The girl under him was soft enough, he supposed. Tristan flexed his hips against her. She moaned at all the right times. His cock was full with arousal. Arousal and perhaps, anger. He brushed away the thought and withdrew his flesh from the woman's, before slamming against her. She groaned.
"Do you like to be fucked?" He said in a low voice.
"Yes," she answered breathlessly. "Yes,"
He pulled her legs tighter around him and slammed hard into her again. She writhed under him.
"Hard?"
She nodded wordlessly, her mouth opened in pleasure.
He rolled his hips against her, each movement rubbing her clit against his bottomed-out cock.
"You like to cheat on your lover by fucking someone else?"
The woman's eyes opened in confusion.
"Uh..."
"Is that what you like?" Tristan repeated. He pushed the woman's hips up and pressed his face into her. She groaned and arched her back, ignoring his question under his expert tongue. He lashed her wet folds with his tongue, dipping inside her and eating her out with deep pleasure. She squirmed under his mouth. When he felt the beginnings of an orgasm start in her, Tristan pulled back and plunged his cock into her. She arched harder against him and he pounded them both to completion.
With deep disdain, he got dressed.
"I don't have a lover," the woman said. He looked at her with no interest.
"I'm not cheating on anyone," she continued.
Arching a brow, Tristan picked up his jacket and left her house.
--------------------
Faye sat with her legs up on her bed.
Steph entered with a tray of cookies and orange juice.
"Faye, honey you have to eat sometime you know." She sighed, sitting beside her friend.
Faye looked away.
"Faye, it will be alright. Do you want to file a report against-"
"No," Faye said. "No, I want to forget about it."
Steph looked at her worriedly. "Well, I'm asking my bouncer friend to make sure he doesn't come here again," she offered.
Faye sat, unmoving.
"Dear, you know Tristan will come round soon," Steph said gently. Faye flinched. "He'll realize that it wasn't what he thought it was, and he'll come round," Faye looked at her. She shrugged.
"Well. You can't stay home all day. Let's go to the library, at least, you should return that Gatsby book you borrowed weeks ago. It's probably way overdue."
Faye let Steph bustle her about the house, gathering things and books for their little trip to the library.
She felt nothing.
She hadn't felt nothing in years.
-----------------------
There weren't many people in the library. But then, there never are. So when the bell tinkled and a tall man walked in with a young lady, Faye wasn't surprised to see that it was Tristan. Steph gasped.
"Uh, ma'am these books are for return," she said hurriedly to the librarian, chucking her books at her.
Faye eyed the couple. Her face remained as set in stone as ever.
Tristan made no indication that he had recognized her. He drew the female closer to him.
Steph battled within herself. Taking a look at her friend, then at the stony-faced Tristan, she pressed past the shelves and tackled Tristan to a corner.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" She hissed.
Tristan looked at her expressionlessly.
"She didn't cheat on you, you dimwit! She was fucking raped!"
A muscle moved in his jaw.
"Stop being an ass! What's with all these women! You're turning into Faye before you! Before she met you!"
Tristan leaned in to speak in Steph's ear.
"Well, I must say there are some merits to it."
He turned and walked back to his companion.
Steph bristled.
"YOU ASSHOLE."
The librarian hushed her fiercely.
Tristan walked to the exit with the perplexed female he was with. Before he left he turned and looked at Faye. She did not look at him.
---------------------------
The hand moving down the front of his chest was small and leanly-fingered. Absently, Tristan took a chip from the bowl on the table and ate it. The crunch was loud in his quiet apartment. Kitty sat in the corner, eyeing her owner with churlish disapproval. The new girl smelt odd, clung to her owner way too much for comfort, and worst of all, didn't like dogs. She could tell. Kitty could always tell. Grunting harshly she curled up in her bed, with her neat rump to them and went to sleep.
The girl was insistent.
"Somebody's happy," she purred, her long limbs tangled around Tristan's body from where she sat behind him on the couch. He shrugged noncommittally from his perch on the floor. Another chip followed the first. Idly, he flipped through channels on the TV. Her hand dipped past the waistband of his pants.
She was trying, nobody could say she wasn't. This man, he was prize male. He smelt of money, and handsome aloofness. No girl could resist a moneyed, good-looking man who didn't really want her. She increased her efforts, walking her fingers past the beginnings of hair down Tristan's abdomen, to where he lay nestled in his briefs, snug and asleep. She drew the tips of her fingers over the bump in the cotton. Tristan chewed quietly. Undeterred, she spread her hand over the warm surface of his balls below, and massaged firmly. Tristan cleared his throat. The girl stroked her fingers up again, feeling the outline of him solidify under her coaxing touch.
"Mmm," she cooed, tracing the plump head of his cock through the fabric of his briefs. Tristan turned his head and looked at her. She smiled at him encouragingly, but he did not break a smile. He turned his gaze back to the TV and she hid her frustration. Brusquely, she eyed the channel he had landed on. "This show is crap," she muttered. "Seriously, That 70s Show? Even I don't watch that junk."
She was startled when she felt him tense beneath her.
After a taut silence, he stood up.
Anxiously, the girl curled her limbs up and wondered if she had said something wrong.
His eyes were expressionless as ever as he knelt and picked her up, slinging her over his back in a fireman's lift. She squealed, and the sound stirred Kitty, who tottered after Tristan as he made his way to his bedroom. To her deep displeasure, Tristan closed the door in the pug's face.
She didn't know what was going on, but this was good. Tristan stripped off his shirt lazily, and she watched with rising anticipation, greedily eyeing the taut lines of his body, the low rise of his pants on his hips, the sculpted muscle leading to the faint arrow of hair that disappeared into his briefs. He met her eyes with the closest to a smile that she had seen so far, and after shucking his pants and underwear in one motion, put a knee on the bed and hoisted himself over her.
She swallowed slightly and looked down. It rose in an almost-graceful arc, pressing against his belly, full and plump-crowned. He knew where she was looking and he dipped his head into the curve of her neck, his mouth tracing a delicious path on her skin. She shuddered against him as he reached back and pulled the sheath of her dress over her head. His eyes darkened slightly as he looked at her, one strap of her bra fallen over her shoulder, her panties snug against what was surely moistening flesh. He pulled the lowered strap down so that the pale flesh of her breast was exposed to him. A faint blush feathered her cheeks. He noted it with absent surprise as he kissed the underside of her breast, firm and curved, and watched her nipple tighten. He put out his tongue and licked it. She almost whimpered. With his right hand, Tristan felt the skin of her thigh. It was smooth and pliant, and when he skirted the front of her panties with his hand she bucked involuntarily up toward him. He followed the rise of her movement, denying her the contact she sought. She clicked her tongue slightly in frustration, and he silenced her with a kiss.
She wasn't expecting his kiss, and the sweet musk of his lips, his tongue delving into her mouth was unexpectedly pleasing. She curved up into his kiss, finding herself wanting more. Tristan noted the breathlessness in her kiss and gave in, sliding his fingers snug over the front of her panties, stroking her through the fabric. She breathed heavily, savouring the touch of his hand on her, still teasing her with his light strokes through her panties, cupping her sex with his hand and stroking the swell of her clit with his thumb. She realised her eyes were half-closed with arousal and she opened them, looking up into his eyes. What odd eyes he had. They never seemed happy. Wordlessly, she reached down, running her hand over his naked form, his strong chest and taut abdomen, and clasped the rigid, warm shaft that grew from between his legs. He jerked slightly against her, and she was pleased to know that he did have a weakness, after all. Encouraged, she slid a finger over the moisture of his cock and stroked him slowly.
Tristan found himself flexing his hips into the girl's grip. He stilled, fighting to regain full control, and swiftly pushed his hands past the barrier of her panties, flexing his fingers through the top of the fabric. He felt her soft, moist lips part for him, and she moaned softly, her eyes closing again, and he coaxed the pleasure from her, strong, even fingers in her slick wetness. She looked almost delectable, he found himself thinking, and brushed the thought away as quickly as it came. She was lost in sensation, her body lithe and undulating under his touch. He slipped a finger into her and she shuddered. He slid in another and rubbed her clit with his thumb. She looked like she was about to come any minute. Pursing his lips, Tristan drew back and removed her panties in one swift motion. He sheathed his cock with a condom and before she could gather her senses about her, aligned his hips with hers and thrust heavily into her.
She shuddered under him, feeling that exquisite pleasure-pain of a thick, warm cock first penetrating her flesh, and he gave her no time to recover, tipping her up against the pillows and thrusting into her. Pleasure flooded her senses and she clutched at him tightly. He thrust unyieldingly into her, knowing nothing but the warm, slick clasp of her flesh on his, and she gave in to his fierce lunges.
When she came, she arched against him, writhing in almost-agony, her legs stretched in a vee around his body. She could feel his cock jerking inside her as he followed, his face etched from his orgasm, and feel his balls clenching against her.
Tristan lifted himself off her, disposed of the condom, and went back outside to the living room, as if he had done nothing more than have a cup of tea.
