Chapter Thirty – Mabel
I’d be lying if I say my heart doesn’t still beat like it did when I stared down Robert Hayes over the barrel of that hunting rifle as Tristan drives us home. The more I think about it, the crazier and weirder it all is—how did he find me? I deactivated all of my social media, and my dad’s too lame to ever make a profile anywhere. It isn’t like we moved thirty minutes away. We literally moved states.
And then Dr. Wolf doesn’t think we should tell the police, or my dad, for that matter. When he first said it, I was a bit confused, but now that I have some more time to think about it, I guess it makes sense.
Getting the police involved could put Tristan in danger. It’d put me and my dad in the spotlight again, and let everyone in this town know about Jordan once someone connected the dots. My dad likes it here; I don’t want him to lose that.
And , I think as I tilt my head toward Tristan as he drives us along dark, winding roads, I like it here, too.
Tristan loves me. And I love him. It’s the strangest thing. I never thought…
Facing my own mortality for the second time in my life made me realize how much more to life there can be. I know now how badly I want it. And the truth of the matter is, I don’t know whether I’d feel the same if Tristan wasn’t in my life.
Tristan must sense I’m staring at him, because he takes a hand off the wheel and sets it on my leg, squeezing gently. He tosses me a fast glance before saying, “How are you feeling now?”
I place a hand atop his, feeling his warmth seeping into me at all angles. “Better, but I still don’t understand why Dr. Wolf put trackers in my shoes. Kind of seems like a violation of privacy, but at the same time, if he wouldn’t have done it, I’d be dead right now. I can’t really be too upset.”
He’s quiet for a while, but he’s thinking hard. I can tell there’s a lot he wants to say, but he’s trying not to—maybe his feelings about Dr. Wolf tainted them. Eventually he says, “I’m just glad you’re not hurt. If I would’ve lost you…” He heaves a sigh that I feel in my core.
I squeeze his hand. “But you didn’t. Thank you for not killing him. You did the right thing.”
“Did I? The asshole was going to put a bullet in you, Mabel. He should know how it feels.” Speaking as a killer himself, I bet he believes death is the only answer to some of life’s important questions.
“He just wants someone to blame.”
“You can blame someone without killing them, believe it or not.”
“I know, but… I am the reason his son is dead.” I close my eyes. “That list… his son was number one—a jerk who made my life hell in high school. Making fun of me every day, constantly.”
Tristan’s voice comes out quiet when he says, “Just because you put him on a list doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”
“It’s not just the list. That day, when Jordan killed all those people… he messaged me and asked where I was. Our class wasn’t in our normal classroom. We were working on papers in the computer lab. I didn’t think anything of it, so I told him. I’m the reason he broke into the library and shot Robbie. He knew Robbie was in my English class.”
“Mabel—”
I can tell Tristan is trying to comfort me, but I’m not done confessing yet. I keep going: “After he killed Robbie, Jordan smiled at me and said, ‘That one’s for you, sis.’ Everyone else heard it. Someone even recorded it.” The strong emotions inside me threaten to well up and spill over, and I struggle to keep the tears at bay. “They were the last words Jordan ever spoke. He was shot right in front of me, right after he said it.”
“I’m sorry.” Tristan’s voice is low, as gentle as ever as he says, “But even so, none of it is your fault. Just because you made a stupid list with your brother one day and told him where you were doesn’t mean shit. You didn’t force him to bring that gun to your school. You didn’t make him pull the trigger. He chose to.” There’s a stretch of silence before he adds, “He chose to do all of it.”
The way he says that last part makes me wonder if, perhaps, he’s not just talking about Jordan. Maybe he’s talking about himself, too. Everything he did for his sister. Maybe, if Jordan was given the time, he’d regret taking all those lives the way he did.
Or maybe he wouldn’t, and it’s all just wishful thinking.
When we reach the mansion, Tristan hops out of the car before I do, and he hurries around the front of it to help me out. He takes me by the hand and leads me inside, and I let him. It feels nice to know someone else is there for me, someone who doesn’t judge me, who truly understands me and all of my faults.
As we walk up the stairs, I say, “I never told anyone that before. That Robbie was number one.”
Tristan’s hand tightens around mine, and he looks back at me in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. “You can tell me anything. You know that. I will take every single part of you, if you’ll let me.”
The only thing I can do is nod. I’ve given him everything, and now I’ve told him everything. There isn’t a part of me I’ve kept to myself. Tristan knows me more than anyone else in the world, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Tristan brings me to my bathroom, where he flicks on the light and releases my hand only so he can turn the showerhead on to get the hot water running for me. He moves before me and smooths down my hair. “I’ll be in your room.” He places a kiss on my forehead and steps around me, but I grab his arm and stop him from leaving the room.
“Wait,” I breathe out. “Do you… want to take a shower with me?” Asking the question makes my cheeks heat up and certain parts of my body get all tight and warm. I don’t want him to leave. I want him with me.
The look Tristan gives me after that—his dark eyes half-lidded, his lips parted ever so slightly—tells me exactly what he’s thinking about. Instead of leaving to go wait for me in my room, he shuts the bathroom door and locks it even though we’re alone in this big house.
Before I know it, he’s before me once again, taking my face in his hands as he tilts my head back and leans down to press his forehead against mine. He breathes hard, his dark eyes closed. “I thought I was going to lose you tonight.” It’s not the first time he said it, but it is the first time I detect the absolute anguish in his tone. Losing me would have devastated him.
“You didn’t,” I whisper, and he stops me from saying anything else by kissing me.
I’ll never get over how it feels to kiss this man. Just when I think I’m used to it, he presses those lips on mine and makes the world spin around me in a different way. Hard and unyielding, yet gentle at the same time. Two sides of a coin, two extremes inside him, both of which I bring out.
His hands fall from my face, and the only reason we stop kissing is so he can help me out of my clothes, one piece at a time. My coat, my shirt, my bra, then everything beneath the waist. Tristan actually falls to his knees to help me out of my shoes, my socks, and lastly my pants and panties.
Seeing him on his knees does something for me, and honestly? Seeing how expertly he moves, how easily he took Robert Hayes down… equally hot.
Next, it’s his turn to take off his clothes. I help him when I can, but he’s faster at it, and soon enough we’re stepping in the shower together, the hot water pelting us both. It’s a walk-in shower, tiled all around, so there is ample room for us both. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close, and I hum as I close my eyes and accept another kiss.
His hands run up and down my back, eliciting a shiver from me even though the water and his body are warming me up. His tall frame hunches over somewhat as his lips break away from mine. He nuzzles against the crook of my neck, and I inhale sharply when he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot.
All I can feel, and I can see, all I can think about is Tristan. If this is what love is like, I get why people obsess over it. It’s unlike anything else in the world. I never want it to go away, to disappear or fade into something else. This fire, this spark; it’s addicting in the best of ways. I want more. I want it all.
I run my hands up his sides. The scars beneath my fingertips are a reminder of what he did, an eternal reminder that his past is just as screwed up as mine. The name on his arm, the scars on his face he can’t hide with clothing; Tristan wears his past on his flesh while I’m able to keep it all tucked away.
We truly are broken when we are apart, but we are whole when we’re together. What started off as curiosity morphed into something I could never have foreseen. Love. Two lonely, broken souls that should never have crossed paths found each other and now there’s no way to separate us. We are one.
Tristan takes a step forward, and in doing so, he pushes me against the tile wall. The wall is still a bit cold, but the rest of me is hot enough to combat the difference. He drops to his knees before me, grabs my right inner thigh and hoists it up over his shoulder as he positions himself before my apex.
He doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into my clit, and I throw my head back and moan the moment I feel his tongue snake out and run alongside my aching nub. Tristan knows exactly how to play me, the maestro to my symphony, and he won’t stop until the big finish.
I throw my head back, my moans growing louder as he showers my most private parts with a hefty amount of attention from his tongue. Every so often he dips lower to my pussy, sticking his tongue inside of me to taste me. That tongue moves like his life depends on it.
The hot water, combined with the way Tristan feasts on me, washes away all of the taint from tonight. All of the fear, the worry, the anxiety. It’s a baptism of sorts, and I lose myself to it, to the man between my legs.
Tristan is ravenous, and my body reacts accordingly. He can’t get enough of me, and it’s not too long before my clit starts to swell under the constant assault from that voracious tongue. Pressure builds within me, and I clench my thighs against the sides of his head in anticipation of what’s coming. My back arches off the tiled wall, grinding my clit against that mouth with a fevered need.
My lungs feel as though they could explode, like no matter how much I breathe in I can’t quite fill them enough. I bite my bottom lip as I struggle to fill my lungs, stifling any further moans, and I weave a hand into Tristan’s wet hair, tugging gently.
And then I see stars.
I lose whatever composure I had left as I come with a swift, surging force. My clit spasms under the pressure of his tongue, and I cry out my pleasure as the heated bliss sweeps through me, taking hold of every part of me and refusing to let go. The orgasm is earth-shattering and mind-numbing, the kind of orgasm that easily knocks you off your feet—it’s a good thing Tristan remains my rock between my legs, otherwise my knees definitely would’ve given out.
Tristan is not someone who can settle for pushing me off the orgasmic cliff just once. No, the man has to do it multiple times in quick succession, as if he feels he must prove to me he can unravel me to my very core. He remains planted between my legs, with my right hooked over his shoulder, as he continues to devour all that I am.
Just when I think my body has had enough, Tristan proves me wrong. The first orgasm primed me, made me ready for more, so it’s even easier for him to push me off that ledge again, edging me until my body simply can’t take it anymore, until I’m a panting mess and every part of me is tingly and hot.
Orgasm after orgasm, only Tristan knows when he’s sated, and by the time he finally stands and licks his lips, a hungry expression on his face, I lost count of how many times he made me come. That tongue of his definitely has superpowers. The mere thought of his mouth between my legs makes my thighs clench and my core tighten.
Eyes half-lidded, Tristan grabs me by the hips and hoists me up, holding me against the wall so that my pussy is level with his rock-hard cock, and he buries his nose into my wet hair seconds before his hips jerk forward. His length enters me with one thrust, filling me up with no friction whatsoever. After all those orgasms, I must be dripping wet for him.
We switched from condoms to oral contraceptives, and let’s just say both of us prefer it this way. With nothing separating us, we are one. His cock nestles inside of me like it was meant to be there, like my body is its home.
Neither of us say a single word, but it’s obvious with the way he holds onto me, with how urgently he moves his hips and spears me with his cock, that he needs me just as much as I need him. Alone we are lost, but together we are strong. We can overcome. We can thrive.
I wrap my arms around his neck and lose myself to the sensation of being fucked by the man I love. There is nothing more intimate, nothing more sensual and erotic, than surrendering like this.
Over the noise of the shower, I hear Tristan’s deep voice murmur, “I love you.”
I’m seconds from saying it back, but he jerks his hips against me and fills me up in a way that brings out a moan from my lips. My moaning becomes my reply as I weave my fingers into the hair on the back of his head and hold on as he fucks me like I carry the answers to the universe’s oldest, most important questions.
Tristan’s hands on my sides dig into my skin a little harder, a telltale sign that he’s about to come. Harsh, rough grunts come from him as he plunges his length into me with renewed vigor, and my core tightens around his cock in anticipation.
When he comes, he comes with a vengeance, jerking against me hard enough to push the air out of my lungs. A sound that’s more like a growl than anything else echoes from his strong lungs, and inside me a warmth blossoms as his cock empties. His movements grow jerkier, less rhythmic, and eventually he slows to a halt, balls-deep in me, like he’s trying to plug up his cum in me and stop it from leaking out.
“I love you,” Tristan says it again, sounding so desperate, so urgent, as if he can’t say it enough.
“I love you,” I whisper the words back, watching as he lifts his head and meets my eyes. I can tell just by the mischievous glint that appears in their dark hue that he’s not quite done with me yet—and to that I only have one thing to say.
Bring it on. Let’s wear this shower out, and then when the water runs cold, we’ll do the same thing to the bed.
This is the start of a new chapter in my life, a chapter I never thought I’d see, and for the first time ever, I can honestly say I’m ready for it. Ready and wanting. There isn’t a single thing I can’t handle, provided Tristan is at my side.