Текст книги "Rock Bottom"

Автор книги: R. K. Lilley

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

CHAPTER FIVE

DANIKA

It had already been a shit of a day by the time I made it to Tristan’s apartment.  Shitty was really an understatement, though.  It had been hell.  Pure hell.  Right in the fire of it.

Sadly, the awful confrontation with the man in my mother’s trailer was only a piece of that hell.

I had too much on my plate, and my boyfriend was out of town for weeks at a time, which just sucked.  Knowing that I’d get to see Tristan at some point on a day like this was all that had helped me keep it together.

I had a key to his apartment, but I knocked first, out of courtesy.  I wasn’t that courteous, though, because I unlocked it and walked in before anyone had time to answer.

I saw right away that they wouldn’t have answered, anyway.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon, but you wouldn’t know it by the state of the apartment.  Women were everywhere, slutty, groupie looking women, and I instantly felt my temper starting to boil.

Dean was lying, shirtless, on the couch.  His jeans were undone, and some tramp had her hand down his pants, even as another bimbo sat hip to hip with him, sharing a joint.

Dean saw me and smiled, and I knew that this wasn’t going to be a good visit.  Just as I could read a different meaning into every one of Tristan’s smiles, Dean’s only ever meant one thing.  Trouble.  Not fun trouble.  Just bad trouble.  Ruin your day trouble.

“Hey!  You come to join the party?  I think your boyfriend is busy, but you know you’re always first in line to suck my cock.”

I walked through the living room, heading to the back of the apartment, where the bedrooms were.  If I’d been thinking clearly, I’d have gone through the kitchen, but a few words out of his mouth and my brain was already too scrambled with my temper to have a mature interaction with him, if there was such a thing.

“You might not want to go back there.  I believe he said he wanted privacy…”

I whipped my head around to give him one smoldering glare.

He just chuckled.  “You know I think you’re fucking hot when you’re mad.  I mean, I’d fuck you any time, but when you’re mad, mmmm, now that would be a treat.”

I stifled my first urge, which was to tell him to go fuck himself, because I knew he’d just turn it into a suggestion.  Instead, I settled for specific and childish.  “I hope you choke on one of your own used condoms and die, you asshole,” I told him, striding out of the room.

I heard him laughing behind me, and my fists clenched hard.

“Babe, I don’t use condoms,” he called after me.

“Disgusting pig,” I muttered as I reached the closed door to Tristan’s room.

I didn’t knock, just opening the door quietly.  I figured girlfriend rights superseded some common courtesies.

I froze in the doorway as I took in the room.

Tristan was lying on his back on the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, an arm thrown over his eyes, as though he were sleeping.  By the agitated movements of his chest, I knew that wasn’t the case.

A naked woman, some beyond trashy, slutbag blonde from hell, was straddling him.  Her hands were running over his chest, tracing his tattoos.

I was absolutely frozen, in fury, in hurt, in outright disbelief, which was all that kept me from reacting too quickly, which turned out to be a good thing.

“If you don’t get off right this second,” Tristan growled from underneath the naked tramp, his voice sleepy, and irritated, and just plain mean.  “I’m going to throw you off.  I told you, I have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not here now,” the slut from hell purred, still running her hands over his chest.  My chest.  “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

That was my cue to shout, yes, you bitch, I am here, but some devil kept me silent.  I sincerely wanted to see how this played out.  I needed to see it.

“Well, then, since you apparently don’t have an ounce of pride or self-respect, let me spell it out for you.  I don’t want you.  I want you to leave my room and my apartment and never come back.  I turned you down three times, and you still waited until I was passed out and jumped me.  How many times do I have to say it?  I wouldn’t touch you if you were my only option, which you aren’t.  Is that clear enough for you, or do you want me to try a different language now?”

He sounded mean, mean in a way I rarely heard from him.  He was usually so amiable, bossy, yes, possessive, always, but usually just nice, and it was startling to hear his voice go pure mean.

Bimbo face seemed to get the hint, climbing off him with a pout on her face.  “You’re no fun,” she muttered, “and I can tell that you wanted me.  I got you hard.”

“Don’t take it personal.  The fucking wind blowing gets me hard.  Now get out.”

She barely spared me a glance, but I had to stifle the urge to follow her and scratch her eyes out.

I stayed in the doorway, leaning against the frame of it while he sat up, rubbing his eyes.  It took him a few quiet moments to notice me there.

When he did, he went white, as though he’d just seen a ghost.

He slid out of bed, moving to me, looking guilty as hell.  If I hadn’t just heard the whole thing with my own ears, that look would have been enough to convict him.  It was a good thing I’d kept my mouth shut and let it play out.  Still, I was spitting mad.  I was sick to death of shit like this always testing us.  It just seemed to me, that if you valued a thing, you found ways to keep it from being compromised.  Groupies in the apartment had been a bone of contention for a while now.

He was in just a pair of black boxers and so it was impossible to miss the fact that he had a raging hard-on.  That was the last straw for me.  I just couldn’t deal with this today, especially when I’d so been looking forward to a happy reunion, and not some disgusting groupie rubbing her naked body on him.

“I need to leave,” I told him, already backing out of the room.  “I just can’t deal with this shit right now.  I have enough on my plate already.”

He followed me, uncaring of the fact that he was practically naked, and sporting an obvious erection and the house was full of groupies.

“Danika, you have to believe me.  Whatever you think that was—”

“I know what it was.  I heard what it fucking was, and I don’t care.  I’m sick of this.  If you cared about us, you wouldn’t be putting yourself in positions where naked whores are rubbing on you in your sleep.  Dean can have his groupies live here for all I care, but I’m out.”

I turned on my heel and strode to the front door.  I had my hand on the knob before he stopped me, and he stopped me in the most Tristan way possible.

He pressed against me from behind, mostly naked, hard as a poker, and completely unmindful of the room full of people that must be watching us.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered in my ear, his hands moving over my hands, pinning them to the door above me.  “You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you.  I thought about you day and night.  When I would text and you wouldn’t reply right away, I came so close to saying fuck it all and driving home to find you.”

“I’ve been busy.  I have classes, and I actually attend them pretty regularly.  I always answered back as soon as I could.”

“I know, but it’s not enough.  We should never be apart, not for any reason.  I can’t stand it.  Come back to bed with me, sweetheart.  I need you.  Now.”

The press of his body, that rasp in my ear, had me wet and ready and I wanted nothing more than to give in, but I didn’t intend to just let this go.  It had been too big of a problem for too long, and I was sick of it.  I had enough shitty things going on in my life right now.  Groupies humping my boyfriend in his sleep was not going to be one of them.

“I need to leave.  I’ll call you later, but I really just can’t deal with this right now.  I’m too angry.  I might say some things to you that I’ll regret later if I don’t have time to cool off first.”

He made a little sound of protest in the back of his throat, and of course, that got to me.  It had always been so hard for me to tell him no, and that had only gotten worse, the deeper I’d fallen for him.

“Please,” he said, very, very quietly, a word he almost never used.  “I need you.  Now.  You can chew me a new one after.  I can take it, sweetheart.”

I wrenched my hands free, turning to glare at him.  “It’s not about chewing you a new one, you ass.  It’s about things that go on in this apartment when I’m away that I won’t stand for.  It’s not about talk, it’s about change—”

“Okay.  Fine,” he interrupted, looking earnest.  “You tell me what you need and I’ll see it done.  Change away.”

I set my jaw into a stubborn line, knowing that I was going to go down in the band’s history for being a bitch for this.  “No more groupies in the apartment.  And wherever you’re staying in L.A., for the recording, no groupies there, either.  Girlfriends, dates, fine, but these sluts I see today, have got to go.”

He gave a brief nod, turning his head to address the room.  “New house rules.  Any chick that isn’t a girlfriend needs to leave.  And since I know Dean doesn’t have a girlfriend, that’s all of you.”

Of course Dean, who was still on the couch, had something to say about that.  “Fuck you, man.  This is my house, too.  If you get to have your pus—”

“If you finish that fucking sentence, you know what’s going to happen.  Now, clear the room.  The lease is under my name.  If you have a problem with the new house rule, you can get the fuck out, too.”

There was a lot of muttering and movement, but everyone seemed to be obeying.

Tristan pulled me out of the way as the slutty parade started to file out.  He watched for a moment, seeming to think it was settled, and turned back to me, moving against me until my shoulders hit the wall.

“Anything else?” he asked, but he didn’t even give me a chance to answer before he was slanting his lips over mine, hungry and hot, and just what I’d been waiting for.  It had been weeks since I’d seen him, and I was kissing him back instantly, moaning as his tongue invaded.  He thrust it in and out, fucking my mouth.

He pinned my hands to the wall, sliding a thigh between mine, pushing it high, until I was riding it, my hips moving in circles to rub against him restlessly.  It wasn’t enough, and I hooked my leg behind his hip, every part of me working to bring his hardness into my core.

He groaned, working his hips between my thighs until we were fitted.  Our clothes were in the way, but the contact was just in the perfect spot, and I writhed against him, rubbing my clit against his cock, working to a fever pitch in seconds.

“Get a room,” Dean said loudly.

Tristan ripped his mouth away, turning his head to bark, “Privacy!  Now!”

Dean muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out, but sure enough, he obeyed.

I’d witnessed this exchange countless times.

The instant we were completely alone, Tristan began stripping me.  He started with my tank top, peeling it off, opening the front clasp of my bra with one swift movement, and slipping it off my arms.

He went down to his knees to work on my jeans.  They were tight, so he had to peel them off slowly, taking my panties with them.

Being stripped was distracting, but not as distracting as his kiss had been, and as I became slightly less distracted, I found my mind moving to the thing that was bugging me, stupid as it was.

“You wanted her.  You were hard for her.”

He paused briefly, then resumed peeling.  “Sweetheart, I was sleeping.  That was morning wood, and for your information, I was dreaming of you when she interrupted me.  I was expecting you, and when I felt someone get on top of me, that was the first thought that occurred.  It didn’t last but a second, though, before I realized that it was some strange woman.”

That appeased me, but mostly because skanky groupies were now banned from the house, so it wouldn’t be happening again.

The second he got my jeans free of my feet, he pulled my legs over his shoulders and buried his face between my thighs, effectively stopping any more thinking on my part.  His tongue worked on me expertly, his big fingers delving inside of me, working into a rhythm that had me mindless and writhing against the wall, his shoulders pushing between my legs all that kept me upright.

He’d been growing his hair out, per my request, and I buried my hands in it, gripping for dear life.

“I love you,” I cried out as I came.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he said, as he freed himself from my legs, rising.  He stripped off his boxers in one smooth motion, moving flush against me, and fitting himself between my legs.  “I can’t take these separations.  I’m leaning towards saying fuck this record deal.  You’re my whole life.  What’s the point of it all, if I can’t be with you all the fucking time?”

I couldn’t respond, as he was wrapping my legs around his hips.  He lined himself up at my entrance, pushing in that first perfect inch.

“Wait, condom,” I said, not thinking at all.  It was just sort of an instinct for me.

He froze.  “Are you off the pill?”

I turned my face away, flushing.  “No,” I said, very quietly, wondering what can of worms I’d just opened.

He caught what my instinctive response meant instantly.  He turned my face so I was looking at him, and the raw pain in his eyes just about undid me.  “You don’t trust me anymore?  You think I’m screwing around on you?”  His voice was devastated.

I shook my head, well shook it as much as I could, with my jaw held in his viselike grip.  “I don’t think that.  We wouldn’t be doing this at all if I thought that.  I didn’t mean for that to come out.  It was just my instinctive reaction.  I guess I’m feeling insecure.”

He pulled my hand over his heart.  “That hurts me.  This is all yours right here.  All of me.  No one else gets a thing from me, you understand?  I wouldn’t do that to you.  I wouldn’t make all these promises if I didn’t intend to keep them.”

I nodded, blinking back tears.

He moved back into me, pinning me to the wall.  His forehead touched mine as he gripped my hips, shifting until he was poised back at the core of me.  “I’m fucking done with this record deal if it means I’m losing your trust.  This is forever for me, sweetheart.  I want it all with you.  You’re the thing that gets me up in the morning and lets me rest easy at night.  I wouldn’t have survived some of the shit these last few months if it weren’t for you.  You’re my rock, Danika, and I need you to trust me.”

I nodded again, then gasped as he thrust hard into me.

It had been weeks for us, and so it was a fast coupling.  Fast, but satisfying.

As always, he waited until I came before he let himself go, holding me tight on his cock as he emptied himself deep inside of me with a gratifying shout.

He caught his breath, growled for me to hold on tight and without pulling out, carried me to the couch, lying back so I was riding him.

His hands went to my hips, gripping tight, and his eyes flew to mine.  There was a world of worshipful desire in his eyes that I craved like air.

“Ride me,” he ordered, or begged.  It could have been either, his tone was so rough, his eyes so intent.

He was hard and ready to go again, which I’d become accustomed to.  It took a lot to really satisfy him, after days apart.

I started to move, circling my hips, seating myself hard, then pulling up again.  I rode him how he loved, my movements sure, my hands cupping my breasts.  I knew how it titillated him to watch me touch myself, and I was rewarded with a harsh groan and a hard surge of his hips under me.

I pinched my nipples, my head falling back, hips still grinding on him with more frantic, jerky motions as I grew close.

My own release made me pause as I shivered and gripped around him like a vise, squeezing him tight as each wave of pleasure took me.  He wasn’t far behind, surging high inside of me as he went over.

We didn’t move for a long time after.  My hands sifted through his hair as we kissed leisurely, lazily.  I thought I could have slept for days after that delicious interlude.

He pushed me back slightly to smile up into my face.  “I missed you.”

“Always.  Every second of every day.”

CHAPTER SIX

DANIKA

I was getting dressed the next morning, in the process of buttoning my jeans, when I felt him running a light finger along first one of my shoulders, and then the other.

I glanced down at myself.  A line of small bruises patterned my shoulders, which brought my eyes down to my chest.  One abused breast had received a similar treatment.

The man at my mother’s house had left his mark on me.  Tristan’s talent for distraction had helped me forget the entire thing, for a time, but the bruises were an unwelcome and brutal reminder.

I could feel the tension in his voice when he asked, “Where did these come from?”

I’d always been a terrible liar, but I still gave it an honest try.

“Hmmm?” I attempted, going for casual.  I made a point of glancing behind me, where his hands were tracing, my brow furrowing as though I had no notion where they’d come from.  “No idea.  Could have been anything.”

“Those bruises look like handprints.”  His tone was deadly.

I began to backtrack and tiptoe.  It was a fact that Tristan had a temper that was not to be messed with, and if he had a clue what had actually made these bruises, he’d go ballistic in a heartbeat.

“I bruise easy.  I’ve never even noticed them before, so it must have just happened.”

He took a quick step back.  A man his size didn’t move that fast without an impact.  I turned to study his face.  The arrested look of horror on his face didn’t help.  I saw right away that I’d played it all wrong.

“I did that?  That was me?”

I began shaking my head no before he’d gotten a word out.  “No, no, no.  It definitely wasn’t you.”

“How can you say that?  You don’t know where those marks came from, you said.  I must have grabbed you there yesterday.  I did that to you.”

“It wasn’t you, okay?  I swear.  Can we just drop it?”

He seemed to catch something in my words, or my tone, that had his expression changing from horrified into perceptive, an even more troublesome option.  “What happened, sweetheart?  Tell me how you got those bruises.”  His tone was all cajoling charm.

I didn’t let it sway me.

He moved until we were face to face, brushing light hands over my shoulders and up into my hair, fisting until he’d tilted my face up to his, his body moving close enough to mine to stop my brain from functioning properly.  “Tell me.”

“They don’t even hurt.  You’re overreacting.”

He blinked, looking taken aback.  “Overreacting?  Okay.  So tell me what I’m overreacting to.”

I swallowed, feeling very nervous about his response, my mind still trying to find an excuse for the bruises.  I honestly thought he might kill the guy if I gave him the real story.

“It was a misunderstanding,” I explained, licking lips gone dry.

His face became very blank.  “A misunderstanding did that?  Where can I find this ‘misunderstanding’?”

I rolled my eyes, though I’d known all along he’d go straight caveman on this.

I rubbed his chest, a soothing gesture, still trying to avoid what I knew was coming.  “I’m hungry.  Let’s go eat, ‘kay?”

He stayed where he was as I pulled myself slowly out of his hands.  I bent to grab my bra, turning my back to him again as I shrugged into it.

I wasn’t quick enough, and he stayed my hand with his, stepping around me to look at my chest.  A tick started pumping high in his jaw as he took in the bruises there.

This was bad.

He swallowed, let go of my hand, gripping his fingers hard into his hair as he took a few steps back from me.  “What is that?”  Each word was pronounced slowly through his teeth.  He was about to lose it.

I fastened the bra, bent down, grabbed my shirt, and shrugged into it fast.  The longer he looked at the marks, the worse he seemed to get, so I wisely determined to cover them sooner rather than later.

“Tell me.”

I ignored that too, going to dig through my bag for something that would completely cover my shoulders.  “It’s not what you’re thinking, and you need to calm down.”

“Explain it to me then.  Explain to me why my girlfriend looks like she’s been manhandled.  Give me a good reason for those marks, and then I’ll calm the fuck down.”  Rage vibrated through his voice with every word.

“I don’t like your tone, and I refuse to talk about this right now.”  As I spoke, I shrugged into a little blue cardigan that covered my shoulders and chest.

“Do I need to call Jerry about this?”

My nose wrinkled at him as I tried to figure that one out.  “Surely you don’t think that Jerry bruised me up?”

“No, but I think he will help me get to the bottom of this.”

He wasn’t wrong.  Jerry would piece things together in a hurry.  He knew where I’d gone yesterday.

“Please, just drop it.  I’m hungry, and this nonsense is going to make us late to meet with Frankie.”

I didn’t wait for an answer, walking out of his room.  I could feel him moving behind me as I made my way through the apartment, which I supposed was a good sign.  Maybe he was actually going to drop it.

He was silent on the drive to the Cavendish Hotel & Casino where Frankie had her tattoo parlor.  We were meeting her at a diner that had the best steak and eggs in town.  It was turning into a weekly ritual, though Tristan was a new addition to the equation, since he’d been gone so often lately.

After twenty minutes of silence, I was ready to crack.  It was unnerving to watch him drive, his hands white on the steering wheel, without a word passing between us.

I put my hand on his thigh, rubbing in little soothing circles.  “Frankie’s been working on my tattoo,” I told him finally.  I’d been meaning to get it done when he was out of town, and surprise him when he got back, but it was the only way I could think of to distract him from his black mood.

It worked.  He sent me a probing sideways glance, his interest thoroughly caught.  “Your tattoo?  So you are for sure getting one?”

I nodded, rubbing my hand higher, feeling a rush of relief that he was going to let the issue of the bruises go.  “Yes.  For sure.”

“When?  You’re not going to do it while I’m out of town, are you?”

That had been exactly what I was planning to do.  “Um, yeah.  Why?”

“I want to be there.”  He was vehement.

“You that excited to watch Frankie torture me on her table?”

His hand covered mine on his leg, squeezing gently.  “Not excited, no.  I just want to be there.  Will you promise me that you won’t do it while I’m out of town?  Please.”

The please got to me.  He didn’t say it often, but when he did, it was always sincere and earnest.  This was important to him, for whatever reason.  “She’s very booked up, so I’ll ask her when she can squeeze me in at breakfast.  I kind of promised her that she could let her crew film it for the show.”

His mouth tightened, and I knew he wasn’t happy about that.  “Where are you getting it?”

“On my back.”

“Where on your back?”

“Mid back, near my spine.”

“So you’re going topless for Frankie’s camera crew?  On fucking TV?”

I sighed.  My caveman was back.  “No one will see anything but my back.  My front will be down on the table, and I’ll be careful to keep everything covered up.  Quit looking for things to get upset about.”

“Looking for things?  Looking for things?” he asked the question twice, as though he were thinking aloud.  “My girlfriend, who I’m fucking in love with, comes to me covered in bruises that she won’t explain, and I’m looking for things to get upset about?  And then I find out she’s putting her fucking perfect bare body on TV, for any fucking weirdo to jack off to, and I’m looking for things?”

I shut my eyes, wishing I could take back the words that had obviously made things worse.

I caved.  “I’ll make sure I get my ink done when you’re there, okay?  You can stay close and guard my modesty.  That make you feel better?”

“It helps, but you’re off your rocker if you think I’m just going to forget about those bruises.”

I kept from rolling my eyes, but only barely.  There were downsides to having a possessive boyfriend, no matter that I was crazy in love with him.

I was relieved when Frankie met us at the valet station, hugging us both exuberantly, and talking a mile a minute from the second she saw us, effectively distracting Tristan from his dark mood.

“I had dinner with James last night,” she began.

I smirked, always amused when she referred to the famous James Cavendish by his first name.  It just sounded wrong.  The man was too intimidating for first name basis, but I knew they were close friends.  “He’s opening up an internship at his gallery, not this semester, but the next, and he wants to interview you for it!  You want it, right?  I told him you’d want to do it, so you better want it.”

My heart did a little flip in my chest.  It was a huge opportunity for me.  It was notoriously hard to get an internship in one of his galleries, and nearly impossible to be hired on.  “That’s amazing!  Of course I want it!  I’ll scale back on classes next semester if I have to.”

“Good, good.  I told him you’d be psyched, and I gave him your number.”

I hugged her, squeezing hard.  “Thank you!  You’re the best!”

“Did you tell him that if he hits on her I’ll fucking kill him?” Tristan spoke quiet and low.

We sent him matching glares.

“Give me some credit, man.”  Frankie’s tone was exasperated.  “James doesn’t do vanilla anymore, not for a long time now, and I told him very clearly that Danika isn’t his type.  Trust me, he won’t go there.”

“Does he know she’s taken?  Did you tell him that she’s with me?”

“Not in so many words, but I’m sure he can connect the dots.  It’s not like he’s interested in her personal life.  This is about the gallery.  He’s decided he’d like her working for him, period.”

“Bullshit.”

My hands clenched into fists.  The thought of him ruining this for me had me livid.  I pointed at him.  “Knock it off.  Do you see me holding you back from being successful?  I didn’t think so.  Show me the same respect, you ass.”

Something, either my words or my tone, had him backing off instantly.

“Fine, fine.  Just promise to tell me if he steps out of line.”

I began to walk into the building, done with the conversation.  The way things were going, we’d be skipping straight to lunch as Tristan found one thing after another to be jealous about.

We were seated with menus before he spoke again.

“Just promise me you’ll let me know if he’s out of line, and I’ll drop it.”

“The man is a fucking billionaire sexgod.  I’m pretty sure I won’t have to beat him off with a stick, but yeah, I promise.”

Frankie snorted.  “Right?  You have nothing to worry about, Tristan.  I’ve never met a person in my life that has more self-control than James, and I already as good as warned him off.”

That seemed to settle it, and Tristan dropped the issue—thank God.

“I think I’ve got your tattoo design ready,” Frankie said excitedly, rubbing her hands together like a little girl.  It was adorable, really, how much she loved her ink.

“Can I see it?” I asked, nervous but excited.

“Of course.  I was thinking we could get you in on Tuesday.  You should do it all in one sitting.  It’s better that way, trust me.”

“I’m supposed to be in the studio on Tuesday,” Tristan told her, looking grumpy again.  No, more like downright agitated.

“Well, you don’t got to be there, stud muffin,” she explained cheerfully.

“Yes, I do.  I’ll talk to the producer; see what we can work out.”

Her mouth twisted ruefully.  “Another one bites the dust.  Could you be more obsessed with your girl, man?”

“Doubtful,” he replied mildly.