listen, but he remembered.
“…and this place is available. I found a contractor who assured me he could have this place ready for you to open in January.”
“Whoa…stop,” I say, moving toward him. Taking his hands in mine, I lift up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “You, believing in my dream means the world to me, but it was just that…a dream.”
“And now it can come true,” he says nonchalantly.
“No, it can’t.” I shake my head. “My credit…it’s not good. And…” I swallow thickly. “I can’t have my name on anything. I work under the table at Plush.”
Tristan eyes me warily. “Charlie, I asked you this before. Are you in trouble?”
“No, I’m not in trouble. I just…I just need to keep a low profile
.” I advert my eyes, feeling like shit for all the half-truths I’m spewing out.
Tristan lets out a frustrated sigh and I’m shocked when, instead of him asking me to explain, he asks, “Do you want this?”
My eyes dart back to his, and I nod, tears welling up in my lids. “Yeah, but some dreams aren’t meant to come true. They’re simply there to keep us wishing and hoping and believing.” I glance around the room. I can picture it all. The tables, the easels, the color of the walls, the women coming in to drink and paint. The children’s birthday parties.
Tristan’s arms are around me, his hands gripping my butt as he pulls me into him. “I can make yours come true. Please let me. No strings. I own this building outright. We’re standing in a storefront right next to my gym. The studio can be in my name and we’ll have an attorney write up a contract for a five, ten, or twenty-year rental agreement. Whatever you want. It will stay between you and me.”
Oh, this man. I don’t deserve him in the slightest. I never fully understood what I was missing when I was with Justin until Tristan came into my life. “Okay,” I breathe. Pulling his face down to mine, my mouth covers his as I try to convey every emotion I’m feeling right now thanks to him.
Soon our kiss turns hungry, greedy, our tongues colliding with one another. Tristan picks me up and my legs wrap around his waist, my ankles locking behind his back as he walks us to the lone counter in the corner. He places me on the cool surface and backs up slightly. His eyes rake down my body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Not able to wait any longer, I pull my shirt over my head and unclasp my bra. My breasts are heavy with want, my nipples rock hard with need. Tristan follows my lead and removes his shirt while kicking off his shoes. He pushes down his pants, and like always, the sight of this delicious man in front of me has my head spinning. But tonight, it’s more than the want—or even the need—to be sexual with him. What he’s done for me, his blind belief in me…he will never understand what it means to me. He gives and gives without question, without expecting anything in return, and I wish there was something I could give him. Something to put us on equal footing. Because he deserves everything.
In a few minutes, Tristan will be buried inside of me physically, but what he doesn’t realize is that he’s already inside of me—every second of every day. He has buried himself deep inside my chest, in my heart. He’s flowing through my veins and there’s no getting him out.
Suddenly needing to show him how much he means to me, I jump off the counter and drop to my knees. I pull his briefs down and his cock springs free. All of the sex we’ve had these last few weeks, and I haven’t yet had the pleasure of tasting this man. He always insists on making it about me. But tonight I want to make it about him.
My eyes lock with Tristan’s as my fingers lift his cock, the flat of my tongue running up the underside of his shaft. It’s smooth and thick and all mine. When my tongue gets to the mushroom head, my lips wrap around it, giving it a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Tristan’s eyes close as he lets out a deep groan. The wetness between my legs pools and my muscles tighten needing relief. His eyelids pull apart, lust and need shining through. My eyes never leaving his, my mouth opens, and I take in his entire length until his shaft hits the back of my throat.
“Jesus, woman,” he groans, his hands coming down to my hair, his fingers entwining in the strands. I pull back slightly and then take him in completely, the head of his cock hitting my throat once again. As I pull back for the second time, I go slowly, my saliva wetting his entire shaft. When I release his dick from my mouth, a milky white bead of precum surfaces, and I dart my tongue out to lick it clean. “You taste good. Will you… fuck my mouth?” Tristan has made me tell him what I want several times while in bed, and each time it gets easier, making me feel like I’m in charge of my pleasure even when he’s the one giving it to me.
“Is that what you want? You want me to fist your hair and fuck your wet mouth until I come?” His dirty talk has me dripping and I nod emphatically, the thought of his cock driving in and out of my mouth, turning me on. I’ve learned the last few weeks how amazing sex can be. How passionate and raw and mesmerizing intimacy can be with a man you truly care about and trust. At first, Tristan was gentle with me, but each time he asked me to tell him what I wanted, I found myself begging him to take things a bit further. A bit rougher. A bit rawer. There doesn’t seem to be a limit as to how much I want this man. It never feels like it’s enough. I’m always left wanting and needing and craving more. More of him. More of his touch. More of…everything that is Tristan.
My hands go to his muscular thighs to steady myself as his fingers grasp my hair tightly, pulling my face toward him. My mouth stays open as he begins to gently make love to my mouth. But I need more—I need to be fucked. I’m like a caged animal being let out into the wild each time we’re together. I want to explore and experience everything with Tristan knowing I’m safe with him.
Grabbing his butt cheeks, I pull his lower body toward me, his dick hitting my throat once again, showing him what I need, and like always, he gets it. He pulls back slightly then pushes back into my mouth a little harder as he bottoms out in my throat. My moans of pleasure reverberate around his cock, his thrusts turning savage as he fucks my face. My mouth is so wet, drool drips down my chin. I gag and feel the tears dripping down my face, but I don’t care. Because I am with a man who wants me and cherishes me. I am with a man who adores me, who cares about me, who would never hurt me, not physically or emotionally. I am safe with him. My pussy is tingling at this thought, needing more, needing it all.
I consider bringing my fingers to my pussy when Tristan says, “Charlie…fuck, baby…I’m going to come.” He tries to pull back, but I’m not having it. I need to taste him, swallow him. I need everything from him. Every last damn drop. My lips tighten around him, my tongue stroking his shaft as he pumps into me. His head goes back, and the look of pleasure on his face has me wanting to please him for the rest of my life. I feel his cock getting harder, the sperm traveling up his shaft, and then it’s shooting into my mouth and coating my tongue before it travels down my throat. I swallow his seed until his dick begins to deflate. Once I know he’s finished, I gently swipe my tongue across his head, swirling around the crown until there isn’t a single drop of cum left.
Pulling back, I stand, suddenly shy. Tristan’s hands come up to my face, and he wipes the tears from my cheeks, eliciting a smile from me. He bends slightly, pushing my shorts and panties down, and then I’m in the air and being placed back onto the counter, the cool granite sending shivers up my spine. My legs are spread and Tristan’s fingers are pulling my pussy lips apart, his tongue darting across my clit.
I’m wet and horny and so goddamned turned on that when Tristan adds his fingers to the mix, my orgasm hits almost instantly. My butt threatens to bow off the counter, but Tristan’s hand holds me down as he licks and sucks and fingers me through my climax.
Once I’ve come down from my orgasmic high, Tristan leans over me and gives me a soft kiss. “I made us a picnic. There’s champagne and food over there on the floor. Let’s celebrate.”
“Only if you agree to let me lick the champagne off your body.”
“That can definitely be arranged.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Charlie
I’m sitting on a chartered plane with Lexi, Mason, Tristan, Morgan, and her boyfriend Adam, heading to Breckenridge, Colorado where Tristan’s family has a vacation home near a ski resort. The doctor confirmed Morgan is in fact pregnant, almost three months along to be exact, and she’s planning to tell her parents when we arrive. That’s probably for the best since anybody who has ever been pregnant can tell she’s carrying a baby. She’s slightly pale yet she has that pregnancy glow going on. She isn’t quite showing, but her body is already changing, and unfortunately, she is still throwing up even though she’s close to being out of her first trimester.
It’s three days before Thanksgiving an
d exactly one year since my entire world came crashing down—since I woke up and found out my daughter was dead and I wished to God my life would end as well. If you would’ve asked me a year ago, I would’ve told you I would never step foot on another private plane again. Leaving Justin meant leaving behind the wealth and accommodations. But I guess it’s a good thing Tristan has the money and means to charter a plane. I was able to get on using the fake ID I had created with the name Charlie Pratt. I never would have gotten away with that on a commercial flight.
Tristan takes my hand in his, bringing it up for a kiss. I told him last night the significance of today’s date. But the truth is, just like the day Georgia died, the days following were just as foggy. I spent a few days in the hospital, heavily medicated, and it wasn’t until I returned home that things started to finally become clear.
* * *
One Month After Georgia’s Death
I’m lying in bed pretending to be asleep when I hear the door shut loudly and Justin talking on the phone. He stops whatever he’s saying when he gets to our room, and when he thinks I’m asleep he continues his call. “I want her admitted. It’s obvious she’s suffering from depression and is suicidal… I don’t care… She shouldn’t have tried to leave me… Just tell them she’s abusing drugs and her husband is committing her…” His voice trails off the farther away he gets from the room.
I hear his office door shut and my eyes snap open in shock. What a lying bastard! How dare he say I’m abusing drugs. He’s the one who has tried to shove pills down my throat every day since I got home from the hospital. At first, I did what he said. I took the pills he insisted I take—the pills he said the doctor insisted I take. But when I woke up one afternoon and he told me I slept through Georgia’s funeral, a funeral I didn’t even remember him telling me about, I stopped taking the pills. I asked him to take me to see her, but he said I wasn’t up for it and handed me more pills. I pretended to take them, but as soon as he turned his back, I spit them out and shoved them under the mattress. Once I heard him leave, I got up and flushed the pills down the toilet.
