“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not finished with you yet.”
“You better not be!”
He flipped her over so her feet touched the floor, her full ass up in the air. He hadn’t seen such a lovely rear in a long time and caught his breath. Without preamble, he slid his cock up her pussy to the hilt. She purred up at him.
While he thrust in and out, Tristan’s expert hands made a playground of her curves. He gently caressed her ass to heighten her sensitivity before squeezing firmly. He had her breathing hard before he ran his fingers along her back, teasing her by slipping over her sides and brushing the outside of both breasts as if by accident. Her nipples stiffened in anticipation, but he went elsewhere on purpose.
“Oh, you bastard,” she moaned.
“Sorry, honey.” Tristan’s hands went to her belly, one sliding up to near her tits as the other found her dark pubic hair, which was long enough for him to tug at, stimulating her crotch indirectly. Jolts of desire shot down her legs and into her ass as an orgasm signaled its impending arrival.
“No, you’re not sorry!”
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“I’ve waited long enough for this!” She lifted up on her tiptoes and sucked in a breath as the orgasm rapidly built in her loins. Fire erupted in her pussy, which became slick with their cum while she bucked against him.
Tristan grinned sardonically at what he was doing to her. He loved pleasuring her far more than himself. With that in mind, he waited until she stopped shuddering, her pussy twitching spasmodically around him. He reached up with both hands to cup her breasts and she moaned deep in her throat, as if afraid.
When his fingers touched her nipples, she hissed a sharp breath through clenched teeth and began trembling. Tristan went to work on her tits, alternating between firm squeezes, gentle caresses, twirling fingers around the areolas, and pinching the nipples. Bolts of pleasure coursed down her stomach into her pussy as he relentlessly thrust his cock into her so that his balls slapped against her. The sensation was too much for Victoria, who soon erupted in an orgasm so fierce that tears sprang from her eyes and she screamed his name so hard that her throat hurt.
As she thrashed wildly, Tristan groaned louder and louder, his cock stiffening to the point of being painful as his balls tightened and a massive load of cum shot deep into her pussy, which clutched at him involuntarily, milking him for every drop. Nothing but heavy breathing split the air as Tristan reveled in the moment.
Victoria laid her face on the welcome cool wood of the table, smiling dreamily for a few moments, spent beyond her endurance. She lifted up and reluctantly separated from him, his cock sliding out of her pussy. She straightened on legs that shook, eyes bemused and dazed. Almost desperately, she grabbed a handful of nearby clothes in trembling hands, not daring to look at Tristan for fear she’d slide her tongue into his mouth and never pull it back out.
“Well, sweetie,” she began, patting his cheek, where she’d slapped him earlier, “I need to clean up. Stay here.” She felt delirious, hiding her shell-shocked face from him as she left, taking her bodysuit and boots with her to the bathroom.
He cleaned himself up with tissues and got dressed, lost in thought. He felt good. Bemused. Happy.
That was it
, he realized, smiling peacefully. Being with Victoria just now had made him happier than he could ever remember being, except for maybe the last time he’d been with her. It was no wonder that thoughts of her had haunted him ever since. Maybe that was why he hurtled around race tracks, as if trying to get away from the nagging desire to come home to her.
But now he was here.
She
was here; the last he’d heard, she’d moved away shortly after he left. After all these years, fate had brought them back here at the same time. That had to mean something. They could be together again, just like old times. Maybe even better. Their lovemaking certainly hadn’t lost any of its zest. His heart ached at the missed years. They had a lot of catching up to do, though this was a good start.
He didn’t know how long he stood in that room waiting for her to return from the bathroom and into his arms again, for another kiss. When he heard the bathroom door down the hall quietly shut, he expected her to appear and was surprised when she didn’t. He went into the entryway of the exercise studio and saw the front door ajar. A glance toward the bathroom showed it was empty, the door open. Just then, his bike roared to life out front, and he strolled outside to find Victoria suited up and ready to go, helmet and gloves on. He smiled, thinking a post-coital ride could be great fun, so he stepped up beside her.
“Hang on a second and I’ll get my gear,” he said over the engine.
“No need,” she said, kicking up the stand.
“Why not?” he asked, still smiling. She looked great on his bike, right where she belonged. He needed to discover how she’d gotten over her fear and learned to ride. This was going to be great.
Victoria answered, “Look, it was a fun tryst, Tristan, but you’ve got your life to live, and I’ve got mine. I’ll see you around.”
His smile vanished. “What? Are you kidding?”
She put the bike into first from neutral. “I loved you once, but I’m over you now.”
His eyes darkened with shadows and she looked away as if unable to handle the effect her words caused. She revved the engine over his protests and sped off, leaving him standing with his jaw on the ground. The motorcycle disappeared around a stand of trees at the first curve. Victoria was gone.
Tristan felt stunned. Her words pierced his heart. She had to be kidding. No one could feel what they had and then just shut it down afterward like it was no big deal. He’d seen his fair share of ploys from women trying to reel him in, but he didn’t think this was one of them. She
had
to be lying. He just didn’t know why. Maybe something had happened after he’d last seen her. She’d slapped him, after all, and she had been the farthest thing from violent. Time heals all wounds, but she’d seemed more upset now than five years ago.
If she wouldn’t tell him, the gossip mill around Comus might fill him in. Once he knew what was bothering her, he could figure out what to do. Make it right. Prostrating himself was probably a good start. He had to tell her how he felt, even if she destroyed him for it. It was worth any price, any humiliation, any pain for a second shot at a life with Victoria Lane. He would convince her of his sincerity. If this was a game, he’d make sure they both won.
Despite his confident thoughts, her words ate away at him while he paced before her empty studio. Women so often claimed men didn’t have feelings like insecurity, but Tristan knew that was a crock. Men can be hurt just as easily but do a very good job of covering it up. It’s part of being a man. But when the woman you love blows you off, even if you think she doesn’t want to, you can’t help wondering if there’s some truth to what she’s said.
Maybe she loved someone else. He hadn’t thought to ask. The idea caused such a sharp jab of pain in his chest that he clutched it and forcibly put the thought from his mind. If it was true she was already involved, he’d be the other guy’s problem, not the other way around. He’d see to that. But she wasn’t the cheating type any more than he was, so that gave him hope.
Sighing heavily, Tristan went back inside, looking for a phone. Victoria hadn’t even locked the place up. She must’ve trusted him at least a little then, so maybe all was not lost. He called his oldest brother, Quinn, who’d likely heard the news about Tristan getting suspended from the sport bike racing circuit. That wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to, but now he needed a ride. He punched in the home number and listened as it rang three times, wondering what to say.
“Hello?” Quinn’s deep, booming voice brought a rush of familiarity and homesickness to Tristan.
“Hey, bro,” Tristan began.
“Tristan! How the hell are you?”
“Stranded at the moment.”
“Stranded where? You need money?”
Tristan smiled. He made good money with his winnings, but his brother would’ve given him the shirt off his back. “I’m at the Comus strip mall.”
“What? Seriously? You’re in town?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit! I can’t wait to see you! I’ll come get you. Wait. Why are you stranded? What’s up with your bike?”
“Stolen.”
“What? Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you get a look at them?”
Tristan smiled at the memory of Victoria mostly nude. “Yeah, a pretty good look.”
“Okay, well, I’ll call the police, if you didn’t?”
“No, no, don’t do that. I know who it was.”
When Tristan didn’t offer a name, Quinn asked, “Well? Who?”
Tristan cleared his throat. “Victoria.”
“Aaaaaaahhhhh. Interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tristan could almost hear his brother grinning on the other end.
“We’ll talk when I get there.”
“Can’t wait.”
Quinn laughed and hung up.
Tristan’s worry about a lecture from Quinn dissipated. For now they’d just be brothers.
Their father had died when Tristan was eight, leaving Quinn, who was fifteen at the time, as the closest to a father figure he’d known. They’d become closer along with the four siblings in between—Kristina, Riley, Chloe, and Connor. The bond had strengthened after their mother died from cancer five years later. The family’s businesses had been left to all six kids equally but with Quinn in charge. He’d been groomed to oversee everything anyway. For a time he’d run all of their properties with all the staff they employed and a lot of help from Kris.
She’d run their barn, Sugarloaf Stables, for a year before their mother’s death, with help from the barn manager. Riley had been seventeen and already signed up with the Marines. The sixteen-year-old Chloe hadn’t decided to be a veterinarian yet. Connor and Tristan, being fourteen and thirteen, hadn’t been expected to take on anything, with both Quinn and Kris insisting they be the kids that they were. Connor eventually took over Sugarloaf Inn, a bed-and-breakfast that their mother used to run. Quinn ran Comus Winery, which lay in the shadow of the solitary Sugarloaf Mountain and which was the source of the family’s wealth. Though they jointly owned the big house on the slopes of the mountain, it really belonged to Quinn as head-of-household. Without him to anchor all of them, they would’ve been lost and even thrown into foster care, except for Kris, who’d been the only other sibling over eighteen at the time of their mother’s death, by one year.
As for Tristan, no one had expected anything of him. He hadn’t minded the low expectations, life as a mischievous underachiever suiting him just fine. In his teens, he’d gotten by on his charming smile, good looks, and a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes that made women weak in the knees. His reckless carefree spirit made them want to throw off their clothes before him like a matador waving a red flag, daring a bull to charge, and then he’d ravish them with wild abandon. And he would’ve been happy to oblige were his heart not taken by Victoria. That had only made the other girls crazier.
He’d finally found his calling with something throbbing between his legs—a crotch rocket. The need for speed and adrenaline had woken in him a competitive fire that had changed the unambitious boy into a young man with dreams. And those dreams had made him leave home—and the girl he’d loved. Being the useless member of his family had become a burden he couldn’t stand anymore, to the point where he’d given up even Victoria to make a name for himself. A name he’d just partly ruined with his suspension.
He sighed.
Maybe if he told more of that to Victoria, she’d forgive him. He hadn’t even given her the option to come along because he’d known she wouldn’t have. “I won’t watch you die in a fiery crash,” she’d once said when refusing to see him race. How would she have handled his life of racing? She wouldn’t have. He’d known it and ended their relationship with a heavy heart of resignation. He knew her father had died on a bike and he didn’t want her to relive that every time he took to the track. It wasn’t fair. He always thought it was a crock of shit when someone on a TV show claimed they were ending a relationship for the other person’s own good, but now he believed it. Or thought he had.
His thoughts were broken by Quinn arriving in the big red Dodge pickup he and Kris used for towing horses, or hauling heavy equipment at the winery. The truck skidded to a halt and he jumped out with surprising grace for a man his size. Quinn stood six feet and six inches of burly muscle and sinew that sometimes blotted out the sun. Or it seemed like that anyway. He was a gentle giant, though that never stopped him from cracking people’s heads together when someone got the bright idea to prove their worth by challenging him to a fight. They always lost. His brown eyes shone with warmth as he engulfed Tristan in a bear hug that made his brother almost disappear. The familiar scents of a barn washing over Tristan worsened his homesickness, even though people who didn’t spend time around horses probably didn’t care for the smell. Now Tristan was dying to see Kris, since she always smelled like a horse, too.
“You’ve been at the stables,” Tristan observed, noting Quinn’s brown hair was longer and shaggier than usual.
“Yeah, had to shave a few horses today.” The big guy looked at the “Pilates” sign above Victoria’s workplace and fixed his youngest brother with a grin. “So why’d she steal your bike?”
“Not wasting any time, I see.”
“Don’t stall,” replied Quinn. “I want the juicy details. By the look on your face, a few juices were indeed flowing. I’m not the only one not wasting time, am I?”
Tristan blushed. “You knew she was back. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Didn’t think it mattered. Clearly I was wrong. And I had no idea you were coming home. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I didn’t really want the big welcome, considering the reason.”
Quinn nodded slowly as they got into the truck. “It’s okay, man. Everyone loses their temper. I assume that’s what happened?”