I soaked my pillow with some hot tears of frustration and anger. I had blown it big time and deserved to have Tristan cut me out of his life. The man had been kind, generous and totally up front about himself and I just couldn't leave it alone. I didn't have the emotional maturity to deal with a man like Tristan King. I was a bad cliché. The girl who just has to push until she pushes the one man she really wants out of her life.
I was surprised when my father told me he had talked to Tristan that afternoon. He blithely related what a great guy Tristan was. That he was handling the union problem with subtlety and real street smarts. Tristan had informed Dad that even though there were plenty of witnesses to the beating, none of them would testify publicly.
"Damn cowards, every one," my father fumed. "Tristan says that even though we know, beyond a doubt, who the guys are and where they are, our hands are tied. Tristan wants to set them up--a sting--and get them on tape."
"I hope you told him to find another star for his show," my mother said.
"Are you kidding? I'm the only logical one. Tristan said . . ."
"Dad, can we just stop with 'Tristan said' and 'Tristan wants'? Please?" I really didn't need to hear much more about wonder-boy. My mother shot me a strange look
"Did you and Tristan have a fight?" she asked me.
"No, mother. We didn't have a fight. We just want different things. Okay?" I pushed myself away from the table. "It's been a long and mostly rotten day. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."
My phone mocked me from the nightstand. I couldn't will it to ring. I couldn't, by sheer force of thought make Tristan dial my number and say "We need to talk" or "I've changed my mind" or any number of things I so wanted to hear.
I tried to put him out of my mind. I was actually watching South Pacific on the classic movie channel. It was corny and old, old school. It was even an old movie by my parents' standards. I had forgotten the night Tristan and I first made love in Brian's loft. But it all came back to me when Rossano Brazzi started to sing "Some Enchanted Evening". When he got to the end and sang "then fly to her side, and make her your own, or all through your life you may dream all alone" I started to cry again.
"Is that what you want, Tristan?" I asked the empty room. "You want to dream all alone? What a fucking waste," I sobbed. My American Girl dolls all looked down from the shelf at me and I imagined they felt sorry for me. I cried harder, wishing I could go back to a time when my biggest concern was whether I'd get the outfits and furniture for them that I asked for for Christmas.
It was still early when I fell into a teary, exhausted sleep, snubbing into the wet pillow as the last of my impotent sobs resided. I woke up at eleven thirty, then two, then three. I fought the urge to get up and tossed back into a fitful sleep.
***
"It's your turn. I'm going to do anything I want to your body…" Tristan whispered into my neck with soft nuzzles of his warm nose against my skin. His lips brushed against my collar bone and the silky skin under my chin. A flutter of response tickled through my entire body as he moved further down to my breasts.
I felt him take the first nipple tightly in his mouth and pull hard on my tautness, straining against him for more. Twisting the other nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger, he raked his teeth around the one in his mouth and I cried out in the pleasure-pain of exquisite sharpness. He knew how excited his fierce attention made me, how aroused I became when he was rough and lust driven against my tender tips.
He slipped down across my belly and left a trail of bruising kisses against my torso, nibbling and sucking my flesh. As he made his way down he rasped out words dripping with heat.
"Oh, how I'm going to fuck you. My cock is ready to explode on you, in you, all over you." He lunged into my pussy and suckled there as if he would draw the life from me with his urgency. My clit rose to meet him, erect and straining for the pleasure of his tongue against it.
"Tell me what you want," he commanded and I answered him.
"Touch me, lick me, eat me, Tristan. I want to come against your tongue." Saying the words to him, aloud, made me want to spread my legs further to him. I wanted to be exposed and vulnerable. Tristan held my pussy up against his mouth and flicked my clit back and forth as I began to move against his mouth, bucking and pushing toward what I knew would be a crashing orgasm.
Without warning, Tristan flipped my body over onto my stomach and I felt him tie my hands behind my back. He lifted me roughly from the bed and pushed me into a chair beside the bed. He bound each of my ankles to the legs of the big armchair and I sat there, stunned and splayed out, unable to move. I watched his naked body swiftly cross to the night stand where he retrieved another cloth.
He stood in front of me, his erect cock face level. His smile was fiendish as he took his hard member and smacked it around my cheeks and mouth. I could feel the warmth and then the coolness as he rubbed the escaping drop of moisture from the head over my skin.
He tied the cloth around my face, gagging me. He tied it snug and I had to breathe deeply through my nose to get enough oxygen. I'm sure my eyes widened in fear. I'd never seen him this way. Even at his most dominant, he was never mean.
"I can see your excitement," he snarled at me. "I can see your horny wetness dripping down your legs. I brought you right to the brink, didn't I?"
I nodded bleakly. I had no idea what he was going to do next or what was expected of me.
He opened a door and a woman walked in. A diaphanous garment swirled around her. I tried to make out the color of the transparent silk, but it seemed to be all color and no color all at once. Likewise, her hair was not brown, nor blonde or even auburn, it iridesced with every hue. She was backlit, like an angel, and her face was obscured.
Tristan walked over to her and dropped the gown from her shoulders. I could make out the swell of a ripe, perfect bosom tapering to a tiny waist and curving out again to perfect, rounded hips. Tristan gasped at the sight of her body. All I could do was watch.
"Here stands the most perfect of women," he said. "My beauty, my only love."
My heart was breaking and I wanted to scream, but the gag prevented it. I could only watch as Tristan trailed kisses down her body proclaiming his love with each pass of his lips over her flesh. She said nothing. When she sighed, it sounded like music or birdsong.
"Make me whole tonight. Complete me with your touch."
She went to the bed and lay against the pillows where my head had been just moments before. Tristan stood over her, tight and tense in his desire and his need. His cock stood straight out from his body and it seemed bigger and fatter than it had ever been before.