Tristan (The Kendall Family #1) (7 page)

Victoria finally whispered in his ear, “Launch me into the stratosphere, honey.”

He pulled his lips from her bosom just long enough to say, “Oh, Houston, we will not have a problem.”

“Good. Sit still while I take care of you. I don’t want you exerting yourself.”

With that, she began sliding up and down on his member, first slowly to heighten his desire, then quickly to raise his sensitivity. Now that he was gasping, with his cock engorged, she slowed again, taking him inch by inch and slow-grinding her clit into his hard mound and rising up with such slowness that he cursed her. Victoria smiled, her pussy embracing him tenderly, now hungrily, then desperately, alternating her approach to drive them both over the edge. She hadn’t done such things to him years earlier. Seeing the amazement on his face, she whispered to him.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this to you for so long, Tristan. It’s working better than I’d dreamed.”

He smiled to hear she’d been thinking about him this way. “You haven’t tried it before?”

“I saved it for you, hoping for the day.”

“I wish I’d known sooner. I’d have set a land-speed record coming here.”

“Oh, you’ll cum only when I let you, baby.”

He grinned. “Don’t be so sure of that.”

Despite his intention to let her do the work, he couldn’t help thrusting up and into her. His need took over so that he gripped her hard to hold her still as he began aggressively rocking his hips, plunging in and out of her with precision, his lips still working her tits. She began to cry out regularly, the feeling of being held down and ravaged turning her on. She didn’t want to escape and never would, surrendering her womanhood to the man who’d claimed it long ago and, if truth be told, could have it back whenever he wanted.

And Tristan wanted. With a groan he felt his body begin to clench, his heart leaping as he heard Victoria yell out that she was cuming, her body beginning to thrash despite his grip on her. With a strangled cry, they erupted together, his cum spurting deep inside her womb as her own cum drenched his penis, their juices freely flowing down his cock, onto his balls, and down past his ass to the sheets. A sheen of sweat covered both of them as Victoria collapsed atop him and Tristan held her close, murmuring incoherent nonsense into the fall of her hair across his face. He breathed in the scent of her, the orgasm aftermath slowly spreading throughout his body and leaving him as weak as a kitten.

They lay like that for some time before she finally leaned up enough to gaze into his eyes, which were alight with life. He pulled her into a kiss, his tongue delving into her eager mouth, and for what seemed like forever and a day, they devoured each other’s lips, lust giving way to affection and adoration. His cock remained hard inside her all the while, as if mated to her. Tristan Kendall was home and knew it.

Finally, she reluctantly sat up, taking one last look at him beneath her. She caressed his cheek.

“Stay here while I clean us up. I’ll be right back.”

“You’re not gonna leave on my bike again?” he asked, smiling.

“Not on your life, sweetie. You’re my prisoner. You’re mine until the morning.” She disengaged and disappeared into the bathroom with one last adoring look over her shoulder.

Tristan murmured, more to himself, “And for a lot longer, if you’ll have me.”

She soon returned with a moist, warm towel or two and gave him a sponge bath, taking the opportunity to look over every inch of him. That’s how she finally saw the scar on his thigh from one of his accidents. She’d have to ask about that later, but for now she dried him off and then got under the covers with him. They stayed up for a couple hours, cuddling and talking about happier times together. They ignored the past as if the last five years had never happened, both of them knowing that in the morning, reality would intrude once more. It could wait a day.

They drifted off to peaceful sleep in each other’s arms. With the prescription painkillers in his system, Tristan went first, and Victoria quietly watched his face, hoping he was all right from those blows to the head. Worry kept her up for a while, but she nudged him awake just enough to prove that he would wake before she relaxed and let him sleep. She finally surrendered to Mr. Sandman herself, one hand gently cupping Tristan’s cheek, a content smile on her face.

In the middle of the night, he made it clear that he was fine when they lay together in spoon position and he slowly entered her from behind, his pulsating member parting her still wet folds with ease, like a hot knife through butter. She came awake in the most pleasant way possible and decided to keep him from overexerting himself, so she took over the thrusting, riding his penis back and forth until they both orgasmed quietly but intensely, in a half-dream state through it all.

Eyes closed, he whispered her name with such sweetness that she melted into him. She hadn’t been nearly this happy in years and decided right then and there that she’d do everything she could to win back Tristan Kendall, including hitting him in the head with frying pans if that’s what it took. She’d knock some sense into him, since she’d failed to knock any into herself.

Chapter 7 – Theft

Tristan woke the next morning to find himself alone. For a moment he wondered if the whole thing was a crazy dream, but when he lifted his head, a groan of pain escaped him. The welt on his crown hurt. He gingerly touched it and eyeballed the bottle of painkillers on the bed stand. Another pill wouldn’t hurt. As he sat up to take one, he examined his arm and knew that it would be sore for days, too, as Victoria had bruised him down to the bone.

“The price of love,” he muttered to himself.

Then he noticed her red suitcase on the floor, half filled with clothes. Was she leaving? Was that decision before or after last night? Worry gnawed at him until her heard sounds from the kitchen. He went there and arrived to find Victoria wearing pink panties, his shirt, and little else, her hair in a ponytail. She’d cracked several eggs into the frying pan she’d cracked his head with the night before. Steaming Cream of Wheat sat in two bowls. As he watched, the toaster popped up.

“Smells good,” he remarked.

She turned with a big smile. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Gesturing at his nude body, Tristan advised her, “I brought breakfast.”

She laughed while he approached. “And here I was foolishly making it. If you don’t put something on, I will indeed have you for breakfast.”

“That doesn’t give me much incentive, you know.” Tristan wrapped his arms around her. “I saw the suitcase. Are you going somewhere? Or coming back from a trip?”

She bit her lip and he wondered if the answer had something to do with him. “Well,” she began, “there’s a mountain tour I was supposed to go on with CMS in a few days.”

“Yeah, but you can’t bring a suitcase on a motorcycle.”

She looked startled and he realized she had just lied and been caught. His heart clenched. They had never done much lying to each other and the wall between them felt all the more alien because he held her tightly in his arms. That just reminded him of something else she’d kept from him, and which he’d come to discuss, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to broach that subject. That wall might just get higher. Maybe he needed to bring it down more so that it didn’t spring back up at all later. After a kiss meant to forestall further conversation about the suitcase, he left to dress.

When he came back in only jeans, she was sitting at the oak table waiting for him, sipping OJ. For most of the meal, they said little, their eyes saying more than their mouths ever could. Both saw great affection tinged with apprehension in each other’s eyes and knew the air had yet to be cleared.

Finally, Tristan said, “Well, there’s something I have to ask.”

“Okay.”

“How is it that the woman who was so afraid of motorcycles now rides them?”

She gathered her thoughts, wondering if that was really what had been so urgent that he’d come back last night. She doubted it but played along. “I’ve suffered a lot of loss. Including you. Much of it has been right here in this house. Including you. It’s why I left, a few months after you did.”

“You left home because of me?” he asked with a frown.

“No. Well, sort of. I just needed to get away from here, start over somewhere else.”

“Where did you go?”

“New York, Florida, California, even Canada for a while. That’s where I realized that I was avoiding life for fear of loss. Someone up there had a fatal skiing accident and people kept saying how he’d at least died doing what he loved. I’d heard that before, but it got me thinking. I guess it was my time to wake up, to live my life more, and stop being afraid of life, or of death.”

Tristan nodded approvingly, wondering if she was the same girl he’d loved. Aside from the bike thing, and an apparent willingness to be violent, she’d seemed the same. But maybe she wasn’t. He felt a pang but only remarked, “Good.”

“That resulted in some adventures.”

“Like what?”

“Whitewater rafting, going caving, and parachuting.”

His eyebrows rose at the last item. “Wow, are you kidding?”

She smiled. “No. It scared the crap out of me but was exhilarating. Very freeing. I felt so alive, more so than since…”

“Since what?”

She bit her lip. “Since you left me.”

He sighed. There wasn’t much he could say about that. “So riding a bike was just part of that?”

“Yeah, pretty much, except it was harder. I think I had an actual phobia. I was shaking the first time I rode with someone as a test, but he was really supportive.”

Tristan tensed. Some other guy had taken her bike virginity, as it were. That should’ve been him. His voice was tight as he asked, “Who was it?”

She smirked behind the rim of her glass of OJ, glibly replying, “A guy I was dating. Blond. Burly. Great abs.”

That last bit tipped her hand. He knew she was trying to make him jealous. He smirked and leaned back so she could see his belly. “You mean like these?”

She grinned as she admired him. “Ah, no, not like those, sweetie.”

“As long as we’ve established that.”

“We have.”

After a moment, he said, “I hope you took safety courses?”

She nodded. “Of course. Every last one on the planet, I think. I probably know more about that than you do.”

He chuckled, his abs tightening gloriously with the motion. She pursed her lips.

“Speaking of safety,” he started, “I meant to ask you before. My head’s been a fog since, well, the first time we did it again. You said you’re on birth control?”

Victoria muttered, “Yes, despite not dating anyone.”

“Okay. You don’t have anything else to worry about from me. I never go without a condom.”

“Never?”

“No. Only with you.”

She flushed. “Why’s that?”

He looked deep into her eyes and sincerely admitted, “I never want anything between you and me.”

Victoria flushed more deeply. He watched quietly, glad to see he could impact her for the better once again. She deserved it on general principles, but he also felt the need to make it up to her. And make up
with
her.

“I know it’s only been a day, but I’m now more certain than ever that ending our relationship was the biggest mistake of my life. I’ve regretted it every single day since I’ve been gone.”

She let out a slow breath. “Good.”

“I didn’t want to do it.”

“Then why did you?” After a moment, she quietly added something she’d wanted to tell him ever since. “You broke my heart, Tristan.”

He felt a pang. “I didn’t want to cause you pain, but it seemed like no matter what I did, that would be the result. I thought I chose the best thing for you.”

“What? Wait a minute. Why can’t I choose for myself?”

“You can.”

“But you just said you made a decision for me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What
did
you mean?”

“You wouldn’t even watch me race, or hear about the results, because of your father’s accident, and I understood that, maybe more than you think. I only raced once in a while and you were sometimes literally sick from it, remember? I’d hear about you throwing up or feeling faint from Chloe. I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle me doing it for a living, every week. I couldn’t put you through that. So, yeah, I made the decision for you, but I also did it for me. I couldn’t take the guilt.”

Victoria bit her lip. “I didn’t realize you were so aware of my reactions, or that they were causing you so much distress. I’d tried to keep you from finding out. I guess I thought I was being supportive to not let on. I had no idea I was affecting you.”

“It’s okay. But see how much my riding was affecting
you
? I didn’t want that.” He squeezed her hand across the table.

“Watching your career would’ve been hard, but I would’ve gone through hell for you, Tristan. What killed me was you breaking up with me.”

The look of pain in her eyes killed him right back. “I understand. I just thought my career would’ve caused us no end of turmoil. I think it would’ve destroyed us.”

“You breaking up with me did that pretty well.”

“No it didn’t. It ended us. It didn’t destroy us. It didn’t make us hate each other’s guts and never want to see each other again.”

“Oh, I don’t know. There were times I hated your guts.” Her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely serious, as if she’d wanted to feel that way but hadn’t. Not really.

He made a face. “I deserve that, but what I mean is that sometimes so much that’s bad happens between two people that they can never get over it, never be together again. That’s part of what I was afraid of. I couldn’t bear you hating me forever.”

“I could never hate you, Tristan. But sometimes one person is hurt so badly by the breakup that ever being together again may be impossible anyway.”

Tristan’s heart clenched, a rush of despair stealing air from his lungs. He didn’t want to draw another breath, as if to do so would allow time to advance and make this sentiment a reality he couldn’t escape. He didn’t know it, but his pained expression was the same look he’d put on Victoria’s face five years earlier. Seeing his reaction, she intertwined their fingers. Their eyes met, and in her gaze he saw understanding. And a hint that she hadn’t meant to say all hope was lost. He finally breathed in and out slowly, squeezing back.