Tristan braced his hand against the black marble shower wall of his hotel room's bathroom, squeezed the head of his d***and wrapped his fingers around it, pulling firmly. He opened his mouth and threw his head back with his eyes closed.
All he could see was Serenity. Her gorgeous light-brown eyes. Her round, plump ass. Her long legs. Wrapped around him. Stretched high. Stretched wide. Her mouth. Wrapped around him. Sucking him in. Pulling him in. Swallowing him. Going deeper. And deeper. Hitting the back of her throat.
"Mmmmm," he painfully moaned, yanking faster.
Those boobs. Those perfect, bouncy boobs. He could see her sucking him off to an explosive finale while she palmed her hands around them. Squeezing them. Teasing those hard, tight nipples. Holy shit, he was going to cum so hard.
Tristan pulled one last time and his head flew back as a harsh grunt escaped him. His seed spurted out against his hand, spraying the shower wall and faucet. The orgasm that erupted from him was so powerful and strong it almost blinded him. Images of Serenity now sprawled on her back flashed before him. She was wide and open to him while he plowed into her. The saucy images continued to masturbate the dirty crevices of his mind.
Being away from Serenity was driving him crazy. This was madness. Any other red-blooded male would be six-feet deep in p**** by now. But not him. He was trying to be honorable.
This wasn't normal. What he felt for her wasn't normal. It couldn't be. He needed to talk to someone. But who? For his bandmates love was something that only existed in Lifetime Movies and Hallmark cards.
At times like this, he wished he could talk to his father. A man needed his father when he was dealing with emotions he didn't understand. But that mother fucker had never been good for anything but throwing his fists, drinking, and leaving. He was better off without him.
Their manager Jason was definitely out of the question. Jason was cool when he wanted to be, but he was anything but paternal. He was all business. Tristan didn't even know Jason's wife's or children's names. He never brought them on the road. Tristan never saw him doing anything unseemly but that didn't mean he wasn't. Besides, Jason had the maturity of a gnat. Talking to him wasn't going to do any good. He'd thought Tristan was nuts for skipping out on them to see Serenity the week before anyway.
And the guys... Hell no. He was still weighing over in his mind whether he wanted to introduce them to her or not. He wasn't ready to share her yet. Wasn't sure he wanted anyone to think they were a thing or look at them as a thing. Were they a thing?
Spent, he dropped his head against the wall and grit his teeth, sighing heavily. God, he missed her. He missed her so much he could barely stand it. He didn't get or understand what this was. Yes, they had mind-blowing sex. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she was clearly one of the smartest, funniest, engaging, sweetest, most down to earth women he had ever met, without a doubt.
He would probably have blue balls if he wasn't masturbating so much. He was getting tired of having to touch himself. Tired of not having her there beside him, available to him. He was tired of not seeing her every day. Listening to her touch herself while he touched himself was getting boring. He wanted her. The real thing.
He wanted to fuck her every minute of every day. He wanted to fall asleep beside her; wake up with her next to him in his bed.
He stood under the shower for several minutes, lost in his thoughts, before finally grabbing his wash rag and shower gel to finish the shower he had started before his horniness had gotten the best of him.
He quickly rinsed his fatigued body and exited the shower. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and toweled himself dry, glaring at his reflection. His hand felt stiff and he flexed it, looking at it. He had been jerking off so much he was surprised he didn't have carpel tunnel.
He stared at the floor, still thinking of her. She captivated him. She was so beautiful it took his breath away. What was it about her? He'd met other smart, beautiful women before. He'd been infatuated before. Been heavily in like with someone. He was a certified, self-proclaimed man-whore but there had been some women in his short life who had held his attention for more than five minutes. But that was a while ago.
This was different. This was... a different type of infatuation. A different kind of like. It was almost like an obsession. She consumed every inch of his brain, morning, noon, and night. That could be anything but healthy.
He literally thought about having sex with her all the time. When he was eating, when he was in the studio, when he was on the tour bus, when he was on stage, when he was in meetings, at press events, when he was taking a shit.... It was driving him crazy. Talking to her was not enough, hearing her voice was not enough. God knows fantasizing about her and jacking off was getting old. He needed her. Here with him. It was becoming harder to turn outside p**** down. It wasn't even really about the other women. He just needed a release. He was used to getting p**** on the regular and a few times every three weeks was not going to cut it.
One of the chicks in housekeeping him accosted him earlier, offering to suck his d***. She had the perfect lips for it too and she was bad as hell. He'd actually considered it for a small moment. He was ashamed to admit it to himself, but he had.
He had been keeping Serenity at the forefront of his mind to ward off those unhealthy temptations, but it wasn't working anymore. He didn't know how the hell he was going to survive the next two weeks.
Tristan sat his towel on the counter and stared at his reflection in the mirror, scowling again. He was pathetic. He looked pathetic. He needed to call someone. He needed to end this silliness. He needed to fuck Serenity out of his system. But he couldn't stand the thought of hurting her.
However weird or unhealthy this seemed, he really liked Serenity. He cared for her a great deal and the thought of hurting her or betraying her hurt his own feelings. What was the point? Because he was a dog? Because he liked dipping his dick in the endless p****pool? Where had that gotten him?
Bracing his fists on the cool marble counter, Tristan leaned towards the mirror and peered at his reflection. His looks had been good to him; fame even better. When he was a younger, pimple-faced, squeaky-voiced teen, he'd often wondered if he'd ever get laid. Soon as he sprouted up five more inches, his face cleared up, and his voice had settled into his mature, seductive baritone, the girls had been in never-ending rotation, especially once the pop star status kicked in.
From the time he'd had his first piece, his sexual appetite had been out of control. On average, before Serenity, he could go through almost twenty girls in a week. Since Serenity, he could barely function without thinking about fucking her; doing all kinds of nasty things to her. His friends liked to joke he was s sex addict, but he really wasn't. It wasn't like he had to fuck, he just enjoyed doing it like every other man with a beating pulse and throbbing d***. P**** was constantly at his beck and call, what else was he supposed to do?
These past weeks with Serenity, however little time they'd spent together, had been the happiest of his life. He looked forward to talking to her every day; hearing her voice every night. Just that night he had sat on the edge of his bed, stark naked, delaying taking a shower while they talked about everything and nothing. He enjoyed the animation in her voice, the excitement she exuded while talking about a new book project she was working on. And he hadn't been bored.
He'd never taken the time to get to know a woman before. He felt like he really knew Serenity, inside and out. He shared things with her. Things he'd never shared with another woman. He allowed himself to be vulnerable with her and it didn't scare him anymore. It energized him. Made him feel important. Valued.
Rolling his eyes at his reflection, Tristan walked back into his room and grabbed his scented lotion, applying some to his body. His scattered thoughts were still getting the best of him.
He hadn't been able to think straight since he met her. Couldn't concentrate on any one thing for long. The guys were starting to notice his strange behavior. He didn't hang out with them anymore. Stopped clubbing with them. Stopped hunting for ass with them. Every night after each show, he went back to his room and barricaded himself inside. He didn't trust himself to be around a group of women. It was hard enough doing the meet and greets with their fans. Some of them were so sexy and scantily clad it made him uncomfortable. He almost felt ashamed looking at them. Sometimes he even felt himself blushing. That was just stupid.
The guys thought he was losing his mind. Nyle sympathetically looked at him. He knew what the deal was, but he was keeping Tristan's secret. Jason didn't care so long as he kept doing what he needed to do onstage.
On their days off, Tristan stayed in his room writing or watching TV. Or eating. He knew he had gained more than a few pounds. He felt so sissified. Men didn't act like this. He'd always prided himself on having control over his emotions, if not his groin. He didn't like isolating himself. He didn't like behaving. They weren't a couple, not officially anyway. So why was he torturing himself like this?
"Because you want to," he whispered aloud to himself. "Even if it's making you nuts. Even if it's lonely as fuck."
He audibly sighed and yanked on his underwear. He was lonely, but he wasn't unhappy. He was over the moon happy. Serenity made him happy. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he looked forward to each day so much, mainly just so he could hear her voice again. He smiled for no reason lately. He was smiling now, thinking of her.
He'd hated he couldn't talk to her earlier when she was with that... girl. It had pissed him off in ways he hadn't expected. He didn't like her not being available to him. That was the first time that had happened, and he didn't like it. The disappointment had choked him. He'd needed her. For what, he didn't know. Just needed her sunshine for that moment. And it had been rudely interrupted.
His mood darkened when the thought about Kara. He couldn't stand that bitch. Hadn't liked her since the first time she'd barged into that room at the club.
He knew she was Serenity's best friend and Serenity cared about her a great deal, but Tristan had a hard time understanding why they were friends. They were like night and day. He feigned interest when Serenity briefly talked about their lunch, but she could sense he could care less and didn't talk about it long. He knew he might have to tolerate Kara in the future, especially if he and Serenity continued to be a thing, whatever that was, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He wasn't a good actor and pretending to give a damn about Kara was not going to be an easy feat. But if it would make Serenity happy...
She'd mentioned him, Kara, and herself getting together for dinner next time he was in town. Tristan knew Serenity was dealing with heavy shit with her Mom, so he wanted to comply to her request with little drama. The moment that Kara bitch came out of her face wrong to him though, it was going to be on and popping. No way in hell would he ever hit a woman; he was raised better than that. But he'd curse her ass out if it came to it.
Finished, Tristan shut the night-light off and climbed into bed, kicking his strewn clothes to the floor. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He hoped to God Nyle didn't bring a woman back to the room with him tonight. It was becoming hard as hell to listen to the bed squeaking and the over the top screams of various groupies without watching or joining in. That was in the past. Serenity was the present. He would focus and concentrate on the present.
Sleep didn't come easy. He kept tossing and turning. He had talked to Serenity tso hours ago, after the Knight and Nyle show. Her voice still teased his ears, burning them. Her eyes haunted him. Her hips. The way her waist curved in before her hips flared out and jutted back.
He put his hand between his legs and sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. What the fuck? Usually after sex or masturbation he was good; he was ten times hornier than he'd been before.
Late into the night, Tristan was still tossing and turning with images of Serenity and what he wanted to do to her and with her, for her and about her tormenting him from fully falling asleep. This was bullshit. He had to get up at seven am in the morning for a radio appearance and he needed to be fully alert. He wasn't at his best self when he was operating on a few hours of sleep. But that girl and her demon p**** would not stop teasing his brain.
Tristan flopped over on his stomach, bunched his pillows together, and grumbled into his pillow, squeezing his shut eyes together.
Think of something else.
Pigs in mud, roadkill, nuns in granny underwear, anything. But that shit didn't work either. The pigs turned into big, fat, and pink juicy boobs, the roadkill became a naked woman with a perfect ten body lying naked in the road, winking at him, and the nuns in habits turned into naked nuns, pillow-fighting on a bed of chocolate syrup.
God, why do you hate me so much?
Sighing loudly, Tristan pulled his pillow over his head and tried counting sheep. That worked for a minute, until the sheep turned into images of Serenity scantily clad in various pieces of lingerie. Tristan dryly laughed and shook his head. This was going nowhere. It was going to be a long night.
In the wee hours of the morning, when sleep had finally shined her warm light upon him, Tristan was jolted awake by a loud bang against his door and a flood of light being ushered into the room.
Tristan fumbled in the darkness to find the light on the night-table and quickly turned it on, swearing.
"Man, what the fuck?" he grumbled, throwing his legs over the bed and jumping up.