Rogue (In the life of the Rogue Book 1) (21 page)

In the light, I was beholded to Lulina Wells as dangerously so like Zander’s drug addiction. I was addicted to my rapist, the woman who molested me since I was a child. I wasn’t going to admit that. I didn’t care who was asking the questions, that was a patch of truth that didn’t need to see the light of day, and if it ever did, I would do anything to burn it away, or deny it.

Dominique gave me a third option.

“Say nothing if you can’t voice it,” she told me.

I said nothing. With this, I fell back to the hood of the car. The noose around my neck felt extremely tight. I unbuttoned the collar of my shirt and still felt no relief. It wasn’t the tie’s fault this time.

Dominique turned the cliff. The sun was disappearing now, the sky was getting darker and the wind continued to pick up. Together, we both shifted and adjusted our body posture to deal with the cold wind, but we did it silently.

When she spoke again, her back was still to me. “I’m going to kiss you again,” she said, “don’t turn me me away this time. This is your chance to have me. This is my chance to have you. This is our chance to be to each other what we wanted when we first met – when you had no idea who I was, and it didn’t matter who you were.”

“My father,” I said softly, “I can’t.”

She walked back to me, her hands running through my hair. I crumbled into her hot touch, despite the cold wind blowing around us.

“Have me,” she said.

I lashed back. “I’m sick of women!” My voice echoed all around and it terrified me. My voice, coming back to me in waves of small echoes, didn’t sound like mine. The voice I heard back was enraged, partly crazed, and extremely desperate and in pain. “Yes,” I screamed, “Yes I crossed a man who gave his life for this family and in return caused his wife to kill herself.”

I pinched at the bridge of my nose and squeezed until I no longer thought of the tears, and instead, thought of the pain I was causing myself. I had wanted to keep going, wanted to tell Dominique of my relationship with her mother but I couldn’t utter one word to that bit of dark admition.

“But you,” I began, but stopped and swallowed so hard I could hear the spit barreling down my throat, “What makes you think you’re worth defying and crossing my father, the one man that I love so much I hate and hate so much I love, for you?”

She stepped into me. “Because once a wife fucker, always a wife fucker.”

I had wanted to slap her but managed to repress that impulse and grabbed and squeezed her arms. She slapped my hands away. I reached out for her again but she leaned her arm back and let it fly forward.

Her fist caught me just above my cheek.

“Prove to me that you’ve changed,” she yelled, “Here’s your chance, Tristan. Here’s the one thing you never thought you would ever have. Prove to me that you’re worth more than shit in your family.”

For years, I had been caught up in my own web of lies, sex and unforbidden, broken rules. And, if there was an out to be had after all of it, all that I had done, I wanted to take it.

Even if that meant walking away from the one woman who literally had the power to touch my heart and my world explode for it.

I tightened my jacket around my shoulders, nodding to her that my choice had been made. “Will you take me home?” I asked, “Or am I needed by my Papa or father, or your father, at the compound?”

Her gaze was suspicious, “That’s it?”

I nodded again, attempted to smile but failed. “I’m taking my chance, Dominique.”

My feet were moving. The world was flapping around me as the wind licked at the tails of my coat. I realized that I had been holding my breath as I felt it move through my open mouth when my hand touched the door handle to the jag’s passenger side door.

Dominique called out after me, “Tristan.”

I turned to her, touching at a curl that blew across my face and moved it.

She decided to let me in on a very dark secret that I wished she had kept buried – for both our sakes.

“I’m falling for you,” she spoke to me as the sun was setting behind her.

I let the door handle go and stood back from the car.

Dominique closed the distance between us and I didn’t shove her away as her hands touched at my face, pulling my chin so I could look at her.

“I’m in love with you, Tristan,” she told me. She looked at me, her eyes now slightly red from all the crying; her lips slightly swollen from the biting and nibbling with her teeth. Her gray eyes were still clear as ever and so beautiful.

“For a moment,” she began, “For one, single moment, let’s just be Dominique and Tristan. No Rogue. No Lougotti. Let’s not be two children from crime families.”

My throat was almost too tight to talk. “Then what are we?”

“Just two people who are in love with each other.”

My hands touched her waist. I leaned my head down, taking one deep breath – preparing for a fall that I proberly wouldn’t survive when I landed – and kissed her, soft and tenderly, my teeth nipped at my bottom lip. Her hands gripped more tightly securely in my hair as my lips touched her neck, my tongue feeling the fast pulse against her neck. 

She pulled me back so we could look at each other. “Tell me you want me, Tristan,” she commanded softly.

“I want you.”

“Tell me how fast your heart beats when I’m touching you.”

“So fast I swear I’m dying.”

“Tell me you’re going to let me have you, Tristan.”

“I’m yours, Dominique.”

Dominique watched me intently and I watched her back. And then, as the last light of the decending sun caught her face, she smiled at me. I closed my eyes slowly, and deliberately hard then squeezed my eyes shut and felt a tear slip. Mentally, I was snapping a picture of that smile, logging it into my memory. It was her smile, but I wanted it for myself - just this one smile to be mine.

My smile…

Dominique said, “Now, take me somewhere you can fuck me, Tristan.”

“I will if you teach me how to drive stick.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Okay, I’ll take us somewhere you can fuck me.”

I hadn’t looked before I plunged, no need, I knew how steep the fall was…

We ended up at a hotel.

And it was beautiful, clean and neat and smelled of fresh flowers and grins and laughs and happy times. And even though it smelled of all those things, I couldn’t completely shut out the sent of treachery, lies, forbidden sex, broken trust and rules and damnation.

And the smell was putrid.

I leaned against the balcony, trying to catch my breath and my thoughts as it whirled around me. My last cigarette burned between my fingers.

I placed the filter to my lips, inhaling the last pull and flicked the cigarette away. And as I watched as the cigarette drop down the hotel’s twenty stories, I came to a very firm thought in my mind.

I couldn’t be here.

I couldn’t do this.

There wouldn’t be any going back from this moment – no matter who we were
pretending
to be.

My hands squeezed the cold banister and my knuckles popped. I looked out into the night, watching Chicago come to life as the buildings light’s flicked on and people scurried down on the streets pulling their coats tighter around them.

And I thought maybe I should jump.

End it now and be done with Life’s foreplay.

If I died here, then it would quick. If I walked back into that hotel room, then my death would be slow and agnozing – a warm up for hell, where I figured I would end up.

And then I thought that I could bypass the falling death and be smart. I could turn and walk out this hotel room and never allow myself within spitting distance of Dominique.

I still had options left, but not enough time to consider them all. My back was firmly against the wall and I could feel the grooves of the bricks as I pressed myself harder against it.

I would walk away and keep walking, and if I had to, I would run.

That was my plan, the best one.

I glanced one more time at the city lights and the people walking below then turned back into the mouth of the hotel room.

Dominique was in a robe, her hair still wet from the shower. She had her left leg perched on the end of the bed, her tanned leg exposed.

She cupped her hand and squeezed a small amount of lotion then smeared it over her bare skin. “Help me,” she said.

I stepped into the room, my hands grabbing the two doorknobs behind me, closing them as I stepped inside. I didn’t let out a breath until I heard the doors click closed.

Dominique pulled herself up as my chest touched her back. She had my hand in hers, my palm out. She squeezed a swirl of lotion, using her thumb to lightly rub it in.

She turned to me, her lips tickling my jaw line. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“No,” I answered.

“I wanted you to join me in the shower.”

“And I wanted to think.”

Dominique gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. Her lips were still pressed to my skin as she said, “how about you kiss me first before you leave me because you can’t do this.”

I licked my lips, breathing through my nose as I leaned forward and my mouth was on hers.

And the world melted away.

Her lips were like fire, burning and searing and scorching. I chewed softly on her bottom lip, taking it into my mouth and running my tongue over it.

Dominique moaned into my mouth and placed my lotioned palmed hand over her exposed breasts.

The heat of her skin made my knees wobble. I tore my lips away from her mouth and my fingers pulled away her hair from her neck.

Internally, I felt myself shaking – barely holding together – as my lips pressed to the soft skin of her neck. I kissed the side of her throat, biting as softly as I could, but hard enough to leave impressions.

Dominique’s robe was removed at some point, and I would never be sure if I yanked it off her shoulders or if she let it fall all by herself.

Naked except for her panties, she turned into me, her hands were pulling up my shirt, yanking the fabric apart, tearing it, and making the buttons fly all over the room. Her hands tugged at my belt as I clawed away the remains of my shirt and jacket.

Like in the gazebo, theres a window of clarity, but I’m missing it. I should think about what I’m doing, but I didn’t want to think.

I just wanted to feel and nothing more.

When last of my clothes were removed, Dominique sat down on the edge of the bed, her head upturned, her gray eyes darkening as she looked at me. I bent down, my hands touching the soft bed on both sides of her thighs. I leaned in to kiss her but she moved her head out of the way and started to crawl back on the bed.

Dominique settled her back against the headboard, her arm rising over her head to grip the top of it.

“Come here,” she commanded, her voice low and husky.

I kissed her knees, flicking my tongue over the velvety skin and tasting the lotion she had just applied.

Dominique bit her lip as my hand caught on to the side of her underwear.

We both held our breath as I slid the thin fabric down over her knees, down her calves and to her ankles where I gave a tug and the underwear – the last barrier – was discarded.

Her knees parted and I crawled through. Her hard nipples tickled my chest at first as I rested against her. Her hands grabbed my hair and I felt her strength as she pulled me back to her mouth.

Her tongue shot sparks all through me.

I could feel the kisses from my lips all the way down to my toes.

She tugged my hair again and the kiss was interrupted. “Promise me it won’t hurt,” she said. Her voice was soft and terrified.

“I can’t promise that,” I answered her. 

She moaned when I rubbed my lips against her jawline. My lips parted and my tongue tasted the side of her throat again. She inhaled, deep and hard, and I shivered against her.

I kissed her shoulder as I put my weight on my elbow, breaking away but still with partial contact with her body. My hands disappeared between her parted legs and Dominique intook a ragged breath and nawed on her bottom lip.

I turned away, unable to look at her face.

“No,” she said, “I want you to see as you enter me.”

Her hands were back in my hair, guiding my head back in her direction. I dropped my head to hers, my lips against hers.

She grunted softly as I pushed inside.

Her nails dug into my back.

I pushed myself up on my arms and rocked softly against her, looking deep into her eyes. The heat was excruiting now and I bit roughly on my lips to keep from crying out. Her arms wrapped around my neck and I was kissing her again.

I tore away from the kiss on her mouth and moved to kiss her knees as they inched up my sides.

My tongue dragged between her breasts and up, against her throat where I kissed her chin. I nibbled on her chin then took my nibbling to her bottom lip.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I can stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

And I didn’t.

I couldn’t even if I tried.

She was giving me that moment of absolute completeness that I had scoured the streets for, what I had been in Lulina’s arms for, and what I had seduced Katie for.

I was whole and alive and free.

Her heartbeat against me was like a drug and I couldn’t tear away. I wanted more. Needed more because I believed I couldn’t live without it.

I organsimed once and that hadn’t stopped my stride. Dominique curled her lips in a smile, her right eyebrow rising as I continued to push into her.

“Tell me I’m yours,” she said.

“You’re mine.”

She moaned low and hard and kissed me roughly. Her breathing had picked up, her body slowly beginning to shiver.

I dipped my tongue between her lips and tasted her orgasim as it was still building in her throat.

“Tell me who you belong to, Tristan,” she said.

“Is there life outside of you?”

Her nails cut into my back as she rocked against me. “Tell me you love me, Tristan.”

She yelled out and buried her face in my neck. I felt her bite my shoulder as she shuddered against me.

“I love you,” I whispered.

Dominique leaned back, her head hitting the pillow. She looked up at me drunkingly and grinned. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Now kiss me.”

I kissed her.

***

I curled my body against Dominique’s, my arms wrapping around her naked torso and pulling her close to me. I breathed against her bare skin and nuzzled my head against her back.

I felt lightheaded and content.

I felt a smile stretch against my lips as I pulled her even closer to my body, needing to feel her heartbeat over mine.

Dominique patted my arms and exhaled.

I closed my eyes as I moved my face up to her hair and inhaled her sweet scent. My breathing was getting easier now. I was falling to a beautiful sleep and I could feel it nipping at my heels, opening its arms and waiting for me to lift my wings so I could to fly.

But, I did notice that Dominique didn’t have that soft breathing – the breathing one has as they about to close their eyes for slumber.

Her heartbeat was even and steady.

Just like her intakes of breaths.

I shut my eyes tightly as I shook away the
rogue
thought, but it still persisted, the doubt that I didn’t want to feel was blocking airways as it leaked into my chest and then moved up into my throat.

She’s waiting for me to fall asleep.

And when one does that, they didn’t plan on being here when you woke up. And as I realized this, my eyes had already closed and it was impossibly hard to open them again.

***

“Fuck, Tristan!”

Zander tossed a bottle that sailed across the room, missed my head by inches and crashed against my wall next to the door.

I wiped at the spilled beer as it dripped down my face.

A hooker’s head popped up and away from Zander’s lap.

She wiped her mouth once, her eyes meeting mine. Then she turned back to Zander. “You said I only had to do you.”

Zander shoved the hooker away and she hit the floor too hard, almost hitting her head on my coffee table.

There would be trouble from this.

Her eyes blazed as she wiped her mouth again. “I told you if you wanted to hit me that it would be extra.”

The hooker was sad and old – maybe pushing forty – and her life had been one horrible joke. I could tell ‘em almost at first glance. She had been down this road before, and the smart, new, hookers just grabbed their things and left when the job got violent. Old, seasoned,
don’t give a fuck kind
, prepared for a fight when they saw one coming.

“Fuck you, limp dick, bastard!” She hissed.

The jab at Zander barely made it out of her mouth before he gave a nasty slap to her face. This time when she fell backwards, her head
did
hit the coffee table. The table was cheap, not real wood and that saved her life, or an immediate trip to the ER – that is if either me or Zander cared to take her there.

The hooker wasn’t hurt.

The table had cracked in and two. It didn’t have the lucky ending like the tramp had. Its funeral would be on the side of the street soon enough and there would be no tears shed – most likely the same funeral arriagements would have been made if the hooker bit the dust instead of the coffee table.

Zander made a move for the hooker. His fists were curled and his eyes were dark and nasty. I stepped in the way. I had seen Zander drunk before but this wasn’t drinking. His eyes were red, blood shot and he was barely standing – more like swaying.

With me standing in front of him, Zander forgot about the hooker. “The fuck you been, Tristan?”

When I didn’t answer him, he lunged for me.

I was quicker and slammed him back into the chair he had been getting his blow job from.

“Stay put,” I cautioned him.

The whore was bleeding. She was high so I figured she wouldn’t know she had been injured until sometime next week. I didn’t want to touch her, but I helped her up anyway. The entire time I was picking her off the floor, I was stuffing dollars in her pocket and leading her to the door.

Zander was still sprawled on the chair. The sight of him out of his mind, drugged, high up and souring while others – like me – had the unfortunate job of watching him fly crookedly and crash.

I kicked Zander’s chair. “The fuck did you take?” My tone was deadly even and deadly agitated.

Zander grumbled something, his eyes half closed. “I asked you a question, man,” he slurred.