Layers Deep (12 page)

In the faint
light, drops of frenzy covered his skin, glowing. His head lowered.
I closed my eyes, relishing the way his mouth caressed my nipple.
He rolled it with his tongue and squeezed with his lips while
pulling up and releasing. Each time he pushed forward, my breasts
hardened and so did the feverishness of his movements. Their bounce
increased. The friction between our pubic bones tantalized me. He’d
slip out a few times and slide the tip of his cock up between my
folds, then back into me again, teasing and probing me.

Once he
remained inside me for a longer time, I knew he was ready.
Anticipation vibrated through my body and I grabbed my breasts and
pinched my nipples for him to see what he was doing to me. He
awakened my inner desires like no one had before.

“Ah, fuck.” He
shut his eyes closed and stilled.

Small jitters
flew through his body as his warm seed filled me. His hips buckled
for the last time and he collapsed, breathing heavily into my
neck.

“Abso-fucking-beautiful.” He rolled to the side, but kept his
penetrating gaze on me.

“Is this how
all your interviews ended?” I asked.

He laughed.
“This one is definitely near the top of the list.”

“Near?” I
narrowed my brows at his tease. I lowered my hand and cupped his
emptied sack. “Would you like more?”

He grabbed my
hand. “Later, yes. I need to breathe,” he heaved, wiping the sweat
off his forehead.

“So I gather I
got the job?” I asked, allowing a hint of a smirk.

“You got the
job, Allie. You got the fucking job.”

I didn’t think
I’d ever seen a man’s face so thoroughly satisfied. Tristan pulled
me in, wrapping his body around mine. His breathing and heart rate
slowed.

I lay at his
side, resting my head on his chest. Our bodies sticky with sweat
and other fluids cooled. There was no other place that I’d rather
be than with Tristan Cross. Whatever this job and our future held,
I knew I’d savor this night forever.

The air was
heavy, filled with moisture: a mixture of sweat and alcohol.
Tristan’s chest moved in even breaths. His eyes rolled under his
lids and his mouth twitched as if he were trying to smile.

He’s
dreaming
.

How could
someone who looked so innocent have done all those wonderful things
to me last night? The white sheet, stained in wet patches from our
sweat, was wrapped around his hips, covering a delicious bulge
which looked ready for an encore. The urge to feel his manhood in
my grip twitched my palm, but I couldn’t.

Responsibilities loomed. Part of me wondered how I’d face Tristan.
What happened last night was more than just sex, no matter how much
I tried to deny it. It was a sinful act of two needy souls
connecting and using each other’s bodies to heal old wounds,
fulfill our own desires, and forget the damaged pasts that scarred
our lives layers deep.

I’d tasted
forbidden fruit I couldn’t get enough of. And I wanted more. I
needed more. To be forged as one with Tristan released my pains of
the past. He was my healer, and deep down I knew I was his. I
inhaled, breathing him in. The room still smelled of sex: the
fucking most delicious sex I’d ever smelled.

The digital
clock shone up onto the bedroom ceiling: five in the morning.
Outside, the sun had barely woken up and glowed upward, lightening
the sky above.

I didn’t want
to leave, but if I was going to work for Cross Enterprises I had to
give my resignation today. I slowly slid my legs to the side of the
bed, stepping onto my tip toes. Tristan’s seed dripped down the
inside of my thighs. I gathered the fluorescent clothing off the
floor, wishing I had something else to wear this morning. Leaving a
luxurious building in this outfit, with my
I’ve just been
fucked
hair that stuck in clumps of hairspray, would have
people gawking at me. I imagined I looked like I’d just walked off
the set of
Pretty Woman
, except there was nothing pretty
about me this morning. But it would be better to do the walk of
shame now than during the traffic rush of businessmen. If I could
catch a cab back home, perhaps the cabbie would be the only one to
see me.

What was I
thinking last night? I wasn’t. My greedy body had done all the
thinking for me, and for the first time in my life I understood
what people meant when they said men always think with the wrong
head. Though I didn’t have a penis, I’d wanted Tristan in the
auditorium, in the bar, at his hotel, on the street corner, in his
car, and finally, I got him in his penthouse—or perhaps it was he
who got me? Nothing else mattered except for the release I needed
to receive from that man. And what a release it was!

My eyes stung
and my lashes felt heavy. Fearing the smeared mascara and eyeliner
with a ton of mixed makeup, I avoided the mirror, lowered my head,
and sneaked toward the bedroom door.

“Where do you
think you’re going?”

My head jolted
up. Tristan’s reflection, propped up on an elbow on his side,
belonged in a museum alongside Michelangelo’s sculpture of
David
.

I froze
mid-step, bunching my clothes to my chest, and slowly turned.

“Home. I—”

“Don’t cover
up that beautiful body of yours.” He sat up stretching. The sheets
fell to the floor, but he didn’t seem to care that his erection
stood high; in fact, he seemed pretty happy to see me.

And he’d
called me “beautiful” again.

“I need to
shower and hand in my resignation.”

“The shower’s
that way.” He pointed to the en-suite. “Trust me. Allie, you don’t
want to go out with the clothes you had on yesterday.” Tristan
strolled toward me like a predator. And now I was sure he was happy
to see me.

“These are the
only clothes I have.” I heard a slight vibration in my voice. This
had never happened to me. He had changed me from a fierce lioness
out on the street who didn’t care how she looked to a smitten
kitten in bed. Even when I’d had sex before, I’d never let my guard
down the way I could with Tristan. Last night, I’d let go of every
last thought and worry. I’d forgotten about work and my life, and
the revenge I sought no longer loomed in my mind. Tristan had taken
care of Wright for me.

So why was I
so nervous this morning? We were two consenting adults who’d just
had mind-blowing sex. There was nothing wrong with what we did,
except for the fact that the tingling between my legs increased
with each step Tristan took toward me. I wanted more. My body
needed more. And he was the only one who could satisfy the yearning
inside me. But it was supposed to be a one-time fuck, so I could
concentrate on the job—so that Tristan could be my employer without
crossing the ‘sexual harassment’ line. With Tristan only a foot
away, and his steaming body breathing in tandem with mine, I
couldn’t escape. And I didn’t want to escape. The pull was too
strong. I felt my clothes slip out of my grip. Or perhaps I dropped
them?

“Do you want
to fuck again, Allie?”

“Yes.”

He released a
deep growl from the back of his throat and beckoned me with his
index finger. The evil grin on his face was full of promises. My
insides boiled as the ravenous kitten readied to shift back to a
lioness. I stepped forward and took his face into my hands, tasting
his mouth. Tristan lifted me up into his arms and held my naked
ass. My arms slid to his neck and my legs wrapped around his waist.
His fingers dug feverishly into my skin as he carried me to the
bathroom, straight into the shower.

My back
pressed against the cold marble tile. I uncoiled my legs, never
letting go of his mouth. My hands and fingers roamed his tussled
hair, pulling slightly. I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of his
taste.

“I won’t let
you leave,” he said in between the kisses as he turned on the
water.

“Ahh!” The
first hit of cold stream assaulted my skin, and goose bumps covered
my body.

Tristan
laughed, connecting with every inch of my front, his hardness
squeezed against my belly, and I forgot about the frigid water,
which slowly began to warm up.

But he wasn’t
laughing
at
me; it was a joyful response to my reaction to
the cold water. Whatever worries he’d carried with him last night
when he picked me up on the street had disappeared as well, his
mission to save Kendra temporarily postponed. I wondered what she’d
meant to him. Was she family? Perhaps a close friend? Has someone
hired him to find her?

He pulled away
and squirted shampoo from the compartment on the wall into his
hands. The steam began to rise. He ran his hands over my wet hair,
gently massaging my scalp. I imagined the ton of hairspray running
down my back and couldn’t have been more grateful for the sensual
wash.

“I must look
awful,” I said through the water and soap cascading down my
face.

“You look
beautiful, Allie.” His lips gently touched mine and he continued to
wash me. I held onto his arms, and his muscles ripened underneath
my fingers when he moved. The hum of his breath vibrating off the
water flowing down my face tantalized me. He squeezed more soap and
kissed my shoulders and neck, and then slowly lowered his hands to
my chest, caressing each breast with his slicked hands. When his
hand slid down my belly and to my sex, I held my breath. Gosh, how
good his hand felt on me down there! Tristan was so caring and
thorough.

“Are you wet
for me, Allie, or is this just the water?”

“For you.”

“For me what,
Allie?”

I loved the
way he’d said my name so often. Like I was the only one on his
mind.

“I’m wet for
you, Tristan.” The words that left my mouth were not my own. I’d
never been so open to a man, letting him control the way I moved
and what I said. As a fierce cop out on the street, I kept up a
barrier, hiding my emotions. The shield protected me. But Tristan
took away all my inhibitions and changed me. He brought out the
woman in me who hid behind the protective shield of a cop.

“What do you
want me to do about it?” he asked.

I wanted to
say how much I needed him to fuck me. I wanted to forget who I was
and my responsibilities for a while longer, but instead of the
devil which usually taunted me, someone else stepped on my
shoulder, the other shoulder. My conscience. My fucking conscience
decided to show up now, and I hesitated. I shut my eyes, feeling
the words slip from the tip of my tongue to the back of my
throat.

“How are we
going to make this work?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be my
employer.”

“Fun now, work
later. You probably think I do this all the time, that women like
you show up in my life every day, but that couldn’t be further from
the truth.” His hot hands left my body. Tristan’s eyes hardened. I
could tell he wanted to share something with me, but he
wavered.

Water flowed
down my back.

“What is the
truth?”

“I—I’ve been
locked up in here.” He touched his left pec, just beneath his
heart. “And you make me forget about... about everything. You’re so
beautiful, Allie.”

Tristan
brushed his hand across my face.

I lifted my
palm to his heart and drew my finger across a white scar I had
noticed before. He sucked in a quick breath, tightening his lips as
if I’d burned him. The scar meant more to Tristan than I had
thought. It wasn’t just an accident in a fight. The jab he’d
received was deliberate. I could still see the pain in his eyes.
His external scar pained him the same way my deep wounds
traumatized me.

I lowered my
hand to down the valley between his abs, curving my palm around his
shaft. He closed his eyes and I whispered, “I need you to fuck me,
Tristan.”

“You don’t
have to ask me twice.”

In a swift
move he spun me around, and I braced my hands against the wall,
tilting my ass up for him. He slid his right hand around to my
front, holding onto my hip with his left. His full palm cupped my
sex, spreading his fingers through my folds as he played with my
clit, working it slowly. I closed my eyes and pressed in, circling
my hips to the gentle onslaught of his fingers.

God, that felt
so good! How in the world did he do that? The delicate patting and
nudging of his fingers on my clit stirred the temptress inside me.
He frisked me like an expert with gentle strokes and rubs on my
sensitive tip, and I leaned my head to the side, savoring the
graceful invasion of his touch.

His cock
brushed against my ass and I looked back just as he drew his length
down my crack and in between my thighs. I opened wider for him.

“Tell me what
you want, Allie.”

“I—I want your
cock inside me.”

He rammed into
me at the invitation, jutting me forward, and then held still.

“Ahh!” I
screamed as he hit my full depth.

“Are you
okay?”

“Yes,” I
gasped, my chest heaving. “Harder.” My pulse quickened. I hadn’t
had anyone drive into me with such urge and intensity.

And he thrust
again, both hands on my hips this time, pulling me onto his
exquisite thickness. I lowered my front, bracing against the tile,
legs wide. His deliciously slow momentum increased. My tits jiggled
in the air, and the heat of my arousal warmed the water that
dripped off my nipples.

“You’re so
fucking tight.” Tristan propelled forward in a merciless
rhythm.

“Shut up and
make me come.” Oh, God! What was happening to me? I’d never been so
verbal with anyone. But Tristan, oh, God, Tristan was everything
all at once.

“Allie, Allie,
Allie. Be careful what you ask for.” He withdrew from inside me and
turned me around, dropping to his knees. Suddenly one of my legs
was up on his shoulder, two of his fingers inside me, maybe three,
and his tongue. Oh my God, that tongue! He basked in my folds,
sucking on the tender tip. A few flicks in between zapped through
my limbs all at once. I pushed my arms out to the sides in a
desperate need to find support, but the shower was too wide. My
toes curled and I grabbed Tristan’s shoulders, closing my eyes. My
back arched as I pressed into his face, feeling the little spasms
intensify as he feasted on my juices. His mouth was cruel and
unforgiving.