Bad Things

“Nothing to say to that, boo? No witty comebacks?”



“Good luck finding that chance,” was the best I could manage with my brain a messy puddle on the floor. “I’ve got the kids all day.”



“You want to bet me that I can’t?”



“Not really. You become completely unreasonable when you get a challenge in your head.”



“I’ll take that as a yes. What do I get if I win the bet?”



I couldn’t think of anything, so I just stared at him until he came up with something of his own.



“Restraints,” he said, very very quietly. “That’s what I get if I win. You come to my room, my bed tonight, and I get to use restraints on you.”



I should have been more alarmed at the prospect, considering my history, but I searched myself for the fear, and only came up with anticipation.



“And if I win, Tristan in a bikini, right?” I shot back, just as quietly.



“You’ve got a deal. I can’t fucking wait. Keep an eye on the stove for me. I need to go talk to Jerry.”



I glared, my mouth dropping open. “You dirty cheater,” I told him, outraged. “If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, that is cheating…”



He shrugged, heading down the hallway that led to Jerry’s room. “We didn’t set up rules. Don’t be a sore loser about this, boo.”



He strode back into the kitchen less than two minutes later, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Change of plans. Bev and Jerry are taking the boys to Shark Reef after breakfast. Family day.”



He flipped a few things on the stovetop before moving to me, pushing his hips between my knees to whisper in my ear. “I can’t decide whether I’ll bend you over the couch, and fuck you hard from behind, or take you right here, on this counter.”



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE



Bev and Jerry had the boys out of the house within two hours.



I eyed Tristan up as I heard the door closing behind them. “What did you say to Jerry to get him moving so fast? I haven’t seen him up that early in years.”



“I promised to let him organize something for the band in a few weeks. Dean doesn’t want a manager. He thinks he can do it himself. He can’t. He’s too shiftless to get things done for us, but I’ve been letting him find that out on his own. Jerry will be great at it, so I’m giving him a shot. Dean won’t be happy, but it had to happen sometime.”



“Dean seems like a douche bag.”



He just smiled. “Still mad at him for calling me the other night?”



That was only part of it. He was just one of those people that you only expected bad things from. I didn’t say that to him, though. Dean was his friend, and I really didn’t know enough about the guy to dislike him as strongly as I did.



He didn’t seem to expect an answer, as he shooed all of the dogs out the back door, closing and locking it with finality, before turning to me.



He approached me, his intentions crystal clear.



He backed me up against the arm of the couch, a wicked smile on his face all the while.



“Turn around,” he ordered softly, his face bent down to mine.



I turned, and he used a firm hand at my shoulder, to push me, face first, over the high arm of the couch. I was nearly upside down in that position, and as he pulled my shorts and panties off without a word, I began to worry. I was wet, but his size, and this position, seemed like a bit much for me.



“Tristan,” I began, as he peeled my top off.



“Don’t, Danika,” he warned, unclipping my bra, and slipping it free. “Don’t start over-thinking again. Just close your eyes and enjoy the ride.”



I tried to listen, I really did, but I was still biting my lip, wondering how this was going to work.



Of course, that changed as he took his mouth to me from behind.



There was no warning at all, just his hot tongue pushing at my clit, his access perfect with the angle.



He gripped the insides of my thighs, pushing me up and thrusting his tongue deep inside.



I writhed, my nails raking at anything in reach, finally snagging at a throw pillow.



He pulled back, but a quick rustle of clothes later, and the very distinct sound of a foil packet being opened, and he was back, but not with his mouth.



He worked his thick length into me slowly, pushing deep, squeezing in so tight at that angle that it felt like he was taking me over. The pressure was so intense, just with the filling of me, that I had to bite the little throw pillow to stifle a scream.



He dragged himself out in an agonizingly slow pull that rubbed against every sensitive nerve that I possessed.



I whimpered and clawed.



He kept up a steady, filthy dialogue the entire time. It was official; he was a talker. He wasn’t loud, his voice low and gravelly, and when his breath would catch mid-sentence, or go unsteady with his lust, I thought it was hottest thing in the world.



“I can feel your inner muscles working on me, sweetheart. You squeeze me with every move. That feels so perfect. I knew it would be this good with us. So fucking good.”



His voice grew rougher and rougher as he increased the speed of his strokes, and at that extreme angle, every stroke was a shock to my system. A good shock. An incredible shock.



His hands were gripping my hips firmly as he worked at me from behind, and when one hand snaked down to rub my clit, I couldn’t hold back my cries, or the orgasm that was building up like a storm inside of me.



“Say my name, Danika. Say my name when you lose your mind.”



I did. I practically shouted it as I came hard, the orgasm hitting me like a punch to the gut. I felt myself squeezing him as tremors shook me, and I knew the second he followed as he shouted my name.



His cock shoved deep inside of me and held, jerking with his release. I could feel every last twitch with the angle, and I adored it more than I’d ever thought I could adore something like this. Apparently I could handle rough sex, if the circumstances were right.



He bent close to my back, and I could feel how his breath shuddered out of his chest as he kissed the back of my head. I shivered from head to toe in pleasure.



I had the strongest, stupidest urge to tell him how I felt, but I held it in. Just barely. My brain felt like an emotional puddle of mush, and I had to say something about that. It wasn’t in my nature to keep quiet.



After he’d pulled out of me, and straightened, one of his hands absently rubbing at my lower back, I pushed myself to my feet, turning into his body.



I threw my arms around his neck, shoving our bare, sweat slick chests together.



I placed an exuberant kiss on his chin, the only thing I could reach. “Thank you for making sex so good for me, Tristan. I didn’t even know it could be like this,” I told him, meaning it.



He bent, finding my mouth with his in a quick, wet kiss, though he didn’t say a word, and his expression was blank to the point of inscrutable.



He grabbed my hand, pulling me with him to my bathroom, starting the shower and ushering me in, still without a word. We washed each other, still without a word, just soft, lingering touches, and a few brief kisses.



“Any other plans today?” I asked him as I dried off.



He shot me a look that could only be described as indecent. “More of the same. We still have hours to ourselves.”



After the way we’d spent our day, I didn’t imagine he’d even want to collect on his end of the bet that night, but I imagined wrong.



We went out, did our usual party routine, but we wrapped it up early, and instead of heading home, we headed to his new place. I felt almost breathless with anticipation. I didn’t even know if what he’d suggested was something I wanted to do, but I knew that I trusted him, and I knew that he made a habit of making me feel good.



He tugged me through his apartment, not even turning on any lights as we made our way to his room. Even that I didn’t get to check out, as he led me directly to the bed, and the first thing he did was cover my eyes with a small sleep mask. I could still make out light on the sides, but not enough to know what was going on.



He tugged my clothes off, doing it quick like he was in a hurry. I couldn’t imagine why. I didn’t think he could be that hot for me again after how many times he’d taken me already that day.



“Tristan—” I began, but he shushed me, and somehow, that time, it worked. Probably because he’d begun to pull my arms above my head, and that had me distracted. Distracted and squirming. And wet.



He used something soft on my wrists, first one and then the other, tying them above me and apart. I couldn’t tell what he used to bind me, but I tugged against it once he’d tied me to the headboard, and it seemed unbreakable.



He pushed his weight down on top of me without warning, and I gasped at the contact. His low, rough, raspy voice in my ear had me trembling. “We’re going to do this nice and slow. All I want from you is your surrender. Beyond that, you don’t have to think about a thing. Understand?”



I did understand. I understood perfectly, and I thought he was the most wonderful man in the world right then for taking the time, for caring enough, to understand, too. The intoxicating bliss I’d found in his arms had come from trust, and this was taking that feeling of losing myself in the moment, of relinquishing control, to a whole new level.



He moved off me. I heard the faint sound of him slipping out of his clothes, then the louder sound of him ripping open the packet on a condom. He was bare and hard as he slid over me. I shivered at the feeling of skin on skin.



He took my earlobe very softly in his teeth as he parted my legs and slid between. His thickness pressed against me, teasing at my entrance, and I moaned, somehow already ready for him.



“I can’t give you all the time I need tonight to show you how good this can be for us, because I know you have to watch the kids in the morning, so just consider this a taste.”



What the hell did that mean? I didn’t know, and was afraid to ask. It seemed too much like asking about the future, and I emphatically didn’t want to do that.



I didn’t worry about it long, that was for sure. In fact, I didn’t worry about a thing as he took his mouth to my neck, and his hands to my body.



He took me over that way, owned every cell in my body. I surrendered, and he took me with hard, smooth strokes, and rough, sweet words. It was an experience I’d never forget as he taught me that I could put myself completely at someone’s mercy, and come out of it with no wounds at all. Instead, I felt more whole with the experience, as though the parts of myself that had been broken and lost weren’t so lost anymore. Under his touch, in his care, I felt more complete, like a newer, brighter version of myself.



We became passionate lovers and stayed the best of friends, but we didn’t talk about it. In fact, we treated the topic like the land mine it was. Almost week passed like that.



We just lived in the moment.



In a way, it was completely wonderful for me. I’d never been able to live in the moment, and here I was, living every second like I never wanted it to end. I didn’t think about the future. I didn’t want the future. All I wanted was now.



I wasn’t even inside of my body most days. I was still living in our last embrace. I would go through my chores, do my usual routine, but my mind was back in my bed, giving myself to Tristan. He owned me there. I was his, and I savored that ownership. There was no question that I wanted it to last forever.