Follow You Down

by Lazeema Haq

  Vesper wished she knew what to say to him, but everything she was feeling at that moment seemed inappropriate. How could she tell him his need for revenge was pointless and wouldn’t accomplish anything? That despite his father being a lousy husband she didn’t think it was fair of Tristan to lay the blame entirely on Arthur’s shoulders? Then again, it was human nature to blame one’s self and Vesper suspected projecting his rage onto his father was how Tristan had learned to deal with the loss of his mom.

  “And then you came along and changed everything. When I’m with you, I don’t think about him or what he did. I don’t feel that anger, that rush to destroy him. It’s like nothing else matters except you.”

  “I feel the same way,” she confessed.

  “But I can’t forget what he did to her, Vesper. I have to make him pay.”

  “Why? It’s not going to bring her back, and hurting your dad won’t make you feel any better.” She expected him to be furious and lash out at her; he didn’t. Surprisingly he was quiet and his silence encouraged her to continue. “Don’t you think your mom would want you to move on with your life? Be happy?”

  “No. She’d want me to destroy the man who fucked up her life. That’s why she killed herself on my birthday, so that I’d never forget what he did.”

  Vesper couldn’t help but feel resentful towards his mother. Why, why do that to her own child? Not that suicide was ever an easy thing to deal with but a person’s birthday was supposed to be a happy occasion and it would never be that again for Tristan.

  All of a sudden his fingers skimmed over old scars on her right thigh. “I asked you to promise you’d never cut yourself again, and you refused,” he reminded her.

  That was not how she remembered their conversation but now was not the time to argue about semantics.

  “Do you understand now why I need that from you?” His voice cracked with emotion. “I can’t be with anyone who would do that to themselves. I can’t go through that again.”

  “Tristan, listen to me. If I hurt myself, it wouldn’t be your fault. You’re not responsible for someone else’s decisions.”

  “Vesper, just promise me!” he demanded.

  “Okay, I promise,” she answered, realizing how badly he needed that reassurance from her.

  “I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”

  She lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I know you feel guilty about being with me but I don’t care. I can make you happy, Tristan, the way you make me.” Although she meant every word, her guilty conscience perked up, reminding her of how she failed Latoya, but Vesper didn’t care. She kissed him with a fierce intensity, desperate to hold onto the happiness he brought into her life. “I’m not going to make it easy for you to walk away,” she whispered breathlessly.

  He groaned, reaching for the back of her hair as he returned her kiss with equal urgency. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you gonna do if I try?”

  “Tie you up. Make sure you never leave my sight.”

  He smirked. “Kinky.”

  “Guess I picked that up from you.” As his long, lean fingers brushed through her hair, his eyes shining with warmth, her heart swelled up with emotion. She felt safe with him, protected, all of her earlier frustrations now melted away.

  “I love you,” he said.

  She froze in his arms, her heart pounding in her chest. He was smiling at her with a knowing grin and all she could think about was how anxious she felt. Her hands were clammy, her stomach coiled into tight knots.

  “Hey. Cat got your tongue?” He leaned forward to nip her chin. “Because that’s my job.” His lips trailed wet kisses along her jawline.

  She couldn’t think, or breathe, and it didn’t help that he was now sucking her earlobe making it harder to concentrate. She jumped off his lap to scurry away, putting some much-needed distance between them before she turned around to face him. He was still sitting on the patio chair, eyebrow quirked up, lips shaped into an amused smirk.

  “Getting ready to run?”

  “No,” she replied, shooting him an irritated look. “That’s your thing.”

  “Touché.”

  His focus travelled down her body, slow and languid, weakening her resolve to remain in control.

  “Obviously I freaked you out,” he said. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Tristan, what you and I have…” her voice faltered as she tried to find the right way to express herself without hurting his feelings. Ultimately she decided the easiest thing was to simply be honest. “When I’m with you, I feel like I can do anything. Nothing is impossible or too difficult, as long as you’re beside me.” He seemed surprised by her words which gave her pause. Did he not realise how much he meant to her? She watched as he stood up and stalked toward her.

  “I do that for you?”

  She took his hands between her own and pressed them to her chest. “Yes,” she replied softly. “I tried not to let you in–”

  “I remember.”

  “You didn’t give up on me though, even when I gave you every reason to leave.” She squeezed his hands. “Before you, I never thought I’d be able to trust anyone. I just didn’t think it was possible, but then you proved me wrong. I trust you, Tristan. Do you know how much that means to me?”

  He raised her hands to his lips, traced a gentle kiss on her skin.

  “What I have with you is incredible, and it’s amazing, and it means the world to me, but it’s not love. It’ s much more than that.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. She felt him stiffen and braced herself for another fight; much to her surprise, his tone was calm when he spoke again. “Why do you say that?”

  “People fall in and out of love like it’s nothing, they do horrible things in the name of love.”

  “They do that in the name of religion, babe. Not love.”

  She ignored his joke. “I don’t want that to be us.” The smile faded from his face. “I care about you a lot, and I know you feel the same way about me. That’s a lot more important, don’t you think?”

  His thumb stroked her bottom lip ever so gently. “You really want my opinion?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said with an encouraging smile.

  “I think you’re full of shit.”

  She glared up at him, resisting the urge to smack the arrogant smirk off of his face. “I’m sharing something important with you and that’s all you have to say?”

  “Was that sharing? Sounded more like lying to me.”

  Rage coursed through her veins. She tried to push him away but he gripped her arms, crushing her body against his.

  “You love me just as much as I love you, but you’re scared and you don’t want to admit it. That’s fine, I can deal with that.”

  “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying!”

  His smirk turned into a soft smile. “I’m listening, and I’m choosing to ignore the crap you’re spewing out.”

  “Oh, please. Don’t act like your confession was so heartfelt, it was bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me the whole week, flirting it up in clubs, and an hour ago you were telling me to get the fuck out of your life. So don’t tell me now you’re suddenly overcome with love,” she mocked. “You feel guilty about acting like a jerk. That’s what that little ‘love you’ confession was all about.”

  Regret washed over his face and he hugged her tightly. “I know I’ve been an asshole. I’m sorry. And I didn’t cheat. I’d never do that. I’m not my father,” he said. “You could have just walked out of here tonight but you didn’t, did you? Few months ago you would have run and never looked back. Not tonight though. You didn’t leave, you couldn’t, because you love me. Hell, you were willing to fuck me just to make me feel better.”

  �
�That was pity, not love!”

  “Liar.”

  Before she could hurl another insult at him his lips captured hers, rough and frenzied, in direct contrast to the gentle touch of his hands tugging at her body. She tried to resist but her efforts were futile; there was no point in fighting the mad rush of desire that swept through her. It was always like this between them, dizzying and frantic and absolutely crazed. She couldn’t think when his hands were on her, skimming over every inch of skin, his mouth ravaging hers.

  She ground her hips against his, and pleasure from the friction of their bodies melding together evoked a primal moan from his throat. He growled as his hands cupped her ass underneath her skirt. His fingers dug into her skin, almost too roughly, but she didn’t mind – the pain kept her from losing herself in him completely.

  While she pulled his t-shirt over his head, he ripped the shirt off of her. “Tristan!” she griped, pulling away to look up at him.

  His eyes dazed, breath labored, he grasped her arms and forced her close again. “I’ll buy you another one.” He didn’t wait for a response, peppering her face and neck with wet kisses as his hands busied themselves unhooking her bra.

  “For the record,” she breathed softly, “I was… Tristan,” she moaned as he bent forward to caress her right nipple with his tongue, taking the nub into his mouth and stroking it until it was a hardened pebble.

  On his knees in front of her, he teased and taunted her mercilessly, lavishing equal attention to both of her breasts. She held on to him for support, swaying when his hand pushed up her skirt, sliding in between her legs, his fingers slipping into her wetness and working her expertly. Cold breeze brushed against her heated skin, giving her much needed relief. “Tristan?” Heady eyes focused on him as he kissed her bare stomach, his tongue darting in and out of her belly button.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Tristan?” she tried again, forcing herself to concentrate.

  When he still failed to say anything, she curled her fingers into his shoulder to nudge him away.

  Kneeling back on his heels, he leveled her with a frustrated stare. “What?”

  “Do you have a condom or not? And why do I need to ask you this so many times? Geez, what does a girl have to do to get laid around here?”

  His face oscillated between shock and blank stare.

  “And before you get all arrogant, this has nothing to do with love. I was ready to sleep with you after you got back from London. You were the idiot who kept avoiding me.” Vesper waited for him to make some sort of snide remark; he remained still. Despite his calm appearance, however, she sensed his brain was running a mile a minute. His eyes were no longer blue but a dark, haunting grey, reflecting his inner turmoil. “What’s wrong?”

  One second she was cupping his face with concern, next he was lifting her up and carrying her inside. He laid her down on the carpet, his body heavy and warm as he stretched out on top of her. He pinned her hands over her head, looming above her. She was transfixed in place both by his solid frame and smoldering gaze, her breath coming out in short spurts, her body pressed tightly against his. “Tristan?” she whispered. “Say something.”

  “Shut up.”

  “If this is your idea of sweet talk – ” Her voice broke when his tongue traced the outer shell of her ear, biting her earlobe before sucking the sensitive spot just below the ear. Suddenly every nerve in her body was throbbing with pleasure, aching for him in a way she never had before. “Tristan!”

  “You were saying?” he asked with a cocky grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he nipped her chin.

  Instinctively her legs curved around his waist, and a guttural moan escaped his throat when she pulsed her hips against his erection repeatedly. Two could play this game, she figured, but then his mouth closed over hers possessively, hot and demanding, and she was under his spell, unable to think, to move. All she could do was feel, feel his naked skin rubbing against hers, his mouth claiming her over and over again. The explosive desire that coursed through her veins was too much and yet not enough.

  She wanted to touch him, to run her hands along every inch of his skin, to wrap her fingers around his cock and make him come in her hands. She wanted to suck him off, and see the glazed, vulnerable look in his eyes when all his layers were stripped away and he was completely exposed. More than anything else she wanted to feel him inside her, to be intimate and connect with him in a way she’d never done with anyone else – but she couldn’t do any of those things because of his tight grip on her. “Tristan, my hands….”

  He finally released her.

  In one swift motion she circled her arms around him, reaching up to kiss him while haphazardly trying to slide his track pants down at the same time. “Tristan,” she groaned in frustration as he peppered her chest with wet kisses instead of helping her undress him.

  “Not yet,” he growled.

  Irritated, she burrowed her fingernails deeper into his shoulders to get his attention.

  “Fuck!” he griped, levelling her with a heated stare. “Play nice,” he warned. “Or I’ll get the handcuffs.”

  She flashed him a mischievous smile. “Promise?”

  “You trying to kill me?” he groaned.

  “No, I’m trying to get laid. Think you can help me out with that?”

  “Yes, but only if you do everything I say,” he murmured, his voice thick with passion as he shifted down her body once again.

  Pushing her skirt up, he rested one hand on her stomach and wrapped the other around her waist. The warmth of his hand penetrated right into her but it paled in comparison to the sensation of his mouth caressing and licking the faded scars that still remained. She trembled at the way his tongue delved into her belly button and traced circles across her skin. “I’m not the…” she breathed, “…obeying type.”

  His eyebrow quirked up. “That’ll change soon,” he declared in a smug tone.

  She exhaled a sharp breath when he suddenly placed his hands under her ass and raised her hips up. He licked and gently bit the skin inside her thighs before working his tongue sensuously on the most intimate part of her, flicking over her clit until she was writhing and begging for more. She was no longer in control – if she ever really was – and every fibre in her body was screaming for release as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, mouth. Hooking her legs over his shoulder to regain some kind of balance, she arched up to fist his hair. Being the full focus of his gaze while he continued to pleasure her made the moment even more erotic. Her soft groans escalated to louder screams as he brought her to orgasm more than once.

  Shortly after he picked her up again, with her straddling him this time. “Hey,” she whispered, exchanging tender kisses. “Don’t drop me, okay?”

  “And if I do?” he teased, carrying her into the den.

  She bit his shoulder. “Then you’ll be stuck taking care of me for the rest of your life. And you should know, I’m very high maintenance.”

  “Good thing I like taking care of you.” Maintaining his grip on her with one arm, he used the other to pull out a pack of condoms from the nearby desk drawer.

  She rolled her eyes. “Really?”

  He offered a carefree smirk. “I stashed them in there for my other girlfriend.” Setting her down on the couch, he was about to move away again when she lowered his pants and curled her fingers around his hard cock. Slick to the touch, she pumped him slowly until he carefully removed her hand from him. “Vesper, stop.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s been a while; I don’t want to embarrass myself.” His voice was smooth as velvet, his gaze piercing. “I want this to be perfect for you.”

  “I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

  “Thanks,” he deadpanned.

  “You know what I mean.”

  She t
raced the contours of his abs with her fingers, playing with him, and he quivered under her touch. He stepped out of his track pants and pulled out a condom, using his teeth to remove the foil. Spotting his trembling fingers, she placed her hand over his. “You’re nervous,” she remarked, surprised.

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  “Why? You’ve done this before.”

  He stilled, meeting her gaze. “Never with you.”

  Overwhelmed by the earnestness in his voice, she pulled him towards her. Vesper longed for him, and every second he wasn’t touching her, kissing her, making love to her was unbearable. His body nestled on top, she kissed him frantically and clutched at his back, readily spreading her legs apart for him. The moment he penetrated her, however, Vesper stiffened. While used to toys, the sensation of actually having someone thrusting inside her was disconcerting, not to mention uncomfortable. She’d always assumed sex wouldn’t be that big of a deal but at the moment she felt stiff, nervous. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “Babe, relax.”

  She sensed the tension in him which only made her more embarrassed. This was supposed to be fun and instead she was freezing up, acting like a stupid virgin.

  “Vesper, look at me.”

  Hearing the strain in his voice, her eyes fluttered open. There was no irritation in his gaze, just gentle concern, and that’s what calmed her down, relaxed her frayed nerves. He leaned down to kiss her gently, and then he was whispering in her ear, telling her how much he loved her, wanted to fuck her, describing all the erotic things he wanted to do to her while his hand slid down to her pussy, playing with her once again.

  He pulsed inside her slowly, letting her get used to the feel of him. Soon, the awkwardness alleviated. She didn’t know when the pain turned into pleasure, or when she started moving her hips against his, but soon she was matching his rhythm, her nails digging into his back, moaning increasingly louder as he slipped deeper inside with each thrust. He murmured things that would normally make her eyes roll but right now they excited her, turned her on. She never thought it was possible to feel this degree of closeness with another person, but here she was, experiencing that kind of intimacy with Tristan.