Tryst (11 page)

By the time I awake, light is flooding through her curtains and her side of the bed is as cold as a gold-digger in a hospice looking for her next sugar daddy. I pull on the sweats I wore the night before and head downstairs to search her out. Calling her name as I walk from room to room, I surmise wherever she is, it isn’t in the house.  Feeling a bit disappointed and more than a little pissed off at myself I go to the kitchen for my keys, mentally cursing myself for being a bumblefuck last night.

I can’t help but smirk at the muffin and iced coffee sitting next to my house keys. It is the only indication that maybe she doesn’t loathe my very existence. Juggling the coffee and muffin in one hand, I use the other to fumble with her lock. After a quick shower and a change of clothes I decide to head over to the gym. I don’t officially start work there for another three days, but I could definitely burn off some steam.

Chapter 11

Bentley

I am surprised to wake up this morning buried in Tristan’s arms. I must have been exhausted because the idea of sleeping in anyone’s arms is something I could never see myself doing. His body heat is radiating through me and my skin is burning. It takes a lot of effort and several attempts before I successfully un-cage myself from his grasp. Grabbing a t-shirt and yoga pants along with some panties and a sports bra, I slip through my bedroom door and get dressed in the guestroom across the hall. Tip toeing my way around, I head downstairs and lace my shoes before heading out the door.

It is a morning ritual to stop for a smoothie on the way to the gym. I have never been much of a breakfast eater, so it’s my morning pick me up. As I stand at the counter ordering my drink, I considered my temporary house guest and decide to grab a muffin and iced coffee, not really sure what he’d like. I am not even sure if he will still be there, but I’m definitely not up for a conversation this morning so carbs will have to do. Stopping back at the house on my way to the gym, I find his keys still on the counter and leave the morning munchies next to them before heading back out.

I pull into the gym, my mind on a constant loop replaying the night before. I cringe at how everything played out. Sure it had its good moments. Hell, there were more than a few when I wish that I flipped him on his back and licked every fine line of the tattoos inked across his skin. But like everything else in my life, the night went to complete shit.

I hate showing weakness, and last night I was reduced to a pathetic pile of soggy worthlessness as I relived the fucked up emotional scarring that marred my past.  I fucking hate it. I hate feeling small, and I hate that I let his words get to me. They fucking ate at me until I was so emotionally crippled I couldn’t even gather enough energy to fight back.

Heading into the gym, I hoist my bag higher on my shoulder and head for the sparring room. Normally I just hit the bags, but on really bad days I need a live target to take my frustrations out on. Tossing my bag on the ground, I stand there for a moment debating if beating on Dante is a good idea. A pair of arms wraps me in a bear hug, and in that moment I feel like a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying was lifted off my shoulders. I know I was cruel to him yesterday. Sure we have our fights and we both say things we later regret, but yesterday was the nastiest I had ever been to him in the thirteen years of our friendship.

“You okay, baby doll? You came in here looking like someone ran over your dog then tossed it back in your yard. I could understand if you looked like someone pissed in your cheerios, but you look like you’re hurting. Is this about yesterday? Did something happen?” he asked, with genuine concern in his voice.

I simply nodded yes. He’s a smart cookie, and he’ll figure it out in a moment or two. It’s like he can read my mind, because as soon as I think it he gasps and grabs my arm turning me to face him. “Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him, Bentley, swear to fucking God, I’ll bury him.”

I shake my head no before I give him a straight answer, “No. I mean yeah, it hurt, but no it wasn’t entirely his fault. It’s not that, it’s just…,” I stumble through trying to say what I need to but only cause a bit more confusion. “I just need to beat the shit out of something right now. Think maybe you could be up for it?” He smiles back at me and I feel like my world is turning upright again.

About twenty minutes into sparring he’s bent over and breathing heavy.  I take the time to catch my breath but am nowhere near done letting off my frustration. Bending over to grab a sip of my smoothie, I catch a pair of legs enter the room out of the corner of my eye. When I’m back upright I turn to see Tristan and Dante having a quick chat before Dante shoots me a grin and vacates the room.  Sparring against Tristan at the moment might not be the best idea but he doesn’t seem deterred.

“Is there a reason you just chased off my sparring partner? I wasn’t done with him yet,” I say it in a voice much cockier than I’m really feeling.

“You got a sparring partner, Sugar Lips, he’s standing right in front of you,” he gives me a wink as he finishes the statement.

Letting out a sigh, I put myself back into position and throw myself into every move, kicking and punching furiously. I get in a few lucky shots but for the most part he deflects my attempts. After another twenty minutes I’m out of breath and only slightly less frustrated.

“Is that all you got, Baby Cakes? And here I thought you were a bit of a badass. Come on, you got to give me better than that,” he says, while swatting me on the ass.

I turn back to face him and swing hard, connecting with his jaw. Even through the padding, my hand is throbbing. I’m pretty sure in that moment my hand suffered more damage than his face. I look up at him scowling, as he rubs his jaw. The amusement on his face is something I wanted to bitch slap right off. How dare he stand there laughing at my distress? I pull away as he reaches for my hand, not wanting him to touch it.

“For a second there I thought my little hell cat found her claws again. Come on, baby, don’t disappoint me now,” he purrs, while taking my hand between his.

After removing the padding he rubs at the swelling now evident across my knuckles. “That’s one hell of a left hook you have there, Sweet Cheeks. Remind me not to be on the receiving end of that sucker again.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t given me such a beautiful target, I might have missed. Of course, with that inflated head of yours I doubt that would ever be likely,” I say, with a bit of sass.

I pull my hand away from his hold and walk away to grab a sip from my smoothie. As I reach the wall and bend to pick it up he wraps his arms around my stomach. Quickly righting myself I turn to face him as he forces me into the wall and seals his lips to mine. While a part of me wants to push him away for the shit he said the night before, another part of me wants to wrap myself around him and grind into the hardness pushing against my belly. Not willing to let him get the best of me, last night was one cluster fuck I have no intentions of repeating. I push back at him and break away from the kiss.

“Look here, jerk jockey, just because we slept together doesn’t give you the authority to conduct a search and seizure of my mouth.  I don’t give a flying fuck what you worked out with my beloved bitch tits out there, but I’m not about to be pushed around by a douche nozzle with a hard on. You and dear Dante can go take a trip to twatville and pick up some unclefucker to fulfill whatever fucked up fantasy you have going on in there,” I say, as I walk away from him.

“You know with a mouth as filthy as yours I can think of at least a dozen things better you can be doing with it. In fact, I’m betting you’d thoroughly enjoy at least a few of them. I’d even be willing to bet right now your panties are soaked.” Walking up behind me, his lips just centimeters from my neck, he continues, “Tell me, Bentley, was it not you last night begging me to fuck you harder? I woke up this morning with the taste of you still on my lips. Would you object if I buried my cock in you right here up against the wall? Mm, no I think you’d ride my dick harder than a jockey in the Kentucky Derby. So tell me the truth, Bentley, do you really want me fucking some skank, because the only woman I want to be burying my dick in is you. I want to fuck the memory of last night right out of that pretty head of yours. I want to hear you screaming my name as you come on my tongue, and I want to fuck you bare, feeling that perfect little pussy of yours milking every ounce from my cock as I come deep inside you. So tell me, Bentley, you up for that? Because, I can smell how fucking turned on you are right now,” he chides.

I can’t move a muscle as he speaks against my skin. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest and the jerk-off is right, my panties feel like I could have just gone swimming in them. I want so badly to hate him, and yet I can’t deny how much I want him inside me again. I try to speak but my voice catches in my throat. Turning around I try to hide my face away, the furious blushing showing just how much his words are affecting me. I don’t try to pull away as he lifts my chin, forcing me to face him. I can’t give him an answer, because at this moment I am so tongue tied I doubt I can say my own name.

He doesn’t try to pull the words from me. Instead, he pulls my lips back to his and kisses me with a fervent passion I had yet to experience. There is a yearning behind this kiss, so much more than any other we’d experienced. It’s like he is trying to sear my soul through each movement. I tangle my fingers through his hair, the other hand around his neck, and pull him down further to me. I match his need with my own, stealing his breath away as he lets a low moan escape.

Forgetting where we are, my hands wander of their own volition seeking under the hem of his shirt and gliding their way across his abs and chest. His skin is smooth under my touch, as I trace the small patterns in his skin that I’ve already saved to memory. His hands roam back and forth across my sides and back, down to my ass and back up again as if he’s searching for something. The clothing between us feels restrictive and brash as it rubs across my skin.  My fingers slide across the hem of his workout shorts, wanting to pull the offending clothing away and feel his skin against mine. Before I can act on my sudden lack of impulse control, a pair of approaching shoes and a rather loud gasp has me pulling away from Tristan. I’m colored with embarrassment as I turn to face Dante, a look of shock and what I can only surmise is horror on his face before smiling and taunting me.

“Well, look who just got caught with her hands in the cookie jar, or is it bubble gum? After all, you only blow one of them. I’m glad to see you coming to your senses, bitch lips, but it must have cost a pretty penny to have that stick surgically removed from that tight little ass of yours.”

I try to shy away, but I’m between a rock and a hard place, a hard place that oddly enough was poking my backside. I shouldn’t be doing this. All my life I avoided ever having to be in a situation like this. I don’t do well with awkward. I try to muster up some pathetic excuse to feed to my bestie, but the man knows me better than I know myself at times and answers for me.

“Let me guess, he lost his car keys in your pants? You two were having a tic tac tug of war with your tongues? No? What, were you having a show and tell on who has the better nipples? Don’t you think it’s about time the two of you figure out what the fuck is going on between you? As amusing as it is watching your foreplay, I’d rather not walk in on a live action amateur porn,” he says, before shaking his head and walking away.

I should walk away. That would be the best decision. I’ve never done the dating thing for a reason. The only person in this world I trust is myself. I don’t want to rely on someone else, and I don’t want to worry about someone worrying about me. It can’t last, and as much as my hormones are raging against me, I can’t allow myself to believe this was anything more than just casual fucking. The very thing he accused me of last night, something I swore I would never do. I turn to walk away from him, hoping to collect my shoes and whatever I have left of my battered ego.

Tristan

I know Dante’s just trying to help, but sometimes that man needs to know when to shut the fuck up. I can feel Bentley’s body flinch with every interrogating question. I knew the second her body tensed up, and I can only imagine the fucked up shit she is trying to convince herself of. The woman is a complete conundrum. One minute she’s hot enough to singe your clothes off, and the next she’s cold enough to leave you with frostbite. It’s like this switch flips in her head, and she instantly forgets everything up until that moment.

I’m at a complete loss on how to approach her without setting her off. I get it, though. I can’t blame her for pushing me away, not when it’s all she’s ever known. Not when the only person who had yet to hurt her just gave her a proverbial bitch slap before sashaying out of the room, and definitely not after the fucked up shit I said to her last night. I am lucky she even let me near her today. I’m considering following him and kicking his ass for the shit he just said. I get it though, it’s the norm for the two of them, but fuck if it doesn’t piss me off. If he was anyone else he’d be picking his teeth up off the floor right now.

When she turns back in my direction and shrinks past me to grab her shit, I grab a hold of her wrist wanting her to face me. It’s cute how she’s embarrassed, but by now I know better. Somewhere in the back of that pretty head of hers, she’s letting every fucked up thing he said get to her. Dissecting that shit so she can use it as an excuse to push me and everyone else away. I’m now suffering a miserable case of blue balls, but I figure any shot of continuing where we left off went out the door with her favorite cocksucker. Not really feeling like being some sorry fucker sulking for the night, I decide to suck it up and ask Bentley on an actual date.

“Let me take you out tonight, Bentley,” I ask, half requesting, half question.

She turns to me with a look of suspicion before replying. “I can’t, sorry. I have plans tonight. Actually I’m already running late, so I need to be going,” she finishes, as she walks around me grabbing her stuff and turning to leave the gym, like it wasn’t just five minutes earlier that the only thing on her mind was my dick in her hand.

What plans could she possibly have? The woman never leaves her house. I hunt Dante down, knowing if anyone knows about her plans it’d be him. I barge into his office without knocking, plopping down in the chair across from him, as he looks up from his stack of paperwork.