Rogue (In the life of the Rogue Book 1)

by KaNeshia Michelle

  “Tristan, don’t go,” she pleaded.

  “You don’t understand how this works, Dominique.”

  “I understand more than you do.” She pinched her bottom lip with her teeth, an air of uncertainity in her eyes, “Tell me you want this, Tristan.”

  I opened my mouth then closed it, my teeth grinding together. I glanced at my car again – the ugly wreck surrouned by the pretty, expensive, and blemish free – and back to her.

  She squeezed my hand again and said the command again. “Tell me you want this, Tristan.”

  It was the familiar mantra of ‘tell me what to say, what you want to hear, and I will oblige.’

  “I want this,” I said.

  “Tell me you want me.”

  “I don’t know what it’s like to not want you.”

  “Tell me you’re not fucking my mother.”

  “I’m not fucking your mother, Dominique.”

  She increased the pressure on her bottom lip, before saying, “I want you to make me believe it like your life depends on it because it does.”

  I see now that my lie has opened the secrect door in the floor - the door that would lead me deeper, more violently, and more securely, in my downward spiral.

  The door that held one, single secret: How to end Tristan Rogue.

  The secret door in the floor would have no stairs to count my desent, but be a gapping hole that I would walk – eyes wide open and acutely aware – and fall right through. I would kick and scream, but that would come later.

  Dominique led me deeper into the gazebo, walking backwards and pulling me along. Her back rested against the rail and my body collided against hers.

  I felt her thumb outlining my bottom lip. I opened my mouth and my tongue touched her tender fingertip.

  Dominique moaned, and, in return, I breathe, feeling heat rush up to my cheeks.

  There’s caution here. A red warning scrowling at the bottom, but I miss it all together.

  I know what I’m doing is wrong. Not just wrong because she’s my step niece, and her mother trusted me, just enough, with her life. This is wrong because I had been sleeping with a woman for years, loving her in a way I could never understand, and in away she would never clarify for me, but I was licking the fingertip of her daughter, enjoying her moan when I did it.

  No. I wasn’t a good man, at all.

  I moved my hands to Dominique’s neck. My thumbs massaged the sides of her throat, and I felt her pulse pushing against my fingertips.

  Dominique moved in for a kiss, her lips still pinching her bottom lip. She glanced at me briefly, almost appeared scared, inches away from petrified.

  I move my head away before she kissed me. Her look formed a thought in my head, and I almost laugh, petulant in my thinking, and chided myself for the random thought.

  Yet, still, I asked the question: “You’ve done this before; this won’t be your first time?”

  Dominique didn’t answer. Maybe, to her, we’ve talked enough.

  I’m not sure.

  Her warm mouth enclosed over mine. Her nails racked across my scalp hard enough to leave marks, hard enough for me to wonder if I’m bleeding. It’s a tender, sweet, kiss, an exploring expedition, in a way. It’s not the kiss in the elevator, because we both knew the kiss couldn’t, and wouldn’t, lead any further.

  This kiss is an open doorway that we both want to walk through.

  My tongue traced over the soft grooves her teeth had made from her biting her bottom lip.

  I heard her moan, and felt her opening her mouth. My tongue tumbled in at the invitation. Her body pressed more roughly against me. Her knee moved inbetween my legs and nestled up into my crotch.

  Dominique’s kiss was hot and warm, and I felt her heat even through her thin cotton robe. I hated how my fingers were stupid and clunky as I tried to get the knot loose on her robe.

  Her hands were shaking when she touched mine. “Please, Tristan, slow. Please, be slow.”

  And I tried to relax.

  I wanted to relax for her.

  My body had been on autopilot. The nesscary moves were already calculated: kiss, kiss, and kiss some more; get the robe open, see what’s underneath; dick out of the slit of the jeans, condom already ready; condom pulled on tight, no chances I can take with pregnancy – again; one courtesy spit if needed; nudge her legs and she opens for me; and I’m inside and I’m swimming without a life vest, too high in the air with the intentions of never coming down.

  I took a deep breath to help with the relaxtion. I was nervous now and I didn’t know why.

  Dominique spoke, her voice low and husky. “Please, Tristan, don’t stop.”

  And, by God, I don’t want to. Her eyes are half closed, lidded. Her mouth was swollen, red and plump from the bruising kisses. She licked them.

  Her warm hands fumbled with my shirt, pulling it up to my arm pits.

  I leaned my head against her bare shoulder and inhale and exhale. She’s dismantling me and I can’t figure out how, or why. I don’t like it because it’s confuses me, it’s too strange and too foreign.

  I made work of her robe again – slower this time, patient enough. This time I’m not on autopilot. This time, my eyes are open and so are my senses.

  Dominique’s robe opened and she had on dark stockings and heels and nothing else.

  I used the tip of my index finger to dip beneath the band of her stocking, her skin warm, the muscle flexing.

  She’s seducing me, she had seduced me. Dominique hadn’t been on a late night stroll and decided to stand in the dark gazebo. No. She was here because I was here. Because I would be here once I finished the meeting with my father.

  Dominique’s plump lips touched my neck and my thoughts ceased. I palmed her thighs, moved my hands to her ass and squeezed as her tongue lapped just below my Adam’s apple.

  I exhaled a long, shuddered breath and felt her smile against my neck.

  My hands left her ass, and she whimpered at the withdrawl, I grabbed fistfuls of her hair, tugged her gently to get her too look at me. I wanted to smile foolishly as I feel those silky treces of curls looped around my fingers, but I don’t.

  I needed to see that want in her eyes, the want for me. I couldn’t comprehend anything else, couldn’t move on any further. I needed to see if she had a hidden agenda for all this. She wasn’t here by accident, she didn’t wear what she wore – the lack of what she wore – for no other reason then to get and keep my attention – which she had successfully done both.

  I needed to know if she did this because she wanted me: the wife fucker, the wreck, the tarnished son of a pretigous mob boss that she respected and left her father, and his business, to be apart of. If I was going to drive a nail through my own coffin, and put myself in the line of fire of Lulina Wells, I needed to know if Dominique Lougotti wanted me as bad as she implied, and boldly stated – as bad as I wanted her.

  She met my suspicious gaze and didn’t flinch. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you on that balcony.”

  And I was frozen, struck dumb, by her words. It felt like the news of Katie’s pregnancy all over again, but this time I didn’t run for the hills. No. This time I wanted to see the rainbow over the hill, the credits to the movie - the light at the end of the the tunnel because the light was beautiful, too beautiful to run and hide from.

  Dominique leaned in and I could feel her mouth hovering over mine. I felt her tongue, rubbing just below my bottom lip.

  “Are you strong, Tristan?”

  I nodded, then said, “I am.” And then gulped.

  “Show me.”

  I hoisted Dominique up. Her wetness saturated the skin just below my navel. My lips found hers as her legs wrapped so tightly around me that it hurt.

  “I’ve wanted you so bad, Tristan,” she said to me in pants.

  I sat her down on the gazebo’s railing. “Show me.”

  There was that flicker of fear over her face again, her bottom lip was bit in hesitation and she
exhaled. She reached for the belt buckle to my jeans, the zipper was tugged, her warm fingers fumbled with the slit of my boxers, and soon she had me in her hands. Her thumbs massaged, her hand explored.

  Light headed, but still trying to hold on, I bit roughly into her shoulder and smiled when I heard her gasped.

  We kissed, long and hard, as her legs parted wider, rose higher, her knees tickled my sides.

  I produced a condom. “Hold up a sec.” I bit the package open.

  Dominique grabbed it from my hand. “No.”

  “Safe sex is the best sex,” I told her, panicking that she had come to her senses and she didn’t want to go any further with the man she asked if he was screwing her mother then may now not believe him when he said he hadn’t.

  “No,” she said again. “I want you to feel me. I want to feel you feeling me.”

  I reached for the open condom packet but she dropped it over her shoulder. My hand was back in my pocket for my back up protection but she seized it and placed it on her bare breast. My mouth opened to protest but Dominique kissed me. She whimpered into my mouth, and I breathed back into hers, exhaling softly and politely. The kiss was alive, growing too fast and I pulled back to breathe.

  Dominique tightened her legs around my waist once more. Her knees lifted higher. Her eyes darkened and her mouth opened as she breathed heavily.

  “Okay,” I mumbled, “I’ll give you what you want.”

  My hands were on her ass, pulling her off the railing and pulling her to me so her back would be supported against it. My breath caught as I felt her hard nipples against my chest.

  Dominique wedged her hand between her bodies and slid it down between her legs. She cupped herself, dragged her hands slowly back and forth. Her eyes blinked slowly as her breathing picked up.

  “Breathe,” she encouraged.

  I did, and the wallop of air, fresh and clean and exsquite, rushed through me.

  “Come here,” she breathed against my lips.

  I pulled her closer to me. Her lips hovered over mine again as I felt the hand she had used on herself on me – hot, wet and sticky, moving her juices, slicking me up, preparing me to be inside her.

  She smiled and grazed her teeth over my bottom lip. Her tongue was out, tracing over my lips, moisting them. She curled her tongue and parted my lips with it.

  “Hurry,” she urged, as she kissed me.

  I heeded her command, bending low. Dominique had her elbows on my shoulders as her hands ran back and forth through my hair, gripping it roughly, her nails digging till I felt the first signs of blood wetting my scalp. I lifted her up slightly, prepared to ease her down and never made it any further than that.

  The grass crunched behind, somewhere not too distant – someone was coming. Only now, did I realize just how exposed we were.

  I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth, still feeling the impression of Dominique’s lips. Dominique closed her robe, flipped her hair back and tied it into a ponytail. She bit her lip, her face flushed, and her eyes big and wide and frightened.

  Dominique walked to one side of the gazebo while I escaped to another – doing the best to put as much distance between us. The footsteps were closer now. We both dared not look out to see who was approaching, or meet each other’s eyes while our visitor was making their way.

  My guess, we both had a very good educated guess on the visitor’s idenity.

  I sank to the bench, lit a cigarette, bowed my head, and allowed the smoke to slither out. I tried to look normal, and not like I was about to have sex outside where my father’s men patrolled around with guns.

  Lulina smirked at me as she stepped inside the gazebo. I didn’t even want to think what she had seen, or what she had heard; the heavy breathing, my drumming heartbeat, Dominique’s soft moans – all of it had seemed so defeaning just a moment ago.

  I touched my lips, still felt the heat, the warmth; I licked them and still tasted her.

  And now Lulina was here. I did my best not to look her in the eyes. I didn’t want to look guilty. Instead, at the turn and twists in my stomach, I figured I looked more bilious than anything.

  Lulina leaned in and kissed Dominique on the cheek. “It’s a wonderful night for a stroll, isn’t it dear?”

  “Yes, mother, I believe you’re right,” Dominique said in a stringent manner.

  Lulina leaned in to kiss Dominique on the cheek again, but Dominique invaded. I couldn’t help but feel sick. The first kiss, maybe, had been to see if she smelled me on her daughter’s mouth. The second attempted kiss may have been to confirm the suspicion.

  Lulina placed her hand on Dominique’s forehead. “Are you feeling well, you look flustered?”

  Dominique moved her head out of her mother’s touch. “I’m fine, mom.”

  Lulina eyes turned to me and I squirmed. The gazebo had seemed darken, secluded, a private caccoon, in which me and Dominique seemed to have gotten lost in. Yet, now, nothing seemed to be missed, like the hard, searching stare of the woman I had been sleeping with for years – behind her husband’s back, and while he was still fresh in the ground, and turning.

  “Tristan, darling, how are you?” Lulina asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “You don’t know?” She repeated my words slowly, as if I didn’t understand the meaning in which it was first spoken.

  I blew smoke in Lulina’s direction to let her know she had been acknowledged, and said nothing.

  Lulina looked at me for a long moment, half her face hidden in the dark. When I couldn’t take her stare any longer, I turned away and cursed myself when I did.

  That was the true sign of guilt.

  She chuckled. “You still don’t know how you are, Tristan?”

  I rubbed my fingers over my face. “What do you want me to say? It’s been a long fucking night.”

  Lulina touched my face, feeling the lumps and split lip. “It looks like it,” she whispered.

  Her fingers remained. I fought not to shudder under her touch. Dominique had just pulled the move not too long ago, but I realized how different the simple act portrayed. When Dominique touched my face, I had melted. When Lulina had done the same, it felt like getting hit all over again.

  “It was nice out,” Dominique blurted, “So I decided to take a walk and ran into Tristan.” She tightened her robe once more. “We should go back, its cold. Tristan was just leaving.”

  Lulina played a little hard ball. “I want to enjoy the quiet night. The moon is so lovely. You can go back in, dear, don’t want you catching a cold. I’ll walk Tristan to his car.”

  I realized I was stuck, unable to make a getaway. Fixing my clothes would not be able to happen without Lulina noticing.

  I replied, “I’m a big boy. I can walk my own self to my car.”

  Lulina plucked my cigarette out of my hand right as I was about to take another pull. “I know you’re a big boy.” She took a puff, inhaled and smiled around the smoke as she blew it out. “I know just how big of a boy you’re are, but it’s scary out there, Tristan. I’ve known you since you were a little boy and don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  The innuendo was in direct violation of my lie I had given Dominique that I was not sleeping with her mother.

  I shook out my last cigarette and lit it. “Nothing will.”

  “You don’t know that. Such a dangerous family we’re in. Don’t you agree?” Lulina asked. “We both know all too well, Tristan, that blood won’t protect you from a bullet.”

  I was scared into silence. Lulina’s warning was there and I was in no position to stop it. My lie of nothing going on between Lulina and I was being blown right into my face.

  It soon occurred to me that Lulina was waiting for Dominique to leave.

  Dominique was most likely waiting for the same thing.

  I happily took myself out of the equation. I stood, fixed my pants and smiled at Lulina as I did it.

  Dominique didn’t make eye contact, and even
if she did, I wasn’t making it with her.

  Lulina called after me as I walking back to my car, trying not to run. “There’s a meeting in a couple weeks, Tristan. That should be enough time for your face to heal. And try to find something nice to wear.”

  I kept moving.

  Not once did I turn around.

  Even when I was speeding down the driveway, I kept my eyes firmly in front of me and dared not to look back at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Why fear fire when life burns you so much more…

  It had been forty thousands dollars in the envelope that Papa handed me. I had never seen so much money in one time. And of course, instantly, the money started to burn a hole in my pocket.

  I was tasked with going over every single bill Zander and I had overdue, which were all of them, and paid them off. I put extra money on the bill for when we wouldn’t have money, for which I was certain was just around the corner.

  After ducking and dodging the manager to our apartment building, threatening him when he caught up to us, and ignoring him when he yelled from his office window when he caught us walking to and from our apartment, he couldn’t believe it when I came to him.

  “What’s this all about, Mr. Rogue?” A stream of smoke sailed out between the gap in his teeth.

  He was a miserable looking old man with very papery skin and no hair on his head.

  I pushed eight thousand in his hand. He counted it – twice – then ran his fingers over the bills.

  He blew out a ring of smoke and smiled. “This should cover you nicely.”

  Between all the fees and the unpaid months, I was surprised that Zander and I owed only that. To be safe, respecting both Zander and I’s spending habits on ass and booze, I paid a couple of months in advance.

  For Zander I handed five thousand dollars and knew I would regret it.

  “Don’t do anything stupid with this money, Zan,” I told him.

  He took the last inhale on his cigarette and blew out the smoke in my face. “I’m tired of you guys not trusting me.”

  I could actually see the money smoldering in his hands. The implications for the cash flashed in his eyes and it wasn’t good.