Tristan (The Kendall Family #1) (6 page)

Once in the kitchen, she grabbed a frying pan. She ached for her smartphone, left by the bed. There’d be no calling the police as she’d had the landline disconnected to save a few bucks.
They wouldn’t take me seriously if all I heard was a noise anyway
, she thought.

Victoria moved to her old bedroom’s doorway, but a glance inside suggested no one was in there. She went in anyway, needing the peace of mind her investigation would bring. She’d heard noises in the house before. That came with the territory of a house built in the 1970s, but something about the knocking on the front door made her apprehensive. The room was empty, however, and she returned to the hallway before glancing in the hall bath. Nothing. She headed back toward the master bedroom nearer the rear of the house, her guard slowly dropping. Apparently she was just being overly cautious.

And then, just before she reached the opening to the master bedroom, she saw something that froze her in place. The back door just around the corner stood open a foot. Through the closed screen door beyond it, she saw a parked car looking sinister in the dark next to Tristan’s bike. Before she had a chance to react to that, a dark shadow stepped from within the master bedroom door right in front of her. With a scream, she raised the frying pan over her head and then swung down as hard as she could. Her target ducked while raising one arm to ward off the blow. The result was a glancing strike that still caught the intruder pretty good on top of the head and forearm.

“Ow!” yelled the man, falling to one knee. Opting to ask questions later, Victoria swung down again and caught him hard on the arm. “Fuck! Victoria! Stop! It’s me! Tristan!”

She paused in mid-swing. “Tristan?” She looked down in amazement, barely recognizing him in the dark. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Ah, I think you broke my fucking arm.”

Chapter 6 – Pain and Pleasure

Victoria dropped the frying pan and stood still, unsure what to do beyond flipping on the light by the bedroom door. Her heart still pounded with a fear she didn’t need, but adrenaline can’t just be turned off. Only when Tristan put his hand on his head and pulled it away with some blood on it did she react.

“Oh, my God! Your head is bleeding.” She knelt and put her hand on his scalp. A bump was already forming, his blond hair matting with blood, but there wasn’t much blood, at least. Worry chased her fears of an intruder away and replaced them with fear of having seriously injured him. “We have to get you to a doctor.”

He shook his head, sending stars behind his eyes. “Just help me to a chair.”

She tried to help him up, slipping her hand under the arm she’d hit, only to have him gasp in pain. He got to his feet himself and looked woozy, so she wrapped her arms around his trunk and led him to the nearest place—her bed. Once he was settled, she looked him in the eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Tristan. I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s my own fault anyway. Not sure what I was thinking.”

“Let me get you some ice.”

“Good idea.”

Victoria ran from the room, fear propelling her to the refrigerator’s ice machine, then to the linen closet, where she grabbed a towel. For all the times she’d thought about hitting Tristan, she hadn’t really been serious, but now her dark fantasies had come to life. She felt horrible, though not likely as horrible as he did. At that thought, she grabbed several painkillers and a glass of water on her way back to him. She found him gingerly feeling his forearm.

“Is it broken?” she asked, cringing at the thought.

“No, just damn sore.”

She let out a breath. “C’mon, sit back on the bed, by the headboard. I want you to lean back, but stay sitting up.”

He did so as she piled pillows behind his back. Then she pulled off his boots and climbed up beside him, gently laying the ice pack on his head. He winced, especially when she leaned against the wounded arm. “You should probably get on the other side,” he said.

“Right.” She started to climb over him only to realize she’d have no room on that side of the bed. She didn’t want to make him move, so she just sat down on top of his crotch, her legs spread, knees up against his hips. For once, dirty thoughts didn’t race through their heads, or at least, not until she reached back up to put the ice pack on his head again. Her robe opened more, offering him a wonderful view of the inside of her creamy breasts and belly. Below them lay the dark triangle of hair above her pussy. Despite the pain, his eyes lingered, his cock stirring.

“I brought some painkillers,” she said, not noticing his hot gaze.

“Mmm. Good idea. Where are they?”

“Here.” She put the ice down and emptied a couple pills onto her palm and popped them into his mouth, then gently tilted the water glass for him to drink. She put the glass down again and lifted the ice back to his head, all of the motions opening her robe fully so that both breasts were revealed, the soft nipples pert atop her proud tits, which the moonlight bathed in pale tenderness. He moaned.

“Does it hurt much?” she asked.

“It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” he replied, amused she didn’t realize what he meant.

“I’m so sorry, Tristan.”

“It’s okay. You make a good nursemaid,” he said. He openly gazed at her loveliness, his bulge growing. “Your bedside manner is fabulous.”

She looked down and realized the robe was open. She made a sound of annoyance with him but didn’t rebuke him. If the view made him feel better after what she’d done to him, then by all means… It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before. She felt her nipples harden and moisture gather in her folds. Taking care of him made her feel tender and affectionate, their pasts forgotten. None of that mattered right now, only that he was pretty banged up, and she’d done it and wanted to heal and comfort him.

She leaned toward him to bring her breasts closer, then scooted forward to be right atop his crotch. She felt the unmistakable bulge to one side, glad he felt well enough for that reaction. Maybe she should find out just how healthy he still was. Her tits hovered inches from his face, where an expression of smoldering desire had replaced the look of pain. She smiled to herself and leaned in more, so that the pillow of her lush mounds surrounded his nose.

He exhaled a hot breath of enjoyment all over them, feeling genuinely comforted, like a child. He closed his eyes, feeling peaceful as he nuzzled, the soft scent of lilacs filling his nostrils with each slow, deep breath. Slipping both hands under her robe from behind, he caressed her back until both hands reached her shoulders. Then he pulled her close, burying his face in her heavenly tits. Her nipples stiffened more against his cheeks as he brushed back and forth gently. A man could die happy in such a position. That reminded him of something.

“Before I forget,” he began huskily, “make sure I stay awake a couple hours.”

“Why?” she purred.

“People who hit their head might never wake up if they fall asleep too soon after.”

Her breath caught. “Wow. My God, Tristan. What were you doing sneaking in here like that anyway?”

“I just—let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“I—Okay.” Maybe he’d just been looking for the key to the bike. After all, his clothing was still there. After a moment, she wondered how he’d gotten in here. He’d probably remembered where the spare key was outside and let himself in. This gave her an idea. “You took the key to my house, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I want it back.” With that, she put the ice down and pressed her hand against his crotch on one side, brushing against his balls on purpose. Not finding a sign of the key, she pressed on the other side where his cock was, her palm firmly down on the hard shaft. Tristan moaned as his dick throbbed with need. She curled fingers around it and pushed it from side to side as if to get it out of the way, rubbing it inside the fabric of his underwear.

“Oh God, Victoria.”

“Well, I can’t find it,” she admitted. “There’s an obstruction. Hold on.”

She dismounted him and expertly undid his belt buckle before snapping open his jeans. Then she took the zipper in one hand and pulled while pressing down into his crotch as if unaware she was stimulating his pubic bone. “I’ll have to get these off to find what I’m looking for.”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

She giggled. “I’m glad you feel well enough to joke, sweetheart. You really gave me a scare. A couple times.”

“I’ll make it up to you any way you want.”

“Good.” With this, she slid both hands into his jeans and underwear to cup his ass. He lifted up and she pulled her hands down along his firm cheeks, giving a squeeze, the feel of his soft, firm butt making her wet. The pants and underwear came down, too, and he sat back down. Her hands then yanked downward so that his cock and balls sprang free in one wild, exuberant motion. His clothes came completely off to leave him naked from the waist down, both socks caught in the violent act. Victoria threw the socks to the floor and watched in amazement as Tristan’s big cock slowly stopped swinging from side to side to stand at full length, a bead of moisture on the tip. It beckoned her tongue, the thought of tasting him sending a jolt to her pussy.

Her eyes dilated and she slid both hands up his thighs, pushing them apart. He let her, surrendering his manhood. With his unhurt arm on the side where she stood, he slipped that hand under her open robe to lightly brush the hard peak of her nipple, causing her to shudder.

“Time for revenge for this morning,” she whispered.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“Oh, this will be nice.”

Victoria could tease, too, so instead of licking off the growing globule of precum on his penis, she exhaled hot breath all over his balls and up his shaft, then blew a cooler stream back down as he groaned. Her moist tongue snaked out to lightly lick his full sac on the right side, then left, and then firmly straight up the middle before going to one testicle. She slurped it into her mouth, and when he cupped her breast, she could no longer stand it and swallowed both of his balls up, her mouth suddenly greedy with need to devour him. She suckled him for a minute as more precum oozed down his cock and she played with his sensitive inner thighs.

Finally she took the base of his shaft in one hand, gently squeezing it again and again. She licked her way to the top while his manhood flared. Her tongue reached the sensitive underside of his head and flicked around it before she suddenly engulfed the engorged tip in her smoldering, wet lips. The familiar sweet taste of his seed was like the nectar of the gods. She rocked her head side to side, letting the motion stimulate him. He shuddered, forgetting to caress her heavy globes for a moment as he lost all sense of space and time, which had slowed with the agonizing pace of her attentions.

“You’re better at this than I remember,” he observed.

“I’ve had a lot of time to fantasize,” she replied, before licking him.

“About me?”

“Maybe.”

Without warning, she pulled her hand away and thrust her mouth down on him, all the way to his pubic bone, her lips pumping at the base as her tongue undulated against the underside. Tristan cried out and involuntarily thrust upward, as if any more of him could possibly fit in her mouth. Victoria was a deep-throat artist without compare, the years without practice having not lessened her skill set in the slightest. If anything, her dirty imagination had sprung to life even more without anyone to play with. But play wasn’t on her mind now. Just lust so hot that her mouth threatened to melt his hard cock back down to size, but for now, he swelled inside her so big that she nearly gagged.

“Oh shit,” said Tristan. “I forgot what that feels like.”

He lifted her hair out of the way to let her concentrate on destroying his sanity—and so he could watch that beautiful, angelic face of hers contort into demonic, ravenous lust, like a succubus who has found her eternal partner. He softly cried out again and again, almost whimpering, as she began sliding her slick mouth up and down his penis, alternating the pressure from feather light to vise-clamp hard, and the speed from torture-chamber slow to tornado fast.

Suddenly Tristan sucked in a huge breath as a tremendous pressure gathered in his balls. From his scalp to his fingers and toes, his body lit up as the orgasm built in fury. Then it ripped through him as his cock exploded, his hot, milky seed flooding Victoria’s mouth and throat with such volume that it poured out the side of her lips despite her greedy gulping. His body stiffened from head to toe, his anus clenching spastically with the rest of him. He collapsed backwards as his dick continued throbbing with aftershocks, tingles spreading throughout his body, which had turned into one giant erogenous zone.

Victoria leaned up, reluctantly letting Tristan’s beautiful cock pop out of her mouth. Her jaws ached a bit, not being accustomed to fellatio anymore, but this was worth it. She wiped the cum from her chin and licked it up, smiling at him wickedly and noticing how dazed he looked. A moment of concern struck her.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

A sloppy smile graced his sensuous lips, the look in his green eyes so joyful that when their gazes met, she felt a thrill. “God, yes,” he said.

She smiled, climbing on top of him, her creamy mounds brushing his face. “Good. I need to mount that crotch rocket of yours. You can give me a proper sendoff.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll survive that.” Despite his words, Tristan engulfed one tit with his mouth while one hand claimed the other.

The hot, soft, wet, slick feeling of his mouth and tongue on one nipple contrasted with the firm hardness of his thumb and forefinger tugging and twisting at the other. She shuddered with desire, a rush of sensation engorging her tits and pussy. Shaking with the need to be filled, she slid her wet folds along his manhood as she lifted herself above him, feeling the head of his penis parting her pussy. She moaned and slid right down the hard shaft, hissing at the incredible sensation. Their pubic bones gently collided, her brown hair mingling with his blond, her clit pressed against him, his cock throbbing inside her trembling womanhood. For a moment, all they could do was cling to each other.