Tryst

by Arie Lane

  “You’re an asshole. You know that, Tristan? I’m not some fucking doll for you to play with. You don’t own me. If I want to go the fuck out without your ass knowing where the hell I am, I have that right. Stop acting all fucking possessive, because last time I checked, I’m not yours,” she hisses, before turning to face the windshield.

  Letting out a frustrated groan, I start the car and head towards my place. This woman is going to be the death of me. I fucking swear, if I have to knock every one of her fucking walls down brick by brick I will, until it sticks in that sexy as sin head of hers, she’s not getting rid of me. She can fight me all she wants, but I will fucking win. If I have to put her on her sassy ass and fuck her until the only thing she can remember is my damn name, I will get through to her.

  She’s staring out the side window when I look over at her. I grip my fists on the steering wheel, trying not to stare at the pale skin of her thighs as the skirt she’s wearing inches even higher, barely covering the pink lace of her panties. My pants are a whole lot fucking tighter, and as I move to adjust myself in the seat, I miss the turn off. She turns to catch me adjusting my crotch, and decides now would be a good time to talk.

  “You owe me some answers. And don’t even start with that great family shit. No one’s life is all sunshine and fucking roses. I get you don’t want to talk about your upbringing, but you are going to tell me something. I don’t give a rat’s ass what it is so long as you’re not lying to me.”

  “Fine, Princess, you want some answers, where do you want me to start?” I ask, trying not to sound as condescending as it comes out.

  “How about starting with the tattoos, or your military time? I’d settle for anything really, so long as it’s something you have yet to mention.”

  The fact that she seems to sincerely want to know about my life makes me more edgy than if she was just telling me to go fuck myself. I don’t like to talk about my life, and I sure as fuck am not talking about my childhood. No good can come of that, and since hers is a million times worse, anything I say will just make me sound like a whiny douche-nozzle.

  I grin at the knowledge my tattoos are of interest to her, but I honestly don’t have a great explanation for the one she seems to admire. “Tattoos huh, I guess I can get into that,” I say, while pinpointing the location of each under my shirt. “Let me see, my first one was the one below my collarbone, though I have no idea what it means. I know it’s some Latin proverb but that’s about it.”

  I look over as she laughs at the declaration. “Audentis Fortuna Luvat, it’s kind of fitting for you. It means fortune favors the brave,” she replied, while looking down at her feet.

  “Huh, well I guess it’s nice to know it doesn’t say something like I’m a pig fucker or anything,” I joke before continuing. “My buddy Cage talked me into it shortly after we both enlisted. You’ll meet him soon since he’s coming to stay with me for a while. We were getting ready to ship out and he thought it would look manlier if we had some ink. After that, I was addicted. My next one was the dragon on my upper arm. It’s in memory of a buddy I lost overseas. He took an insurgent’s bullet to the upper thigh. We thought he was okay enough to get to safety, instead of attempting any battlefield bandaging. The bullet nicked his femoral artery, though, and he bled out before we could reach safety. We use to call him dragon because he had a huge tattoo of a coat of arms with a dragon across his back.”

  “I’m so sorry. It must be really difficult to watch someone you’ve come to care for die in front of you like that. Especially knowing there isn’t anything you can do to help.”

  Her voice was soft and it calmed the memories trying to plague me.

  “Yeah, I took it pretty hard for a while. I realized my behavior wasn’t honoring his memory. I was starting fights with anyone and everyone I came across. It didn’t matter if I didn’t have a good reason. I just needed an excuse to be able to hurt. He died just a couple months before we were set to re-enlist. Cage decided on another four years, but I chose to leave the Corps. Aggie was really ill and I wanted to be there for her. Thank God she’s a fighter because I don’t know what I would do if I had lost her then. That was when I got the next tattoo. There’s a triquetra between my shoulder blades. I did it to cope I guess, as a way to convince myself everything has a balance.” I say the words in hope she understands what I mean. “Most people don’t think there is any real symbolism in tattoos, but almost all of mine have a meaning.”

  “I think it’s beautiful you chose to honor your fallen friend. I know often times soldiers come to regard the men around them as brothers. War just does something to a person, and that need to feel close to someone creates a bond that is often thicker than blood. I think both are good choices. The triquetra on your back is really nice. Life, death, and rebirth, I like that. It’s a reminder that all things come full circle. One of my favorite teachers used to tell me all the time when one door closes another opens. I think it’s the same when you lose someone. When they are taken from you, they aren’t ever forgotten but they leave a space behind for someone new to fill. Aggie sounds like a really great woman. I’m glad for your sake that she got well again, though I envy you having a strong female figure in your life.”

  I shouldn’t really be surprised she knows what the symbol is, but I am relieved she understands it. Not so much because she had lost someone also, but I like her reasoning. That losing my friend meant someone new might enter my life. It also gives me hope that she might come to accept me as a stability in her own.

  “If I didn’t have Aggie, I’m not really sure I’d still be around. She talked me down from the ledge on more than a few occasions. She’d love you. Aggie is a real ball buster and she’d give that mouth of yours a run for its money. That’s only right though, she had a sailor for a husband and she picked up his love of dirty words.”

  I chuckle as I think of some of the things that have come out of that woman’s mouth. She used to make the guys on leave blush harder than a priest in a whorehouse. Looking over at Bentley I notice her squinting at the tattoo snaked on the inside of my wrist.

  “I have several other smaller tattoos scattered, each has its own meaning but those three are the ones I can remember off the top of my head.”

  She gives me a small nod before turning back to look out the windshield. I watch as her posture grows antsy and she quickly whips her head to view a sign we just passed.

  “You do realize you missed the turn off, right? This way will take us an extra half hour to get back home. Not to mention it’s almost never driven, so if we break down or something were freaking stuck out here until a tow truck can get to us,” she says in more of a squeal than actual speaking.

  I laugh at her sudden theatrics like something is going to come out of nowhere and crash into us. Continuing down the back road, it’s peaceful and quiet. This is the kind of night you can get lost in. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, and with there being no lights on this old back road, you can see every star shining in the night sky. She rolls the windows down as the smell of oranges wafts through the breeze from the orange groves.

  It’s about fifteen miles further before we hit the most congested part of the grove. I take in a deep breath as I hear a click and look over to see her climbing across her seat.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, while pulling over so as not to wreck her car.

  “Well I’ll give you two guesses, and one of them isn’t looking for driving lessons,” she replied, as I put the windows back up, hit the lock switch and put the seat back any extra it might go.

  Before I can even recline the seat, her tongue is seeking entry in my mouth as she straddles my lap. Wondering where the hell this is coming from, but not stupid enough to fucking ask, I say fuck it and see just how far she’s willing to go. As she settles further in my lap I can feel the heat of her pussy, her own dampness seeping through my pants. She’s grinding against my cock, moaning into my mouth each time the friction scrapes across her clit. She is br
eathing heavy as she tugs at my hair, sucking on my tongue like it’s her favorite flavor. My hands are on her thighs, driving her further into my cock, needing to feel her pulsing against it. Reaching my hands under her skirt I slip my finger under the thin lace and pull it down toward her knees. She reached a hand back pulling it the rest of the way off her leg and then again with the other leaving her bare above me.

  Her hands tug at my shirt. I pull it over my head, and let her feel my skin under her fingertips. My dick is about to break through my zipper as her tongue glides from my collarbone and across the ink marking my chest. Her fingers dance across my abs, and trace along the edge of my pants. I’m seriously reconsidering having gone commando tonight as my pre-cum seeps into the front of my pants. My breath hitches as she undoes the button and slides the zipper down, my cock springing free as she grasps it in her hand. I lift a bit off the seat and pull my pants down my thighs so I can feel her skin against mine. I capture her mouth again before slipping my hands under her shirt and unclasping her bra, pulling it away as I pinch and pull at her nipples, making the buds harden.

  I pull her shirt and bra off and suck one of the hardened nipples between my teeth, swirling my tongue around it. A small moan escapes her lips as her nails dig into the back of my neck, pushing her further into my mouth. I break away from her for mere moments before taking her mouth to mine. Bentley gasps into my mouth as I slide a finger through her folds pushing it deep inside her. Liquid pools around my finger, coating straight to my palm as I add another, pumping into her as she rides them. I use my thumb to circle her hardened clit as she strokes faster squeezing at my cock. Her pussy clenches around my fingers and I increase my pace while pushing down on her hardened nub. She tosses her head back as the pleasure courses through her, seizing my fingers in a vice grip as her orgasm overtakes her, her cum dripping down my fingers. She watches me through hooded eyes as I put the two fingers in my mouth, sucking her juices off of them. When I finish licking her off of me, she swipes her tongue across my lips before teasing my cock against her opening.

  Holy fuck! She missed her calling as a porn star, because I damn near came watching her lick her lips after licking mine. She has no fucking idea just how hot that is. Getting her off, and then watching her taste herself after I finish savoring her cum. That is easily one of the most erotic things I’ve ever witnessed.

  Nothing has ever felt as good as the moment she impales herself on my cock, instantly encasing it in her throbbing wet tightness. I’m barely holding on, digging my fingers in her ass as she bobs up and down, riding my dick like a see saw. Her nails are digging into my shoulders while I lift her up and down, matching her thrusts and pounding into her even deeper. I can feel the orgasm building in my spine moments before I stiffen and come hard inside her, coating her walls with my cum. My body continues to spasm in pleasure as she continues to fuck me, milking every drop until I start to soften inside her.

  After grabbing my shirt, I pull out and place the shirt under her to catch the spill. Her head falls against my chest, and I can feel each beat of her heart pulsing against my skin. After letting her rest against me for a few minutes I lift her shirt back over her head, and use mine to clean her as best as I can in the confined space. I pull my pants back up and I watch as Bentley moves back to her own seat, slipping her skirt back into place, and throwing her shirt back on. She doesn’t bother to retrieve her bra and panties.

  It isn’t lost on me that we just fucked bare. “I guess now would be as good a time as any to mention that I’m clean,” I say, not trying to sound like a jackass but failing miserably.

  The small exhale escaping her lips slams straight into my heart as she replies, “I kind of figured that since you didn’t stop me. I mean, I hope if you weren’t, you would have said something. But even if you didn’t, it’s a bit late now don’t you think? You already know I’m clean and well obviously that I’m protected so I guess that’s that.”

  By the time we reach her house she’s fallen asleep, her head resting against the window. After parking in her drive, I open her front door so I can carry her in, trying not to wake her. I almost succeed, but as I lay her in her bed she awakens just long enough to discard her clothing and crash into the pillows, pulling the covers up to curl around her. I quietly close the door to her bedroom before easing down the stairs. I double check the locks before grabbing my dirty shirt and securing her car. I then head back across the street and make it as far as the couch before crashing.

  Chapter 13

  Bentley

  I wake up naked and with a raging headache. I bury my head in my pillow, letting out a moan at both the pounding in my head and the memory of what I did last night. What on God’s green Earth was I thinking? Oh my… I rode Tristan like he was a prized stallion; as I recall the memory while trying to lose myself in a burrow of blankets. No way am I going to be able to face anyone today. As I turn toward the clock the blinking 12:00 sets off a small panic. Noon. How the hell did I sleep until noon? Springing out of bed and rushing to get dressed, I hop around the room one-legged while trying to get my other leg in the pant hole. I run a brush through the rats nest in my hair, and remove as much of the raccoon look painted around my eyes as I can, before heading downstairs.

  The smell of coffee lingering in the air is welcoming. We are coming into the few cold weeks we experience a year right before the holidays and something warm sounded really good right now, with several aspirin and a shot of Bailey’s to take the edge off. Seriously, what the fuck did I drink last night? I felt fine enough to drive, which was obviously complete shit judging by my behavior.

  Making my way into the kitchen, Lith is standing there already and hands me a hot steaming cup of goodness. The grin she’s wearing tells me she knows something but in true Lith fashion she intends to torture it out of me. Her voice, however, sounds like nails on a chalkboard as she goads me. “So what did you end up doing last night? You didn’t get home for at least two hours after me,” she teased.

  “Umm, we ended up taking the scenic route since Tristan insisted on driving and ending up taking Old Citrus Grove, because he refused to turn around and take the right exit,” I retort.

  “Uh huh. So how does that explain him carrying you in shirtless with his pants unzipped, and you with your shirt inside out and lipstick smeared across your mouth? Don’t even try lying to me, Bentley, I know you better than that. You slept with him!” she stated, half teasing, half lecturing.

  “Ugh, fine! Yes I was with him last night, although I can assure you the last thing we did was sleep.” She’s practically jumping as I continue to recall the events of last evening. “I don’t know what came over me. One minute I was pissed at his macho display of idiocy, acting all caveman, like he has some claim on me. Then the next thing I know, I’m climbing into his lap while he pulls over, and my goodness, Lith, it was so fucking hot. I had always wanted to live out that fantasy. It’s why I wrote it in several of my books. Last night, though, blew any expectations I had out of the water. If that man tried to bottle sex, women everywhere would be lining up for a taste of it. Of course, waking up alone pretty much sucked, but truthfully I don’t know how I would have faced him. I mean we aren’t dating or anything, and I’ve never even considered just having sex with someone without any commitment. God, Lith, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing,” I admit, while burying my face in my hands.

  It’s been two days and I’ve yet to face Tristan. I’m not necessarily avoiding him, but I’m not actively seeking him out, either. Having a deadline for my next book, I’ll have to hole myself away this coming week, so maybe the timing isn’t such a bad thing. He could totally regret what happened. I mean it would explain him taking off that night, so avoidance is the best answer.

  Lith has been spending her time with Dante so I have been catching up on some writing. With a rumble in my stomach and few items in the fridge, I decide I need to grab some necessities. Getting ready to go to the grocery store, it dawns on me I haven�
��t been in my car since that night. A flush of embarrassment washes over me when I go to unlock the door and glance at my lacy undergarments strewn across my back seat. Not really wanting to leave them there or shove them in my purse, I figure I’ll toss them in my gym bag in the trunk for now and take them out later when I do laundry.

  While I am leaning into my trunk to reach the bag that had managed to get shoved all the way to the back, a pair of hands graze across my ass before latching onto my hips. Jumping at the sudden contact, I turn quickly, nearly falling into my trunk and let out a blood curdling scream. That is about the time everything goes to shit. A hand clasps over my mouth and I bite down as hard as I can. The stranger grabs his hand back with a yelp and I use the opportunity to kick him in the shin as hard I can before taking off toward Tristan’s. Half-way to his door, I am tackled by what feels like a freight train of muscle. Flipped onto my back, I use every opportunity to kick, bite, slap, and scream to get him off of me, but he isn’t budging.

  In all of the confusion and chaos, I don’t register Tristan yelling at us. As my attacker looks up, I land a quick jab to his windpipe. As he falls backwards, I jump up and slam my heel into his balls twisting them into the ground before a pair of arms lock around me, lifting me away from him. I try and break free from the grip, too furious and scared to calm down. When big, tall, and seriously pissed off tries to stand up, I kick out once more, slamming my shoe into his face.

  Now even more infuriated, he stands up spitting out blood before screaming, “Damn girl, what the fuck is your problem? I was just trying to help since you didn’t seem like you were able to reach that bag.”