Beauty & The Biker (8 page)

Chapter 12

Tristian

Isa fights back harder than I thought she would. Seeing her so eager to be touched by my hands is hard to fucking resist. When she walks away it takes all the control I have not to grab her by the hair, spin her around, and bury myself inside her pretty little cunt in front of everyone so they will really fucking know not to touch what’s mine. If Cyrus thinks he can get away with touching her and thinking about having her, he is mistaken. Motherfucker will pay for putting his hands on her. 

He’s drinking his beer laughing at something Tim just said when I ram my fist in his face.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch what belongs to me!”  I shout as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Fuck man, was just having a good time. You gotta admit a piece like her is worth getting knocked out for.” He chuckles and chugs his beer. He wipes his bloodied lip. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

I don’t know what I was thinking parading her around in no fucking underwear. I wanted to break her out of her comfort zone but at what cost. Shit has me fighting with Rain and punching Cyrus.  The moment her dress was off I regretted my actions.  She is everything any man would ever want.

It takes all of ten minutes before I am following Isa upstairs. My hand is resting on the knob to her door. I am debating whether or not to spank her ass for leaving the party without permission not once, but twice.

I can just picture her standing in front of the mirror dressed in only her panties. My cock grows harder remembering how wild she looked moments ago. There was a fire burning in her eyes and fuck if I don’t want to get burned. Fuck! I need her more than the air I breathe or the legs that got me here.

I turn the knob and her door is unlocked.  She has defied me one time too many. Pushing the door open I step into her room and find her just as I thought, well almost. She is seated at the vanity brushing her hair.

Her doe eyes don’t appear shocked to see me. Almost as if she was expecting me to come or she wanted me to. She says nothing continuing to caress her strands softly with the heavy paddle brush.

“You keep disobeying Isa. I think you want me to punish you.”

Her hand stills, ceasing the brushing.  The corner of her mouth edges up slightly into a smirk that she is fighting exposing. She continues to brush her hair as I stare her down. I run my finger along her lips and down her throat until I reach her collarbone. Her hand stops, holding onto the brush tightly. Our eyes meet in the mirror, both of us about to combust from the heat smothering the air around us.

I have to step back from her to catch my breath and breathe, her beauty captivates me and makes me lose control. One look from her and the hate I feel vanishes like dust in the wind. She has no idea of the power she used to hold over me. Hell she is still doing it now.

When we were kids she always got her way with me. It’s taking all the energy inside me not to give her anything she wants. A beauty as rare and pure as her is a dangerous temptation to a man like me.

I need to pull myself together. “Stand up.” She does placing the brush on the vanity without a word. Her teeth graze her bottom lip as she chews on her thoughts. My cock hardens as she turns to face me. 

Her taut brown nipples are calling to me, demanding to be sucked and caressed. But not yet. If I touch them now, I’ll never stop.

“Get on the bed.”

She smiles over her shoulder at me as she walks past me and I can’t help but smile back. Her smile could wake the dead. The day God made Isa he tailored her for me, from the inside out.

Her skin is flawless, and I can’t wait to see it pink from my touch.

Isa crawls onto the bed laying back on her elbows, knees dropped onto their sides. “How do you want me?”

Just like that as I taste every inch of you.

I have to close my eyes or I won’t be able to do what I came for and leave her. If she knew what I was about to do would she be so eager still?

Picking up the paddle brush, I walk over to the bed slowly calculating every move because I can’t break. Removing my cut, I hang it on the knob of the bedpost.

She notices the brush I am gripping and giggles. “Are you going to braid my hair and tell me a bedtime story?”

“Something like that.” I smile again knowing this will be a turning point in our relationship. She will either accept me for the monster I am or fight her growing attraction to me.

The mattress dips slightly as I take my seat on the edge. “Come to me and place your head face down in my lap.”

She licks her lips thinking I am asking for head. Tonight isn’t about that though.

Isabella and her dark tresses are on my lap, as I want, knees bent, ass raised slightly. I’d like her panties to be off for this so I can feel her skin to skin, but if the separation isn’t there I won’t be able to control myself.

My hand rubs over the shapely curve of her bottom. She jerks slightly as my cool hand teases at the edge of her white cotton panties. Her hardened nipples press into the denim of my jeans. I want so badly to throw her down on her back and taste every inch of her skin and cover her body with my own.

I gather her long, dark tresses in my hand and begin to braid her hair, so that it will be out of the way.

“I was kidding,” she murmurs against my thigh.

I mindlessly braid and she continues to talk. I’ve had plenty of practice taking care of the girls who dance for me in the past before I had Rain to do it for me. But taking care of my Isa is something else entirely foreign. She is awakening feelings in me I thought I had buried deep.

I love the way her voice wavers when she says my name.

“That feels so good Tristian. I have always loved having my hair played with,” she confesses.

“Be a good girl for me Isa and I will play with a lot more than your hair.”

Gripping the brush, I wield it as a paddle, it’s why I purchased it for her to begin with.

Without warning I strike her bottom.

Chapter 13

Isabella

The first strike is shocking so I don’t initially feel the burn but by the fourth my ass is on fire. I am on the verge of tears and begging Tristian to stop, when he caresses my bare back softly and whispers against my neck, “You did good Isa.”

Why does his approval make me smile? Maybe I am just as dark and twisted as he is. A large part of me loves his dark romance. What does that say about me?

His lips graze my spine in a whisper. The feel of his lips on me is magical. A soft moan escapes my lips as he presses his finger between them. I suck his finger hard unsure of what I am doing, but I think he is enjoying it from the growl that just left his throat.

“Fuck,” he mutters.  And I wonder would he make that same noise if it was his cock in my mouth.

I bite down with my teeth applying light pressure and he pulls his finger from my mouth. He is leaning down his mouth inches from mine. “You’re playing with fire Isa,” he growls the words at me fighting to stay in control.

“Maybe I want to get burned,” I say trying to inch my mouth closer to his, desperate to taste his kiss.

His mouth hovers over my lips. We are so close, the dull burning sensation of my spanked butt goes on the back burner as my desire to be kissed by him is front and center. “If you remember—you told me it’s good to want things.”

He eases from under me and takes a small tube of lotion from the nightstand. “Apply this to your cheeks it will ease the sting.”

The small tube is tossed next to me and he leaves without another word. Picking the lotion up, I twist the cap off and smell it before easing my panties down to apply the honey scented goop.

Twisted in an awkward angle I rub the salve into my tender skin. I feel immediate relief as it soaks in.  I want to be angry at Tristian for humiliating me in front of his buddies and for spanking me, but I can’t. I can’t even hate him for keeping me from contacting my father. There is an erotic tension building between us and I need more.

When he touches me, it feels oh so right. My heart leaps up into my throat. I forget all time and that anything else exists.  I wish he could really open up to me and lose all control. I can tell he is teetering on the edge and wanting to let go of whatever is holding him back. It cuts like a knife when he walks away from me, leaving me longing for things he won’t give to me.

I know he isn’t the kind of man who will sweep me off my feet, but I want him anyway. I want to taste his darkness and bathe in it, if only to hold him close for a minute.

Will his kisses be soft and sweet or rough and all consuming, this I yearn to know? Although, I am afraid to find out...afraid my heart will get torn out, because I am already so invested and infatuated, and I don’t even know him.

He has been nothing but mean to me and I crave his attention.

Even so, as mean as he is, I wish he’d kiss me once.

With thoughts of Tristian’s lips, I pull my panties back up and try to sleep with confusion clouding my head.

**

Night has turned into day and I wake from a restless sleep. The vase of blue roses has been changed out, and there is a glass of water with two pain relievers lying next to it sitting on the nightstand. After I swallow the bitter little pills, it occurs to me he could be drugging me. I am so stupid. The man pays me a little attention and I am salivating at the mouth for more of his consideration. My butt cheeks feels sunburned as I climb from bed. I apply more salve and wait for the medication to help ease the stiffness I feel.

Once I am dressed and done mentally abusing myself I make my way downstairs. Remnants of last night are eagerly awaiting my attention. Empty bottles, dirty dishes, and overflowing ashtrays pollute the game room. Those responsible are long gone.  The mess they left behind is the only proof they were ever here. Most days and nights are eerily quiet it seems. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel the eyes of his security cameras on me at every moment. What’s he need with so many of them anyway? You’d think he is guarding the national treasure.

I pick up my discarded dress from the floor. Heat flushes my cheeks as I recall how it felt when he put me on display. Heated and dangerous just like Tristian.

I go through the motions getting the room cleaned and by noon, all is as it should be. I haven’t seen Tristian all morning and not by a lack of trying. He manages to disappear often, but in a house this large, it isn’t hard to stay hidden.

I wonder what he does other than trying to confuse the hell out of me. Tying the garbage bag closed, I drag it down the long hall and out the side door off the side of the kitchen. I haven’t been out here before now.

I stuff the bag into the large metal can and place the lid back on top. There is a cobblestone path leading to an iron gate. It’s fairly hot out but I could use the fresh air of a nice walk.  No time like the present to explore the grounds since Tristian doesn’t plan on showing me around any time soon.

I make my way through the gate hoping I am breaking a rule if only for the sake of another punishment. How twisted I have become in over a weeks’ time under the roof of Vandacamp Mansion. I barely recognize myself as I pass through the gate and into the woods ahead.

A worn path leads the way through the winding tree line. A lonely crow calls out in warning, telling me to turn back.  I know that I should heed his warning but I can’t. The allure of what Tristian will do to me next is all too appealing.

As I am walking along the snap of a twig in the dead silence of the forest spikes my pulse. Turning my head, I glance over my shoulder to find a squirrel running up the side of an old birch tree. Feeling stupid for being scared in the first place, I continue forward until I come to a clearing housing a greenhouse. 

It feels vaguely familiar. I feel as if I have been here before. But surely I would remember this if I had.

The small glass building has vines covering the sides and spreading across the roof. It blends in seamlessly with the surrounding area. I wonder how long it has been here and if it is still in use? As I draw nearer, I can hear the faint chatter of someone talking. Tristian.

Peering through the dirty glass, I can barely make him out among all the plants inside. What is he doing? He is speaking into a radio of some sort.

Using the hem of my dress, I wipe at the glass trying to get a better view with no luck.

Suddenly the door swings open with a loud thwack as it bounces off the exterior wall. Before I can try to hide my presence, Tristian has ahold of my arm and my back is pressing into the glass. The metal frame supporting the glass is digging into my back.

His nose is touching the tip of mine. His breathing is heavy as his heaving chest bumps against me.  His forehead connects with mine as I concentrate solely on the beating of his heart.  It flutters in sync with my own.  I know he feels a deeper connection with me. His feelings go further than a debt to be paid.

“What are you doing out here?” He asks his voice raw and husky.

“Just going for a walk. I didn’t mean to spy. Honest.”

The sound of chopper blades hum in the distance. The air around us begins to swirl as his mouth hangs dangerously close to mine. If I press forward a mere centimeter I could kiss those lips I crave.

“You shouldn’t be out here. Isn’t safe.”

A helicopter circling above cuts him off from saying anything further.

“Fuck!” he utters pinching the bridge of his nose as it descends to land. “Just stay out of the way. Come on. Don’t speak.” He pulls me inside and shoves me toward a small wooden stool among a garden of plants, mainly marijuana, but I see he grows roses as well. At least now, I know where they come from when they magically appear in my room.

He has quite the setup. Heat lamps, sprinklers, and plenty of fertilizer.

Tristian orders me to stay put as he goes back out to greet his guests. Drug dealers I am assuming.

After the noise has died down outside, Tristian returns followed by a large man in a suit carrying three silver briefcases. He doesn’t notice my presence at first. He goes about his business with Tristan standing as my shield.

The cases are setup on a nearby table and the clasps clicking open on each of the three echoes through the small room. “Three million,” the man states coolly.

Tristian nods and the man waves his partner in. This man is much shorter but bulky in stature. Both men appear of Italian descent, dark hair, dark eyes, their skin kissed with a natural tan, similar to my own Hispanic complexion.

He reminds me of my father in a way.

My parents met in foster care. My grandma took them both in as her own, she could never have children. The only thing of their heritage that ever really stuck with them were a few terms of endearment that they taught my sisters and myself. I don’t know anything of their families.

I watch the men cautiously. I don’t like the vibe I get from either of them. They scream danger and not in the sexy fashion it oozes from Tristian.

The shorter man begins packing out small crates filled with bundles of what I assume to be pot.

The larger of the two comes over to shake Tristian’s hand and say goodbye with a brief manly hug. He spies me over Tristian’s shoulder and smiles.

“You didn’t introduce me to your friend. Such a rare beauty to hide away and keep all to yourself Tris, though I cannot blame you.  This why you turned down my wife’s invitation to have dinner with us?

“My pet,” Tristian brags.

“How long you been hiding this one? We’ve been associates for two years now; I’ve never seen you with a woman on your arm.” He can probably read the confusion all over my face and see through Tristian’s lie.

“Isa has been mine since we were children, bought and paid for. I don’t like to mix business with pleasure. You know this Goldoni,” he covers smoothly.

His words bring a memory to surface. I am outside running in a circle as a boy in a wheelchair chases after me. I’m wearing a white dress. I try to see the boy’s face, but it’s fuzzy.  I can only see his chair clearly. Why did Tristian’s words trigger a weird dreamlike memory I have no recollection of?

Goldoni and Tristian conversing more brings me out of the haze. “You must come to dinner now. I insist. We will celebrate you acquiring such an exquisite beauty.”

“I’ll call you; Isa is more trouble than she is worth, her father is ill and cutting into my use for her.”

“My apologies,” Goldoni states kissing my knuckles. His mouth feels as slimy as his hair appears. “We will speak soon Tris. Nice to meet you Isabella. I look forward to the privilege to gaze upon a woman so lovely in the future. And Tristian, if you find another like her, my offer still stands on the girls, we could make a lot of money. Or if you tire of her, I can be persuaded to take her off your hands.” He sounds friendly but there is a hint of a warning in his tone. Alarms sound in my head but I smile and tell him I look forward to seeing him again, trying to ignore his comment about his offer on the girls and me.

What girls?

Tristian smiles menacingly and I can feel his mood growing darker by the second.

“I’ll see you off. Isa has a call to make to her Papa.”

Tristian and his associates disappear. The chopper comes to life and the ground beneath me shakes.

When Tristian comes back for me I have to ask, “What girls? Do you traffic women Tristian?”

“No Isa I don’t fucking sell women into the sex slave trade. I have dancers who flash some ass for a little cash. Goldoni has been pressuring me, wanting to use my club to expand his business. I don’t even know why I am explaining any of this to you.”

He closes the cases of money and hands one to me. “Help me carry this to the house.”

I take the heavy case and follow him back through the woods. When we get inside I remember what he said about my getting to make a call.

“Tristian?”

“Yes, Isa?”

“Can I call my Papi now?”

“I did say you had to make a call didn’t I?” I smile and his face lights up at my happiness. Tristian’s smile is like nothing else in this world. So rare and captivating.