by Khan, Jen
That’s when Emma decides to speak. “Look, I have seen you refuse to get wrapped up in anything other than work for so long that I can’t stand it any longer. Sure, maybe Tristan has had his fair share of women and bad decisions, but honey, when he came to see me, he was there to talk about you. He isn’t the type to settle down and chase after a woman, but with you…” She shakes her head and smiles. “With you, he’s willing to give it a go.”
“Oh shit. You sayin’ Tristan…Tristan Holt is serious about our girl? No shit?” Charlena mutters.
“No shit,” Emma replies with a nod and a great big smile on her face.
Charlena sits back in her chair. “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on that boy. He’s got it all. The eyes, the voice, the hair, and an ass that damn near waves at me every time he walks by. Shit, girl. I would sell my soul to the devil just to be able to run my tongue down those rock-hard—“
“Oh my god!” Olivia shrieks.
Charlena leans in and quietly murmurs, “Those tattoos and massive forearms are enough to make any woman wanna jump his bones.”
Sweet Jesus.
“Anyhow, the problem with him is the fact that he has never sowed his wild oats. Has he ever taken you out on a proper date? Has he ever splurged for a decent meal? Has he ever sent you flowers? Does he ever answer the phone when you call? Or does it go to voicemail?
“I bet you answer him immediately, don’t you, girl? Mmmmhmm…”
She’s absolutely right about the phone calls, and before, it was always me calling him, me asking him if he wanted to hang out, me showing up in sexy lingerie at his studio as a surprise (which didn’t go over so well before). But lately, he has stepped up and taken on some of those key points.
So I tell her that. “That’s not true. He’s been stepping up. He took me on a nice date the other night. He also told me that he wants to do things right and see it through.”
“Oh boy,” Charlena utters.
“Oh boy is right,” Olivia whispers.
Emma sits there quietly with a big shit-eating grin on her face.
“Here’s what you gotta do,” Charlena begins. “You have to learn to play it cool. Let him take the lead on this. Don’t display it all out there for him on a platter. Give him just a little appetizer here and there. Make him want more. Make him crave what you got. I know that he’s a walking, talking piece of hot ass. But you gotta play it cool.”
“Charlena—“I try, but she isn’t done.
“Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Girl, listen to me. You are around him every chance that you get. Now, you’re even taking self-defense classes at his panty-melting, hot-boys fight club downtown. Slow your roll. Let him come to you.”
“Sweetie—“I try once more only to get cut off again.
“You can’t live this fantasy in your head, thinkin’ he’s the man of your dreams. Your muthafuckin’ prince on a white horse when he has never once treated you like the princess that you are. Don’t let your mind play tricks on you. This ain’t no Disney happily ever after. This is real life and shit.”
“Amen, sista!” Olivia exclaims.
I bring my glass to my lips and drain the rest of my margarita. If I’m not careful, I am going to be tanked at a baby shower. I look at the contents scattered across the table and realize, What the hell am I so worried about? There are sex toys surrounding a baby shower table topper. This isn’t a normal baby shower—or a normal group of females for that matter.
“We all want the best for you,” Emma says.
Olivia nods and Curtis claps, which is followed by an, “Mmmmhmmmm…” out of Charlena.
I look around to see that all eyes are on me—still. I nod and whisper, “I know.”
“Good. Now that you do”—she lifts up a pink dildo and waves it at me—“let’s see what we can do about getting you some orgasms. Maybe, if you can help yourself out for a change, you’ll leave that man alone and he can come seekin’ you out.”
I nibble my lower lip.
Emma grabs my arm. “Listen, sweetie. No one can tell you what to do or how to feel. What Charlena is telling you is sound advice, especially for a man like Tristan, but I have to say that the conversation we had was genuine. That boy is into you—badly. Sure, he comes with his own set of baggage. No one is perfect. Just because he has some doesn’t mean that he isn’t right for you.”
“Babe—“
Emma shakes her head and tightens her grip on my arm. “Let me finish. I am your best friend, so it’s my job to look out for you—just like you have always done for me. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Don’t let these two talk you out of something you see potential in. Tristan may not be the ideal person for many, but I think that you see far more than what he shows everyone else. I think that he has opened himself up more to you than to most, and it’s up to you if you would like to explore that further. You are beautiful, funny, and so damn sweet. I love all of that about you, and I’m fairly certain that is what Tristan appreciates in you as well.”
I shake my head because I know she’s not done.
“You have a bright future. Visions of white picket fences, puppies frolicking in the yard, and two point three children dancing in your head. That is not the same vision he has for his future. You have to take that into consideration.”
“Mmmmm…hmmmm! Preach!”
My eyes meet Charlena, who is examining one of her bullets that Olivia calls, “the best orgasm you can give yourself, yo!”
“Honey…” Olivia is getting ready to shower me with her wisdom. I brace myself for this hit I am sure to get. “He started this thing up with you as a lay.” She gives me the hand. “I know that was harsh, but it’s the truth, yeah? It sounds like he has eyes for you, and no, I have never seen this out of him before. We just don’t want to see you get chewed up and spit out like yesterday’s garbage. You’re better than that. He’s my bro and I love him. I also know him. He’s already mistreated you, and yes, punching him in the nose was a great way to get him to wake the fuck up. I don’t want to see him do that to you again.”
I stare at her and know exactly what she is saying. This is definitely a possibility. My belly gets tight and I feel the unease creep into my thoughts. Then my entire body goes rigid. I am done having this conversation. Time to move on.
“I need a drink,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
Emma’s hand, which is still gripping my arm, tightens. “Holly.”
No. I pull my arm free and feel all eyes burning into me. “I need a drink,” I repeat.
“You sure you need another one? You been suckin’ back them margaritas as if that was the last of the tequila on the planet and limeade has been discontinued,” Charlena points out.
Damn. What’s up with them being right tonight?
“Anyone else want one?” I ask the room.
“Holly, babes—“Olivia starts, but I turn and rush through to the kitchen.
There, I mix up a new batch of margaritas, snag another water for Emma, and rejoin them for another hour of presents for the mom-to-be, laughs, and sex toy shopping. And can I tell you how much fun sex toy shopping with a gay man is? Well, it is a blast. I walk away with a couple of much-needed orgasm-inducing gizmos.
Hanging out with that gaggle of females can be emotionally taxing. After leaving the baby shower, I decided to come straight home and finish off the evening with a relaxing bubble bath and a good book.
I step out of the much-needed bubble bath and wipe the fog off of the mirror with my towel. I’m five foot seven without heels, and I have golden-brown hair and brown eyes. I’m not skinny, but I’m fit. I’ve never had a complaint about my body. My long legs are my most famous attributes.
I was born and raised in Spartanburg, South Carolina, thirty years ago to Elizabeth and Joshua Hart. I never had siblings. My father landed himself in a cell when he killed a woman one night. Yes, this story just got a little more interesting. My life wasn’t the perfectly put-together kind of life e
veryone assumes I lived upon seeing me now.
I did well in school and had friends once my mother moved us to Saluda where I met Em. Before that and after my father went to prison, it was rough. People were mean to us. They treated us like we were the ones who had killed that poor woman, and for a long time, I believed that I had. Or at least believed that I had a big part in doing so.
Mom did well for herself. It was tough at first for her, having to raise me on her own and going from a single-family home in the city to an apartment building in the ‘burbs. She took on a job at the bank in Henderson, which is about fifteen miles down Interstate 26. She worked her way up into management and now gives out loans while making a decent living.
Life was pretty comfortable and drama-free until about a year ago when everything went down with Emma’s dad and the rape. This chain of events catapulted me into a different life. One that I was happy to adjust to seeing as it was for my best girl. I moved her into my apartment and took care of her. Braden had a big hand in her recovery, which was amazing to watch.
Then Tristan happened.
There went my quiet, comfortable life. He’s far from anyone I would have ever given a chance to. Not my typical ‘safe guy.’ See, I have always dated the guy who lives by a set of rules. Normally, the same set I live by. Tristan doesn’t have rules, and that is where my comfy little world went up in a puff of smoke.
Now, every wall I have carefully built out of stone is slowly crumbling to the ground with each time that I see him. I don’t know what it is.
Charlena is right. He doesn’t even attempt to treat me like a princess, yet I am strangely compelled by him. It’s not like me to go after someone so unattainable.
The minute I met Tristan Holt, I fell in love with him.
I know what you’re thinking. How is that possible? Girl, are you stupid? Trust me. Those are the things that run through my head all of the time.
Anyway, we secretly started seeing each other. Okay, maybe not necessarily ‘seeing each other,’ more like sleeping with each other.
I am such a whore.
After our first self-defense class, when Emma freaked on everyone, I went back to see him. I needed comfort of my own. Emma had Braden.
I had no one.
He was kind and gentle—until I didn’t want him to be anymore. Then he was hard and rough but attentive. I’d never known a man to take care of me before he took care of himself. It was the most amazing experience of my life. It’s like he knew my body better than I did. Our bodies melded together as one and moved in perfect harmony before he took me and claimed me as his own.
Every time I am with him, I feel like a woman being clubbed in the head by a caveman. I guess that’s where everything got all screwed up. I was overthinking the situation. He didn’t have those same feelings. Sure, he was right. We never put a name on it or decided to call this an exclusive relationship. Now, he wants to try for more.
I’m not quite sure how I feel about this yet, but what I do know is that my body hums by the time he is done with me.
I have needed more ever since. I think I may be in trouble with this one.
It was several dates later and Tristan had been the perfect gentleman. Not once had he followed Holly up to her apartment. He knew she wanted the full treatment. Hearts and roses and chivalrous maneuvers like opening doors and pulling out chairs. This was the hardest that he’d ever had to work at getting into a girl’s pants—or, in their case, back into a girl’s pants. It was his cupcake though. He realized he would do almost anything she asked. This little revelation scared the shit out of him.
They were pulling into the parking lot of her apartment. The second he shut off the engine, he took her hand. She unbuckled her seatbelt and he pulled her towards him. This bullshit game was over. He slammed his mouth to hers, cupped the back of her head, and consumed her mouth.
Tristan sifted his fingers into her soft hair, lightly tugging her head back, releasing her mouth. Her lips were swollen, her face was flushed, and the look of fiery desire flashed in her eyes.
Oh yeah. He was fucking his girl tonight.
“I’m coming upstairs with you. You got me? I’m done waiting. You don’t want this, tell me now. You do, then let’s go. But I have to warn you, cupcake. It’s going to be rough. You ready for that?” he asked, waiting not so patiently for her answer.
Her breathing was arduous. She wasn’t getting worked up—she was already there. Her silence was killing him.
Why was he getting nervous? Women never made him nervous, yet this woman had made him feel things that no other ever had. Hell, he’d already had this woman in his bed, in her bed, on the floor, in the shower—yet he needed her more.
Fuck.
When her eyes disconnected from his, he cocked his head to the side and lightly pulled her hair to regain control of her attention. She was breathing deeply, and he knew through all of the signs her body was emitting that he was going upstairs tonight. When she looked back to him and gave her answer, it almost went unnoticed.
“Okay,” Holly exhaled.
Tristan stilled his hand on the back of her head and brought his mouth to hers, barely touching her as he asked, “Okay what, cupcake? You’re going to let me give it to you rough or you trust me to take care of your every dirty little desire?”
Her eyes went wide with surprise at his words. “Both,” she said.
“No. I want the words to come out of your sweet little mouth,” he demanded. “Say it.”
“I trust you to take care of me tonight. I want it hard. I want every punishing second of it.”
He kept his eyes locked with hers for a beat before he nodded, released her, and commanded, “When we get inside, I want you naked and ready.”
Holly shook her head in agreement.
Tristan pulled the keys from the ignition before he hopped out of the car and rounded the hood to open her door. He helped her out, slammed the door, and pulled her close. “I’ve been waiting a long time to be buried inside you again.” Tonight, he intended on keeping his promise and making her scream his name.
“Give me your house key,” Tristan ordered as he extended his hand.
Holly retrieved them from her purse and handed them over.
He tugged on her hand and led her to the door. “Once we get inside, there’s no going back. Do you understand?”
Holly nodded. That’s all he needed.
Once he unlocked the door, he placed a hand on her lower back and guided her in. They made it two steps before the door was pushed shut and he had Holly pinned to the wall. “Are you wet?”
She nodded again. She hadn’t said a word since leaving the car.
“Tell me you’re wet,” Tristan demanded through gritted teeth.
“I’m soaked,” she responded.
With a growl, he lifted her into his arms, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist while they made their way to the bedroom. Holding her ass with one hand, he moved his other down beneath and slipped his finger into her wet panties. Damn. This woman’s body had been made just for him. He had never experienced anything like it. He’d never had trouble with getting a woman off, but never had he established a connection like this. Where everything he did affected her.
Holly’s head dropped back, her eyes closed, and she let out a long moan that was so fucking hot he almost came right then.
“Do you like when I touch you?” He pressed her back against the wall and continued his assault. He circled his finger around her swollen clit while she audaciously fucked his hand. “Look at me.”
She opened her eyes, which were clouded over with need and desire while he increased his speed.
“I asked if you like it when I touch you.” Tonight, he wanted her to tell him exactly what she wanted.
Her lips parted, but before she could give him an answer, she let another moan slip. Tristan pulled his finger out and pressed his thumb over her clit.
“Answers, cupcake. I want fucking answers,” he ground o
ut.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I love it when you touch me. I can’t get enough. Please don’t stop.”
He had no plans of that happening. “I want you naked. Now.”
“Naked,” she agreed and released her hold from around his waist while Tristan lowered her to her feet.
His eyes swept over her body, waiting for her to get to work. If she didn’t hurry, he was going to come before her dress hit the floor. He enjoyed getting her all worked up about as much as he enjoyed her mouth around his cock. The satisfaction he got out of making her beg and whimper beneath him became more intense every time they were together. This woman was doing a number on him.
Tristan walked around her and sat on the edge of the bed. “Turn around. I want your eyes on me while you strip.”
Holly turned, reached for the hem of her dress, and lifted it over her head. His breath caught in his throat. Jesus! She was going to kill him with that lacy shit she always wore. Tonight, it was a black-and-red bra with a matching thong. Her gaze locked on him as she lowered her thong and stepped out of it, still wearing those goddamn heels he loved so fucking much. His dick was so hard that it was painful, so he reached down and rubbed it to relieve some of the pressure.
“Come here,” Tristan ordered.
When she walked to him, he admired her and how she strutted to show off every agonizingly beautiful curve of her body. She stopped when she reached him, settling in between his legs.
“Take off the heels, cupcake. I want you totally bare for what I’m going to do to you.” He wanted to touch every inch of her with his tongue. “I can’t have anything coming between me and that body of yours.”
Holly stepped out of the heels and stood before him in only her bra. Tristan’s cock throbbed, pressing against his jeans, needing to be inside her, but first, he wanted her panting and begging for it.
“The bra,” he ordered.
She reached around and unhooked the clasp of her bra, peeling it from her body and revealing her perfect breasts. Tristan’s cock hardened more than what he’d thought was humanly possible. He watched every move she made, trying desperately not to jump off the bed and body-slam her to it. She was going to get it rough tonight.