Twisted By Desire (Lust, Desire and Love Trilogy #1) Page 2

  Once I entered the restroom, I stared in the large mirror and took inventory of myself, making sure nothing was untucked or out of place. I’d never been ignored like that before and felt slighted by it. The thought of not garnering at least a quick glance flummoxed me.

  “Did you see them? Both are really good-looking, don’t you think?” I pulled my hair up into a loose bun on top of my head. Before Georgia could answer, I continued, “But they didn’t even look in our direction.”

  “There’s always the walk back. Maybe they’re on a business meeting and are wrapped up in the conversation.”

  “Whatever! It’s after five on Friday, and happy hour.” Again, I fussed over my blouse making sure as much of my thirty-six barely-B cleavage was visible. One day, I’d get enough money for a boob job.

  “You know you’re driving Tristan crazy; he really likes you.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before; I can’t do an office fling, Georgia. What if we don’t work out? Then what? We have to work together, see each other every day, and be miserable? No, thank you. And seriously, I’m not even attracted to Tristan.” If only she knew about the secret that was between us. No one knew, and I hoped it stayed that way forever.

  ****

  I had broken the cardinal rule a few months after Sky and I separated. I had known Tristan had a thing for me; his eyes always seemed to follow me, staring, lusting in silence. One Friday night, things started out as innocent flirting back and forth. After everyone else from work left, the flirting had taken a more serious turn. It began as little touchy-feely strokes on the arm and pats on the hand. That led to his fingertips creeping up and down my back with feather light strokes. A few too many glasses of wine had me leaning into him, purring like a kitten in heat while he petted me.

  We were led down the path to the improbable. My mind kept screaming at me, ‘Don’t do it; don’t sleep with him!’ But I needed someone to relieve the ache between my legs, and I couldn’t stop myself. At the time, I didn’t want to stop myself.

  We were waiting for the bartender to deliver our final drink when Tristan leaned in with his hand placed strategically behind me, his thumb right at the crack of my ass, lightly moving across my clothes, whispering in my ear, “I would love to take you home with me.” I felt my sex contract and spasm with need, sending a shiver through me. I knew I shouldn’t, but I agreed to go to his house for one final drink.

  Once we arrived and Tristan opened the front door, I stepped into his cozy bungalow. He fetched us both a beer. When he handed mine to me, he clasped my hand and pulled me off the couch into his thick, muscular chest, holding me tight to him at the waist. His compliments rolled off his tongue as smoothly as water going over a fall. Without warning, he took the liberty to kiss me. I didn’t open myself for him right away, but within seconds, I relaxed into his embrace and let him devour my mouth. My response to his kiss was the green light he had been hoping for.

  He walked me backwards with his lips locked tight on my mouth, holding me close to make sure I didn’t trip. He slipped my top off over her head, exposing my hardened nipples. His hands cupped them as his mouth suckled and licked them both, rolling them between his thumb and index fingers like a true tit-master before lowering me to sit on his bed.

  Once seated, Tristan stood upright as I tugged his belt loose and unfastened his pants, revealing his large and eager erection. My hand couldn’t reach all the way around his girth. It was much larger than any other man I had felt. I was wet with anticipation and anxiety thinking of him taking ownership of my sex, ripping me apart.

  I opened my mouth as wide as possible to fit his swollen crown inside. He smelled so good - that musky man aroma that can only come from a day’s worth of work and no shower. That delicious smell of a man’s balls in heat, in need of a female’s touch to help them spill the seed being held hostage. I enjoyed the feel of his fullness in my mouth, his dew on my lips. I worked my tongue around the thick ridge, then up and down his length, caressing the vein on the underside between my lips, before taking his crest into my mouth again.

  My pleasure-filled moans were frequent as I leaned my head into his hand that was grasping my hair to pull me closer toward him, forcing me to take more of him into my mouth. I felt like I was near suffocation as he pressed deeper into my throat. Before I was able to push back some, he placed his hands under my chin, stroked up my face, then pulled away from me. “I’ve been waiting for this time as long as I’ve known you. I’ve dreamt about this, about you, about us. You being here right now is my dream come true, even if it’s only for this one night.”

  He knelt down on the floor in front of me after he pushed my slender frame onto the bed a little farther, ensuring I wouldn’t slip off. He gripped my legs at the inside of my thighs, spreading them wide to expose my saturated sex. He lowered his head slowly as he held my thighs tight, licking across my drenched, laced G-string before sliding it to the side to lick me with long laps through my lips. “Mmm, as good as I expected.” Tristan moaned. He flicked his tongue across my clit, then down between my folds, sucking and probing me into a quick, uncontrollable orgasm. My body trembled as the feeling I sought rippled through me.

  He paused momentarily to let me catch my breath. “Pull those panties off,” he commanded while he slid his condom on. I yanked them down my legs and tossed them onto the floor. He rubbed his huge cock across my clit in numerous quick, short swipes, with just enough pressure to send a surge of want through me before tipping me over the edge into another orgasm. He plummeted two fingers into me as my body quaked around his digits. He probed and massaged my core, then dragged them out from my depths in slow motion. He rubbed my bud with his thumb as he eased his thickened length into my hot, waiting pussy.

  “Ah, damn.” I moaned as I tried to relax to receive him. His width was massive.

  “I’ll take my time; just relax,” he murmured. Easy for him to say, I thought as each inch stretched me to the max.

  He was a man of his word and took it slow as he opened me farther than I had ever been before. I gasped and sighed as I took him inch by fat, magnificent inch until he had deposited all of his manhood in me. He held still in me, giving me a few seconds to acclimate to his size.

  “Damn, you feel good.” I breathed out. “I’ve never felt a dick like yours.”

  “I’m glad you are enjoying it so far. I love this pussy, so hot, so wet, and so perfect.” His thrashing increased in intensity and speed as I writhed underneath him. “You’re squeezing me so tight; it’s making me crazy -- you’re going to make me cum.”

  “Not yet. Please, Tristan, not yet. I love this feeling.”

  Tristan slowed down the strokes to make sure he remained in control. He slid his hands under my ass, cupping and clutching my cheeks while lifting me into him, opening me up more as he persisted with rhythmic, deep strokes.

  I orgasmed again, this time curling my hips up, rocking them to meet his flesh while snarling out several deep moans and growls like I was possessed, coating his cock with my juice. Tristan leaned his head back as he took in a deep breath. He was a machine. He knew how to please a woman.

  He withdrew from me and lowered his head to lick the wetness between my lips before he plunged back in between my gap, my legs spread farther and straight up in the air as he held my ankles tight. He frantically slammed in and out of me. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” he said breathlessly.

  “Oh, yeah …” I murmured. “Give it to me.”

  Tristan’s grinding and thrashing became so rapid and forceful, my head was sliding off the bed. The sound of skin slapping together left us both oblivious and numb to anything but each other.

  “Oh, fuck!” Tristan exclaimed as he released deep inside me. I could feel him throbbing as I imagined the spurting inside me.

  He collapsed on top of me, wrapping his arms tight around me. I was breathless under his weight.

  I knew it was a mistake the next morning. A huge mistake.
<
br />   ****

  At the time I was so glad I hadn’t stopped myself. Now, not so much. He had been my first after Sky and I separated. I was fortunate he’d kept his mouth shut.

  Giving myself a wink and smile, I prepared to return to the group so I could finish my glass of wine.

  As we walked back toward our table, I couldn’t help but shift my eyes down at their table again when I sauntered by, swaying my hips with more emphasis this time. Mr. Personality looked up; his eyes met mine, and his mouth curved into a crooked smile. Mr. Serious kept his eyes and conversation focused in the direction of his buddy -- off me. I didn’t even exist to him.

  When we made it back to our table, I reached up and ripped the ponytail holder, in disgust, from my hair, releasing my tresses to flow freely down my back once again. I glanced over and noticed Georgia looking at me with a smirk on her face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Nikki, relax. Maybe he doesn’t like women, maybe he’s engaged, or maybe he’s married and doesn’t wear a ring. Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re his type. Who knows what’s going on with him, but you look fine -- it’s not you.”

  I chose to go with he doesn’t like women. Damn shame, too. I’d had plenty of single and married men at least glance at me and acknowledge me. He didn’t budge. Fuck him.

  I retrieved my cellphone from my purse to check the time and to make sure I hadn’t missed a call. It was getting close to nine thirty. I wanted to sneak a peek at this guy one more time before I left because I knew I may not ever see him again. Maybe I wasn’t his type, but I could swoon, right? I couldn’t stay out more than another half hour. I had promised my mom that I’d come by no later than ten thirty.

  With all the fiddling with my phone, I came close to missing Robert and Carla saying good-bye. I called out to them both to let them know I’d see them on Monday. About fifteen minutes after they left, Georgia decided it was time to call it a night, and we all said goodbye to her.

  There were three of us remaining: Tristan, Candace, and me, which was perfect for the three available seats at the bar now that the nerd crew was gone. We moved our party, and ordered a final drink.

  A hand grazed my left shoulder, startling me. I jerked around so fast that I almost toppled the stool. There he was, his smiling face.

  “Hi.” He extended his hand out to shake mine. “What’s your name, beautiful?” At least one of them had noticed, but not the one I wanted.

  “I’m Nikki,” I said, looking past him. Just as I was about to look back, I saw him out the corner of my eye, rounding the divider. Holy fucking smoldering sexiness, he was hotter than an August day in Florida, and my panties had just combusted.

  “Nikki, beautiful name; I’m Connor,” We shook hands, and I gave him a quick smile. Connor was good-looking, and he had a beautiful smile. He wasn’t on his friend’s level, but good-looking.

  I looked over at his friend, who was about five feet from us. Before I could stop myself, I all but jumped off the bar stool and took a couple steps to meet him. I extended my hand to shake his and introduced myself, “Hi, I’m Nikki.”

  Our gazes crossed for the first time. His dark, piercing eyes sang the seductive tune, come-hither-and-let-me-fuck-you-senseless. The woodsy, citrus smell of his cologne immobilized me. Everything about him was hypnotic.

  “Jeff.” His outstretched hand met mine. Tingles cruised through me, and butterflies danced in my stomach. My heart pounded against my chest, feeling like it was going to burst through my rib cage.

  “It’s… it’s nice to meet …you.” Spoken like a true stammering jackass, yet he was calm and cool. I felt my face heat and flush. He was so tall, I’m six feet one in my heels, and he was easily four or five inches taller than me.

  “Nice to meet you.” Jeff shifted his eyes down at me with a smirk that screamed, ‘oh, God, not another one.’ Conceited bastard probably thinks I’m a stupid groupie. He turned away from me, while my roaming eyes glanced down again to make sure there wasn’t a ring on his finger. I wondered if he’d felt the same thing I had when he touched me.

  He pulled his hand back, then slid them both in the pockets of his slacks pulling the fabric taut across the front. Good mother of God, is that the outline of his peen? My breath hitched. I snapped my eyes back up to his face to avoid being caught checking out his junk.

  We exchanged the ‘do you come here often’ banter and other forced small talk before I peeked at my phone, seeing it was almost ten o’clock. Connor was doing most of the talking. I got the feeling he was never at a loss for words. It felt weird talking to them, watching Jeff’s eyes roam the restaurant. I couldn’t help but speculate that he was looking for someone and I was curious what was going on in that beautiful head of his.

  “I hate to meet and run, but I need to get home. Cinderella’s going to turn back into a ragamuffin,” I joked. Jesus fucking hell, I was standing there in my H&M special, and they were dressed to the hilt. I was already a ragamuffin to them.

  “I always thought midnight was the bewitching hour,” Tristan chimed in.

  “Not tonight.” I turned to Candace and Tristan to tell them good-bye. Tristan reached forward and wrapped his arms around me. Really? Are you trying to stake claim to me? I wanted to grab his fingers, bend them back one at a time, and pry his freaking hands off me; instead, I shrugged myself free and then told him and Candace bye.

  Turning back to Connor and Jeff, I flashed a quick smile. “Maybe I’ll see you guys around sometime.”

  As I reached for my purse and grabbed my cellphone off the bar, Connor reached across and slid a business card into my hand. “Stay in touch,” he said with a wink. “We’re going to have to get going, too. It’s late; we can walk you to your car if you want.”

  “I’m fine, but thanks for the offer.” I smiled at Connor. “I’m parked right out front.” I smiled again at both of them, gave a quick Miss America hand wave, and headed toward the front door.

  Once in my car, I looked at the business card. It was Jeff’s card, not Connor’s. Connor must be the wingman.

  He’d acted so aloof; maybe he wasn’t interested. Well, I am, and I have his business card.

  One nagging thought was for certain; I felt like an ass for throwing myself at him. I slipped the card in the outside zipper pocket of my purse.

  Chapter 2

  My mother had become an invaluable part of reviving my social life, which had hovered around the need for life support, but I was limited on Friday nights by her patience after watching two-year old Abby during the week. She loved her grandchild, but being older and watching a toddler was proving to be a challenge. In addition to chasing after a non-stop, into-everything, talk-your-head-off baby, my stepfather needed her assistance and attention, though he would say otherwise.

  My Friday night had to be cut short in order to pick up Abby.

  Later that night, I lay in bed, my mind racing, I was still awestruck by how tall and handsome Jeff was, confused by his standoffish response to me, and even more puzzled by Connor giving me his card. Why had it been Connor who had given it to me? Why hadn’t Jeff asked for my phone number? Why didn’t Jeff give me his card? Damn him for being so fucking good-looking.

  ****

  I would be lying if I said Jeff was the farthest person from my mind the next morning. He was in my waking thoughts as I lay on my back, eyes focused on the ceiling, seemingly under a spell named Jeff. I was trying to put together the puzzle pieces that had been tossed onto the table before me over the past twelve hours. What should I make of last night, and what should I do next? Everything happens for a reason; that’s what they say. So was the thing that happened for a reason meeting Jeff or being forced to leave early?

  Well I couldn’t call him over the weekend; all I had was a business card with a work number. Who does that anyway? Gives out a work number? Oh, right, Connor gave it to me. Jeff didn’t give me his number. He didn’t ask me for my number. He barely even said ten words to me. If I saw him
again and he didn’t ask for my phone number, I’d know for sure he wasn’t interested. No, I wouldn’t call. I refused to call.

  After dragging myself out of bed, I rifled through my dresser, looking for some sexy underwear. I yanked my pastel pink mini sundress off a hanger and trudged down the hallway to the shower. My thoughts kept going back to Jeff. Reality, Nikki; reel it back in, I kept telling myself over and over that he was an untouchable, that’s why he acted that way last night. He won’t give me the time of day because I’m not on his level.

  Sky, my ex-husband, needed me to bring Abby to his house that morning because his car was in the shop, again. He drove what I called patchwork orange. His rust-bucket jalopy car from hell was a hideous orange color and was in the shop more than it was out. I didn’t understand how it passed inspections.

  Once I had myself dressed and ready, I rushed Abby up from her deep sleep, got her dressed then she was hoisted up onto my hip for the trip downstairs to make her second favorite food, French Toast.

  While she sat quietly picking at her food, I began the searching and digging in my purse for my car keys. Then, as I was rummaging in the outside pocket, there it was, Jeff’s card, teasing me, goading me, beckoning me. The butterflies in my stomach resurfaced, while I stood staring at it like the card had magical powers. Finally, I stuffed it back into the zipper pocket, zipping it in, and trapping the devil that was tempting me.

  “How’re you doing over there, baby?” I asked Abby.

  “I done, Mommy.”

  “Okay, let’s go brush your teeth and wash your face. Then we can go find Daddy.”

  “Yay!” Abby’s excitement was a breath of fresh air. She loved her daddy. I was looking forward to seeing him too.

  He was my reality. No matter how fucked up it sounds, I was still holding on to him after two years apart. Saturday mornings were our time. I had been on plenty of dates in the past two years yet our sex life remained intact, more than intact; we were still like super magnets whenever we were close to each other. We saw each other almost every week. I still had a strong physical attraction to him and probably always would.