Hazel St. James - Fighting For You (Redemption#1)[ (17 page)

Reaching for her hands, Tristan braced his arms so that she had something to push against. Peyton moved at her own pace, groaning with each movement. He could feel her body tensing up with each pass, and his own body was building to climax just as fast. Her tight core was squeezing him in deep, and he was struggling to hold back. The tingling in his spine was getting stronger and he knew that he wouldn’t last much longer.

Tristan let go of her hands and with precise aim, landed his thumb on Peyton’s swollen clit and she swore, “Oh, fuck, that’s it. I’m gonna come again, Tristan.”

That was all he needed to hear, and his body responded in full with an electrifying explosion as he pumped his seed inside the thin barrier. Peyton screamed something incoherent as she rode him, finally slowing when she was panting.

Peyton slipped off to the side and Tristan disposed of the condom. She snuggled into his chest and he wrapped them both up in the blanket. She gave a content sigh; he held her in a tight squeeze before he kissed her hair. The pair lay there, looking up at the peaceful night sky, and Tristan was left to wonder again what he’d done right to deserve this woman. The happiness rolling around reminded him of the lyrics to the song he’d started writing while in the hospital.
There is no reason to drown out this pain, There is no reason to let it slip away…

The next words came to him, and he started to quietly sing,
With you I don’t know how to explain, No one’s there to tell me to stay.
The melody to the song was a simple three word staccato beat,
Just give me…, A reason why, Just tell me, You’re ready to try…

“What was that, sweets?” Peyton asked with a husky voice.

Tristan smiled, “I started that song when I was in the hospital. It was a sad ode to being a fucked up mess, but my brain just morphed it into a love song. You like it?”

“Yeah, I do. Can you sing it to me from the beginning?”

“I only have the first few lines written and then the melody. But, yes, I will, baby.”

Tristan cleared his throat and sang the soulful words again, this time singing them directly to the woman in his arms. It was so much easier to sing to just one person, and not just all alone, and his voice was strong and steady.

“That was beautiful. When you finish it, let me know. I would love to sing it with you.”

Tristan nodded his head, as he twisted out from underneath Peyton, and propped himself up on his side. She did the same, and was facing him when he said, “I will. But you know what I would love?” he asked her before pulling her tightly against his body, and his recovered cock.

“I can only guess,” she answered with a mock eye roll and a laugh.

“I was hoping that I could impress you with some of my other skills tonight, not just my excellent singing voice, rock hard body, and quick wit.”

Peyton laughed, but played along. “I don’t know…I’m pretty impressed with these ripped muscles and the inverted V pack you’ve got going on down there,” she added with her finger trailing down his body.

Tristan couldn’t help but take the bait, and rolled her underneath him. “I have skills I haven’t even shown you yet, baby. I plan on making your scream my name a few more times before I let you sleep in my arms.”

Peyton went stiff underneath him, need filling her face again, and she whimpered her affirmation.

For the next two hours, out on their cozy beach hideaway, Tristan did just that and then held Peyton in his arms until the sun came up.

Chapter Nineteen

T
ristan was almost done with his first night at Gabriel’s Supper Club, and was smiling and laughing along with the college age wait staff that worked there as they finished cleaning up. It had been a killer night he’d been told numerous times, and they hadn’t slowed down since the doors opened at five o’clock.

Gabriel was standing behind the bar with Tristan, running numbers from his old fashioned till, humming along to the music on the overhead sound system, when he yelled out to the group, “Bucca time!”

Everyone left behind yelled and catcalled back to Gabriel and they all lined up at the bar. Tristan wasn’t sure what the name meant, but he could tell that he would be involved in whatever it was, since they were all looking at him expectantly.

Gabriel didn’t say anything as he walked over to the rim rack of booze, grabbed a tall, thin bottle with blue writing and the ice shaker from the wash rack. He added ice to the metal cup and twisted off the bottle’s pour-on top, tipping a large slug directly into the shaker. Then, he put a strainer lid on top and vigorously shook the container from side the side. He lined up six shot glasses on the bar, poured into each one a cloudy liquid and then handed them out to each one of his employees.

There was one girl sitting at the end of the bar that declined the glass that was passed to her and held up her water bottle instead. Tristan was pretty sure that her name was Susy, but not positive. “Six months from now, I will, but until then, I pass. Don’t need any cops here because of me,” she added.

Tristan was handed the last glass, and Gabriel raised up the two shot glasses that were left in a cheers, “Salute!” Everyone downed their shots together, and Tristan did too. The booze was black licorice flavored and since it was cold, it went down smooth. The group all did an appreciative “Ahhh,” and left their glasses on the bar, slapping each other on the back as they grabbed their coats from the break room and headed out the back door.

The entire scene was strange and Tristan must have had an odd look on his face, because when Gabriel turned around again to say something, he stopped mid-sentence and started laughing a deep belly laugh.

“Shit, I’m sorry, kid. I should have told you that we always end the night with a shot. It’s my way of telling everyone if we had a good night or not. If I yell out for shots, then they know we’ll live to see another day.”

Tristan just shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your business, Gabriel. It was just surprising that you let them drink before they all go home. Isn’t that illegal for a lot of different reasons?”

Gabriel shrugged as he walked around the bar and headed towards his office. The girl with the waterbottle was still there at the end of the bar, but was wearing her coat and had her purse in her hands. Tristan knew from her earlier statement that she was twenty years old, and she was a pretty little blonde with big blue eyes. Her face was overdone with way too much make-up and she had giant hoop earrings in that looked like they were too heavy for someone so petite.

“Hey, Tristan. Looking for some company tonight?” she asked with a little too much enthusiasm and he had to pinch himself from laughing at her.

“No, but thank you, Susy.”

Tristan could see the defeat on her face, but it was quickly replaced with something else. She sneered at him, “That’s right. You’re one of them slap ‘em and fuck ‘em guys from the club outside of town that was just shut down. Yeah, you’re right, I don’t get off on getting the shit kicked out of me.”

The front door opened and closed, and Susy looked at whoever was walking in and she gave a tiny wave, with a smug look on her face.

Tristan knew that Susy was just a kid, and she probably had no clue what she was talking about, but he couldn’t let anyone here have that impression of him. “I don’t know where you get your information from, but I’m not into that stuff.”

A familiar voice answered, “What stuff?” A very similar looking blonde walked into the bar area and Tristan could feel his pulse shoot through the roof when he realized that the person that just entered the bar was the last mindless chick he’d done before he became serious with Peyton. And judging by the hungry look in her eyes, she knew exactly who he was, too.

Susy spoke up again, “Oh, I just offered Tristan a good time, but he’s one of them perverts that gets rough before he can get a woman off.”

The blonde reprimanded her in a mocking way, “Now, little sister. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand. I had a good time with him a while back, and it actually felt pretty damn good when he slapped my ass a few times. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Tristan narrowed his eyes on the pair and was just about ready to lay into them, when another person stepped into the bar and spoke first, “Hmph. I think that you skanks need to get back to the street corners you came from. Tristan is spoken for, and he doesn’t need to slap around a woman if she knows what the fuck she’s doing in bed.”

Peyton was standing toe to toe with the taller blonde and was glaring daggers at her by the time she finished speaking. Tristan was dumbfounded by how defensive his woman was being, but it was fucking hot the way that she took over the situation and stood her ground.

The older blonde reached out for the younger one, and they stepped around a furious Peyton and left without another word. Tristan couldn’t help but smile as he made his way over to her, and grabbed her and swooped her up in a hug. She was stiff in his arms, and he let her go, but held her arms firm as he looked down at her tight face.

Tristan knew instantly that she was pissed off, even though he’d never seen her even a little bit angry before. The normally sweet smile was gone and there was a deep furrow in between her eyes. He wasn’t sure exactly why she was mad, or if she was mad at him, or the chicks that just left. Either way, Tristan should be the one that was upset right now for having his girlfriend defend him, but the rumors were bound to happen sooner or later. He knew that the gossip would spread like wildfire about Morgan’s nephew that whipped the hell out of a girl, and ended up in the mental institute. After all, Dominic and Chris closed the club because of it, so it had to be common knowledge.

“Are you mad at me, or mad at them? Just so I know what I’m up against.”

Peyton quirked her head to the side, “Both. Mad at them for acting like they can just take any man they want, and mad at you for not telling me that you had fucked Cara, the whore, not too long ago. She could have any number of diseases, Tristan.”

Tristan was surprised by her answer, but didn’t hesitate in retaliating. “I barely remember bagging her, Peyton, and she actually was one of the main reasons why I gave up being such a slut. Well, that and this hot little Portuguese siren that bosses me around helped there too.”

Peyton sighed, but smiled at him. “Oh, Tristan…what am I going to do with you?”

“Well, a good girlfriend would come home with me and spend the night at my place.”

Peyton smiled from ear to ear, practically bouncing on her tip toes. “Really? I can spend the night? Let me stop at home and get my sleeping bag and pillow. I love sleepovers!” she teased.

Tristan yanked her tiny body into his and growled in her ear, “You’re going to sleep right beside me, fancy pants. No sleeping bags allowed. Or clothes, for that matter.”

It was well after two o’clock in the morning on Saturday when Tristan and Peyton finally crawled into his queen size bed. The pair nestled in together and neither one had moved for quite some time when Tristan decided that Peyton must have fallen asleep. She was usually working at this time of night, and since it was her day off, she needed to sleep, especially since he’d kept her up half the night last night out on the beach.

Tristan whispered, “Good night, my baby,” and Peyton immediately answered on a dreamy sigh, “Good night, Tristan Blair Hart.”

His girl worked harder than most men, so Tristan decided he wanted her sleep. He didn’t have to be to work until seven o’clock that night and a little lovin’ could keep her occupied all morning if necessary.

Settling in to sleep himself, he was startled when Peyton spoke in a clear voice, “I’m not opposed to being a submissive woman, Tristan, if that’s what you need.”

He sat up in bed, pulling her with him, and asked, “What are you talking about?” Tristan knew she was talking about the shitty comment that Cara had made about him slapping her ass a few times, and was a bit pissed Peyton had to hear all that.

She said “restroom” as she tried to climb out of bed, but Tristan held her to him and spoke over the top of her, “Baby, I have no desire to treat you that way.” He kissed her forehead and added, “Not now, and not ever.”