Read Online Hazel St. James - Fighting For You (Redemption#1)[ by Hazel St James - Free Book Online
Authors: Hazel St James
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The blonde scooted out from underneath him, and Tristan flopped down onto the bed on his back, knowing what she was up to. She straddled his thighs as he pulled a condom out from the box underneath the bed and sheathed himself. She slowly lowered herself onto his cock, practically purring when she was fully seated. She moved slowly at first, further frustrating him. Tristan didn’t say a word, just reached around and slapped her ass cheek as hard as he could from the awkward position. She yelped, but thankfully picked up the tempo.
Tristan could tell that something was different this time, but he wasn’t sure what it was. The blonde was skinny and had a nice rack, but there was nothing inside her head that even remotely attracted him. This was supposed to be an easy release, nothing he hadn’t done a hundred times before. It felt good, but it wasn’t getting him close enough to letting go. As if on cue, Tristan closed his eyes and replaced the blonde’s face with a dark haired vixen with green eyes and a smile that could light up a room. He imaged the sultry woman being the one that rode him, and Tristan could feel the tingling starting at the base of his spine.
The blonde must have known what was happening and she rode him harder and fondled herself as she did. She came at the same time as Tristan, but was even louder as she finished. The blonde didn’t even take a breather before she got off the bed, put her clothes back on, and left. Tristan just laughed; she obviously was using him just as much as he was using her.
The minute she slammed the door to his apartment, meaningless sex lost its appeal for Tristan…if he really thought hard about it, it was gone the minute Peyton pushed her way inside his brain. It was time for him to face the fact that his life could no longer be what it was before. Not that he was really going to miss his former life of floating through life, being the asshole that no one gave a shit about in the end anyway. He’d been given the opportunity to have a do over, and the time had come for him to stop feeling sorry for himself. One way or the other, he was going to work to get his ass on the good side of the fence.
Tristan was up the next morning before eight o’clock; showered, shaved and dressed shortly thereafter. He had to use an old razor that he found in the medicine cabinet that was dull as shit, and he had to go over the same strip numerous times, but he got the job done and was ready to go before Uncle Morgan left for work.
The two discussed Peyton for a bit, or who Morgan called, ‘ friend ’, while using air quotes. Tristan growled at the bastard telling him to stay the fuck away with a death glare. He knew how screwed up it was to feel the need to protect someone’s virtue from his own uncle, but also fit exactly how protective Tristan felt towards Peyton already. She was a sweet, tiny little thing capable of bringing him to his knees with her angelic face, sweet nature, and gorgeous curves.
That coupled with the fact that Tristan was well aware of how badly his uncle used many of the women that he brought home for a night. Some of them were so badly bruised up that Morgan had to pay them off to keep quiet. It was one of the many reasons that Morgan did not like having Tristan living in such close proximity; his proclivities in the bedroom were freaky as hell, and he didn’t want it getting around what a sick fuck he was. He was more than fine being known as being the shadiest business man in town, but God forbid anyone knew that he liked anything other than straight old missionary sex.
Morgan had relented after dressing Tristan down, wrote him a check for two thousand dollars, and told him that he could have his job back at the plant in a month. This check would make them even for the time being, but Morgan would keep track of all the living expenses he’d taken care of in the last few months, and those would come out of his first paycheck. There
The blonde scooted out from underneath him, and Tristan flopped down onto the bed on his back, knowing what she was up to. She straddled his thighs as he pulled a condom out from the box underneath the bed and sheathed himself. She slowly lowered herself onto his cock, practically purring when she was fully seated. She moved slowly at first, further frustrating him. Tristan didn’t say a word, just reached around and slapped her ass cheek as hard as he could from the awkward position. She yelped, but thankfully picked up the tempo.
Tristan could tell that something was different this time, but he wasn’t sure what it was. The blonde was skinny and had a nice rack, but there was nothing inside her head that even remotely attracted him. This was supposed to be an easy release, nothing he hadn’t done a hundred times before. It felt good, but it wasn’t getting him close enough to letting go. As if on cue, Tristan closed his eyes and replaced the blonde’s face with a dark haired vixen with green eyes and a smile that could light up a room. He imaged the sultry woman being the one that rode him, and Tristan could feel the tingling starting at the base of his spine.
The blonde must have known what was happening and she rode him harder and fondled herself as she did. She came at the same time as Tristan, but was even louder as she finished. The blonde didn’t even take a breather before she got off the bed, put her clothes back on, and left. Tristan just laughed; she obviously was using him just as much as he was using her.
The minute she slammed the door to his apartment, meaningless sex lost its appeal for Tristan…if he really thought hard about it, it was gone the minute Peyton pushed her way inside his brain. It was time for him to face the fact that his life could no longer be what it was before. Not that he was really going to miss his former life of floating through life, being the asshole that no one gave a shit about in the end anyway. He’d been given the opportunity to have a do over, and the time had come for him to stop feeling sorry for himself. One way or the other, he was going to work to get his ass on the good side of the fence.
Tristan was up the next morning before eight o’clock; showered, shaved and dressed shortly thereafter. He had to use an old razor that he found in the medicine cabinet that was dull as shit, and he had to go over the same strip numerous times, but he got the job done and was ready to go before Uncle Morgan left for work.
The two discussed Peyton for a bit, or who Morgan called, ‘ friend ’, while using air quotes. Tristan growled at the bastard telling him to stay the fuck away with a death glare. He knew how screwed up it was to feel the need to protect someone’s virtue from his own uncle, but also fit exactly how protective Tristan felt towards Peyton already. She was a sweet, tiny little thing capable of bringing him to his knees with her angelic face, sweet nature, and gorgeous curves.
That coupled with the fact that Tristan was well aware of how badly his uncle used many of the women that he brought home for a night. Some of them were so badly bruised up that Morgan had to pay them off to keep quiet. It was one of the many reasons that Morgan did not like having Tristan living in such close proximity; his proclivities in the bedroom were freaky as hell, and he didn’t want it getting around what a sick fuck he was. He was more than fine being known as being the shadiest business man in town, but God forbid anyone knew that he liked anything other than straight old missionary sex.
Morgan had relented after dressing Tristan down, wrote him a check for two thousand dollars, and told him that he could have his job back at the plant in a month. This check would make them even for the time being, but Morgan would keep track of all the living expenses he’d taken care of in the last few months, and those would come out of his first paycheck. There
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