DomNextDoor (5 page)

Tristy had shot him deep and true this morning.

“I’m not your goddamn mistake,” she’d said. “You hear me?”

Is that how he’d treated her, even if only subconsciously?
The act might have been an error but not her. She had to know that.

Damn it!
He’d handled it all wrong.

Tristy needed to know there wasn’t a thing wrong or immoral
about her. She was lovely and beautiful and absolutely honest and innocent. She
was the best thing to come into his life in…well, ever.

The realization made his stomach clench. He handed back the
license.

“Watch your speed next time,” he said.

The blonde regarded him, open-mouthed. She seemed more
surprised than he was.

“You mean I’m free to go?”

“That’s what it means. Now go before I change my mind.”

The girl in the passenger seat frowned. Was it his
imagination or was there a tinge of disapproval in her eyes? As though she knew
her girlfriend deserved a ticket.

He walked woodenly back to his patrol car. Grant was going
to have to talk to Tristy right after his shift was over.

It would be evening by then—Saturday night. He could only
hope she would stay in tonight. In her current state of mind she would pose a
real danger to herself if she went out.

Too bad he couldn’t arrest her. He did have his handcuffs
though. And he knew how to use them.

Chapter Five

Tristy awoke disoriented, her body aching and still tingling
from the games she had been playing with herself. She had not been able to give
herself a proper spanking but she had managed to tie her wrists together with a
scarf for a nice sensation of bondage. From there it had been easy enough to
taunt her nipples and tease her pussy from orgasm to orgasm.

Finally she had fallen asleep utterly exhausted.

She might have lain there forever if not for the doorbell.
Tristy blinked, looking at the clock radio. The LED display read 9:30.

Was that p.m. or a.m.? It was dark so it must be p.m. Yes,
that was it. She had left Grant’s that morning. She had been playing all day.

Tristy sat up. Good grief, was that ringing going to go on
forever?
Take a hint. I’m not home. Or I want to be left alone.

Her heart seized.

Grant.

If anybody would keep on like that it would be him. What
would she say to him? Nothing. He could just wear out his finger if he liked.

She sighed.

That wasn’t very mature. She would at least go out there and
tell him to his face.

Sort of.

By the time she reached the living room she could hear him
calling her name.

“Tristy, I know you’re in there.”

How, Tristy wanted to know? Clutching the robe tightly about
her nude form, as if he could see through solid wood, she went to the door.

“Grant, stop making a spectacle of yourself. You are going
to freak everyone out.”

“I’m a cop. They’ll understand.”

“But this isn’t police business.”

“Maybe it should be.”

“Why? Did I break the law?”

“Just open the door and let me apologize.”

She swallowed hard. She unlocked and opened the door as far
as the chain would allow. She saw his gleaming badge, his broad chest, his
solid chin.

“Tristy, you’re leaving the chain on? Seriously?”

How could she explain that it wasn’t him she distrusted but
her own libido? “I’m tired,” she said. “It’s late.”

“It’s not even ten. And you look like you’ve been sleeping
all day.”

“Stop acting like a know it all,” she snapped. “It’s
annoying.”

“I don’t know it all. I just know you.”

“Whatever.”

“Look, what happened this morning—”

“Hush, you want the neighbors to hear?”

“So let me in.”

“I told you, I’m tired.”

“What you are is stubborn. I can get a search warrant you
know.”

She suppressed a smile. “No, you can’t.” He was clearly
teasing and it was not helping her maintain her defensive walls. “Come back in
half an hour,” she said.

“Why the hell would I do that?” he asked suspiciously.

“So I have a chance to, you know, get presentable.” Actually
she planned to be long gone.

“You are plenty presentable to me. Besides it’s not like I
haven’t seen it all before.”

“I mean it, Grant, give me thirty minutes and don’t you go
cheating by spying on me.”

He sighed loudly. She could just make out that deliberative
frown of his. Of course he didn’t like the idea but he was a gentleman. “Thirty
minutes, not a minute more.”

“Fine.”

Tristy’s heart pounded. A half hour was nothing. How the
hell would she get ready to go clubbing and sneak out of the building by then?
There was one way though. And that would be to call someone up. Invite them
over. A guy maybe.

That would show Grant.

Then again given the guys she knew…
Yuk.
Smart,
Tristy. Real smart.
Maybe she could invite a female friend. If she had any.
No, there was only one option.

Laundry room here I come.

* * * * *

Grant knew Tristy was up to something, he just didn’t know
what.

She might be planning to invite a girlfriend by or maybe she
would try to sneak off to some club. The one thing she would not do would be to
sit quietly by and wait for him to come back and explain himself.

For whatever reason, she did not want an apology. That was
fine, he was a patient man. They had all the time in the world. The only thing
that really worried him was the prospect of her running off tonight and doing
something she might regret.

The city was a dangerous place and Tristy had a way of
finding trouble. Maybe it was the cop in him. He was overprotective and more
than a little suspicious of everyone and everything.

Not that he let it show.

He had been secretly thankful to find she was still at home
in the first place and he intended to keep it that way. But it would be done on
the down low.

Changing as quickly as he could into jeans and sneakers and
his favorite gray T-shirt, Grant grabbed the bag he’d been meaning to take
downstairs. It was full by now and what a great excuse to do laundry.

He had promised not to spy but he’d said nothing about
staying in his apartment. And the great thing about the laundry room was its
location. No one came in or out of the building without passing it. Which made
it the perfect place for a stakeout.

Grant had gotten as far as putting the quarters in the
washing machine when he heard the elevator beep.

So soon? He hid behind the door.

Sure enough there she was, wearing her track suit. The one
she would never wear outside to save her life.

“You forgot something,” he said.

Tristy nearly leaped out of her skin.

He folded his arms.

She regarded him open mouthed. “You!”

“Last I looked, yes I am me.”

“But what are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I would assume.” He inclined his head to her
empty hands. “Except in my case I actually brought my dirty clothes.”

“Fine,” she blurted. “I don’t have any laundry, are you
happy? You’re right as usual and you’re superior, etcetera, etcetera. I’m just
Tristy the fuck up and—”

Next thing he knew, he was holding her in his arms. He
hadn’t expected her to break down so quickly but with Tristy you never quite
knew what to expect.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to feel bad,” he murmured,
stroking her hair.

“What for? You are…perfect as always.”

He laughed. “Hardly, kiddo.”

She shook her head. “I messed everything up.”

Grant held her at arm’s length, determined to get through to
her with good solid eye contact. “Nothing important between us can be messed
up, you got it?”

“So we’re…still friends?” She sniffed, exhaling the words
and though he should have felt joy at the prospect, he was consumed by
blackness.

Friends…

That had meant the world to him twenty-four hours ago. And
now? It wasn’t enough.

“Of course we are,” he soothed. “You think I am going to cut
you off and unleash you on society?”

Tristy laughed softly, making his heart sing. What a
terrifying place to be, so dependent on her reactions, her joy. Was this what
love felt like? It had been so long and even then it hadn’t shown itself like
this, like a delicate butterfly as magnificent as it was vulnerable.

Any sudden moves and the thing would take flight.

“I am a danger, aren’t I?”

If only you knew
.

“You’re not on the top ten most-wanted list if that’s what
you mean,” he quipped.

“I’m a danger to myself,” she decided.

He said nothing as they kept looking into each other’s eyes.
Too long.
Talk about danger.

“I should go get some laundry,” she whispered.

“And I should check on mine.”
Did I even put it in?
Why couldn’t he remember anything before this conversation?

“All right then,” she said.

“All right,” he repeated though it was anything but right.

They tried to walk around each other. It was awkward at
best. Nearly bumping his nose on hers, he diverted slightly and found himself
with his lips on hers.

She moaned in shock and then in startled acceptance. Her
arms reached for his body and his reached for hers. The embrace was painfully
familiar but charged with new possibility.

Tristy sighed and relaxed as his tongue worked its way into
her mouth.

This is a mistake, another fucking mistake.
But he
couldn’t say a word. He didn’t dare hurt her again. Besides his cock had never
been so hard.

She touched it. Just as she had before. But this was not the
same shy, tentative Tristy.

“Let me…” she whispered.

He knew what she wanted and this was not the time or the
place.

“No,” he told her, though it was too late.

Tristy was already sinking to her knees. Grant had the good
sense to reach out and lock the laundry-room door. He grabbed her shoulders as
she reached for his zipper. She worked fast and he was hardly in a position to
resist.

Some domination.

Deftly she reached inside his pants and pulled his cock
through the opening in his jeans. Luckily for her, and unluckily for him, he
had worn no underwear.

Moaning softly, Tristy licked her lips.

This was insanity. They were in a public place and he was a
law-enforcement officer. Tristy kissed the tip of his cock, taking the time to
lick away a drip of pre-come from his uncircumcised head.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said.

“And you are so naughty,” he replied.

“I want to please you…want…”

He groaned, feeling the sensation of her tongue along the
underside of his shaft, along the thick vein. Looking down seeing this gorgeous
creature serving at his feet, he couldn’t help but be moved to the point of
utter ecstasy.

In fact, this was not going to last long. Grant would never
be able to hold out. He could feel his cock swelling already. He leaned forward
slightly as he arched his neck. The roaring sound started deep in his chest. He
was able to keep it mostly silent but it was full of emotion as the orgasm
overtook him.

A powerful rush of sensation washed over him as the hot,
thick jets of semen poured from the end of his cock into Tristy’s waiting and
willing mouth.

“Tristy,” he said, “you don’t have to…”

But she was already doing it, swallowing down every little
bit as fast as he could produce it. She continued sucking him and holding him
fast, her hands wrapped around his waist.

Finally she released him, having licked him clean.

Grant pulled her to her feet. “And what exactly was that
supposed to be?” he asked, finding it more than a little difficult to muster
any real discontent over her actions.

“If you don’t know by now,” she teased, “we’re both in
trouble.”

“We’re supposed to be friends,” he reminded her.

“So I was just doing a solid for my good pal.” She offered a
grin and a wink. “You could say thanks.”

Grant arched a brow. “You know what we call girls like you?”

“I can hardly imagine.”

“We call them brats. They are submissives who try to
manipulate a man into taking control.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It can be. If the couple doesn’t work together.”

“And how would we be, as a couple, I mean?”

“Like fire and ice,” he said without hesitation.

“Which one am I?”

“It depends.”

Tristy put out her hand. “Still friends?”

“Always.”

Her hand was small in his, so easily enveloped. He felt such
a strange combination of desires—to protect, to consume, to possess.

“I will hold you to it,” she declared as she turned toward
the door.

He unlocked the door for her and let her out. Quickly he
closed it behind her. Before she could see the expression on his face. There
was pain there and he knew it. Not the sort of thing you showed a friend.

At least not the ones you were in love with.

* * * * *

Tristy didn’t look back. When she was safely inside her
apartment she locked the door, not that it would protect her. Not from the
things she was feeling. She felt foolish and stupid and…betrayed.

Not by Grant.

How could she blame him? He had done nothing to her. He was
the perfect gentleman always, ever above board, never deceiving or leading her
on.

He was and always would be a friend.

But why not more? What the hell kept them apart?

Was it just the BDSM, which she played at but still feared,
or were they both afraid of a real relationship? Did they feel unworthy of
happiness?

She needed time to think. And her life back on track. She
definitely needed some non-Grant time. Some nice long baths, pay-per-view
movies. Maybe get to know herself a little better.

Then maybe she could look for someone else. Someone not in
her building. It was a good solid idea.

So why was she wiping tears from her eyes?

* * * * *

It was well after midnight when the knock came on Tristy’s
door. Bleary eyed, she looked at the television and realized she had fallen
asleep on the couch.

In a flash it all came back to her, the memories of the last
twenty-four hours, the excruciating highs and lows.

Grant.

Was it him knocking? It had to be. Should she answer?

Her heart pounded. She wanted to tell him to go away. Then
again she wanted to let him in and tell him off. Didn’t he realize what time it
was? Decent people were trying to sleep. Not that she felt very decent.

Resisting the urge to slide the chain across the door,
Tristy used the peephole. A quick gasp followed. It most certainly was not
Grant.

Brian. Of
hello-let-me-lead-you-on-and-then-tell-you-all-about-my-lovely-wife-and-kids
fame. Not that he had even had the decency to tell her himself. She’d had to
find the information on his cell phone. The suspicion had obviously been there.
She had just been ignoring it all along.

“Tristy, I know you’re in there, I can hear you breathing.”

Just barely
, she thought. “Go away, Brian, you
shouldn’t have come.”