Trigger, p.7
Trigger, page 7
He doesn’t respond, so I head for my office to check emails before my next appointment. Before I round the corner, Stitch comes out of his office and yells for me.
“Hey man, you back?” he says, leaning against his door frame.
“Your shit’s on the counter.” I spin and hold my bag up. “I’m eating in my office to get work done. My next appointment should be here in an hour if you wanna grab me when they’re ready.”
“Oh uh…” he laughs. “All right. You got someone in your office, yo.” He heads towards the front counter. “Thanks for the grub!”
Someone in my office? Probably fucking Kaden. Ever since I pulled that disappearing act on him he’s been fucking weird. Like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Kaden, I told you I’m fucking fine,” I say loudly, storming to my door. “She’s nothing to me an-” I stop dead in my tracks when my door flies open and I see Sienna sitting in the corner of my office. She’s wearing a summer dress. One that I used to like on her. Easy. Fucking. Access.
“Trigger.” Her voice wavers and she doesn’t stand. She sits there, cross legged, hands clasped nervously in her lap. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a slight tremble in her words as she continues. “You’re late.”
“Always late, babe.” I wink at her, fighting through the feelings rushing back into my body. “What the hell am I late for this time, though?” Exhausted, I toss my bags on my desk and try not to stare at her legs. Bare. Beautiful. Probably still just as soft.
Her poised posture and shell of an exterior falter when she realizes I have no clue what the hell she’s talking about.
“Um, our meeting? You said 3:30 here. Coffee? You…” she laughs. “Of course you forgot. I’m not sure what I was thinking coming here.” I watch her arms tremble as she grabs for her purse then stands. “But then again, I’m never sure what I’m doing am I?” With a shake of her head, she walks out my door and it takes my feet three seconds too long to move after her before she’s in the hallway.
“Jesus, Sienna, just wait!” I blurt, running after her and grabbing her wrist.
Her hand slips down into mine and when she stops, I wrap my fingers around her…and feel something I really wish I hadn’t. “What the hell is this?” I mutter to myself, pulling her hand up to meet my gaze.
I should’ve expected it. She was always the type that wanted to settle down and get married.
But a wedding ring that looks like the million other ones out there? Simple. Plain.
Boring.
No twist of excitement. No edge of beauty.
Nothing.
Just like my body is feeling right about now.
Her eyes hit mine.
“Trig.” She stops herself and tries to pull her hand away but my grip on her tightens with a slight shake of my head.
“Don’t.” Fucking hell.
She’s ruined my life before. Destroyed it.
And now this is how she wants to play? Dirty. Sneaky.
I’ll show her what dirty and sneaky look like. And it has nothing to do with a meaningless ring on a fucking finger.
Chapter 5
Sienna
Why in the world do I get myself into these situations?
He’s looking at me like I’m the one who broke us apart.
Like it’s my fault he broke up with me.
Like he’s about to teach me a lesson that he’s been waiting years to teach me.
All I know is he’s looking at me and I really…really…like the look in his eyes. Which shouldn’t be happening.
“I should go, this was a terrible idea. Obviously,” I mutter, unable to take my eyes off his. How the hell does he do this to me? It’s mesmerizing. Entrancing.
He’s my trigger to do bad things…real good bad things.
“I don’t think that’s what you really want, is it Sienna?” My name. I hadn’t forgotten over the years how delicious my name sounded coming from his lips. Like just saying it alone for him is euphoric.
Erotic.
Orgasmic.
Listen to me! I’m losing my fucking mind!
“You don’t know what I-” He doesn’t let me finish. He yanks me to him and a small gasp escapes when he pulls my ring finger up and glares at me.
“I know you don’t want this.” He pushes me back into his office, his arm wrapped around me and holding me against him until he slams us into the door when it closes.
I should fight against him. I need to go. Just pull away and go.
But I can’t. He’s always had this hold on me. A hold that a broken heart and ten plus years can’t break.
“What’re you doing, Trigger?” My body tingles with anticipation. I haven’t felt this way in years. This needy. I’m so turned on it’s ridiculous, because this isn’t the man I should be turned on for…and the touches I’m craving never come. Being let down is a mind fuck, especially when you shouldn’t want what you’re craving.
He takes a step back, his eyes dark and looming as he towers over me. Trig’s an anomaly. He’s all edges. Rough. Dark. But inside?
He’s a softie.
A softie with a dark side.
“We’re not getting coffee, Sienna.” He’s inches away from me. So close I can smell his cologne. The same scent I used to inhale as much as I could. I couldn’t get enough of him.
And now that he’s so close to me again…I don’t think I ever will.
“No. We’re not. Excuse me, I need to get out of here.” I turn against the door and twist the handle, trying to squirm my way around the door without having to touch him, but it’s no use.
“Not so fast,” he says low, his hand resting on the door and he pushes it closed. His chest is pressed against me. I can feel his arousal against my ass. And my first instinct is to grind back on him, lightly, to get more connection but enough that he’s chuckling low in my ear, his breath sending prickles down my skin. “I know you, Sienna.” His other hand traps me in by resting on the door on my other side. “I know your body.” He slides his hips back and forth and I let out a moan then curse. I curse because I want his hands on me. I curse because I’m so wet it’s ridiculous.
I curse because this is so wrong, on so many levels.
“Just let me go,” I whisper.
“Funny, I had a girl screaming that just last weekend.” His cocky laugh makes my rage boil. “You miss it, don’t you beauty?” I shove him off me and spin, glaring at him with my fists tight at my side. “And she’s still sexy as hell when she’s pissed, folks.” He’s so smug, I want to punch the look off his face.
“Yes, she’s pissed folks!” I screech then lift my left hand, waving my ring finger at him. “I’m engaged, Trigger! You can’t treat an engaged woman like that! You’re a fucking psycho!” He snatches my wrist and the sinister look on his face tells me I pushed too far.
“Fuck being engaged,” he growls. “Ten p.m. Tonight. At the Old Station downtown. I’ll be waiting.” He pops the door open, then gently shoves me out of his office. When the door slams in my face, it takes me a moment to register what just happened.
I screamed at him.
And the look in his eyes when I did was hot as hell.
“What the hell did you do to him?” The guy that let me in the office earlier is standing in the hallway, holding a takeout container, eating and grinning like an idiot.
“He’s not a fan of the past,” I mutter, knowing I should’ve known that this was a setup. I try to adjust my clothes, feelings like my skirt’s bunched and twisted. Knowing it’s all in my mind. He barely touched me… But god, I wanted him to.
“No, apparently not.” His eyebrows dip. “Hey aren’t you the one that wanted the snowflake last week?”
“Yeah.” I huff and push the hair out of my face when the guy whistles.
“That really fucked him up, doll. Maybe you need to be on your way. Our boy’s got a big trip coming up that could do wonders for this place. Don’t fuck him up now.”
“Me? I don’t fu…” I pause. “He’s leaving.”
“Yeah.” The guy grins. “So skedaddle.” He waves at the door. “Don’t let it hit your ass on the way out.”
“Why’s everyone here an asshole?” I mumble. I make a move to walk away and get a text on my phone.
10pm. The Old Station.
I groan and storm towards the door.
Moving here wasn’t a mistake. Moving here wasn’t a mistake.
I just need to repeat that mantra to myself for however long it takes me to accept that we have to live in the same city. Again. And it’s going to be okay.
Fuck, who am I kidding? It’s not okay. What he did to me today is not okay, but only because I liked it way too much. I liked his warm breath in my ear. I liked his body pressed against mine.
I stomp out to my car and blare the radio the couple blocks it takes to pull into my parking garage. Fuck him for making me think we could work this out.
And fuck me for actually thinking I was over him.
Obviously I haven’t come as far as I thought.
Maximus greets me at the door and, as usual, attempts to end my life by fighting with my feet every step I take towards the fridge. There’s no wine, which sucks because I could really use something right now, so I grab the bottle of gin from the freezer and pour a shot. It burns going down, all the way to my empty stomach, and I hiss, scrunching my nose.
“Rough day?” I hear and almost jump out of my skin.
“Fuck!” I scream, spinning and plastering myself against the counter. “Jared!” My palm’s pressed flat against my chest because it feels like my heart’s going to jump out of me at any moment. “What are you doing here?”
He’s still in his business suit and holding luggage like he was just on his way out.
“I got back in early this morning.” He walks over and pecks me on the forehead. Nice of him to tell me he was coming home early “But something came up and I have to head out to England in a couple hours.” He’s frazzled, frantic, and looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. “I’ll be gone a couple weeks. I’m sorry, Sienna. But I can’t let this fail.”
“Hey.” I stop him and cup his face in my hands. Searching him for some type of…something. “You need sleep,” I whisper. He pulls away, shaking me off and grabbing his keys.
“I was just going to grab something on the road but I’ve got a couple minutes if you want to eat with me real fast?”
I stare at him. What I felt earlier around Trig hasn’t ever been something I’ve felt around Jared. Loved? Sure. Taken care of? Mostly. I guess.
But turned on to the point of submitting in order to feel things I’ve craved for years?
Never.
“No, it’s fine,” I usher him towards the door. “Be careful. Call me when you land?” He turns and smiles at me.
“I will, I promise.” He kisses me briefly, more of a quick chaste press of the lips than anything with real feelings in it. He’s busy. He’s worried about this job failing and if the job fails he’s in line to lose his position.
Not that I exactly know what that means, but I know it’s important to him which should make it important to me.
He clicks the door closed behind him, in such a hurry I feel the whip of the wind when he closes it, and I’m, once again, left alone with a cat that wants to kill me.
“You want to eat?” I ask Maximus, trying to get on his good side. He purrs, rubs up against me, and heads for the kitchen.
Two hours, three shots, and forty essays on the American Revolution later I’m done. I should just go to bed, and forget about ten p.m. tonight. Spend the weekend settling into this place.
Definitely not worrying about ten p.m. tonight.
Which is thirty minutes away.
Just as I’m about to shuffle towards my bed, my phone dings.
Thirty minutes.
I roll my eyes and head for the bathroom. Ignore it, Sienna.
Ignore it.
I walk into the bathroom, flip on the light, and groan.
“Great,” I mutter. Out of toilet paper.
My reflection in the mirror smirks back at me, damn she-devil. Rosy cheeks, perfectly wavy hair, and a killer dress that needs to be appreciated…the girl in the mirror isn’t ready for bed.
This girl isn’t a reflection I’ve seen in a while, either.
***
“My beautiful whore.” Trigger trails the rolling metal pinwheel along the insides of my thighs and the pain turns to pleasure as the trail ends. “You’re dripping.”
I breathe out. I want to beg him to touch me, but the more I beg the less he touches.
This is his game.
His show.
His control.
My head falls back, the ropes twisting around my body and holding me to this table are tight enough to feel constricted but not too tight. He’s made it known he’s got control over me, but Trigger’s made me comfortable in this role. The role of a sub. All I have to do is turn my mind off and let him explore.
“Tell me,” he whispers, trailing the tiny metal wheel up the valley of my stomach, over the ropes, and up the hill of my breasts. He stops just before my nipples and my body feels like it’s on fire. “How mad is this making you?” He pushes slightly harder then rolls it directly over my nipple and I moan loudly.
I arch into the touch, not because it hurts but because I need more of it. I need more pain. The pain and torture feels…amazing.
He chuckles low, rolling the wheel over and around my nipples until I’m bucking underneath him. His mouth wraps around my nipple and he bites down, the pain shooting straight to my core.
“My little pain slut,” he growls, slapping his hand hard across my tit. My body’s ready for him. I’m ready for him.
Fuck me. Fuck me. Please, fuck me.
I whimper, tugging at the constraints on my arms. If I could just get to him and get him under me I could release this need. He pulls back and the next thing I know he’s got a vibrator on my clit and the metal wheel on my thigh and I’m buzzing, floating…holy shit.
“Don’t.” He turns up the vibrator. “Fucking.” He rolls the wheel down to my toes and in that instant pushes inside of me. I cry out, wanting to writhe under him but I can’t because every nerve ending in my body is being fucked with right now. My eyes squeeze shut as I try to take in every feeling. The pain from holding back. The pleasure from being fucked. The sharp pricks from the wheel. “Come.” He growls, pushing the vibrator against my clit fast and fucking me hard.
Time seems to stand still. My ears ring. And my entire body vibrates when I feel my orgasm starting.
“Fuck, Sienna,” he growls, hitting so deep it almost hurts. “Come, beautiful,” he huffs. “Milk my fucking dick.”
His words help send me straight over the ledge. Free falling, I scream out and let my orgasm tear through me, straight from my core to the tips of my fingers, my body trembles and shakes as my pussy clenches tight around him.
He pumps a few more times before pulling out and spilling his orgasm all over my stomach. Heavy breaths, sweaty brow, I manage to crack open my eyes and look at him.
My Trigger. So damn sexy. And all mine.
“Come on, let’s get you out of this,” he says, out of breath.
I don’t say anything as he unties me. I’ve learned over the last few months that this isn’t the time for talking. This is his time to take care of me. And while I feel fine right now, I know the minute the ropes come off and the high from my orgasm wears off, I’m going to need it.
Trigger knows.
He always knows.
Ten minutes later we’re sitting in his bathtub, his large frame wrapped around mine and his hands massaging shampoo into my hair.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, lifting my head up so he can look me in the eyes. “Too perfect for me.”
“Don’t say that.” I push up and kiss him softly, the warm water and bubbles sloshing around us. “No one’s perfect,” I whisper.
We settle back in the tub until the water goes cold, and when he helps me from the tub and grabs a robe for me, I glance in the mirror and, for once, see a girl who looks…loved.
***
I blink, staring at myself in the mirror.
I’m not perfect.
But…
I deserve…more. More than weeks alone. More than quick goodbye kisses on his way to the elevator.
More than this…
Trigger and I weren’t good together…. We were fucking great. And that’s the problem. Short term and in the bedroom, Trig and I were an explosive, perfect match. But in reality, I’m a mere sprinkle to his hurricane.
I’ve always been one to enjoy a storm, though.
“Bye, Maximus,” I huff. “Mommy will be back soon.”
I don’t think. I just go. On the elevator ride, I pull up the bar he’s talking about and am relieved to see it’s only two blocks over. I can make that in thirty minutes, tops.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about it.
It’s just drinks.
Ten minutes.
My phone makes me jump and I bite my lip at his message. He hates to be kept waiting. It was always a game to see who would break first. And I always lost. God, those were the best times. The punishment and bliss, wrapped together in a nice tight package.
Holy shit what am I doing?
My sandals flip flop under my feet as I speed walk down the sidewalk. The summer breeze has brought in a cool, crisp feel to the night air and I wish I had my jacket, but I can’t turn around or I won’t make it.
This is my chance to make things right between us.
More like a chance to finally get what you’ve needed for so long the she-devil inside of me mocks and I growl.
No.
This is not a booty call.
This is…not a booty call.
Four minutes, Sienna. There better not be panties under that dress of yours.
A smirk tries to push onto my lips but I quickly shut it down. He shouldn’t be talking like that to me…an engaged woman.
