Her Immortal Love (14 page)

Her mouth dropped open. “What?”’

“I’m sterile.”

“But, I mean, how...you’re so young.”

“Youth has nothing to do with it. I can’t get you pregnant. I can’t get any woman pregnant.”

“Are you sure?” She wasn’t concerned about getting pregnant. She hadn’t all those years she’d tried with Douglas, but the thought of someone like Tristan not being able to have children saddened her.

He silently nodded, his eyes staring into hers.

“Do you want children?”

“Of course. But I can’t have any and I’ve learned over time to live with it.” He released a breath. “I just didn’t want you to worry about any of that.”

She still couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was barren. Since it was a topic that never failed to make her hurt inside, she just avoided talking about it when she could. “I wasn’t worried but thank you for telling me.”

He put his arm around her and drew her next to him. She snuggled against him and nibbled on his neck, her hand playing lightly with his soft, wet cock.

He laughed. “You’re insatiable, sweet.”

She drew her finger down the damp hairs on his chest. “And you’re incredible.”

He grinned and stretched one muscular arm over his head. “I am, aren’t I?”

“Not very modest though,” she replied.

He only shrugged and gave her a wide grin.

Her stomach growled. She thought about all the food at her mother’s party and wished she’d taken a plate home with her.

“I heard that,” he said. “You want me to go out and get something for you?”

She shook her head. “I need to go to the grocery store, but I think there’s some salami and cheese in the fridge.” She made as if to get up.

He stopped her. “Allow me, my lady.” He rose from the bed then a sheepish look appeared on his face. “And the kitchen is where?”

She laughed. “Down the hall to your right.”

“I shall return anon. Do you require anything else, my lady?”

She smiled warmly at him. “Only you.”

His dark blue eyes smoldered at her from across the bedroom. “You already have that, sweet.”

He left, leaving Lydia with that delightful image of his tall, naked body. She nestled her own body deeper into the bed, running her fingers up her stomach and then onto her breasts. They weren’t as firm as they used to be, but Tristan hadn’t seemed to mind. Not judging from the way he had licked and sucked them.

She smiled then frowned as she recalled what her mother had said. That Tristan had some kind of perverse mother complex if he was into dating older women. Lydia didn’t know anything about his mother. Or his father. She hadn’t really asked him about his family yet, and he certainly hadn’t been forthcoming with any information about them. She supposed it wasn’t all that odd since they’d only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks.

He came back into the bedroom carrying a tray upon which was the salami, a block of cheese, crackers and a knife. He placed the tray on the bed and slid back into bed next to her.

Smelling the cheese, Lydia’s stomach grumbled again.

He picked up the cheese and began slicing it.

“Ouch.”

“What’s wrong?” She looked at his finger. There was a thin line of blood on the skin. She moved to get up from the bed. “I’ve got some bandages in the bathroom.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “No, that’s all right. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She reached for his hand but was surprised when he pulled it back.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Douglas had been the same way. Not wanting her to make a fuss when he hurt himself. “Don’t be such a baby. Give me your hand.”

Tristan stared at her, released a breath then let her take his hand.

There was no sign of the cut. She frowned. “I saw blood.”

“I just nicked it.” He slid his hand away from hers and turned it around. “See. No blood. You only thought you saw it.” He picked up a slice of cheese and pressed it against her lips. “Here, eat.”

She opened her mouth. As she chewed, she stared at his hand. She could have sworn....

A cellphone rang. She recognized the ringtone. It was hers. She looked over at her purse, which lay on the floor near the bedroom door.

“Don’t answer it,” he said.

She was tempted not to, but then she noticed his cell phone. He had placed it on her nightstand. Close by, she assumed, so he could quickly grab it. She had no doubts that if it rang he would answer it immediately. He had to, at the very least, afford her the same consideration.

She rolled off the bed and walked over to her purse, in which the cellphone was persistently playing one of her favorite Fleetwood Mac songs.

He whistled.

She turned and looked back at him.

“If you could just see yourself from the back.” He licked his lips. “Luscious.”

She shot him a coquettish look over her shoulder then leaned over and picked up her purse.

“Oh, sweet, don’t do that.”

She frowned as she took her cellphone out of her purse. “Do what?”

A lustful look glowed in his eyes. “Bend over like that. I can see the soft lips of your cunt.”

She smiled and looked at the cell phone’s display. Her mother’s name and number. Coldness swept through her. She was tempted not to answer it. Carlotta had, after all, basically thrown her and Tristan out of her house.

But it might be something important.

Sighing, she pressed the talk button. “Hello?”

“Lydia? Is that you?”

“Yes, Mother. Who else would it be?”

“I can hardly hear you on this thing.”

“What do you want, Mother?”

“Douglas just called. Tiffany is pregnant. I’m going to be a grandmother.”

That cold sensation was now an arctic blast. Lydia instinctively pressed her hand against her stomach. “I don't want to spoil your fun, but Douglas isn’t your son. He’s your ex son-in-law. Therefore, that doesn’t make his child your—”

“Really, Lydia. Do you expect me to forget about Douglas just because you were foolish enough to let him go? He’s always been like a son to me. And it’s not like you’re ever going to give me any grandchildren, is it?”

“Mother, you know why that is. I’m—”

“Don’t start in with that. You didn’t have any children because you didn’t want any. Why won’t you just admit it?”

Lydia’s throat tightened with the old, familiar pain. She glanced at Tristan. His eyes were locked on hers. He made as if to get up from the bed, but she waved her hand at him to stay. She would deal with this as she’d always dealt with it. Alone. Douglas had always sided with her mother.

“I did want children. Very much so.”

“If you had wanted children you would have had them. Period. I know Douglas isn’t my son. I’m not an idiot. But he’s as close to a son as I’ll ever have and you’re certainly never going to give me any grandchildren. You’re too selfish to want children.”

The threat of tears stung Lydia’s eyes. “Mother, I’m going.”

“Going? Where? Aren’t you at home?”

“It’s none of your business where I am. I’m not a child.”

“You’re with him, aren’t you?” Carlotta’s voice hardened. “Have you no shame?”

“I thought we’d already determined that I don’t.”

“It concerns me. You're being with someone like him. I don't trust him. And you were never very smart when it came to trusting people. You have no idea what kind of a—”

Lydia pressed the phone off.

Tristan was off the bed now and coming towards her. She turned away from him, but he put his arms around her, his lips pressed against her hair. “Lydia, sweet.”

She pulled away from him. “No, don’t.”

He moved up behind her but didn’t touch her. “I know it hurts.”

She turned around and glared at him. He was young. What did he know of real pain? “You don’t know. You can’t.”

“But I do. I know what it’s like to feel a pain so deep you wonder if you’ll ever be able to draw breath again. But trust me. The pain will pass.”

“Will it?” She sniffed then rubbed her nose. “She thinks it’s my fault. She’s always thought it was my fault.” She looked up at him. There was no use pretending anymore. “But I can’t. I’ve tried. I can’t get pregnant. I’m barren.”

She willed herself not to cry, but the tears came anyway. Tristan pulled her into his arms. She pressed her face against his chest and she cried. Long and hard. She cried like she hadn’t in years. The last time she’d cried this hard had been the day her father died.

Tristan held her as she wept, his heart beating strongly, comfortingly against her ear, his arms warm and steady around her.

When her tears were finally spent, she wiped at her wet face, painfully aware it was probably red and swollen and ugly.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Yes. Guess there’s nothing like a good crying jag for what ails you.” She shook her head. “I’m so pathetic.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not a child. And yet she never fails to make me feel like one. My god, I’m almost forty years old!”

Tristan smiled and cupped her face. “Parents have a way of making us all feel like children no matter how old we are.”

“Is it that way with your parents?”

“Was?”

“What?”

“Past tense. My parents are no longer alive.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. It happened a long time ago.”

He must have been a child when he lost them. She wanted to ask him more about it, but he looked uncomfortable. The memory must be painful for him.

She pressed her fingers around his arms. “Thank you.”

He smiled and the darkness that had shrouded his eyes fled. “For what, sweet?”

“For being here.”

He stroked her cheek. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Say what?”

“You don’t have to pretend that what we have is more than what it is.”

He frowned. “And what is it that we have exactly?”

She gestured towards the rumpled sheets of her bed.

“Sex?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m not expecting any more than that. I like being with you but you don’t have to act as if—”

“Do you want more?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes, I like being with you.”

He shook his head. “No, Lydia, I don’t mean like that. Do you want to be with
me
?”

“Like in... all the time?”

He smiled. “Yes, like in that.”

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ve only just met and I....”

“You’re still not able to trust me completely, are you?”

She nodded. She wasn’t going to lie. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to trust him. That’s why it just seemed safer to make it about sex. If she were to want more, as he suggested, that would mean she’d have to trust more. She wasn’t able to do that.

“Fair enough,” he said. “You’re going to discover that I’m very patient. But until you do finally trust me enough to give me what I want, can you do something for me?”

“Yes, of course. What?”

He grinned. “Get back on the bed and spread your legs.”

She smiled. She could do that well enough. But as he took her hand and led her back over to the bed, she told herself that despite his seemingly wanting more from her than just sex, she wasn’t going to let herself expect any more than that from their relationship.

He lowered her onto the bed. Gripping her wrists, he slid smoothly inside her, his hard cock moving between the lips of her pussy, his warm mouth sucking wetly around one of her breasts.

She gasped then softly moaned as he sucked harder at her swollen nipple, his cock beating steadily inside her, his thrusts coming faster and faster until she shattered in a glittering frenzy of ecstasy.

Lydia blissfully closed her eyes, the tremors of her orgasm rippling through her like sun-warmed silk. Oh, yes, he could have her pussy whenever he wanted it. She liked the sex. She most definitely liked the sex.

But she wasn’t ready to give him more than that.

He continued to suck lustily at her breast, his stiff cock gliding in and out of her cunt.

She sighed softly. At least not yet.

Chapter Ten

Lydia lazily stretched across the rumpled sheets of her bed. Tristan had left a half hour ago, but her nipples still ached from his having bit, licked and sucked them all night, and her pussy was still raw from his having lustily thrust his cock within it as he had fucked her.

Over and over and over.

His stamina was incredible, his need for sex insatiable, and his desire for her had not diminished over the past few weeks. In fact his wanting to have sex with her had grown so strong that she’d honestly feared that at her age she would not be able to keep up with him.

But keep up with him she had. She’d taken to working out more, which had not only increased her ability to eagerly take part in their marathon sex bouts, but had helped her to lose weight and feel more confident about her body.

That, in turn, made the sex even more exciting. She became bolder about her wants. Different sexual positions, sex toys she’d taken to buying and trying out with him, and his willingness to indulge her every whim and desire had made the last few weeks equal to the most erotic dreams she’d ever had.

She closed her eyes, her tongue sliding over her lips as if she were still licking the cream of his cum from her mouth. Except for the days when he was away or out of town, they had spent nearly every free moment together. As if to prove how much he prized her, he showered her with gifts; extravagant bouquets of her favorite flowers, silver boxes full of antique jewelry, leather-bound first editions of books, boxes of CDs of the music she loved, lavishly framed artwork of her favorite painters. He’d even bought her that ivory
shunga
figurine of the love-making couple that had caught his attention at the new age bookstore that day they’d found each other. It sat on the bed stand.

She sometimes suspected the gifts were compensation for the days he was away or when he would dash off after receiving one of his mysterious phone calls.

She frowned. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that these hurried departures of his troubled her. But she quickly reminded herself that despite all the time they had spent together neither had made any formal commitment to the other. When they were together, they were together, and when they were apart, their lives were their own.