Tristan Rory Novels & Stories

" She told us sullenly. "Tristan's home?" I asked, surprised. Tristan was Megan and Hunter's step-brother. Their mother had married his father. Tristan was a couple of years older than us and he was in college. His college was in a different state so he hardly ever came home. I'd never really had a proper conversation with him but he was usually really polite, for some unknown reason Hunter couldn't stand him. That's when I heard him. "Scar!" My heart jumped.

She also stops dancing as Andra and Kairos catch his attention. Kairos and I were not married yet and this so-called best friend of Rory was already making her filthy move to make herself his mistress. Before I could even tear my eyes off their direction. Kairos met mine and it made me still. He remained calm while it felt like a trigger was pulled in my system and if I wouldn't walk away from there. The red that I am seeing will intensify and the real Rory will lose a friend once she is back from the corner of the Earth where she chose to freak hide!

I licked my lips, nodding, ready for this experience. "Yes." "Sir?" Riley and Vincent both paused and looked to Tristan, who was sitting on the chair across from us, his pants around his ankles, the long length of him in his hand. During this momentary pause, I got a better view of Tristan. His member was definitely all around bigger than average. On top of it, he had a Prince Albert piercing. It was all a bit overwhelming. Hell, he was overwhelming and intimidating and intense. Tristan's gaze caught mine and a knowing smirk crossed his face.

"Check it out. I'm cured." Riley's mouth flatlined. "That was some ointment Mara applied." Tristan strode in wearing red flannel pajama pants, no shirt, and went straight to the mini bar in the corner. He poured several fingers of Jameson into three glasses and handed one to Riley and Brady before downing his own. After pouring another, Tristan leaned against the desk facing them. "Think we're dreaming, too? Perhaps you and Kaida pulled us into your messed up dreamland."

I knees wobbled under the water at the sight of his salt and pepper chest hair, the round slab of his stomach. The painful outline of his thick, huge, veiny cock. Each time the water molded his swim trunks to his lap, the enormous ridge in between his thighs made my belly so ticklish, I turned so red, Eric had to carry me out of the water, thinking I was having a sunburn. Tristan Hemsworth is forty-six, a single-father widow. I'm nineteen. I've been silently, passionately, madly in love with him since I was roughly, thirteen.

he whispers out his breath fanning my face I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out, I'm lost in his eyes, I take in his face and his lips are calling to me, I bite mine involuntarily. "You're driving me crazy Red" he breathes out looking into my eyes "and I know you're scared, what you're scared of is what I can't fathom but guess what? I'm scared too Red" he says making me look at him in shock,the all mighty Tristan, aka New York's most eligible bachelor and Playboy is scared

"Everything that happened on that ice—the champagne, your 'collapse,' the timing of the Enforcer withdrawal—it was a choreographed hunt, wasn't it?" "No! You have it all wrong!" "Then tell me," Tristan whispered, his amber eyes glowing with a lethal light. "Do you know a rogue named Ryder Clifford?" Selene’s breath hitched. A scent of sharp, metallic fear spiked in the room. "Ryder... Clifford? I... I don't know any mercenaries by that name, Tristan." Tristan watched the pulse jumping in her neck. He didn't need a confession; he had the scent of her guilt. "I’ll find Ryder. And when I do, I won't just break his bones. I’ll break the Voss territory until there’s nothing left but ash."

The pale hair and light features were no longer perceived as an oddity but mistaken for an intentional blondness, especially against his well-built frame and the maturity in his bearing. He carried himself with quiet confidence, the unmistakable aura of someone groomed for leadership. Before Franklin could answer, Tristan moved. He lowered himself into a squat in front of Rose, meeting her at eye level, his movements deliberate and gentle. He extended his hand toward her, palm open, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m Tristan Roth,” he said calmly. “But you can call me Tris. Franklin is my dad.” The effect was immediate. Corrine’s brows lifted, her lips parting in surprise, while Adrian

What was going on? Tristan—the president of Drunham City Connoisseurs—actually apologized respectfully to a loser who married into his wife's family! Hunter and the seven bosses were all stunned. The sense of foreboding grew stronger as well. Liam was indifferent toward Tristan's respectful attitude. He was exuding the might of a distinguished man. It was as if he was born to be a king and that others should bow at his feet. "So, you're the Tristan Xander, the president of Drunham City Connoisseurs?" Liam asked calmly.

And now he’s keeping to the promise he made to me five years ago; TO HELP ME RUIN CARLTON. Though everything he just said might sound almost impossible but when it’s coming from Tristian, I’ve no doubt. No fear. Tristian is a top rated most eligible and influential bachelor around the globe who could easily get anything done at the snap of his finger. Not exaggerating. Everything is literally at his disposal.