Layers Deep (16 page)

“Ouch!” Julian
moaned.

“Don’t be a
baby. I didn’t do any damage.”

And before I
realized what was happening, he swooshed his arm to the side and
knocked my other foot from underneath me. I flew onto my behind and
then rolled back over my head and into a crouch I liked to call
Kung-Fu Panda
, all thanks to the after-hours I’d spent with
Sensei Paul. I made a mental note to send him a gift basket. If it
weren’t for his continued support and encouragement, I could have
failed just like the other eighty percent of the kids who wanted a
black belt so badly. No, I don’t think I would have. I think they
just didn’t want it bad enough.

Tristan
stopped laughing. “Holy shit! That was fucking amazing!”

I extended my
hand to help Julian up.

“Yeah, she’ll
do.” Julian slowly sat up, and I let my muscles relax.

“‘She’ll do’?”
I lowered my gaze. “I let you jab me with a needle which looks more
like a cattle probe, you get an ass-whopping, and I only get a
‘she’ll do’?”

“I’m sorry, I
didn’t mean it that way. But the men you’ll be dealing with are
stronger than me. They have drugs you never dreamed of. One whiff
and karate or fancy-shmancy whatever that was will not help. I have
to do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“Thank you. I
appreciate that. I’m well aware of the dangers, Julian, but I can
hold my own.” I walked over and placed my hand on his shoulder,
squeezing. “We’ll get her back.”

Tristan
strolled to the board displaying Kendra’s photos. He drew his
finger over each picture, saying, “I have to do everything in my
power to keep you safe.” I wasn’t sure whether he meant me or
Kendra.

“Good, let’s
go eat. I’m starving.” Julian’s demeanor changed. “Come on, Green.
I hope you like barbecued ribs and chicken.”

Men were
always hungry. Especially beefed up ones like the Cross
brothers.

I followed
Julian to the opposite end of where we’d entered. He pressed a
button on the wall and it slid open, the way it would have for
Batman.

Tristan
finally pulled his attention away from the board and came to my
side. We walked through the normal part of the basement, the part
with a pool table and a home theater half the size of a real one
except with much more comfortable seating. A popcorn machine was
set up in a corner. The decorations were sleek and out of this
world. In front of the staircase, a red phone booth stood by the
railing, the old type you’d find in England.

“Does this
work?” I asked.

“Yes,” Julian
replied, his tone a tad colder than I’d expected.

On our way up
Tristan whispered, “He means well. He’s much better at this job
than I am.”

I doubted
that. And as much as they both tried to disguise the rivalry
between them and pretend past ghosts had disappeared, I knew
better. Even if their goal of rescuing Kendra was the same, I
suspected their reasons for doing it were different.

We ate at a
patio table suitable for a king. My mom sat on my one side and Emma
on the other. Another déjà vu moment passed as I wondered whether
my mom had experienced the same “what if” moment as I had.

Little Miss
Talkative beside me had her mouth full of ribs. The box she’d
received from Tristan had been placed in front of her at the table.
The men sat across from us, devouring their ribs with their
fingers. Each one had a glass of scotch beside him. I had the
pleasure of drinking what Mrs. Cross called a Ruirita. She’d asked
if I liked tequila, because it was the drink’s main ingredient.
Tristan laughed, and I rolled my eyes before taking a sip of the
orange-infused cocktail. It was now officially my favorite
drink.

I’d been told
the beautifully landscaped property stretched beyond the hedges and
line of trees. Mr. Cross took care of the plants, shrubs, and
grass, while Mrs. Cross tended to her flowers and a vegetable
garden, now winterized. She still grew some late crops in her green
house, and that’s what we were eating today.

I was
beginning to understand why they called each other Fred and Wilma.
Even with all the technology at their disposal, there was something
primitive in the way they took care of the property. But that was
only my guess.

Beyond the
green, freshly mowed grass, the Atlantic’s gentle waves broke
against the shore.

The scene
reminded me of when I was young and everyone ate with their fingers
at the county fair. That was before Daddy had been killed. The
happy times. My life always seemed to be split in two: the
before-killing happy times, and the after-killing not so happy
ones.

“You okay?”
Tristan mouthed from across the table.

I pushed the
old memories to the back of my mind and smiled at him. The sounds
of slurping mouths, uhms and ahs echoed. Everyone had their fingers
covered in sauce.

It was as if
we were one big happy family.

Tristan gave a
devilish grin, and when I felt something on my leg I nearly jumped
up. Thank God the table wasn’t glass-top. He moved his foot up
between my thighs while happily munching on his ribs. I wanted to
shove it to the side, but if I moved I’d give myself away. Plus, my
fingers were smudged with dripping sauce. Reaching under the table
would be a disaster waiting to happen, staining my new pants I’d
gotten from Tristan.

And I couldn’t
deny that the way he smoothed up and down my thigh, pressing his
big toe in and moving further every time, felt arousing. My panties
dampened just thinking about his flesh against my nakedness. But if
he reached the little triangle he was aiming for (and it wasn’t
that little because I felt the swelling between my legs after a few
strokes), he’d fall off his chair. And two could play this game. I
removed my sandals and lifted my foot. Lucky for me, Tristan
sported plaid shorts, and I didn’t waste time sneaking my foot up
toward a hardened bulge. When I massaged the pads of my toes
against it, his eyes widened, but I didn’t pull back. The strength
of his excitement strained against his shorts.

“Why do you
have a funny look on your face, Tristan?” Emma had finished chewing
off her rib and was in the middle of licking her fingers clean.
That only meant her mouth wasn’t occupied enough. “And you’re as
stiff as if you were sitting on a stick. I heard you say something
like that to Julian before.”

I almost spat
out the rib I’d put in my mouth, along with all the maple chipotle
sauce. He was stiff all right! And I’m sure Emma just twisted
something else that had passed between the brothers in a private
conversation.

“That’s a
stick up your....”

“Julian! We
have company,” Mrs. Cross scolded her son.

Julian’s face
changed from a man’s to a boy’s as he lowered his head. It was the
same expression Tristan had when I’d watched him sleep that first
morning: innocence.

“I’m sorry.
But if you’re gonna copy something, then do it right, Emma,” Julian
said instead.

Tristan’s
sultry stare remained on me. I knew exactly what he wanted. I’d
seen it before. The face of a man who’d explode if he didn’t
release his load. And the pressure under my foot was definitely
increasing. Memories of the previous night tingled all over my body
as I recalled Tristan’s thickness against my inner thighs, then
inside me, and the tip of his cap gliding through the moisture of
my swollen folds, teasing me over and over again as my back arched,
begging for more.

“Well, if you
weren’t always trying to get rid of me, perhaps I wouldn’t have to
eavesdrop and I’d hear it right,” Emma replied. The spunky kid
wouldn’t let anyone pee in her cornflakes, and I wished I could
adopt her.

Mr. Cross
chuckled.

I shook off my
naughty thoughts, feeling guilty for straying from this beautiful
dinner. In my hand, a bare bone glistened clean. Apparently I’d
been chewing on it, licking it clean while I’d thought about
Tristan and his boner.

How
embarrassing!
My cheeks heated.

Tristan must
have found it amusing. The sparkle in his eyes beamed at me with a
mix of want and something else I couldn’t quite place.

I pulled my
foot away, saying, “I’d like to use the washroom, if that’s all
right.” I pushed my chair back.

“I’ll show you
the way.” Tristan’s chair scraped against the stone.

“I can do it.”
Emma got up, but Julian jumped in before she grabbed me.

“Why don’t you
show me your new toy from Tristan, Emma? I’d hate to think he did
better than me.” And with that move he pulled out another box from
his pocket. The captivated Emma opened her mouth wide and fixed her
gaze on the gift while Julian winked at his brother.

The man was as
smart as they got, and I feared Tristan’s parents knew what we were
up to. If they did, though, they didn’t let it show.

“This way.”
Tristan pushed open the patio door with his elbow.

I followed him
past the kitchen to the main hall and up the staircase, not
questioning why he’d led me to the washroom on the second floor
when I was sure there was one downstairs. He pushed the door open
and we both washed our hands without saying a word. As soon as he
was done, the lock clicked and Tristan’s mouth was on mine and his
hands down my pants.

Without
thinking I yanked his shorts off his hips. He sprang up like a
healthy branch and I wrapped my hand around his thickness. The
yearning inside my mouth increased as he played with my tongue, one
of his hands firmly gripping my full breast, the other my crotch.
Tristan lifted my shirt over my head and released a hungry
snarl.

“There’s
nothing better than black lingerie,” he said, trailing his mouth
down my neck and to my shoulder. His hands felt so good on me.

“They’ll
notice we’re gone.” I leaned back against the bathroom counter.

“We won’t be
long. I promise.”

And I believed
him because I would have sworn he couldn’t get any wider and harder
in my hand. My thumb slicked along the moistened tip. This was a
perfect timing for dessert. I crouched on my knees, looking up at
Tristan from below, then to his manhood, drinking the full length
of him. His hands were on my shoulders, and when my mouth touched
his hot cap, his fingers dug into my flesh.

“Oh, God.” He
closed his eyes.

My tongue
trailed under the top rim before I took him fully into my mouth.
His veins pulsed against the inside of my mouth, and I felt the
thickest one under my lower lip as I treaded upward. I stroked him
in a slow rhythmic motion. His hips moved back and forth, as I took
him deep into my mouth, tightening my lips around his smooth cock.
When a man had manscaped his crotch so nicely, it was a sin not to
devour him.

I let him out
of my mouth but kept the momentum with my hand, pumping him from
the base, and Tristan didn’t miss a beat. I kissed his soft sack,
fondling the contracting skin in my palm before going back to his
shaft. The taste of pre-cum mixed inside me. I felt my own need
dampening my panties.

“Fuck,” his
voice was ragged. Tristan heaved louder in between moans and
groans. His thighs tensed and his ass flexed as I smoothed my hand
over the taut muscle. I felt his trembling ridge under my
tongue.

Gosh, how much
I loved his taste! I couldn’t get enough of Tristan in my mouth. He
thickened each time I took him in, stroking up and down along the
slickness left behind, pressing my lips firmly against his skin
until he pulsed inside my mouth. I caught every drop of the stream
as it jetted out, then slid along my tongue to the back of my
throat, warming me from the inside.

And after one
last pulse he eased his grip on my head.

“You’re
unbelievable.” He said in a low throaty tone with his eyes still
closed.

I stood up and
rinsed my mouth in the sink. If there was one thing I didn’t want,
it was Emma saying I had some cream on my lips.

“We should go
downstairs. They’ll be wondering what’s taking us so long,” I
teased. Even if in truth it couldn’t have taken more than three
minutes for Tristan to find his release.

“Don’t worry.
My parents know you’re in good hands,” he smirked. “And Emma will
keep busy for a few more minutes.” He pulled me into him for a
lingering kiss tracing the seam of my lips with his tongue. The
tenderness knocked my knees out from underneath me. If it weren’t
for the support of his arms, I would have fallen. His pants were
still down, and it seemed Tristan didn’t feel the need to cover up.
My hands lowered instinctively to his growing erection.

“So, what are
you proposing?” I asked against his mouth.

“Get these
jeans off your ass and sit up.”

Before I could
comply, my pants were already down on the floor, and Tristan lifted
me to the counter. His hands drew up my shirt to my breasts. He
cupped them and molded them harder with each squeeze before lifting
the fabric over my head. The pinch of my nipples between his
fingers rolled through me and I closed my eyes. Tristan’s cool
tongue through my lacy bra tortured me. He swirled around the
hardened pebble before lowering the fabric. The tender bites and
releases roused a series of tickles that slid down to between my
legs. Spreading me wider with his hips, he snuck in his hand to my
panties and drew his thumb back and forth over my moistened
swelling. My hips began to dance to the movement of his fingers,
and just as I wished he’d touch me deeper, Tristan slid under the
rim of my panties inside me. In that one moment I forgot where I
was and moaned louder than I intended, impaling myself deep onto
his finger.

Stroking me
from the inside, he stirred everything all at once.

My hands slid
up his arms to his head, pressing him to my body without thinking,
and I heard my pants increase. The sound of our breathing echoed in
the bathroom. The small room contracted around us with hot air. I
couldn’t get enough of Tristan on my body. The way he explored me
and nourished me, I wanted to be his and only his.