by Ashley Lyn
“No problem, Tristan.”
Liquor store, Chili Thai, and Netflix, and then I plan on forgetting this whole shitty fucking day.
Walking out to my car, my phone rings. Seeing that it’s Savannah, I answer.
“What’s up, Sav?”
“Word on the street is that Becca’s home today. She’s been up in Red Feather and left a little bit ago.” I smile and make a decision.
“Thanks, Sav.”
“Good luck, Tris.”
Jumping in my truck, I head over to Becca’s. No more running, no more excuses.
It’s time to make her mine.
BECCA
Unlocking the front door to my house, I haul my exhausted ass inside and immediately, I know I’m not alone. How do I know this?
Because fucking Tristan is sitting right there on my couch.
“What the hell!”
“Hello, darling.”
“I’m not you darling, you bastard!” Okay, so every bit of advice Jace gave me just flew the coup.
“Get out,” I grit out.
“Nope. We’re going to talk.”
“We’ll talk after I poop.” Oh my God, I really just said that. His lips quirk up, and I know I’m going have to strangle him to death. “That didn’t come out right.”
“By all means, baby, I can wait.”
“Please, leave.”
“I said no, Becca, and I mean that.”
“You’re such a jerk!”
“Sit, Becca.”
“I’m not a dog, Tristan.”
“Please.” There’s something in the way he says it that has me sitting. “Last time we spoke there was a misunderstanding. We need to talk about that, and also talk about where we’re going from here.”
“I just got home, I’m not going anywhere. And there was no misunderstanding, I heard you just fine.”
“No. As usual, you only heard what you wanted to hear. You cut me off before I could tell you that I know for a fact you’re a virgin. Because if any man were granted access to that sweet pussy, he would never leave. You’ve been mine the from the time you took your first breath until now, and will be mine until you take your last.”
Quivering insides, sweaty palms, slick thighs, hard nipples. Everything I ever wanted to hear just shot out of his mouth and right to my heart.
So why the fuck the next words come out of my mouth, I will never know. “I have a date.”
His entire body stills, and I swear I think he stops breathing. It’s like the calm before the storm.
“You’re going to need to cancel that.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Push me, Bec, and I will handcuff your ass to my fucking bed so fast, your panties will burn.”
“All right. Good chat. I have to go and do things. I have lots of things to do…before my date.” I stand up because that just seems like the smart thing to do. Turns out, that was an incorrect assumption.
My world tilts and all I see is glorious Tristan ass. His shoulder is digging into my stomach, then my ass lights up.
“You just spanked me!” I’m shocked and offended… sort of…not really. Turned on, most definitely.
I tilt again when he sets me on my feet in my bedroom. My eyes flick to my bed, and it seems like a great idea. His hands slide up the sides of my neck and cup my jaw, tilting my head back. I slam my eyes shut for a second, and then they fly open when I feel his lips brush against mine.
“No date,” he tells me, and I’m confused.
“What date?” Then I remember, I fibbed. “Yes, date! I’m not going to stand him up. I’m not a jerk.”
His lips quirk in that sexy half-grin that I love so much. “All right, Becca baby, poop and get ready for your date. I’ll see you after so we can finish our little chat. Say, two hours?”
“Yeppers, that’ll be perfect.” Perfect, as in it gives me time to flee, move to the mountains, buy a shotgun and a new vibrator.
He chuckles and kisses me again, but this one isn’t like the other. This one is wet, hot, and fucking deep. I’m still standing there, back to the wall, long after I hear the door close. Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I dial Jace.
“You make it home okay?”
“I told him I had to poop!”
“Who?”
“Who? Tristan!”
“Jesus, why would you say that!” He laughs like this is funny.
“Stop laughing. Sure, he knows I poop, everyone poops, but he doesn’t need that, like, shoved in his face!”
“Well no one likes a turd in the face, that’s just a shitty thing to do.”
“Stop! God, don’t make me laugh! This is not a time to laugh. Then I told him I couldn’t chat because I have a date, which I don’t!”
“We had a plan, Bec, to talk, get all your feelings out, your worries, all of it. Not talking about a fictional date and poop.”
“What do I do, Jace! I panicked. Every word out of his mouth was everything I always hoped to hear but my brain just shut down. God, I’m so stupid.” I kick off my shoes and start pacing.
“Okay, so no date. Just get cleaned up, get some food in ya, maybe some wine, organize your thoughts and call him.”
“He said he was going to come back in two hours.”
“That’s good. So get comfy, get relaxed, get focused.”
I can do that. Yoga pants, a cute tank, wine. Yeah, I can do that…maybe.
“Becca?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure you poop before he gets there.”
“Dick,” I snort.
“Jerk!” He cracks up. “Love you, Bec.”
“Love you too.”
My shoes are on and my keys are in hand. I’m getting ready to flee. My lady balls are not brass enough or big enough for this shit. They’re pea-sized, dried up and shriveled, like freezer burned peas. I had my ducks in a row: comfy clothes, a nice grilled cheese and a cupcake. After a couple glasses of wine, I sat and wrote everything down so I could organize my thoughts. My hand reaches for the door handle.
“Going somewhere, love?” I scream, and it’s not a little one either. This is a horror movie scream.
“Fuck!” My chest is heaving with terrified breaths. I look at him and he’s all-out smiling. I look down and realize I’m holding onto my boobs. Dropping my arms, I start edging to the bedroom door. “We can start there if you really want.”
Changing my trajectory, I plop down on the couch and pull my feet under me. He sits down in the opposite club chair and snags the list I made off the table. “That’s none of your business.” He looks down at the paper and his eyebrows fly up.
“‘Number one, I’m a queen and he ignored me for six years.’ I had reasons for this, Bec. Initially, it was because of your brother. He was going through some things and I didn’t want to push him over the edge.”
“Can I please have my list back?” He grabs the pen from the table and crosses something out. “You can’t just cross shit out all willy-nilly. You addressed number one but you didn’t even give me a chance to say anything.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“I explained that.”
“Not in detail. What shit was he going through?”
“That’s not for me to tell you. He told everyone that you were off-limits and I honored that.”
“Honored that? You were married!” Pulling my hair out of my ponytail, I jerk it up into a messy bun. “To a fucking bitch at that.”
“I left her the night I met you.” Shock courses through my system.
“So now I’m a homewrecker?”
“Tess was, and is, a bitch, a gold digger, and was cheating on me. She was on her way out long before you showed up, so don’t take that on your shoulders. Tess was happy to leave.”
I look out the front window. “How do you go from breaking my heart completely, just utterly shattering it, then ignoring me for six fucking years, to here, in my house? What am I supposed to do with that? Just accept it at face value, a gi
ft from God? I just had the best week of my life. I came back happy, relaxed, and ready to get my life on track, then you just show up and flip everything on its ass.”
He leans forward and rubs his face before shocking the hell out of me. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have waited so long, and I should have explained some things that were going on at the time instead of telling you that I wasn’t interested. We can both sit here and go back and forth on the coulda, woulda, shoulda game, Bec, but I’m done waiting for life to drop the things I want and need in my lap. I’m going to fight. Fight or you, for us, for our future. You’re it for me, I’ve known it for years. My feelings for you are soul deep, baby. You’re in there so deep, burrowed right there.” His fist smacks his chest directly over his heart. “I hope you never work your way out. I want you in my home, in my bed. I want my kid growing in your belly, a house, a fucking life.” He comes over to my chair, picks me up and sets me on his lap. I look at his face and there’s no playing it off, no denying the utter honestly bleeding from his pores.
“I need time, Tristan, I need to think.”
“We’ve had too much time to fucking think. I’m sick of fucking thinking. The time for thinking is over. But I will give you tonight and tonight only. I’ll leave, but I will be back tomorrow. I’m picking you up at seven.”
“Like a date?”
“A date.”
My eyes glance down to the list and I cringe. His lips quirk. “Don’t say it,” I warn him.
“What, you don’t want to talk about number two? Funny that you put that as number two on the list.”
“We never speak of that again.”
“Bec, everyone—” I put my hand over his mouth.
“Okay, so sometimes dumb shit comes out of my mouth. If this goes anywhere, you just have to ignore it and move on.”
“Oh, it’s going somewhere, baby.” He thrusts his hips up and I squeak.
He kisses me again. He needs to stop doing this because rational thought vanishes the second his lips touch mine. When he finally comes up for air, he kisses my nose in the sweetest kiss ever, then my eyelids, then my forehead. Reaching forward, he grabs the list.
“We have two more items to go over.” He taps the list and I smile at number three.
“My hymen is a precious flower and Tristan wants to burglarize my lady garden,” he says, and I cringe.
“You weren’t supposed to see the list.”
“I promise that when the time comes, baby, you’ll beg me to take it.” My nose scrunches.
“Number four—” I jerk the notepad out of his hands and throw it across the room.
“You are beautiful, Becca, top to toe, and everything in-between. You are not out of my league. There is no league, there are only people. No bars, no standards. Love is love, baby, and I love every gorgeous inch of you.”
“That was a really good answer. I kind of want to kiss you.”
“Give me those lips.” Leaning in, I fall, spectacularly, irrevocably in love. I was already there, but this just seals the deal. His lips glide over mine, softly at first. Parting my lips when his tongue flicks over my bottom lip, the kiss deepens and I can’t help but groan. He pulls back and rests his forehead against my chest.
“Wow,” I say.
“Wow is right.” He looks up at me with a smile, and I get another light kiss before he heads out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.”
BECCA
A freaking date with Tristan.
I hope it ends with cuddling or a cuddle fuck.
“Cuddle fuck,” I snicker to myself. My phone rings, making me jump out of my skin.
“Becca’s house of whores. Would you like to take advantage of our spanking special today?”
A long, drawn-out sigh echoes over the line, and I pull back to look at the caller ID.
“Hi, Mom!”
“I would like to take advantage of the spanking special so I can smack the shit out of my daughter. I know I taught you manners and how to answer the freaking phone.”
“You did, and they were excellent lessons.”
I smile and laugh when I picture her face.
“You’re making the face, aren’t you?”
“What face?”
“The ‘mom’ face that says, I should’ve drowned this one.”
She laughs, which causes me to laugh because my mom has one of those laughs that sounds like a hyena on helium.
“I love you, Momma.”
“Love you too, baby. Now, tell me what’s new.”
“My trip to the cabin was great and Jace is my new BFF. I even printed out certificates. I bought a cooter waxing kit today, so I’m going to abuse the beaver. Spent some “personal” time today with some Jason Momoa videos, bought some new thongs at Walmart, and also some condoms because I have a date tonight!”
“Ninety percent of that I did not need to know, but a date? Ayyyeeee! Who is it? Do I know him?”
“Yes…”
“Who?”
“Tristan.”
“Where did you meet him?”
Now, I think to myself, Mom has met Tristan. He’s been to her dinner table for Christmas. Then she murmurs, “You remember Carter’s friend Tristan? That man has an ass capable of cardiac arrest.”
“Mom, it is Carter’s Tristan.”
She snorts. “You’re a wackadoo most of the time, but let’s be serious.” Okay, so that kind of hurts.
“Mom—”
“Hellfire and Holy water, you’re going on a date with Tristan?”
“Yes. He says he wants to marry me.”
“Holy shit, oh my…Christ on a crutch! Roger!” I can tell she dropped the phone and is running around the house, so I put the phone on speaker and get back to practicing putting condoms on my dildo, which is suction cupped to the kitchen counter.
I only have half an ear on Mom when I hear the banging over the line.
Then the moaning.
Then the dirty talk.
Fucking hell! I’m trying to hang up the phone with my fingers coated in spermicide, and now my phone screen looks like an elephant ejaculated on the screen.
Then she bursts out the real theatrics and the role-playing starts to make itself known. With no other option, I take my phone and run into the garage and throw it the car.
My childhood was traumatized by shit like this. My attention jerks when Bloodhound Gang’s “Bad Touch” comes on.
My dance is pornographic, un-choreographed, and I damn near throw out my hip while hip thrusting. The song changes, and I remember that I bought the ingredients to make brownies, so the batter gets mixed, the spatula is licked and the mess is made.
Sitting on the couch, popcorn in hand, I have tears falling down my cheeks, I’m laughing so hard rewatching The Heat.
My old ass house makes a creepy as fuck noise and I thank the good Lord I decided to not watch IT. Hearing another strange noise, my head turns slowly and I see Tristan standing there, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
I smile at him because really, what else can you do? Thank God I got dressed today. Then his head cocks to the side and I follow his eyes, realizing my dildo is still suction cupped to the counter with a condom on it.
He looks at me with one eyebrow lifted and adjusts his dick. I look at the clock I have on the wall and give a scream before scrambling off to the bedroom.
It’s six forty-five, and our date is in fifteen minutes. Looking in the mirror, I’m happy to see my white, loose fit tank is brownie batter free and my shorts still look killer, so I reach in my closet and grab a long pink button up shirt, roll the sleeves and slide into the bathroom.
I put my hair up in a bun and slap on some makeup, then snag my gray chucks and plop down on the couch to lace them up.
He’s in the kitchen, counting condom wrappers with a bewildered look on his face.
“I wanted to make sure I got it right. It was harder than I thought it would be, but I think I got that shit down pat.”
His li
ps quirk. “Any reason why it’s important to get riding a dildo on the kitchen counter down pat? And I thought your hymen was precious?”
My cheeks burn scarlet. “I was practicing putting on a condom, not riding my dildo on the counter. That’s just unsafe. Whole other story when you suction it to the seat of the kitchen chair and take that puppy for a spin.” I snort when the last half of his comment registers. “It’s a metaphorical hymen.”
“Are you offering demonstrations?” I smile, despite my burning cheeks. “Not at this time,” I manage to squeak out.
His eyes keep darting to the dildo, so I snap my fingers so he looks back at me. “Stop looking at it.” He chuckles, so I grab a kitchen towel and throw it over the dildo. He pulls me into his arms and I bury my nose in his chest.
“Are you going to feed me or fuck me? That battering ram digging into my belly says fuck; however, no booty on a first date.” He sighs and I want to laugh.
“Feed you. Going to need your energy for the marathon fuck later.”
“First date! My love tunnel is closed at this time.”
“Six years, Bec.”
“We haven’t been dating for six years!”
“You’ve been mine since the moment I saw you. For a man like me, that means something. I haven’t been with anyone, casual or otherwise, in six years.”
My lips twitch. “Got a wicked case of blue balls, do ya? Still not happening, bub. I tell you what, first base is up for grabs, so to speak.” Patting his chest, I run my hands up and around the base his neck and pull his head down for a kiss. I pop him on his delicious backside before I head out the front door. “Feed me, I’m hungry!”
TRISTAN
The long shirt thing she has on is cute, but it fucking sucks that the damn thing goes down to her ankles. She’s walking into the restaurant, swinging her hips. I would give anything to see her ass bouncing. “Stupid shirt,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing, babe. Just imagining your shirt going up in flames.”
My comment doesn’t even penetrate.
“I cannot believe you’re taking me to Casa Bonita!”