by Dark Angel
I cry for a long time. I cry myself to sleep. And then I wake up several hours later, and the room is dark.
It’s obvious Tristan hasn’t come to find me at all. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he’s truly a callous and cold killer.
But I know that’s not my Tristan. I know that if he can avoid this, he would.
That’s what makes it all the more damning. Theo’s likely being stubborn, and so is Tristan.
I rub my eyes and try to wake up out of this fucking nightmare.
But it’s real. I can’t run away from this reality anymore.
I get out of his bed and walk over to the large windows. I push the huge velvet curtains aside to look down on the city. It’s the city I live in, yet it’s the city that’s also held me captive for so many years.
Images of the countryside flash across my mind.
The manor. The shooting practice. The nights alone with Tristan with not a care in the world except for the feeling of his strong hands on my body.
Those were some of the happiest days in my life. Carefree and filled with nature and freedom.
I’m living in the antithesis of that now. It’s a nightmare happening before my eyes, and there’s no way to stop it.
I can think of no other way to drown my sorrows than by taking a bottle of champagne from Tristan’s in-room bar and sinking into a hot tub.
Is it wrong that I turn to alcohol so frequently to drown my sorrows?
If one of your loved ones was gonna die in a couple days, you would do the same thing.
I take a bottle of Dom, the most expensive thing he has on hand, and then I go into the master suite, undress, and turn the water on. I make it hot, almost scalding.
Then I pour in some bubbles and some essential oils, and I sink into the water, one toe at a time, one leg at a time, and eventually, my body acclimatizes to the hot temperature.
What is it about a hot bath that makes you feel like you can forget your cares?
In the tub, it’s like I’m in my own world. I try to forget about all of the violence and all the unease. But it’s fucking impossible.
So then I turn to the champagne. I pop the cork and drink straight from the bottle.
This is my tonic. This alcohol is what soothes my soul—for the moment, at least.
And then just as I’m starting to relax, he comes in.
There he is, staring at me with wild, lust-filled eyes.
There’s also a hint of regret on his face. I know he doesn’t want to do it, to kill Theo. But that doesn’t matter.
If Tristan wanted out of this deal, I’m sure he could find a way.
I turn away from him insolently and take a sip of the champagne.
I know I can’t resist Tristan forever. I know he only has my best interests at heart. But at this moment, my anger is making me see red.
All I can think about is the bloodied body of someone I love at the end of this.
“Isobel, can we talk about this?”
I turn to him, unable to hold back the scathing words that are on the tip of my tongue.
“There’s nothing to say, Tristan. You signed over your death warrant. Either that, or you’re gonna kill my cousin, the only person in my life that I’ve ever loved besides Thelma. How do you think that makes you feel?”
He stares at me for a long moment as I’m sitting there naked in the bathtub. He looks like he wants to fuck me despite the circumstances.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the exact same way.
The connection between Tristan and I is always on high. Even when we’re in the midst of our darkest days, this connection keeps us together and promises a better future.
I only want to be in his arms. I want him to take away the pain, even if it’s only temporary.
It occurs to me that I might lose Tristan, and that makes my passion for him all the more prominent. I need this man to complete me, and I’ll be lost without him.
He leans down and tips my chin up so that he can kiss me.
I don’t know why I submit. I don’t know why I return the kiss.
I just know that I want Tristan. He means everything to me. He’s a constant fire that’s burning in my soul that can never be put out.
It’s just him and I against the world.
I know that.
I pull away and drink the champagne. I guzzle it and watch him the entire time.
He can’t be happy that I’m drinking so much, but I don’t care. Let him feel my anger.
In truth, I’m trying to provoke him in every way possible. I just want a reaction out of him. I want him to get on bended knee and apologize to me for being such an asshole.
But I know that will never happen.
“Don’t you think you’re going a little heavy on the champagne?” he asks.
I ignore him and continue drinking.
I’m starting to get buzzed. My head is starting to spin.
He continues, “You’re being insubordinate, Isobel.”
I laugh slightly, feeling sassy and wanting to resist his every move.
“I don’t care what you think,” I say to him boldly. “If you die, none of it will matter anyway.”
“Is that so?” he says, almost too quietly.
Sure, I might be poking the bear, but I don’t care. He’s ruining my life, and I don’t feel like lying back and being his little slave at this moment.
I feel like challenging him and forcing him to look me in the eyes and to tell me why he’s gonna do it.
Before I know what’s happening or how to stop it, he’s picking me up out of the bath. The bottle of champagne drops to the floor and shatters.
He doesn’t seem to care or to notice. There’s this look in his eyes.
I know too late that I might’ve taken my recourse too far.
Tristan will get what he wants.
He always does.
“You think I want this for us, Isobel?” he nearly growls.
I’m dripping soapy suds all over his suit. He takes me into the bedroom, and it’s unnaturally dark. I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t care, because I can see that this night belongs to Tristan.
He throws me down on the bed and then he undresses slowly.
He leans over to light a candle, and I can see his chiseled chest and arms in the light.
He stares at me. It’s almost a glare, really. I can see I might’ve taken things too far in my pulling away from him and admonishing him.
But what else can you do when the game is love and war and death?
“Tristan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I pulled away from you. I’m just worried about you…and Theo.”
He doesn’t say a thing, but he removes his belt and flips me over.
I breathe hard into the sheets and wait for it to come.
Whack!
One hit.
Whack!
Two hits.
My ass is sore already, and I decide in an instant not to take it.
I turn over and attempt to fight him. I beat my fists on his chest in vain.
I can’t hurt him. Only he can hurt me.
How is that fair?
He takes both my wrists into one hand and holds them steady, attempting to silence me. But I will not be silenced.
He’s gambling with the nature of my love by engaging in this thing with Theo.
No matter what I will lose.
“Fuck you, Tristan. I hate you.” The venom I spew is real.
I mean everything I say.
I hate him for making me fall in love. I hate him for being the one in control. And most of all, I hate him for threatening to take it all away.
He throws me back down on the bed and spreads my legs open wide.
I stop crying long enough to witness the fierce expression of lust and love and his face.
He slides out of his pants and quickly situates himself between my thighs. My wrists he keeps pinned above my head.
There’s nothing left for me to do but accep
t this fate of being in love with a man like him.
He forces me to confront the all-consuming desire that I constantly feel for him.
I’m playing with fire and don’t want to get burned. But before I have another second to react, he bears down on me with all his massive weight, and I feel his twelve-inch cock sliding into me hard.
He’s gonna make me pay…for being his obsession, the one that he loves.
And so I stop struggling and let the waves of passionate pleasure come over me in heated spasms.
I am his to consume.
26
Tristan
The feeling of being inside her is ecstasy personified.
Her tightness is a sieve, sucking me in with unbelievable force.
She craves me as much as I do her.
The bed creaks beneath us as I thrust my twelve-inch cock into her pussy over and over again. Her walls clench around me, spasms rocking her core as I drive her to orgasm after orgasm.
It’s not even about my release at this point; it’s about dominating her. It’s about letting her know she’s mine and only mine.
It’s about this uncontrollable feeling that wells up from the depths of my black heart every time I’m near her.
Only she could drive me this fucking mad, but I won’t let her see that. I can’t let her see what a fucking slave I am to her very existence.
Without her, there is no me. I’d simply cease to exist.
The sex is full of hunger, greed, and lust. Each time I drive into her, I’m doing it like it’s the last time that I ever will.
It very well may be, so I might as well enjoy it to the fucking max.
The duel is coming up, and I know it’s a weight on both of our minds.
But right here, right now? The only thing I can think of is this blonde goddess lying beneath me, writhing in passion as I fuck her.
Isobel’s looking up at me with such fire and zest in her eyes. It’s so fucking sexy, and it’s making my cock harder, if that’s even possible.
My hand still binds her wrists above her head, pushing them deeper into the pillow as I lean down. I capture her lips with mine in biting kisses before plunging my tongue into her mouth to meet hers.
My other hand has found her tit, groping and pinching, matching the intensity of my movements.
“Trist—” she moans against my lips, but I cut her off.
“No talking” My voice is raspy, thick with need. “Christ, you’re fucking amazing.”
I’m driving ever closer to my release, the desire to cover her in my cum overtaking me.
“Isobel…” I groan against her neck, leaning down to suck hard at her nape.
I stop moving and slowly pull out. She immediately protests.
“Why are you—”
“Get on top,” I lie back on the bed, grabbing her arms and pulling her over so she’s straddling my hips.
I rub my cock back and forth against her wetness before thrusting it in hard and deep.
“Ah!” she cries out, gasping as I slam against her.
Then she smiles, and I’m about to fucking come undone.
This time, there’s no hesitation on her part. She knows what she’s doing, she feels as though she’s in control.
How very fucking wrong she is. It’s an illusion, one that I let last just a second before I grab her hips and fill her up.
She tries to rock, but I hold her firmly in place.
“Uh-uh.” I look up at her with a roguish smile.
The vision above me is one of sheer fucking perfection. With her perfect curves, bouncy tits, and long, cascading nearly white hair, she’s reminiscent of Amorsa. Like Amorsa, Isobel draws men to her with her irresistibility. It’s quite fitting, considering she was decked out in diamonds the first time I met her, much like the Greek goddess she resembles.
Defiance flashes in her blue eyes, a shade deeper with lust. From seemingly nowhere, she pulls out her dagger.
Crafty girl.
I smirk at her.
What does my princess have up her sleeve?
“You want to die for me, right?” Her voice is but a whisper, but there’s a look of challenge in her eyes. “Do it now then.”
She presses the tip of the dagger ever so lightly against my chest and drags it down my torso.
She’s got guts, though I can tell it’s desperation driving her right now.
“Let’s do it together, Tristan. Because if there’s a world without you, I don’t want to be in it. I’d rather go out together than lose you.” Her eyes shift between mine, and I can see the slightest glimmer of tears forming at the corners.
So that’s how she wants to play this. I’ll do her one better.
I grab the dagger from her hand and run it down the tip of my chest, pressing enough to create a shallow cut. Just enough to spill some blood.
The pain is negligible. I don’t even feel it, really. Fuck, I was just shot the other day; this is child’s play compared to the shit I’ve seen and felt in my life.
Her eyes widen at the sliver of blood that runs out of the cut.
“Is this what you want? You want to see blood? You want to be in control of our lives?”
“…N-no.”
“Then don’t ever do this again. Don’t challenge me unless you’re prepared to follow through,” I lift her off me and toss her back on the bed. “Your life isn’t a joke. Not to me, Isobel.”
From the nightstand, I grab my gold handcuffs. I flip her onto her stomach and restrain her, biding her wrists to the headboard.
My crimson tie catches my eye. It’s lying on the floor, having been discarded in the heat of the moment. I quickly make use of it, tying it around Isobel’s eyes.
“Your life is mine,” I growl into her ear, before nipping at her lobe.
My cock twitches as she gasps, and I answer its call. Slipping my hands under her, I hoist her waist up, elevating her ass.
Thwack! I smack her perfectly round ass.
“That’s for being sassy with me.”
Thwack! I smack it again, seeing the red imprint bloom against her creamy white skin.
“That is for pulling your dagger on me.”
The third smack is the hardest yet, and I immediately plunge into her and groan loudly as the pleasure washes over me yet again.
It’s not enough. It’s never enough.
I’ve got one hand on her shoulder, the other wrapped around her pelvis, stroking her clit. I alternate my movements. I don’t want to come yet.
I can feel the tingles and twitches of my orgasm bearing down on me, but it’s not time.
Not yet.
My hand moves from Isobel’s shoulder to the base of her neck where I grab and fist her hair, tangling it between my fingers.
“You feel so fucking good. I want to fill you up.” I tug her hair hard enough to pull her head back.
I press my forehead against the back of her head, pulling her hair even tighter.
“Tristan!” she screams my name, and I swear it’s the most beautiful sound I could ever fucking hear in my life.
The more she screams, the harder I thrust. The sound of me slamming into her echoes throughout the room, enhancing my desire.
Fuck.
I can’t hold back anymore. I pull out, stroking myself quickly as streams of cum spray out all over her ass and back.
“Unnnghh…” I groan and shudder, throwing my head back as I’m overtaken with the best pleasure I’ve ever felt in my entire fucking life.
I collapse next to her, cum still dripping out of my twitching cock as it pulses.
She’s still blindfolded and cuffed to the headboard, and her body heaves as she pants.
“I love you,” I whisper against her skin, kissing her shoulder.
She makes it all worth it.
Every minute.
Even if it may be our last together.
27
Isobel
Tristan’s doing everything to me that I always wanted a man to
do—secretly, in my dreams—but never thought was possible.
He dominates me, and in my submission, I feel free to let go.
It’s like he sees through all my layers of lies, the various faces I show the world, and he sees only me.
My hands are cuffed with what looks like pure gold handcuffs. And he’s got me blindfolded with his tie.
I don’t need to be blindfolded. I shut my eyes tightly and try to ride the waves of pleasure that’s swimming up in my body as Tristan thrusts into me from behind.
It’s always hard to take in his long, thick cock. But I will never tire of trying.
He spreads me wide and forces me to tell him over and over again that I am his, that I will never run away, and the only he can complete me.
“Tristan, fuck. God. I think I’m gonna come.”
“That’s good baby. Come for Daddy. Just let it go.”
As soon as he gives me permission, I tip over the edge and just start falling.
I’m vaguely aware of Tristan plunging into me from behind, but my orgasm is so intense as it tears through me that all I see are stars, and my head is spinning, and I’m swimming in him, in all his masculine energy and testosterone.
It’s an aphrodisiac, to say the least.
I need a moment.
I need a second.
But no such luck.
He capitalizes on the moment as he sinks ever deeper into me, drawing out my orgasm to the realms of wild bliss.
I fear I might die from this.
“Good girl. You’re coming so hard for Daddy.”
He says the words and grips my hips hard as he thrusts himself deeper into me.
It’s all I can do to keep myself propped up on the bed.
I’m restrained and blindfolded, and the only thing I can see or imagine is the feel of Tristan’s cock sliding in and out of me so roughly and with such force. He’s taking over my entire world, which was no doubt his intention.
He pumps into me for a long time, and I swear I’m just coming over and over again.
And then he flips me over at last. He straddles my chest and starts to slide his cock between my tits. He presses them together and fucks them.
He rips the tie off my face, and I look up into his blazing green eyes.