Frayed (20 page)

Lindsey and I watched the blonde couple depart from our sight. “Yeah, he’s not going anywhere.” Lindsey and I agreed.

After another half an hour, we decided to leave and nap in our quarters. I borrowed Lindsey’s iPad to check on my funds and a few other things. Still with my bikini on, I sat on my bed and did what I had to do. After checking my bank account and sending an email to my father, I logged onto Facebook. I wanted to check Lindsey’s page and see what she’d been posting on there. As I suspected, her page was full of her in a bikini, her dancing with us, and the places she’d been to. What did surprise me, though, was that there were no pictures of Bass, Taylor and Dimitris—and that woman took tons of pictures. After going through my newsfeed, I paused and made a loud gasp. Becka, my cousin, had posted her ultrasound pictures.
Meet our baby boy, Anthony!
It said. I stared at those black and white pictures with anguish and a longing so
powerful,
powerful;
I started to rock with sobs. Everything I had successfully pushed to the back of my mind was back in full, brutal force. Memories of my time with Harry, the pregnancy and the inevitable termination then, sadly, back to my last conversation with Harry.  My stomach felt like something was clawing at it, sucking the breath out of me, drawing me back into the arms of its darkness; welcoming me back with sick and twisted determination. “No more,” I cried out in vain.

It was gutting me alive, choking me until I was too weak to fight it. I curled up —eyes wide open with endless tears—staring blankly at the mirrored wall; truly seeing my
shattered self for the first time.
Look at you, get up and fight yourself out of this rut, Trista
, my reflection urged me. How did one get out of
their
own
their own
shadowed shackles? “Harry… what have you done to me?” I said to myself.

After another ten minutes, I found the strength to go to the bathroom and splash my face with cold water. My eyes burned behind their sockets and, when I scanned my reflection, my eyes were bloodshot. Something happened when I surveyed my pathetic image. There was a hard spark in my eyes reminding me to move my butt in gear. It was as if I was jolted back to life and out of my depressing funk. I started pulling myself back together; some eye drops helped my eyes appear less noticeably red and I started to concentrate on my breathing. I willed myself to breathe deeply, one, two, three; repeating this a few times before I marched out of my room and down to Taylor’s door.  I took a moment to make sure I was, in fact, composed now and then knocked a few times before I let myself inside.

Taylor was on his bed with his back to the headboard. His chest was bare and he only wore his black boxer-briefs with his laptop on his thighs, and he was typing away. A few moments passed before he managed to look up with a frosted gaze. “Yes?” he cuttingly asked before he went back to whatever it was he was working on.

I hadn’t anticipated this polar ice demeanor. “Are you busy?” It was a lame question because it was obvious to me that he was, but I wasn’t ready to leave. I needed to distract myself with him.

“If you came here to find some release, then say so,” the arctic man said without looking up at me.

Damn, why was he acting like a complete dick?
“Yeah, I came for that.” I should have been a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I wasn’t. Shame wasn’t a part of me anymore.

Without looking up, Taylor closed his laptop and placed it atop the mahogany side table.  He scooted in the middle of the king-sized bed, pulled his briefs off and chucked them to the side. He then placed his hands over his head, in his majestic naked glory, before he seared me with his gaze. “Have a go at it, Trista.” A part of me wanted to slap him, but a part of me was beyond excited at his rotten demeanor. I strode to the bed and joined him. “Push those bikini triangles to the side of your breasts. I want to see them while you suck me off.” He commanded nonchalantly.

Biting my lip, I slid the bikini triangles to the side of my boobs, pushing them up—making them look like fuck-me tits—and exposed them to him. When I positioned myself to take him on the side of his hips, he stopped me. “Go in between my legs. I get a better view that way.”

Fucker!
Make this difficult for me why don’t you, I thought to myself. His cock was already hard. It certainly didn’t need me to suck it to get him started, but he was being a total, controlling dickwad. Ticked off, I complied with his request and got in between his strong legs. From this vantage point, his penis looked bigger. Even though I was pissed at his demanding attitude, it hadn’t escaped me to appreciate how gorgeous he was. His magnificent body, golden, chiseled and ripped filled my wanton eyes. Yes, though I hated his guts at the moment, my hunger for him overrode common sense. “Don’t use any hands,” his majesty threw out another obnoxious demand.

If I was in tip-top condition, I would’ve spat back at him, but I wasn’t. I was the one who interrupted him for a quickie, so I wasn’t in the position to complain.

I could feel the weight of his gaze as he watched me put both hands on his thighs, the pads of my fingers clutching his hard muscles as I bent over and took the head of his shaft in my hot mouth. A tiny drop of pre-cum came out of the engorged slit when my lips made contact with his member. I gingerly ran the tip of my tongue to wipe his rock hard cock clean and then started to work my way slowly down the silken length of him. No sound or reaction came from the man while I worked on his member until he spoke yet another demand, “Look at me while you work on my cock, Trista.” I glanced at his stony face, but found no emotion there. If it weren’t for the massive erection, I wouldn’t have any indication that he was aroused. I disconnected our gaze, not wanting to look at his expressionless face any longer, and he spoke up again, “I didn’t tell you that you could look away.”

Here I was, sucking him off, and yet he was still flying mad, making demands left and right. I met his glare, once more, darting him a hateful look as I worked on his cock. Through his eyes, I felt his brutal anger as those beautiful orbs penetrated my being. “Crying more tears for the man you love, I see.” I almost choked on his dick at his directness. “Get on your knees and face the foot of the bed; eyes and face ahead, looking at the mirror.”

“Can we just get this over with?” I complained after I effortlessly released his shaft.

Taylor merely shrugged. “The door’s open Trista. You were the one who sought pleasure.” Meaning, you could get out if you wouldn’t follow simple instructions.

Inside, I was enraged, but still managed to throw him a spiteful stare. “Well, geez. You were already hard before I gave you a blowjob. It’s not like I’m the only one who needed it.”

That remark got to him. He barked out an evil laugh, like what I just told him tickled his fancy. “Who said I was hard for
you
? Do as I asked you or you can go back to your room frustrated.”

Yeah, Trista. You’re not the only woman around. Taylor doesn’t even find you attractive.
Brunette, I was not.

He was right. He was probably hard for that little exotic, Sonia, for all I knew, and it made me feel like crap thinking that he might have been lusting for some other woman. Grudgingly, I followed his instructions—all fours and eyes on the mirror—watching him get on his knees with his proud cock a mast of sexuality in front of him. His hands only untied the left side of my bikini bottoms, but ignored the other one, so they limply hung on my hips, just loose enough to expose my moist condition. “Arch your back, lift your ass higher.”

He was now situated in between my legs as his eyes skimmed my exposed, glistening womanhood. His middle finger traced the outer slit, teasing it with a soft touch. My wetness seeped out of me as his feather soft strokes drove me to become desperate. The pad of his finger was now coated with my essence as it slid back and forth with a hypnotizing motion. “How badly do you need to be fucked?” Taylor asked, his eyes watching the mirror. He sounded like a bored science teacher who had asked the same question to thousands of students over the years.

The wanton part of me was awake and desperate for him. “Badly, no more teasing, please.” Taylor wasn’t doing anything other than the light brushing of his middle finger and it was pure, torture.

In the blink of an eye I was against his hard chest, still facing our reflections in the mirror. His eyes cruelly penetrated me as I watched him brush his lips against my left ear. “Next time, try to not to air our business with everyone. They didn’t know about what we’ve been doing, nor does Bass need to know about us being ‘fuck buddies’.” Taylor hissed at me. His eyes were like cold knives splitting me in two.

Bass was a blabber?
“What did Bass say?”

“Bass didn’t say anything. I came back to get you, but I changed my mind after your nice announcement.”

Hell, he heard that? Well, it was the truth, but I knew I shouldn’t have said it so casually, especially when Bass was around. I suppose I did deserve his wrath. “It won’t happen again.” I promised.

The tip of his tongue grazed my ear. “Good,” he murmured as his left hand teased my nipple, twisting and pulling, while his tongue and lips worked their way down my neck. “I expect…” he trailed off as his other free hand ran in between the crack of my buttocks—finding its way to my throbbing core—before parting my wet folds; “…nothing less.”

A loud gasp came from me when he stuck two fingers inside my dripping canal. I
was
finally underst
ood
anding
that Taylor loved multi-torture
.
,
H
h
e was truly the master of it. My body fought the turbulent ache that was going in all directions, causing me to writhe and pant like an animal in heat. “Hurry,” I begged him with utmost desperation. I quickly growled when he released me from his ministrations.

“On your knees and elbows, Trista.”

Not a word of complaint was spoken by me as I positioned myself in accordance with his directions. My eyes watched as he stroked his cock, one hand spreading my ass cheeks. My pussy clenched and unclenched at the thought of taking his cock again. I was heated with anticipation
and
,
I
hungered for his domination.

“Ahhh,” I hissed back when I felt the large, fat tip of his shaft run over my parted slit. Taylor started to rub the full length of him against my wet, dripping mound, in no hurry to penetrate me. His hands gripped my ass as he did so. When I thought I was going to die from the exquisite feeling of him rubbing against me, I felt the tip of his cock slowly pierce my opening. He did it in such a way that I felt my muscles slowly expand to accommodate his size. After he got the head inside me, he pulled out—frustrating every fiber of my being—and thrust two fingers inside my core instead. “Taylor!” I screeched as my ass pushed harder against his hand, willing him to go deeper into me, begging for release.

Nothing mattered other than his possessive fingers. They were relentless, flicking and rubbing with such voracious intensity that it didn’t surprise me when I came hard and fast, instantly in need of more of those glorifying highs.

When Taylor pulled his fingers out, I expected for him to use his penis, but I was surprised when he just gave my ass a light smack. “There! Now you’ve had you’re orgasm. You can go now.”

You have got to be joking!  “What do you mean? You aren’t going to fuck me?”

He shook his head, suddenly looking bored. “Nope. My penis is not functioning properly today, sorry.”

Was he for real?
His cock was a rigid purple. Monster was truly and undoubtedly functioning in my opinion. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s
fine
from where I’m looking.”

Taylor sighed and got into his sheets before responding to me. “I don’t feel like fucking you, Trista. Maybe you can try again tonight or tomorrow.” He then had the audacity to close his eyes and feign sleep.

Mother fucking shit!
That’s it!

“I’m not putting up with your megalomaniac self. This shit’s through!” Horrified from his pompous audacity, I stomped out of that room so fast that I felt light headed.

Chapter 17

Trista

The yacht anchored in Santorini just before a sunset, which cast a beautiful glow over the gorgeous city. There were a lot of yachts anchored around. Not close, but enough to be able to see them. Dimitris informed us that, most times, other yachts anchor next to another so they can party together.  “I’m hosting one of those parties after Blasphemous wraps up. You guys should come. It’s a ton of fun.” Dimitris invited us as he sipped his red wine.

“You can count me in.” Taylor added with enthusiasm. The idiot hadn’t looked at me once tonight.

I was saddened that our sexual agreement was over, but, oh well, there were more fish in the Aegean Sea, right?

Bass eyed Emma. “Are you going? It’s going to be fun. I went last year and the year before, those times it was held in the South of France.”

She shook her head smiling, “I’m sure it is, but I can’t, I have school after Blasphemous. You guys carry on with your shenanigans.”