by Arie Lane
"My name is Tristan Reece, but those who know me well call me Tryst, and since I intend on spending plenty of time getting to know you, it's a name you should get intimately acquainted with."
I laugh so hard at the statement, I'm pretty sure I feel myself snort once or twice. Is he for fucking real? There is no damn way he actually just said that shit. Fucking hell, I think he may be the cockiest man I have ever met. I'm pissed he has me in a state of complete discomfort and even more irate he thinks he's gotten the better of me. Regaining my composure, I let him have a piece of my mind, "Just because you’re under the impression you’re a woman's ultimate walking wet dream, and somehow you ooze enough sexual charm and prowess to make a woman's knees weak and her panties wet, doesn't make it true. In fact, I can promise the only way you’re making my panties wet is by causing me to piss myself laughing at your delusional self-observations."
Tristan
Floored, absolutely fucking floored. I mean, sure I was thinking it, but I sure as fuck wasn't about to brag about how easily I could make her panties wet, especially not in front of Ele. For shit sake, she already tore my ass a new one when she thought I was going out of my way to harass Bentley. Although in all fairness, had Ele told me who the hell she was, I never would have taken the approach I had. I might be a prick, but I'm not a complete cocksucker. Yet now I'm sitting here looking like a jackass between two women laughing their asses off at my expense. Damn if I am not sitting here hard as hell, wondering what kind of panties she has on under those ridiculous pants. I would love nothing more than to remove that offending piece of clothing, preferably with my teeth. Sadly, my fantasy is short lived when the movement from the corner of my eye brings me back to the present. Refocusing my attention, I watch as Electra walks to the door, turns around and shoots me a look I haven't seen since I got caught sleeping in eighth grade English. Shit, I'm going to catch a wrath of hell for this.
I lift my eyebrow as she lets out an annoyed huff, "I'm going downstairs to get a real cup of coffee, are you coming or not?" I shake my head back and forth and watch as she saunters out the door.
My attention turns in the direction of the little ray of sunshine still sprawled out, unmoving on the couch. I'm contemplating a plan of action. I figure she's so preoccupied with her nose stuck in her book, she probably doesn't even know I'm still here. This of course, is the exact moment I figure she read my mind as she chimes in, “I’m sure by now whatever injury you sustained while being a moron this morning has healed enough that you can go back to your own room."
Damn it, here I was getting my hopes up that by now she would consider me on friendlier terms, and in reality she's pretty much telling me to go the fuck away. So much for making progress. I let out a grunt as I stand and head for the door. Hearing her light footsteps behind me, I wonder if maybe she isn't having a change of heart after all.
Before I open the door I turn around, damn near knocking her on her ass. This shit is really starting to get old. I mean come on, three times in less than twenty-four hours. Thanks to some seriously quick reflexes, I manage to catch her with one hand around her waist and the other firmly gripping her ass.
This is the moment I lose all common sense, because I don’t even register the royally pissed off look gracing her face before I bend down and capture her lips against my own. Seeking entry into her mouth, practically prying it open with my tongue, it never once occurs to me that my little spitfire isn't kissing me back. In fact, that little tidbit fails to register in my mind until I feel the piercing of my lip and the instant throbbing that follows. I glance down at her as she pulls away with a look of utter horror painted on her face before she takes a step back and bolts into the closest room with a lock, latching it before I even reach the door.
Swallowing hard, I get ready to knock on the door, when I am taken aback by the heavy metallic taste flooding my mouth. The piercing pain registers once again as I realize she bit me. She didn't just nip my lip. No, she bit it fucking hard, hard enough to draw a constant flow of blood. Well fuck a duck! I completely misfired on that judgment call. This is the first time I’ve ever had a girl bite me in self-defense, and if I'm being honest I really hope it’s the last.
I stand at the bedroom door for a minute weighing my options. If she hates me, will apologizing right now make any difference? If she's really that scared of me, do I have any business being here at all? Shit, I really fucked this up, best I leave and go own up to my fuck up with Ele. Better she hears about this shit from me, at least then she can see how sorry I am for fucking up with Bentley.
As I sit down at the table Ele is occupying, the words I rehearsed on my way down to the lobby flood from my mouth. “The last thing I meant to do was scare her, I swear I wasn't trying to poke a sleeping bear, I just lost control of the situation. When I caught her from falling I wasn't rationalizing. I swear to you, Ele, I didn't mean to hurt her."
I watch as Ele's eyes narrow at me. If she had even the slightest inkling of how gutted I feel in this moment, she'd know scolding me wouldn't make a bit of difference. Oddly the lecture I was expecting, and let’s face it, I was expecting Ele to go postal on my ass, was nothing like the words running through my head.
"It was bound to happen eventually. Even if it wasn't with you, it would have been some other asshat. She may hide herself away but that doesn't mean she goes unnoticed. I do, however, think it might be for the best if you stayed away from her for the remainder of time that she's here. Think you can handle that, Tryst? She'll be on her way back home tomorrow evening, so try not to traumatize her anymore before she leaves. I'd like our friendship to be salvageable once she's gone. I really don't want her thinking I asked her here so my idiotic cover model could cause more emotionally scarring memories of this place. I know being here as it is, is tearing her apart. I'm not about to see her pushed back into months of therapy from spending two days here. I mean it, Tryst, stop thinking with your dick for once and consider what you’re doing."
While Ele and I both know that shit isn't true, since my first run in with Bentley, it seems like my dick is calling all of the shots. I give Ele a conceding nod, agreeing to stay away, then stand up and walk back towards the elevators. I step off and am tempted to go straight to knock on her door. I know I just promised Ele I'd stay the fuck away, but it’s eating me alive not knowing she's okay. My smarter brain makes a better judgment call though, determining I'm not really in the mood to sustain any further bodily injury.
If she swings that knee at me one more time, I'm liable to bend that sweet little ass of hers over my own knees and spank her until she's screaming my name, begging for my cock. I take a step back and adjust the erection now tenting my pant, thanking any fucking god listening that she didn't choose that moment to emerge.
I walk quickly to my own room, slamming the door shut behind me. I kick my shoes off, and slide my pants to the floor, stepping out of them as I walk to the bed. I have every intention of closing my eyes and drifting off to nothingness, only when I close my eyes I'm tormented with snippets from the day replaying in my head. My mind settles on the image of me standing behind her as she worked the elliptical, her hips shifting back and forth and her ass bouncing slightly with each movement. With a feverish need I stroke away at the erection throbbing in my palm. Using the pre-cum escaping the tip as a lubricant, I stroke harder and faster. I picture her lying under me as I pound into her relentlessly, her nails digging into my back and her heels pushing into my thighs begging me to go deeper. The breathy moans and heavy panting, her tits bouncing as I push her further into the mattress.
I moan as her tight little pussy clenches around my cock tightening even further as I push her to the edge of her orgasm. I drive into her even harder, my own release teetering on the edge, just a few more thrusts, as she quivers around me. I feel the moment her orgasm takes her over the edge, her pussy clenching me tighter, milking me as I come deep inside her. As I open my eyes to look at her, I find myself staring up at the ceiling w
ith my dick growing soft in my hand, and cum covering my stomach. I groan as I stand and head for the bathroom. Tomorrow is going to be one long fucking day.
Chapter 4
Bentley
My mind is in a state of hyper awareness trying to process what the hell just happened. I don't know what’s worse, the fact that he attacked my face or that my only logical response was to bite him. Holy shit, I bit him- hard. He'll be lucky if I didn't pierce straight through his lip. This trip isn't the only thing turning into a complete shit storm. I think my vocabulary has taken on the likeness of that of a drunken whore voyaging with some seriously scurvy fuckers. I'm pretty sure I could make those navy boys blush with the dialect I've adopted. The last time I swore this much, was while writing a sex scene involving a nymphomaniac in a sex club.
Maybe I should go apologize. I mean, I guess it's possible he misunderstood what I was saying, and felt like I issued a challenge to his manhood by telling him he lacked the ability to make my panties wet. Which let’s face it, is complete bullshit. All that man has to do is don that shit eating, come fuck me smirk and any straight woman would need to change their intimates. Man, I can't remember the last time I felt like this big of a bitch. No, you know what, fuck that. The bastard had no fucking right. My knee jerk reaction was a complete reflex to his actions, I hardly invited him to try and devour my tongue. So why the fuck am I sitting here trying to convince myself my actions are justified?
Suddenly feeling dirty, I ignore the towels piled on the floor in a mess and turn the shower to scalding. I undress without even closing the bathroom door and step into the spray of water, letting it burn away at the nagging feeling eating at me. I'm really not sure what came over me. Sure I get why I bit him, but then I took off like a bat out of hell. I ran, and I hid like some chicken shit. While the water pelts my back, I think back to the only other time I ever ran from a boy.
Fifth grade... we were at recess playing and the weird kid in our class kept trying to approach me. I kept trying to avoid him, when finally I turned to him and shouted, "Leave me alone, cooty kid!" Needless to say, I learned my lesson in not being an asshole that day. Turns out the poor kid was trying to give me back my barrette that had fallen loose while playing. For awhile, whenever I was near him again I'd hang my head in shame, knowing that I really was awful. Thank heavens Dante was a better person than I am. If I were him, I don't think I would have ever spoken to me again, but then I don't know who I would be without him.
Although, I've seen the chicks Tristan surrounds himself with, and cooties would be the least of my concern. I chuckle at the thought of telling him he has cooties. On that note, I now feel the need to seriously wash my mouth out- so fucking gross. The mental images of where that man has likely put his mouth alone will give me nightmares. One of those really contagious yawns overcomes me and I forget what I was stupidly thinking about as I throw on a t shirt and crawl into the bed, praying silently for a peaceful night.
A knock at the door jolts me from whatever dream I was having. Turning to the alarm clock on the nightstand, I stifle a groan at the 10:00 a.m. taunting me. Jumping up and throwing on a pair of lounge pants, I head for the door cursing myself for being stupid enough to forget to set my alarm last night. Not paying one bit of attention, I stumble into an end table stubbing my toe. “Fuck a monkey's uncle, you fucking son of a whore!"
Yes I know my choice of words are less than ladylike but fuck that hurt, stupid table. When I open the door, the small woman in front of it is staring at me with wide eyes, unsure if I was speaking to her or someone else. Giving her a small smile I ask if I can help her, not even noticing the cart she's pushing. Informing me she's from room service, she decidedly pushes past me with her tray. I try informing her, to no avail, that I didn't order anything. Her English is a bit shaky, so she shakes her head, says, “Right room,” and walks back out the door and down the hall.
I get ready to call downstairs to have them come take it away, only my name on a small envelope sitting on the cart stops me in my tracks. Sadly, that note will just have to wait because I'm now running late and if there is one thing I know that pisses Ele off, its people with no sense of time.
Ten minutes later I'm dressed and ready to get through this day so I can get the hell out of here. I prepare to head out, trying to avoid the note I convince myself I have no desire to read. It's a little white lie because I want at the very least to know who it's from. As I leave the room, I slip the note from the envelope and read the two words scribbled across the note. I'm Sorry, T. That's it? I'm sorry? Sorry for what, for being a douche canoe, for attacking my face, or for being a cheeky fucker who can't keep his hands to himself? I mean if we're being honest here, there needs to be several more "I'm Sorry’s."
Okay, so maybe I am slightly bitchy this morning, but a lack of caffeine and food has me agitated. Granted, I'm sure the tray he sent had some form of deliciousness to serve as his apology, but since I went to bed pissed off because of said asshat, I forgot to set my alarm and now I have no time to indulge in a damn thing. I like my ass right where it is, so I'm not about to have Ele chewing it off because I'm an inconsiderate bitch who couldn't get up on time.
I spend the majority of the signing in awe of all the wonderful support I have. It’s always the best feeling getting to meet new people that my words have somehow touched. The other portion though, is spent avoiding the ogling of one brooding sexy giant of a man. I guess he isn’t thrilled that I haven’t acknowledged his half assed attempt at an apology. I mean honestly if you’re going to apologize, you should at least mention what for.
I have stayed at my table in an attempt to avoid having to speak to him, and every time I have found him wandering near me, I simply made conversation with whoever else was standing around. It’s petty, but he isn’t someone I need to have distracting me. Sadly, just when I think I might have successfully avoided him, I turn a bit too quickly and almost land in his lap.
Frustrated at the fact that he is standing there in the first place, I take my embarrassment out on him. “Is there a reason you’re stalking me, Asshat? What, there aren’t enough other women here to tickle your pickle? You have to annoy me?”
He smirks at me and responds, “What can I say? I’m a sucker for your ever so sunny disposition.”
I look around the room, and notice no one is within hearing distance. My fingers are itching to smack that stupid ass grin off of his face. I honestly think that by now, he’d give the fuck up. It’s not that he isn’t nice to look at, but I don’t have energy to fend off some Casanova trying to fuck with my happy place.
“Look, pretty boy, cut the bullshit okay. We both know whatever the fuck is going on here is more about your need for sadistic gratification than my charming personality. If you’re really that hard up for attention, I’m sure there is a hotline you can call that will demean and degrade your ass all day long.”
He continues to smile sweetly, which pisses me off even more.
“I’m sure I could get plenty of women to do exactly what I want,” he cooed. “The problem is, you aren’t one of them. Why exactly is that, Spitfire? Why are you the only one who seems to be immune to charm?”
I scoff at his words.
“Your charm…? You’re a borderline stalker. You’ve damn near plowed me over. You treated my chest like it was a fucking happy meal, and then you attacked my face with your lips. I’m not sure I see what is charming in all of that. So how about instead of you trying to crawl up my ass, you find someone who appreciates your special brand of attention,” I sassed, before walking away from him and ending this ridiculous conversation.
I have only a half hour left to go in the event before I can pack it up and hightail my ass out of here. Just as I think I am home free, and as I think that I have managed to fly under my mother’s radar, I realize I am sadly mistaken. As I am busy gathering up the remnants of my belongings from the table, one of the women who works for the hotel says there is a call asking if I am check
ed in here. She tells me it is an older sounding woman who seemed agitated when she informed her that yes, I am here. This is the only motivation I need to haul my ass out of the banquet room, and get the hell out of here.
Having successfully avoided any unneeded confrontation, I am packed and heading out the door. While waiting for the valet to bring my car around, Tristan clears his throat behind me. I can't help but roll my eyes, both at the childish behavior and the fact that not two minutes earlier I was free and clear. I just had to jinx my ass by opening my big mouth. Yes, even if I am just talking to myself, that shit counts.
I turn around to face a rather pissed off man. Well now, that wasn't expected. What could he honestly have to be pissed about? Is it the fact I had no intention to hunt for him and say goodbye, or my lack of concern for his lip that is sporting a lasting imprint of my teeth? Last I checked Asshat and I weren’t actually friends so the look of sheer annoyance on his face is completely unjustified.
Tristan
Electra was right. Bentley really was just going to disappear into the night. Even after what happened at the event, she was just going to walk the fuck away, and not say a word. I wonder if she even stopped to say goodbye to Ele. Yeah, I bet she did. I get it, really I do. I mean all I've done is give her a hard time, but damn if she isn't infuriating.
The fucking mouth on this woman! I'd love to see it wrapped around my dick while on her knees, my hands wrapped in her hair tugging it as she deep throats me. I’m pretty sure that shit will never happen. Not only does she not seem the type to get on her knees, I'm pretty sure she'd try to bite my shit off. I watch as she wraps her arms around herself waiting to see which of us will break first. She turns as the valet brings her car around, getting ready to make a quick escape.