Layers Deep

by Lacey Silks

  If there was anything Laura was right about, it was the exciting part. And Tristan was about to take it to a whole new level.

  CHAPTER 15

  The metal building we’d pulled up to screamed please paint me. A few layers of colors were peeling off the walls in some spots. I surveyed the barren area in front. Rusted pipes and chains were piled to the side. Remains of shattered windows were propped against a stack of concrete blocks and wooden beams. A used can of paint had been left behind as well. Further back, a couple of stray cats chased each other among the dried grasses and weeds. Only one other car was parked near the entrance.

  Tristan opened the door for me and led me inside. I’d expected the hinges to squeak or a dusting of rust to sprinkle down, but neither happened. Inside, the building I’d judged to be an old warehouse transformed into a state of the art gym. The smell of leather and metal blended with a little bit of grease as I examined the brand new equipment. This was every trainer’s paradise, and I understood why Tristan had brought me here. A gym this magnificent should have been used by at least fifty people at a time, yet no one else was here.

  “We have this place for a few days.” Tristan answered my thoughts. “Freddie delayed the re-opening by a week for me. He’s a close friend of the family. Julian and I both trained here. It was like our second home, but it’s fancier than it was before.”

  A man in his late fifties wearing an Adidas track suit hurried toward us with long strides. He nearly knocked Tristan over before lifting him off the ground in a bear hug, squeezing him until I thought Tristan’s lungs would pop out. The man’s muscles ripened into grapefruit-sized ovals.

  “Hey, Freddie.” Tristan returned the gesture as he was lowered.

  “It’s about time you called. I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for this place. The boys will piss with joy when they see the new ring next week.”

  “Freddie lets a group of teens from the community use the boxing ring. Freddie, meet Allie Green. Allie, this is Freddie. He’s like family.” Tristan glowed with pride.

  “And Tristan funded the makeover you see.” Freddie raised his chin.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I extended my hand when he did and instead found myself in the arms of this man who seemed to like hugging an awful lot. He placed a big wet smooch on my cheek, saying, “She’s a pretty one, Tristan. And well built. You wanna get your ass kicked, boy, bring a woman with these muscles in here.” Freddie set me down and winked with a flirtatious grin.

  “Yeah, I’m expecting to,” Tristan laughed.

  I liked Freddie a lot.

  He reached into his pocket and handed Tristan a set of keys. “All yours.”

  “Thanks, I owe you.”

  “You owe me a coffee, nothing more. I missed my morning run to open up early for you.” He gripped Tristan over the shoulder, “Don’t let him overwork you, Allie. This man likes to pin women underneath him.”

  “Yeah, I may have had the pleasure already,” I said, remembering our morning at the gym before Tristan offered me the job and that one thought of one of our first close contacts reminded my loins how good Tristan felt against me.

  “I’ll buy you that coffee if you stop spreading your dirty lies,” Tristan shot back. He threw the keys onto a desk, saying, “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “And I’ll take that as ‘Get the hell out of here, old man.’ Take care, Allie.” Freddie kissed me on the cheek, winked, and left.

  “Why did you make him go? I liked him.”

  “That’s exactly why he needed to leave. You like older men or something?” he teased.

  But I had a feeling Tristan didn’t like other men ogling me no matter what their age.

  “Some competition is always good for the soul,” I said.

  “You need to concentrate this week, Allie. And Freddie would be flirting with you all day long until you had a coffee with him.”

  That was the lamest excuse I’d ever heard. “You’re going to train me?” I bit my lip.

  “Why is that funny?” He unzipped my jacket for me and removed it. Perhaps having him so close to me this early in the morning when he smelled better than a fresh croissant wasn’t a good idea. I would have had an easier time concentrating with Freddie around.

  “I’m not laughing. I just thought I’d get a professional or something.”

  “If I saw another man on top of you, he’d need to worry about me wringing his neck.”

  I liked the hint of jealousy I’d heard in his voice. But I did have a job to do, and from what Tristan had said, I’d better learn whatever he wanted to teach me. Today, I’d need to control the usual urges I felt around Tristan. I couldn’t let sex derail our training; although that seemed almost impossible. The mere thought of smelling his sweat near me revived a desperate tingle between my legs.

  Stop it, Allie!

  “First, they’d have to be able to get on top of me. Now let’s get to work, Cross.” I punched him on the arm a tad harder than intended. “What first?”

  Instead of using the brand new equipment like I’d expected, Tristan handed me a jump rope.

  “For the warm up.” He turned on the music. Bon Jovi sang Because We Can. The music blasted through the gym and I imagined myself in that boxing ring with Tristan, allowing him to teach me the tricks I didn’t know. Yeah, I didn’t think I’d mention that I’d boxed before. It had been a while, after all, and I didn’t train for long. But it did help to learn how to interpret the opponent’s body language and foresee their next move.

  I smiled, hoping I’d get an opportunity to show Tristan the one skill that wasn’t in the thick file he had on me, saying, “Yes, Rocky.” I gripped the rope’s handles and swung it around my body slowly, building up my tempo.

  Tristan jumped facing me. I hadn’t expected him to join me in the work out. Ten minutes passed and I began to feel the effect in my pinching lungs and dripping sweat. But I wouldn’t stop until he did. I wondered how long he was planning on simply skipping. Weren’t we supposed to practice more technical moves? And why had the scar on his lip lifted by a fraction? Did he know it made him that much sexier? The way his feet just hovered above the ground to let the rope pass under reminded me of Fred Flintstone. Except Tristan was much better looking in those sweats. Gosh, how did he manage to keep so buff? No part of his body shook when he jumped.

  He must be wearing briefs to keep his package nice and tight in there, I thought. Concentrate on the work out, Allie! This is your job.

  “So, what’s after skipping, twinkle-toes?”

  “I’m debating.”

  That scar lifted even higher; his voice sounded more primitive than earlier. What was he debating? Tristan’s focus shifted from my eyes to my cleavage. Was he watching my boobs bounce?

  “I think I’ve been caught,” Tristan said with a grin.

  I stopped jumping. “You perv! We’re supposed to be exercising.” I threw the jump rope aside.

  “Believe me, my heart gets a better work out when I look at you.” He set his down, his chest heaving.

  I scowled at him with my hands on my hips but couldn’t deny the smell of his and my sweat blending together was beginning to work itself into my core.

  “Can you blame a guy?” he shrugged.

  No, I couldn’t, because resisting a better look at the thickness in his pants had been more difficult than saying no to chocolate cake. It took all my strength not to give in.

  “Come on, this is important, Tristan.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m a pig.”

  “I didn’t say that, but if the shoe fits... Now what’s next? You gotta do better than skipping.”

  He strolled over to the side and I followed. Picking up a medicine ball, he threw it at me without any warning.

  The chest to ball impact felt more like chest to stone, but I caught it. Bending at the knees, I braced my feet and extended my arms, pushing with everything I had so that the ball would make it back to Tristan.


  It did. And he was surprised.

  We passed it back and forth a dozen times. My arms ached and legs began to burn, and I finally said, “I don’t think they’ll be throwing medicine balls at the auction, Tristan.”

  “Fine, put these on and come inside the ring.” He pointed to the boxing gloves and helmet with a face guard.

  “Sure.” I was actually looking forward to seeing his attempt to train me.

  Tristan stepped inside wearing only the gloves.

  “Cross, don’t underestimate me and put on your helmet.”

  He raised an inquisitive brow, “You’ve been in the ring before?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then I better suit up.”

  Once inside, I stepped from one foot to another, my bulky hands protecting my face.

  “Hit me,” he said.

  I didn’t hesitate and threw a punch he wasn’t expecting right at his ribs.

  “Wow, I guess you’re not playing.”

  “Hit me,” I challenged.

  He threw a straight punch, which I blocked.

  “Hit me as if I’m one of the bastards from the auction.”

  Tristan tried again, but I blocked that as well.

  “Try again. Think about the fucker who has Kendra.”

  This time the hook came from the bottom up, but I stopped that punch as well. Tristan was simply not trying hard enough. He didn’t want to hurt me.

  “Think about one of them touching me.”

  A harder knock came from his left. I saw the move in his eyes, and he didn’t connect again.

  “And then fucking my brains out like...”

  I didn’t finish the sentence. The knockout came with a piercing ring in my ear and I dropped to the floor. The room spun for a moment, and Tristan’s voice called me from a distance. When I came around, his equipment was off and I was in his arms, against his chest, as he repeated, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m fine, Tristan.” I grazed my palm along his worried cheek. “It wasn’t that hard.”

  “I hit you. You fell down.”

  “I was caught off guard. That was the point.”

  “You’re not hurt?”

  “No, I promise. Let’s try this again.”

  “You’re the one doing the hitting this time, otherwise this stops, now.” He scanned me from bottom up. His eyes glossed over with worry.

  “Fine. Are we playing by the rules?”

  After a moment of thought, he said, “No rules, but you should probably avoid this area” – he pointed to his crotch – “otherwise I may have a tough time doing what I want to do to you later.”

  Was he actually thinking I’d knock him below the belt? And risk his wonderfully skilled cock not functioning for me? Not that I’d say that out loud. Instead I shrugged. “All’s fair in a game with no rules.”

  For a split second he actually looked nervous. After a few rounds, I managed to get through some of Tristan’s blocks. His training here had definitely paid off.

  “You look too fucking sexy like this.” He stopped and dropped his gloves to the side. The gray shirt clung to his body, and I noted a definite strain under his sweats. His three steps toward me were like a caveman’s as he grasped my shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” I asked rhetorically. Tristan’s intention was pretty obvious from his deepened voice and confidant hands.

  “Stripping you,” he stated, removing my helmet and my gloves. My top flew off next and I was left in my sports bra. That ache I’d had since this morning radiated out of my belly.

  “Tat for tat.” I yanked the shirt over his head, finally getting a good luck at that chiseled torso, bathing in his heat.

  We stood there facing each other, in mutual admiration, neither of us too sure where to start. My mind, lost in a maze of his muscles, didn’t know which part of his body to touch first. Tristan was like an all you can eat buffet, except I could never get enough of him. My hunger for this man would return within minutes of climax.

  Was that thunder outside, or my heart begging to be closer to Tristan? I could hear it pounding in my ears. It seemed like minutes passed, but I wasn’t sure. And when Tristan crushed into me, enveloping me in his arms, I was glad I no longer had to decide what to do. Our bodies writhed together as he dominated my mouth, keeping my face firmly between his hands. Tristan pressed against me. Every curve of his excitement stung my arousal. My frantic hands wandered up and down his bulging arms, in between us, along his chest and abs, which rippled under my touch. And finally they wandered down the happy trail to the elastic of his pants.

  I slid my hand inside, gripping his hard flesh, wanting his length inside me. As if hearing my plea, Tristan lowered my pants and panties at the same time, inhaling more deeply as he knelt. A loud growl escaped his throat. The moment he let go of my mouth allowed me to catch a much needed breath, but I was sure the room wouldn’t stop spinning for a while now. On the way up he removed my sports bra, forcing me to wriggle out of the tight fabric. The pressure of thick ring ropes against my back, ass, and knees restricted my movement backward. For me, there was only one thing left to do: I tugged on his pants, taking them down off his hips, right along with the briefs.

  Tall and proud, Tristan’s cock freed from the constraint of his sweats, had a drip of pre-cum on its tip. His fingers slipped between my heated folds, suavely spreading my damp desire around my swollen opening. His mouth found my neck and he latched on. Lifting my leg to rest on the bottom rope I opened up for him. Lowering his own body to position his cock underneath me, Tristan prodded my entrance. And with one last look into my eyes, he drove himself into me.

  Spreading my arms out to the sides, I gripped the top rope and let him take over. His mouth grazed my chin and my lower lip, biting gently as he moved in and out of my slick opening. The stretch of his width and depth of his advance was exactly what I needed. I closed my eyes, wanting him to rule my body. Tristan’s hands grasped my breasts and his mouth overpowered mine. Once again I wasn’t sure what to focus on: his desperate mouth stealing my every shaken breath; his full palms moulding my engorged breasts, thumbs grazing over my hardened nipples; or the ruthless penetration between my legs. I’d be bruised by morning, but I didn’t care. So I just hung onto the rope as if I was holding onto my life, resisting the oncoming climax, wanting this moment to last forever.

  But the speed of his hips and friction of his full naked front against me, feeling his skin everywhere, was unbearable, and soon I found my focus. The sensation grew in my pussy. Right there in the middle it built in pressure with each thrust. It turned from a velvety glow to a raw force that had been swirling inside me for decades, wanting to leave my body out of each and every pore. And I let go as it took over my limbs. I didn’t know when I began trembling. The orgasm engulfed me like flames of an inferno, and my whole body quivered in Tristan’s arms. I heard a loud scream that wasn’t my own leave my mouth. Sometime during my shudders, Tristan stilled as well, tightening his full arms around me, letting his release take him over as well.

  We both collapsed to the floor. Spent, I snuggled against his sticky body, listening to his heart. A while passed before I could speak.

  “Did you plan this?” I asked.

  “No, but I knew I’d have trouble resisting you while you trained.”

  “So how are we going to do this for a week?” I lifted my head to look into his deep blues, wondering what plan hid underneath the contact lenses.

  “I don’t know. I may ask Julian to help out, if you’re all right with that.”

  Although I’d prefer Tristan training me, after today I knew we wouldn’t get much work done if it was just the two of us.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t imagine we’d do this with him around.” I let out a long breath.

  “Imagine? Please don’t tell me my brother watching us is on your mind.”

  “You gotta admit, worse could happen. Like a stranger walking in here,” I teased.

&n
bsp; I would come to wish I hadn’t teased Tristan or spoken those last words, as I found out that having strangers in the same room playing out a sexual act wasn’t that much fun at all.

  CHAPTER 16

  The room smelled of mold and cigars. My eyes were covered with a cloth. James let go of my elbow, steadying me. I tried to peak through to get a glimpse of some sort of light, but nothing seeped in. Tristan had left me in a hotel room with James, whom I knew I could trust. After a week of constant training, the time to test our plan approached quicker than we’d expected. The auction had been moved to a week earlier, and now, within two weeks of meeting Tristan Cross, I was about to be sold at a sex-trafficking auction.

  We’d taken the elevator downstairs, where James affixed my blindfold. The room felt foreign, as it should have. I held no fear in my veins, not yet. The cop in me listened to every crack, shuffle, voice, and whisper, trying to find something familiar. Nothing resonated.

  “Stand still. You’ll be on your own in a sec,” James whispered in my ear before he let me go.

  A door squeaked at the hinges. Someone’s shoulder brushed against mine, and I heard a gasp of fear. There was another girl beside me, just like Tristan had said there would be. Her baby scent deodorant meant she was young, specifically catering to the most perverted. The thought rushed my pulse a little, but I steadied it with a deeper breath.

  “Remove your blindfolds, ladies.” The way the male voice said “ladies” made the hairs on the back of my nape stand. He may as well have called us bitches or whores.

  I lifted my arms to the back of my head and released the knot. My sight adjusted quickly. The room was darkened, but not as shitty as I’d imagined. It resembled a cozy banquet hall suitable to fit one hundred guests. They’d tried to spice it up with plush red furniture and velvet drapes at the side of the mirrors in front of me. They’d pimped up the room to Vegas style as much as possible. Wherever we were, this place had to be rented. Tristan had said their location changed every week.