Chapter Twelve Tristan
Isquinted against the midday glare, our pursuer disappearing in the rearview mirror as we pulled up to the safehouse near the Crooked Thorn. At least the man didn’t seem to have a car, but I wasn’t deluded enough to think we weren’t being watched at all times.
This was one of my favorite safehouses. From the outside, the place was a nondescript fortress masquerading as an upscale townhouse, blending seamlessly into Boston’s bricked elegance.
“Where’s Liam?” I asked Kieran as we spilled out of the car, stretching limbs cramped from the tense drive.
“Probably off gallivanting with that new girl he’s been seeing,” Kieran replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Some really dumb but smoking hot redhead from a nightclub.”
“Is he safe?” The concern in my voice was genuine; Liam had a knack for finding trouble, and with things the way they were…
“Don’t sweat it,” Kieran shot back, pulling out his phone. “I can track him. So can you, for that matter.”
I didn’t look at my phone. “Alright, just send me the link.”
We walked into the townhouse together after Kieran put the pin into the lock. I watched Adriana take in the opulence of one of our most ostentatious safehouses. Her eyes roamed over the heavy drapes and gilded edges, her short dark hair swaying slightly as she moved.
“What do you guys even do here?” she asked, her hands brushing along the velvet upholstery.
“Orgies, mostly,” Kieran quipped, a smirk dancing on his lips.
“Kieran,” I cautioned, then turned to Adriana. “We sometimes host adult activities. But this is primarily a way station for moving product.”
“Drugs?” She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Among other things.” My reply was casual, but I could tell she was probing for something deeper.
“Human trafficking?”
“Absolutely not,” I said sharply, the very idea running counter to whatever twisted code of honor we Callahans clung to. Adriana nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response for now, but still looking around.
“Right, I’m going to make myself scarce. You two have a lot to hash out.” Kieran motioned towards the kitchen, his lean frame moving with an ease that did nothing to betray the tension that always seemed to coil within him. “I need food in me if I’m expected to deal with whatever’s buried in that damn box we found.”
“Make sure it’s something that can feed all of us,” I called after him, but he was already gone, swallowed by the shadows of the corridor leading to the kitchen.
Adriana and I settled into the thick leather couches in what passed for the living room, our bodies sinking slightly into the cushions. The place felt like a fortress, with its heavy doors and windows that could withstand a grenade blast. It was more than just a hideaway; it was a statement of power.
“Okay, so let’s talk strategy,” she began, her sharp wit cutting straight to the chase. “We need to know who we can trust. Allies are thin on the ground these days.”
“Agreed,” I nodded, rubbing my jaw thoughtfully. “So we know who our enemies are.”
“Yeah, sort of. We know the Rossis don’t like the Callahans right now. And we know my dad doesn’t like you.”
“Shocker,” I said, smiling at her.
“But as long as I’m with you, I don’t think anything will happen to you.”
“I really don’t like the idea of using you like a human shield,” I said.
Adriana sighed. “You guys will sort things out,” she said. “I have some people my sister trusts. I’ve made a list and we can go through them.”
“We could, but cutting someone into the operation requires assurance and assurance comes in many forms,” I mused. “Money, power... or information.”
“Information,” she echoed, leaning forward, elbows on knees. “That’s our currency right now. We need to find out who’s backing the Rossi’s play.”
I shook my head. “I mean. Your dad, right?”
“See, that’s what I thought too,” she said. “But then who is backing the play against my dad? Against all the Orsinis? You heard what happened. Things were crazy for him too.”
I shook my head again, trying to ignore my now growing headache. “I can’t make sense of any of this. If my dad was here, he would…”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” I said, because saying beat up a prostitute seemed like the wrong thing to say. “He would know what to do.”
She sighed, rubbing her own temple. “Ugh. Maybe I could call Carmen.”
“Kieran’s right, we’re not going to get shit done while we’re still hungry,” I said. I didn’t think we were going to get much further talking about this without any new info so I was soon standing up and stretching my arms above my head. The tightness of the white shirt against my torso reminded me that it had been too long since I’d last eaten. But as my gaze settled on Adriana, with her sharp wit and the way she carried her pregnancy with a sort of defiant grace, another kind of hunger stirred within me.
I reached out and grabbed her hand, feeling the familiar jolt of electricity that always shot through me at her touch. “But I’ve got other ideas in mind.” Without waiting for her response, I pulled her toward the master bedroom.
We crossed the threshold and I kicked the door shut behind us with my foot. The room was filled with midday light, casting everything in a warm glow. It felt like the world outside these walls didn’t exist, at least for a moment.
Adriana raised an eyebrow at me, her dark hair framing her face perfectly. “And what might these ‘other ideas’ be, Tristan?” She asked, her voice laced with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. I could tell she was playing along, intrigued despite the exhaustion that shadowed her features.
I leaned closer, my lips brushing her ear as I whispered, “They involve having you climb on top of me and fucking me until we forget about everything but this.” My hands found her hips, fingers digging slightly into the fabric of her leggings.
She let out a soft laugh, the sound echoing around the spacious room. “You really think that’s going to help us think clearer afterward?”
“Absolutely,” I said with a smirk. “It’s all about prioritizing our needs, and right now, this is at the top of the list.”
The tension between us was different than the one we faced outside—it was ours, intimate and raw. In a life where trust was as rare as a peaceful night’s sleep, what Adriana and I shared in these stolen moments was the one thing I never questioned.
“I would love to, but…”
I took a step away from her. “What is it?”
“I just don’t know if I’m up for that,” Adriana sighed, resting a hand on her noticeable bump. “I’m just so tired, and honestly, I’m surprised you’re not too.”
I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, my eyes fixed on hers. “You kidding? I don’t think you’ve ever been sexier.” The words were out before I could filter them, but I meant every syllable.
She shook her head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at her lips. “Sexy isn’t the word I’d use. Huge is more like it, thanks to these little ones here.” She patted her stomach affectionately, her gaze dropping to where our children rested within her.
“Want me to show you how easily I can still toss you around?” I teased, trying to light the spark I knew was there, beneath her weariness. Not because I needed her to say yes.
I didn’t.
I just wished she could see herself the way I saw her.
Adriana’s eyes flicked up to mine, challenging. “I don’t think you can.”
That did it. The challenge in her voice was all the invitation I needed. With a swift movement, I scooped her into my arms, her body cradled against my chest as she let out a gasp mixed with laughter. I carried her a few steps to the bed and with a playful growl, tossed her onto the mattress.
She bounced slightly, her eyes alight with surprise and something else—desire. I didn’t waste time admiring her flushed cheeks; instead, I leaned down to capture her mouth with mine, tasting the laughter still lingering on her lips.
As I kissed her, my lips traveled from her mouth to her neck, tracing the path of her pulse with gentle nips and kisses. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, guiding me to where she wanted me most. I obliged, trailing kisses lower until I reached the soft curves of her breasts.
“Oh, god,” she breathed out.
“Adriana,” I murmured against her skin, pulling back to look at her. Her chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, a flush spreading across her cheeks. The sight sent a jolt of heat through me, but concern edged in as well. She did look tired, the toll of our insatiable appetites evident in the delicate shadows beneath her eyes.
“Why did you stop?”
“Hey,” I said softly, brushing a thumb across her cheekbone. “We don’t have to do anything, you know. You’re probably sore, and we’ve been...well, quite active.” I offered her a half-smile, my own way of acknowledging our shared hunger without making her feel pressured.
Her laughter was a melodic sound that eased the tightness in my chest. “Active is one word for it,” she teased. Despite the lightness in her voice, her body relaxed under my touch, grateful for the reprieve.
“Still,” I continued, the idea forming and solidifying in my mind, “I would love to take a picture of you, just like this, with my cum on your tits. For the wank bank. So you don’t have to do anything if you’re tired.” It was crude, but it was honest, and I watched her face for any sign of displeasure.
She laughed, throwing her head back. “Jesus. You’re so romantic.”
“I’m Robert Frost, babe,” I said.
To my relief, Adriana’s laugh filled the room again. “I am sore, but...” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay. But only if you promise that no one else will ever see that picture.”
“Cross my heart,” I vowed solemnly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I would never share pictures of my future wife with anyone.”
The tenderness between us shifted, giving way to a renewed spark of desire. “Can I touch you then?” I whispered, hovering above her. “Make you come without fucking you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I lowered my hand, tracing the outline of her sex over the fabric of her leggings. She squirmed beneath me, her hips seeking more pressure, more friction. Carefully, I slipped my hand underneath the waistband, finding the slick warmth that awaited me. Her sharp intake of breath was my cue to continue.
“Fuck,” she breathed out sharply when she spoke.
“Relax, Ade,” I soothed as I began a slow, deliberate dance with my fingers. Watching her come apart under my touch was a privilege, one I would never tire of. And as she climbed higher, her cries filling the room, I knew that this—us, together—was everything I’d ever wanted.
Her breath hitched in her throat as I continued my slow torture, her hips rolling in time with my touch. The sight of her flushed skin and shut eyes, her lips parting to release soft, muffled cries was nothing short of intoxicating. The way she moved beneath me was a sight I’d remember for a lifetime.
“Tristan” she gasped, gripping me tighter. Her body tensed, eyes clenched shut as she bit her lip to stifle a moan. The sight of her, writhing beneath me in a pleasure-filled haze was all the motivation I needed.
“Don’t hold back,” I whispered against her ear, my voice husky. “I want to hear you.”
My words seemed to unleash something within her because the next moment, she let out a low, throaty moan as she came. Sweat coated her skin, making it glisten under the dim lighting of the room. Her chest was heaving, eyes wide with surprise and pleasure.
I had no idea how I hadn’t come myself from watching her unravel under me. “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to touch myself now, and I’m going to make you come again.
I positioned my body next to hers so I could keep playing with her clit while she desperately undid the zipper of my jeans.
With a few quick jerks, she freed my length from the confines of my jeans, and I couldn’t help the groan that slipped past my lips. The feel of her hand, so warm and soft against my straining erection was enough to drive me wild. But I held onto my control. For her.
My hardness throbbed against the cool air. My hand instinctively moved down to grip myself, a long, deep groan escaping from my lips as I began to stroke. Adriana’s eyes fluttered open at the sound, her gaze dropping to where my hand was pumping my length. I touched her clit as I did this, surprised at just how responsive she was.
I moved my fingers in a slow circular motion, watching as the pleasure ramped up in her expression, her eyes fluttering closed. The sight further fueled my own arousal, making me stroke myself faster, harder.
“Watch me,” I commanded, never breaking eye contact. With every upward stroke of my hand, Adriana’s pupils dilated further until she was practically panting with lust. I could feel her slickness coating my fingers as I stroked her clit in tandem with my own movements.
“Please...” She whimpered, her voice barely audible. I loved the sound of her pleading, the way her thighs instinctively clenched around my fingers. I sped up my pace, both on her and myself, and watched as her body convulsed with a second orgasm.
I couldn’t take it anymore. The sight of her coming undone pushed me over the edge, and with a final groan, I came all over my hand, marking her with my release. There was a sense of satisfaction in watching my cum dribble down onto her.
Adriana’s eyes were wide as she watched me, a soft blush creeping up her neck. Her mouth hung open slightly as she tried to catch her breath, chest still heaving from the intensity of her orgasms. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight — she was utterly breathtaking.
Well, if I wasn’t going to fuck her, I was going to make this as good for her as I could. “Do you think you can come again?”
She stared at me, wide eyed. “I don’t know.”
“Should we try?”
She gave a small nod, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Try,” she managed to croak out, her voice laced with uncertainty and anticipation.
There was a sense of pride that surged through me at her willingness, her trust in me to guide her pleasure. I moved my hand back to her center, basking in the wet warmth that awaited me. With each stroke of my fingers, I could feel her responsive shivers, hear her moan as she threw her head back.
“Look at you,” I whispered, my voice rough with desire as I remembered why I was doing this in the first place, grabbing my phone from my pocket and recording. “So fucking beautiful like this.”
I took my finger off her clit. Her chest heaved, and she looked up at me with eyes that sparkled with a mixture of lust and love. I traced my fingertips through the mess on her chest, bringing them to her lips. “Lick them clean,” I commanded softly, and she didn’t hesitate, her tongue circling my fingers with an eagerness that sent another wave of desire coursing through me.
“Tristan, please,” she begged, her need evident in her voice.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” I reassured her as I continued to touch her, watching her reactions through the screen of my phone as my hand moved down toward her clit again. Her hips bucked against my hand, seeking more contact, and I obliged, pressing down on her sensitive flesh with a rhythm that spoke of intimate knowledge, of nights spent learning every sound, every shiver, every sigh.
“Oh, fuck,” she said.
“Come for me, Ade. Show me how much you love it,” I encouraged, my voice a low growl.
And she did, her body trembling as she reached her peak, her orgasm taking her over the edge. She came hard on my finger, her cries of ecstasy music to my ears, while her tongue and chest were still coated in my cum.
“Good girl,” I praised her, the pride in my voice unmistakable. “You did so good.”
I tossed the phone away somewhere and laid down next to her. I traced the lines of ecstasy on her flushed skin, watching as she slowly calmed from the high. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her dark hair a wild contrast against the pale fabric of the pillow beneath her head.
“Are you okay?” I asked, needing to hear it from her, my concern genuine. There was a fine line between pleasure and pain, and I walked it carefully with her. Especially when she was pregnant with my babies.
“More than okay,” she replied with a small smile, her sharp wit momentarily muted by the intensity of our encounter.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I suggested, sliding an arm under her to lift her gently. Our midday tryst had left us both spent and hungry for more than just each other. But as we stood, our bodies still close, I knew that whatever hunger gnawed at us, it went far beyond the physical. It was a craving for connection, for the vulnerability we found in each other’s arms—a dangerous desire in our world, yet one neither of us could deny.
If either of us knew what was coming next, we would have probably never left that fucking room.