Tristan (The Kendall Family #1)

by Randi Everheart

  He slid both hands into her hair and began fucking her hot mouth.

  “I love your ruby lips on my cock,” he murmured. “Your diamond necklace. The high heels. Dressed like a lady and sucking like a beast. I have to get you naked except for those. You drive me crazy.”

  She pulled her mouth away, panting. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  He yanked off his blazer and shirt while she pulled his shoes and jeans all the way off. A quick yank of his socks and Tristan Kendall stood naked in the moonlight, his proud penis straining into the night sky, fire in his eyes and abs catching shadows. She sucked his balls into her mouth for a nibble, eyes darting to the neighbors’ houses again. For a moment she felt proud to be the one doing this. He was all hers, and she would devour him.

  Then Tristan knelt before her, engulfing her in his arms as his lips crushed hers, one hand mussing her long hair. The other found a hard nipple and tugged it. A moan from her. A pinch. A gasp. Twist. Shudder. He began pulling her skirt up so that the silky fabric caressed her thighs and bare ass, for the negligee had only a thong for a bottom. His sure hand slipped between her hot thighs and deftly pulled aside the soaked thong to brush her pulsing folds. A spasm surged up her pussy. Fingers parted her flesh to fondle the hidden nub buried inside and a familiar build up rocked her body as Victoria came fast and hard, moaning into Tristan’s mouth. In an instant she lost all inhibition. Let people watch a real man ravish a woman!

  Tristan broke the kiss to quickly pull the whole skirt up and over her head. His mouth slurped one nipple into his hot mouth, fingers expertly unsnapping her lingerie. Faster than she expected, Victoria was kneeling naked on a blanket. It felt both scandalous and natural, as if all pretense of human society had gone and they were nothing but animals. Tristan pulled his lips away so that her wet nipple caught the cooling night air and ached maddeningly.

  “Leave the diamonds,” he huskily began, “and the heels.”

  She nodded. Those signs of elegant living accentuated the animal lust enfolding them both. And like a beast, Tristan firmly turned her around to be on all fours before him. She spread both knees and presented her waiting pussy, eyes darting to the neighbors again. Nothing. No lights. No sound. She trembled as he lightly ran both hands up the back of her thighs. Then the head of his cock pressed against her wet folds and she suddenly thrust back against him. Tristan slowed and pushed all the way in until his pubic bone nuzzled against her bare ass, the blond hair tickling her flesh. Her whole body began to shake. She felt so scandalous, a thrill of exultation surging from her pussy to her tits, her heart, and back again.

  “Oh, fuck me, Tristan,” she begged, near to weeping. “Please fuck me.”

  “Oh, God, I love it when you say that!”

  “Fuck me!”

  And so he did. With powerful thrusts, he sent the diamond necklace around her neck bouncing against her engorged tits, which swung pendulously. Both hands spread her ass out, making her feel more naked than before, if that were possible. Moonlight streamed across their flesh, the stars twinkling almost as brightly as her tear-filled eyes, for Tristan’s cock felt so good that she nearly wept.

  “Now I know why the man on the moon smiles,” she said dreamily, panting.

  He laughed and then reached around for her lush mounds. One pinch of both nipples and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. The familiar weight of release grew inside and made her writhe against him like a mating animal in heat. The explosion rocked her so that she saw stars behind closed eyes and nearly collapsed but for his hands holding her hips up so he could enjoy her. She surrendered more than just her womanhood to him. Something about the whole experience made every wall fall away.

  “Oh, God, I love you,” Tristan said, thrusting heartily.

  She stiffened. He didn’t notice, for his balls tightened as an urge rapidly built deep within. With a throaty groan of pleasure, Tristan erupted inside Victoria. She felt his seed pump into her eager womb and drip down the back of her legs, tickling her. His cock throbbed for long moments as he rested his head down on her sweaty back.

  Sounding spent and conquered, he whispered as if to himself, “I still love you.”

  Victoria couldn’t breathe. The words she’d most wanted to hear from him for five years had come at the worst time. During sex can make it seem disingenuous, like fucking her was what he really loved, not her. He’d never been a pig like that, but she still deserved better, especially after all these years. She pulled forward and off his cock, which sprang free. Then she turned and sat back on her heels, still trembling, her heart a jumble of emotions. He looked at her, love clearly on his adoring face. She bit her lip and cupped his cheek with one hand, not sure what to say. She almost had the impression he didn’t know he’d said anything at all. Twice.

  As if to prove that point, he pulled her close and made no further mention of it, not inquiring about how she felt. If he didn’t even know he said it, did that make it truer? More genuine?

  Now she wasn’t sure what to do. Did she ask if he meant it? That seemed lame. If he said no, that would infuriate her. If he said yes, he might just be saying it because she asked, rendering it as meaning nothing—even if he had meant it. She sighed and felt like screaming.

  And then he lifted her to her feet and promptly slung her over one shoulder, carrying her back to the house like a conquering hero coming home, both of them buck naked. She began to laugh and he slapped her rump. And for now, she decided she didn’t care.

  Chapter 12 – Victory Lane

  The next morning, Victoria watched Tristan sleep and pondered her next move. She still loved him, she knew. But she wasn’t going to say it. Not yet. She had to find a way to make him say it again, this time while they were dressed. Or she’d go get that frying pan and finish what she’d started.

  Before long, they drove to CMS to arrange for a Honda Goldwing, the standard big touring bike that looked like a lounge chair on two wheels. It wasn’t as much fun around a curve as any smaller motorcycle, but the traffic on Skyline Drive would keep everyone below the thirty-five mph speed limit anyway. Rick told them the parts for her bike were coming soon without an extra charge as the parts were nearby anyway.

  Tristan spotted a headset system that would allow him and Victoria to talk via wireless microphones and ear buds. Not only would it help on this trip but any time they rode on separate bikes beside each other. He bought it and spent part of that afternoon assembling everything and getting the headsets working.

  His insurance company called and said his bike would have to be missing for longer before they would replace it or give him cash. A call to Ryan revealed there’d been no sign of it. Victoria’s insurance gave her an estimate that confirmed she’d be out her deductible of a few hundred. They weren’t covering her lost wages, either; she’d taken a few days off to recover from the crash. Or at least that’s what she claimed. She hadn’t been sore as expected. She used vacation hours instead and wouldn’t return to work until Monday. They’d be back from the road trip by then. It was now Friday.

  While Tristan worked on the headsets, Chloe arrived to take Victoria away for an afternoon of rekindling their friendship. It wasn’t until they returned hours later with a multitude of bags that he found out what they’d been up to.

  As she put grocery bags on the counter, Chloe said, “I have a message from Connor.”

  “What?” Tristan asked.

  She patted his shoulder on the way to the bedroom. “Get your own damn clothes.” She returned a minute later with everything of his brother’s that Tristan wasn’t wearing. With a meaningful look at Victoria, his sister gave him a hug and whispered, “Don’t screw this up. And tell her how you feel.”

  Then she left, leaving him wondering about that last remark. Had Victoria expressed concerns about where his heart lay? Whether he felt the same? And why to Chloe, who had the biggest mouth this side of the Rockies? Maybe he needed to reassure Victoria of his intentions, which were growing stronger an
d clearer by the hour.

  Victoria approached with a blue shirt she’d pulled from another bag, holding it up to his chest to check the size. “I bought you shaving cream, a razor, aftershave, cologne, a toothbrush, some socks, shirts, cargo pants, and underwear, including a thong. I might insist on you modeling that for me later.”

  “Why wait?”

  She kissed his cheek. “Dinner first.”

  “You didn’t have to buy all this stuff for me.”

  “Well, I’m the reason you don’t have any of them so I wanted to make it up to you, for causing you real trouble.”

  “You know I don’t blame you.”

  “I know. I wanted to do it anyway.”

  He smiled into her eyes and said, “Thank you.”

  She kissed him again and they unloaded everything. She hummed to herself as she watched him put the toiletries next to hers in the bathroom. She cut off the clothing price tags before throwing the clothes into the washer so he had something to wear tomorrow. She hated to admit that she enjoyed playing house with him, because this might not work out, but that only strengthened her resolve to try.

  Back in the kitchen, he eyed the grocery bags. “So what’s for dinner? I remember you learned to cook.”

  “Fondue.”

  His eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “I remembered it’s a Kendall family tradition to celebrate something for you this way. I wanted to show you….”

  “What?” he asked, pulling her close.

  She looked away shyly and then seemed to find a resolve to be bold. “To show you that I want to be with you, to be part of something with you.” She bit her lip to avoid saying she loved him or that she wanted to be part of his family. The long, gentle kiss he planted on her lips made it clear he understood. She melted into him.

  They soon unloaded steak, pork, uncooked shrimp, oil, mushrooms, baby red potatoes, broccoli, and BBQ sauce, shrimp dip, and Tristan’s favorite, Peppercorn Ranch, onto the counter. Another bag held a brand new fondue set.

  “Wow,” he said, “you really didn’t have to buy that. You could’ve borrowed one from Quinn or Connor.”

  Not sure she should admit it, she said, “I was hoping we’d have reason to celebrate more than once.”

  He murmured, “If you’re going to keep being so romantic, you’ll get your wish.”

  “Good. A little encouragement is all I need.”

  “You’ll get more than you bargained for. I’m starting to feel like I need to step up my game. What are we celebrating exactly?”

  “Great sex. A few days of bliss. Your new thong. Whatever you like.”

  He laughed and they set about cleaning the pot, slicing food, and opening a chilled bottle of red table wine Chloe had brought from the winery.

  The great thing about fondue is that it’s a slow meal that allows those participating to talk, sip wine, and do other things with their mouths than eat while waiting for the food to cook. They ate by candlelight, the open windows letting in a gentle breeze that reminded both of their outdoor encounter last night. And while that made her horny, it also made her wonder once again about those three words he’d said. If this wasn’t love, nothing was. It surpassed their time together five years earlier, and showing him this was a priority. The question was whether he saw it, too.

  Tristan’s phone rang while they cleaned up afterward, the screen showing Riley was calling. He stepped away from Victoria and answered.

  “Hey, bro.”

  “Hey, man,” Riley said. “Listen, I’m watching CMS right now and saw them pull a black Ducati Panigale up to the back. They parked it next to a tarp that’s clearly covering another bike for whatever reason. Then they pulled the tarp over the Ducati too, so it might be a stolen bike. There’s no rain forecast for tonight.”

  “Yeah, no reason to cover it.”

  “It looks like everyone’s clearing out for the night and leaving stuff where it is, but I’ll be back here first thing in the morning to see what they do next. I’m hoping they lift that tarp a little better so I can see the other bike.”

  “Can you get to the tarp?”

  “Not without scaling the fence back there.”

  “Okay. Hey, we’ll be at CMS tomorrow to leave for this mountain tour. Maybe I can find a way to peek under there or something.”

  “Don’t fuck up anything trying.”

  Tristan laughed, noting that Victoria had headed toward the bedroom. “Why do you assume that?”

  “Nothing. Just hard to get near the bike without looking suspicious.”

  “True, but if they suspect anything, maybe they’ll move whatever’s under there after I leave, and you’ll see it.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “All right. Thanks, bro.”

  “Later.”

  Tristan hung up and went after Victoria, finding her lying on the bed on one elbow, wearing nothing more than one of his new button-up shirts, fresh from the dryer, most of the buttons undone, her eyes dark and mischievous. This was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. No doubt about it.

  He came to the bed, dimming the overhead light, and sat beside her. She gazed at him quizzically as if wondering what he was up to, for he didn’t disrobe or join her lying down. With one finger, her stroked her long brown hair, then lifted her chin up to him. He made no move to kiss her. Her lips parted in anticipation, her breath quickening. Their eyes locked. He smiled slowly and broadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

  As he leaned toward her, he softly said, “I love you. I never stopped. I never will. I still love you, Victoria.”

  A slow smile lit up her face and she pressed her forehead against his chest, grinning from ear to ear, tears filling her eyes but not spilling. After a moment she looked up at him and remarked, “You know you said that last night.”

  “I did?”

  “Twice. You don’t remember? I got the impression you didn’t.”

  “When?”

  “Outside. You know, while we were…”

  “Oh.” He chuckled. “I guess I was otherwise preoccupied.”

  “Indeed.” Then she kissed him, not realizing that she’d neglected to reciprocate those three little words.

  But Tristan noticed, thinking about it as he rose and went to the bathroom. She’d never been one to hold back on saying it before. Had she meant to? Did she have reservations? Did she not believe he meant it? Maybe she felt unsure if she felt the same way. He felt pretty sure she did love him, but maybe all of this sex was what she really loved and her feelings for him had faded away. Or she did love him but feared that he’d leave a wall up between them, one she wasn’t willing to bring down.

  And then there was the issue of the baby they hadn’t discussed. Things had been going so well that it hadn’t seemed like a good time. Maybe she was waiting for that to resolve. Or the situation with his racing career. Whatever the cause, it seemed clear that she wasn’t ready to commit. She needed more time. And maybe he shouldn’t have admitted to loving her. Was it too soon? It could make her feel pressured to say it back, and that was no good. They’d always refused to say it just because the other one had, as that made such an important thing into nothing. Maybe that’s all that this was, a relic from the past. He sighed and tried to let it go. But on his way back to the bed, he saw something that could help convince her of his commitment.

  “I fixed your chair earlier,” Tristan remarked, gesturing at a wooden seat like those at the kitchen table. Between the four legs was a crossbar meant to stabilize it, but that had been hanging loose, so he’d glued it together and wound a rope around the legs to make sure the glue set.

  She glanced over. “Cool.”

  Noticing she didn’t sound appreciative, he playfully remarked, “I can be useful around the house, you know, not just in bed.”

  “I could’ve fixed it myself,” she said dismissively.

  “Did you like it broken?” he asked, feeling put off. She shrugged irritably. He gave her a long look and
didn’t join her on the bed. “Why do I feel like I should apologize?”

  She looked startled and then dropped her gaze. She sighed and put on a half-hearted smile. “Thanks for fixing it.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on. It bugs you. What does it mean to you that I fixed the chair?”

  She pursed her lips and asked, “What does it mean to you that you fixed the chair?”

  His eyes darkened. “You think I have an ulterior motive or something? I just wanted to fix it for you.”

  “Okay, now you’re making me feel bad.”

  He spread his arms in frustration and she sat up on the bed, crossing her legs and nibbling her own lip.

  “Okay, let me level with you,” she began. “I’m glad that you fixed the chair and can be helpful around the house, and all of that. I’m glad that your clothes are in my closet, and that you’re in my life. Maybe too glad, because I don’t know what’s going to happen. Are you quitting racing? Am I going on tour with you? I’m afraid to like any of this too much because I don’t know where our relationship is headed.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief that she wanted to be with him. “Okay.”

  “I don’t think I can handle getting too involved with you and then separating again. I’m sort of caught between wanting to make sure it works, doing things to make sure it works, and not having control over whether it will. So when you do something great like fixing the chair, well, I’m upset that I’m happy about it.” She chuckled at herself and he smiled.

  “So when I do good, it’s sort of bad.”