Bad Things

He bit down with just the perfect amount of pressure on the tendon between my neck and shoulder, and I came with a long moan of purest pleasure.

“You’re not a what, boo?” he asked, a rough whisper in my ear that made me tremble.

My mind was blank. I couldn’t even remember where I was, let alone what he meant by that question.

“You said you can’t come twice. You never do. And you started to say you weren’t…?”

My mind grasped the conversation, if only barely. His big fingers were still inside of me, and it was hard to focus on anything else.

“I’m not a multiple orgasm kind of girl,” I finished the sentence for him.

He chuckled into my neck, his fingers moving, pulling out, then pushing in again roughly. I didn’t like rough, but I’d never had a rough caress feel so good before, and my hips circled, moving with his hand as he started up a hard rhythm.

I made a loud sound of protest when he pulled his fingers out, but he just flipped me onto my back, quickly pushing them in again.

His eyes on my body were mesmerizing. The look on his face was stark, his gaze hungry.

“You know I just take that as a challenge, right?” he asked, moving down my body, his intent clear.

“Where did you learn to do that?” I asked him.

“Do what?” His face hovered over my groin.

“That thing with your tongue.”

“I’m not answering that,” he said firmly.

That was fine, because I quickly forgot the question.

“You know, I can do that with more than my tongue,” he said, and punctuated the words with his hand, the thrusts of his fingers turning into a rough vibration that blew my mind to pieces.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told me after I came down from my third glorious orgasm of the day.

“That was three,” I told him, stunned.

He moved up my body, smiling as though he was the one that’d just gotten off three times.

He kissed me, pushing his body onto mine, his bare chest pressing into mine, his stiff length nestling in just the perfect spot, rubbing it hard against me. If he hadn’t been wearing boxers, we’d have been as good as having sex.

I could taste myself on him, but I didn’t care, I couldn’t get enough of his mouth, or his weight on top of me. Usually I hated that feeling, of a man’s weight pinning me down, but I relished it when it was Tristan.

“I could do something for you,” I offered as he broke away from my mouth and started kissing my neck, his thick hardness thrusting against me in a frustrated rhythm.

“No. This is for you. I still owe you a back massage.”

I pulled his face back to mine, sucking at his mouth, my legs moving to wrap around his hips in a death grip. We both groaned as that pushed him partially into me, even through his shorts.

“You were so tight on my fingers. You felt so perfect.”

I pushed against him, watching his face. “I want you inside of me.”

He didn’t even consider it, just shaking his head. “That wasn’t the deal. The deal was, I get you off, not, I get you off, and then take advantage of you while you’re good and sated.”

“You’re not taking advantage. I want you. All of you. Every inch of your cock buried deep inside of me.”

He went glassy eyed, giving one last frustrated thrust against me before pulling away. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I don’t trust either of us right now. In the meantime, I owe you a back rub, so turn over on your stomach.”

I rolled over, closing my eyes.

He worked on my back for several minutes with his gloriously strong hands, kneading deep into my muscles, taking his time, relaxing every inch of me. I was nearly asleep before he spoke into my ear.

“I forgot to tell you,” he rasped. “All of my massages have a happy ending.”

He surprised a giggle out of me, he was so outrageous, but the giggles quickly turned into gasps as he pushed his fingers into me, starting up a fast rhythm that took me over the edge yet again.

The last thing I remembered before drifting off was murmuring a soft, “Thank you,” and feeling him gently kiss the back of my head.

My first thought as I woke up was that I’d never had such peaceful sleep in my life.

I could have gone right back to sleep, but I was quickly distracted by the fact that it was dark outside. As I realized this, I scrambled to my feet and threw on the first clothes I could find, nearly running into the living room.

Jerry and Tristan were sitting on the couch. Their voices were pitched low, and there was no sign of the boys, which meant I’d slept through bedtime.

“I’m so sorry, Jerry,” I began. “I didn’t mean to sleep the day away.”

He waved me off with a smile, standing. “No worries, Danika. Tristan and I had it covered. Everyone needs a good nap every now and again.”

“Did Bev already go to bed?” I asked, glancing toward the kitchen.

“Hours ago. She works early. I’m heading to bed, too. It’s past midnight. Goodnight, kids.”

I smiled at him. Usually when someone in their forties referred to younger adults as kids, it was condescending, but never with Jerry. I knew that he meant it as a term of endearment.

“Night, Jerry,” I told him.

“G’night, old man,” Tristan said, a twinkle in his eye.

“You think you’re insulting me,” Jerry shot back as he strolled out of the room, “but I feel twice as old as you think I look, so it’s all the same to me.”

I sat down beside Tristan, watching his hands.

He was shuffling a deck of cards, as he often did, the ritual seeming to soothe him. I was always impressed by how deft his big hands were, how lightning quick. My admiration had reached new heights earlier, when I saw the other ways those hands could work magic.

“I just found out that my apartment’s ready,” he said.

I stiffened, shocked by the news. I shouldn’t have been. He had stayed longer than any of us had been expecting.

“Where’s it at?” I finally asked.

“Not far from here. It’s in Henderson, off Warm Springs, maybe fifteen minutes away.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Do you have any roommates?”

“One. Dean.”

I tried not to make a rude face when I heard the name.

We shared a long, awkward silence. I didn’t think either of us knew what to say, or where to even begin. For better or worse, things had gotten complicated.

I watched his hands as he shuffled his deck of cards, again and again.

“Nothing’s changed, Danika. I’m still not ready to make you any promises.”

I knew it said a lot about me that all I heard in that sentence was that he might be ready, someday, and that was enough for me. I’d fallen so hard, and so fast.

“Are you okay?” His voice was whisper soft.

I nodded jerkily, thinking that one over. I thought I might be a touch numb, my mind only focusing on the fact that, now that we’d been intimate in certain ways, I just wanted to touch him. Not necessarily in a sexual way. It was more that it felt like I should have certain rights, and some of our reservations should have disappeared. I should be able to just walk up and hug him where he sat, since we’d done so much more than that just hours ago.

In fact, the longer we just sat there, trying to find the right words, the more I just wanted to just say fuck it and do as I pleased. Four mind blowing orgasms had messed up all of my priorities—those damned things had gone and made me lose my mind. Some part of my brain was still telling me, no, stop, this isn’t healthy.

Too bad for that part of my brain, I didn’t think I was capable of healthy just then; crazy was feeling too damn fine.

“It’s past midnight, which means it’s tomorrow,” I said quietly.

He sighed heavily, bending forward. He gripped the deck of cards at the ends, then filed them onto the coffee table with one neat cascade. He’d done it from a good foot away.

“How did you do that?” I asked, my eyes going to his hard muscled chest as he leaned back, folding his arms behind his head.

“Like I’ve been telling you, my hands are magic.”

We shared a brief, Troublesome smile. “I’m beginning to believe you.”

He sighed again, breaking eye contact. “You sure we want to rush into this conversation? I don’t see the harm in putting it off for a little longer.”

I saw the harm. He was leaving soon. I felt a sense of urgency just thinking about it. If I was going to lose him, I wanted him to remember me.

I put a hand on his thigh, and saw the air clear out of his lungs with one harsh breath. I loved that one touch from me could do that to him.

I moved to my knees on the couch, leaning toward him.

His eyes were wary on me as I moved to straddle him, pushing my chest into his. I brought my face close, settling my weight against him. I circled my hips in a teasing move that made him groan.

He kept his arms behind his head, his jaw clenched hard. “You should know that I’m too weak to resist you right now, so tread carefully, boo.”

“Who said I wanted you to resist?” I taunted, moving my lips to his throat. He smelled so good that I inhaled deeply before taking my mouth to the pulse in his neck.

“I want you so badly that I’d do just about anything to have you,” he said roughly. “The only thing I won’t do, though, is risk losing you. Can you promise me that if we do this, I won’t lose you?”

I didn’t hesitate, didn’t think over the question as I should have. I wanted him, and I wanted him now. “I promise.”

We kissed, a rough clash of our lips. He bit my lower lip, and I just about melted.

He thrust his hips forward hard enough to move us both to the edge of the couch, his cock digging hard into me through our clothes.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said raggedly.

I did, using the motion to grind my sex into his erection.

His hands gripped my hips, and he stood.

I gasped. “I love how big you are,” I told him.

He flashed a dimple, bouncing me against him. “Not yet. But you will.”

I punched his shoulder. It was a weak hit from that angle. “I wasn’t talking about that. I meant that I love how you can carry me around as though I don’t weight a thing.”

“Sure you did,” he teased, striding out of the living room.

He started kissing me again as we reached my room, closing the door behind us with his back, his hands moving to my butt, but he quickly made his way to the bed.

He dropped me onto the soft mattress, shrugging out of his shirt before I’d even stopped bouncing. I never stopped being in awe, and in lust with how amazing his body was. I loved the broad set of his shoulders, the chiseled cut of his abs. Even the definition in his collarbone was a turn on for me. And those arms…

My eyes followed his hands hungrily as they went to the waistband of his athletic shorts.

He paused there, arching a sassy brow at me. “If this is a striptease, you’re going to have to reciprocate.”

“Deal,” I agreed, before he’d even finished talking.