Scars (The Triad 1)

SCARLET

I crawled into Tristan’s bed after I got off the phone with Elliot and fell asleep pretty much immediately. I had planned to lie there and watch TV or something until they made their way home. I really wanted to ask him how the meeting had gone. Elliot being the one to call had surprised me so much that I had forgotten to ask what had happened. So I just handed the phone back to Matthew, the bodyguard they had put on me for the night, and made my way upstairs.

I woke up to the weight of the bed shifting and rolled over to see Tristan, naked except for his boxer briefs, crawling under the covers. He snaked his arm around me and pulled me to his chest.

“How’d it go?”

“A little too easy,” he murmured against my hair. “Your dad is a piece of work.”

“To put it mildly.”

“How did you put up with that for so long?”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I sighed. “What was I supposed to do? Run away?” I laughed, and he surprised me by catching it with his mouth. His lips were soft against mine as he stroked my hair. The gentleness of him took my breath away. When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes, and the pity there set off my temper. I sighed and pulled away from him.

“Anything else I should know about the meeting?”

“Whoa,” he said, pulling me back into his chest. “Where’d you just go?”

“I don’t need your pity, Tristan.” It was a look I was all too familiar with. When you run off without a penny to your name, struggle to make ends meet, and constantly look like a starving homeless person, you see a lot of it. “I made my life after him work. I got multiple jobs, made my own money, and had a roof over my head.”

“Scrumpo,” he purred as he gripped my chin. Hearing him call me his precious one in Romanian was enough to thaw my hardened heart. “I was not looking at you with pity. I was looking at you like that because I was sad we didn’t get to you sooner. We could’ve saved you going through all that shit.” He pushed my hair out of my face and ran his fingertips down my back. “I see myself in you, Scar. You came from a bad situation, went through hell, and came out of the other end of it alive. And stronger for it.” His fingers tangled in the ends of my hair.

I smiled and kissed him again. At a loss for words at how kind he was being, I pushed into him and ground my hips into his. A purely male growl came from his chest as he deepened the kiss and swiped his tongue across my own. His hands drifted down to my ass and squeezed hard enough I knew there’d be little purple bruises across my skin. My hand sought out his cock, but he stopped me, breaking the kiss.

“Scarlet, stop.” His hand pushed mine out of the way as his fingers danced around the hem of my T-shirt. “I think I owe you one, love.” The tips of his fingers found my bare slit where wetness had already pooled between my thighs. I could’ve screamed with the urgency I felt to see what those strong fingers could do.

One slowly pushed between my folds and made slow circles around my clit, eliciting a soft gasp from between my lips. I pushed my hips, trying to get him to give me what I wanted, what I needed. I opened my eyes and found him watching me, drinking in every fleeting emotion there. His eye contact turned me on even more and sent a whole new rush of heat through my body.

“Tristan,” I pleaded. He just smiled and dipped a single finger inside of my needy cunt, and I clenched around him. It was just enough sensation to send me grinding against his hand. I loved being teased with light touches just as much as being tied up and spanked. His thumb drifted to my clit, and he pushed gently, teasingly, as his finger moved in and out of me with painstaking slowness. My head pushed into his shoulder, and I panted against his bare skin, watching that muscled forearm tense and move against my body.

He pumped another finger inside of me, and I groaned into his shoulder, biting down on the hard flesh there until I tasted blood. He hissed and pushed his thumb in faster circles as he added a third finger. I stifled a scream at how he thrust them deep inside of me, curling them and hitting that spot that made my eyes cross. The steady rhythm he found with those drummer’s fingers were about to send me over the edge.

“Do you like that, baby girl?” God fucking save me. Baby had never been something I allowed anyone to call me, but coming off his lips, with his hot breath against my ear and his fucking fingers driving me over the cliff, it was the hottest thing I had ever heard.

“Tristan,” I moaned against his mouth. I wrapped my hands around his neck, and my fingers tugged on his soft hair.

“Answer me,” he said, suddenly slowing his fingers.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” He bit my lip and pulled it into his mouth.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he murmured. “What a good little slut you are. Ride my fingers, baby.”

His fingers picked up their pace again as a whole new warmth took over my body at his words. That pressure built, and our breaths mixed. He watched me with hooded eyes as my body relaxed and went taut at the same time. My head lolled back, and I let the orgasm flow through my blood, making my toes curl and my thighs clench against his hand. His name was a whisper on my lips. He saw me through it, his fingers never slowing until I began to twitch, the sensation on my clit too much.

“Fuck, Scar,” he said as he slowly withdrew his hand. I took deep breaths and brought my eyes back to his. He brought each one of his fingers to his mouth, one at a time, savoring the taste of me. My hand drifted from his shoulder, down across his hard chest and abs, and began playing with the waistband of his boxers.

“Scarlet,” he said, putting a firm hand on mine. “You need sleep. You have training early in the morning.” He kissed my forehead. “And I’m not so selfish as to expect something in return every time.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips and then pulled me flush against him, cuddling me under his chin. “How is it you manage to still smell like petrol after taking a shower?”

“Do I?” I laughed and tried to smell it on my hair.

“You do. I like it. It’s comforting.”