by ANDREA SMITH
“You know what Derringer? I’d been better off to have been gelded, too. Then I wouldn’t fucking miss her so much like I do and want her every minute and think about her every second.” His voice trailed off.
“I just love her, you know? Not like Tess. It’s totally different with Tylar. You get it don’t you? Yeah, I know you do. I can tell you like Tylar on your back more than you ever liked Tess being there. It’s the same way with me buddy. I don’t want her riding anyone else. I can’t be with anyone else since I’ve been with her.”
I waited a minute or two by the door. The conversation from man to horse had halted. Trey must have passed out. I opened the door and quietly went into the stable. I walked down to Derringer’s stall. Trey was passed out leaning against a bale of straw; his legs out-stretched in front, an almost empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his right hand, tipped on its side.
(Holy Shit.)
The last thing I needed was to be responsible for Trey getting trampled by Derringer if something spooked him. Trey might be realizing his wish of being gelded if the horse decided to take two steps back and one step over. I hurried to
where he was, talking to Derringer and patting his hind quarters to move over towards the other side of the stall.
I bent down and looked at my beautiful, passed out Trey. This was a different Trey; a vulnerable one, not the one I was used to that was always in control. I brushed his hair back from his face, calling his name.
“Trey, it’s me. Trey, you need to get up and get out of Derringer’s stall. Can you hear me?”
I reached over and shook his broad shoulders with my hand, becoming increasingly alarmed; his head bobbed a couple of times.
Finally, I shouted, “Trey!”
His head jerked up, sapphire eyes blinking and he turned to look at me, squinting.
“Tylar?” he asked as if he wasn’t sure.
“Yes, Trey, It’s me. I’m here to help you up, okay? You need to get up and get out of Derringer’s stall."
He got a slow drunken grin on his face, his dimple showing.
“You . . . you’re gonna help me up, Tylar?” he asked, still grinning.
“I will, Trey. If you’ll let me, but I can’t do it by myself, okay?”
“You won’t have to, baby,” he said. “I’m perfectly able to get my drunken ass up and out of here.”
He pulled his leg back, bending it, leaning forward to put his weight on it to lift himself up. I had him by the shoulder, gripping him as best I could. He lunged forward, and practically fell directly underneath Derringer. He was now in a worse position than before. I had to get someone down here to help me get him up and out of harm’s way.
“Trey,” I said, loudly, “You need to get out from under Derringer, damn it!”
He started to move, scooting back toward the side of the stall which was at least an improvement.
"Trey, I'm going to run and call Mark to come down to help me get you up, okay? I'll use the phone right over there on the wall. Do not move please."
In an instant he had whipped his arm around, grabbing my booted ankle. I was surprised at how quickly he could still physically react in his inebriated condition.
“No,” he snapped, “I don’t need that son-of-a-bitch to help me up, do you understand?”
He was furious. He reached up, grabbing the side of the stall and hoisted himself up, holding on to my leg with his other hand to steady himself. He stood in front of me, staring with an intensity that I had never seen before in those burning, sapphire eyes. He flung the Jack Daniels bottle outside of the stall, into the gangway where it hit a post and shattered. He walked past me and out of the stall. I hurried behind him, latching the gate on Derringer’s stall.
Now it was my turn to be pissed. I followed him down the gangway and into the tack room.
“What the hell did you think you were doing out there?” I demanded.
He raked both of his hands through his unruly hair. He went to the small refrigerator in the tack room that was used to keep medications for the horses refrigerated when necessary. He pulled a bottle of water out, twisting the top off and taking a long drink. He poured some of the water into his hands, cupping it and then splashing it onto his face.
I knew what he was doing. He was trying to clear his head, I could tell. Trey did not like playing this part, and the fact that I had witnessed it would never sit well with him. He shook the droplets of water out of his hair, running his hands back through it one more time. He was not going to sober up that soon, He turned to look at me, giving me a look that made me feel like my heart was being ripped out.
“What the fuck do you care what I was doing in my barn with my horse!” he yelled.
“I don’t have to explain a god damn thing to you, Tylar! I am sorry if I disturbed your rest. Apologize to Mark for me as well, when you get back into your bed!”
Oh, hell no. He did not just say that to me.
I was furious. He stood there looking at me all cocky, his hands on his slender hips, his five o'clock shadow looking gorgeous, with his just-mussed hair. I was still pissed though. He knew it. He had no right to say that to me.
He was giving me one of those ‘what are you going to do about it’ looks. In that instant all I wanted to do was to wipe that smug look off of his handsome face. How dare he regard me as if I was nothing to him but a piece of ass!
Before I had time to think, I raised my hand back and slapped him hard across his cheek with enough force that his head turned with the contact of my hand. I was surprised at my own strength. What was more surprising though was that it didn’t faze Trey a bit. He smirked and went right on giving me that same look. In that moment I felt like a cheap whore. I felt like my mother’s daughter. No one had ever made me feel that way. No one ever could have except for Trey, and he knew that. He counted on that.
I raised my hand back again, with all my strength, bringing it back around to slap his cheek, harder this time. Trey didn’t take his eyes off of mine, as he caught my wrist in a vice-like grip inches from its intended mark and held it.
“Let me go, you drunken bastard!” I screamed, not caring who I woke up.
“Bitch,” he spat, still not releasing my wrist.
I struggled to free my hand but even in his drunken state, he had maintained his strength and agility. He yanked my wrist forward, so I was pressed up against him, taking my arm and wrapping it around his neck. His put his other arm on my hip, pressing me to him. He mouth found mine, devouring me with his ardent kiss, his tongue plunging into mine with a vengeance. He had my head bent back so far I thought I would snap. I finally pulled my arms back from around his neck and fisted his chest, trying to push him
away from me. His kisses turned softer, gentler. He released his death grip on me, burying his face into my hair, nuzzling my neck, gently, murmuring softly into my ear.
"I want you so bad baby. I've missed you so much."
My stomach butterflies were doing flip-flops. I didn't want to give in. It would serve no purpose. My body said something totally different. My body ached for his fulfillment, for our perfect fit and exquisite rhythm. I wanted him to find the sweet spot that we’d discovered together; and make the magic thing happen that always did when he found it.
I returned his kisses with a passion. I hated myself in that moment. I wanted him, right or wrong, one last time. I didn’t care; he was here now and that was all that mattered. I wanted him to fill me again. I needed him inside of me.
He pulled me out into the stable area, grabbing a horse blanket from the rail, throwing it down over the pile of clean straw used for replenishing the stalls. In seconds, he was pulling me to him, raising my tee shirt up over my head and tossing it aside, His hands were all over my breasts, massaging them and kissing me passionately. He dropped to his knees, pulling my shorts and panties down to my ankles. I stepped out of them, now dressed only in my boots. He put one of my arms on his shoulder so that I could keep my balance while he removed one o
f my boots, then the other, tossing them behind him.
Now, fully naked I stood before him, I started to relax back into the makeshift straw bed, but his strong arm kept me upright. In moments his mouth was on my sex, kissing, licking and using his fingers to explore its depth. I was immediately wet; my body betrayed me with him. He pushed his fingers in and out, while pressing his other hand down just above my pubic bone. I could feel my sweet spot swell just like it always did when he messaged that area.
His expertise with my G-Spot should have made the cover story of Cosmo, I thought now as he expertly administered the methodic, perfect pressure ministrations to it. I could feel the release ready to burst, but I needed him inside of me this time when it happened.
He knew what I wanted. He was not going to give it to me until I asked for it. I was moaning softly, my hips gyrating around his magic fingers.
“Tell me, Tylar. Tell me what you want,” he coaxed.
“You, Trey, I want you.”
He laid me gently onto the makeshift bed of straw, kissing my face and neck while he knelt in front of me and lowered the zipper on his jeans, pulling his very erect manhood free of containment.
(Oh my!)
He positioned himself above me, grabbing both of my legs and placing them on his shoulders. He hadn’t taken a stitch of his clothing off.
“Trey wait,” I gasped. “A condom?”
“Fuck that,” he rasped, guiding his erection into my womanhood.
“No, stop,” I insisted, my hands were now pressed against his strong chest, pushing him back.
He lowered his lips to my mouth, silencing any further protests. His tongue was ravaging my lips and mouth. I felt his passion and mine mingle in our kiss. With one quick thrust he buried his unsheathed penis into me, filling the void perfectly. He pulled back and slammed himself into me again, roughly. I cried out.
I didn’t care if he was rough. I needed rough right now. I needed to feel every inch of him inside of me.
My hands no longer pushed against his chest. They found their way to his ass, gripping each side as he continued to rock in and out of me. Oh God, it felt so good, so full, and so right. This was my Trey; I loved him no matter what.
He slowed his rhythm down and his thrusting grew gentler, going into the familiar circular motion. Trey’s penis was curved perfectly to hit my sweet spot and he knew exactly how to hit it, with the perfect rhythm and timing. I moaned with pleasure each time he thrust himself in and out of me.
My body was building to its climatic explosion; Trey was timing it perfectly. We were going to come together and the build-up was almost painful. As he continued the steady rhythm of thrusting, each time making contact with my G-Spot, I felt my breathing getting shallower and shallower. My body ached to consume him; I could feel my uterus contracting, squeezing him in timed muscle spasms it seemed. As our momentum increased, I heard myself as if I was off in the distance somewhere, moaning and groaning with pure, unadulterated pleasure. This was a perfect coupling of two people that truly loved one another, I was convinced of it. We simply had to work through some of the complications.
I felt the heat at my core, spreading slowly throughout my body, building to a crescendo of peak pleasure with my love. His thrusting increased steadily, I felt tears spring to my eyes at the pure pleasure. This was a first for me, the emotional part of it. I felt that Trey was right there with me, kissing me and holding me. He usually talked to me during this part but perhaps the intensity of this coupling was as new to him as it was to me.
I heard him moan as he continued his exquisite thrusting. I could tell he was ready. He should pull out now I thought to myself. We were not protected. In the next moment I knew I didn’t want him to stop; I had gone beyond reasonable thinking as my release was ready to explode.
I grasped his firm ass, still inside his jeans, pulling him closer to me as if I wanted to devour him there as well. We both climaxed at the same time, crying out so strongly I was sure we woke the horses. I felt Trey stiffen as he came, followed by the rhythmatic pumping as he emptied himself inside of me. I was right there with him, contracting and
squeezing every last drop from him.
“That’s it baby, take it all,” he said, thrusting the last of his climax into me.
I had never felt so fulfilled as a woman. I held Trey tightly as the last orgasmic shudder passed through me, kissing every inch of his face. For the first time I knew that we had connected at a primal level which said that he was made for me and me for him. It was perfect harmony. He pulled out of me and collapsed off to the side, rolling onto his back finally catching his breath. I was doing the same.
Our breathing steadied, but Trey didn’t make a move to pull me close or kiss me which is what he usually did after we made love. I was covered with sweat and straw, but fulfilled in every way.
“What a fuck!” Trey said, tucking his glistening penis back inside his jeans, and zipping up his fly.
He lay back, raking a hand through his damp hair and promptly passed out in the straw.
My heart was torn into a million fucking pieces. I rose up from my reclining position, trying to locate my clothes that Trey had discarded minutes before. My vision was blurred from the tears that were flowing. I found my panties and shorts in one heap, my tee shirt a few feet from them. I hurriedly got my clothes back on, grabbing my boots and running from the stables. I stumbled back up the short path that led to my cottage.
Once inside, I let loose with the sobs, followed by cursing and then back to sobbing. His words came back to haunt me. ‘what a fuck.’ That was the same thing that Daniel had said to my mom when he fucked her on prom night.
My mom, the whore deserved to be talked to that way. I had done nothing to deserve that, or the nasty comment about having Mark in my bed.
Where had that come from? It was Trey that had hired Mark to train me in the first place. Since the first time Trey had observed Mark working with me on dressage, it had been one thing after another.
He had fired Mark for kissing me; he had hired him back only to appease me. There was nothing between Mark and me except friendship. I had told Trey this. Our problems had nothing to do with Mark.
Why was it that Trey could express his feelings about me to Carmelita, or to his horse, but not to me? When I had heard him talking to Derringer in the stables, I felt my heart would burst with happiness. Then he got angry about Mark. And then I got angry. There was nothing healthy about the situation that occurred tonight in the stables.
As my tears subsided I was resolute that I would avoid Trey at any cost. I wasn’t exactly sure what he would read into about what happened with us tonight. I was determined not to let it happen again. How stupid had I been thinking that we were making fantastic love when all it was to Trey was a great ‘fuck.’
I felt used and dirty. I got fresh clothes out of my dresser and went into the bathroom to shower. I got the water to the hottest temperature I could tolerate, scrubbing myself and rinsing off twice. I still did not feel one hundred percent clean of him, but at least it was enough for me to be able to crawl back into bed and go to sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The gods had blessed me over the past two weeks since that unfortunate encounter with Trey in the stables. He had left to go back to Atlanta two days afterwards. It had not been difficult to avoid him during that period since Mark and I were practicing for the dressage competition scheduled for the following weekend. Everything had gone exceptionally well with the competition. Derringer and I had taken second place capturing a $30,000 purse. I felt like I was earning my pay with Sinclair Stables and that was important to me.
I had received a letter from the law offices of Pierce, Harmon, Richardson & Sinclair the second week after Trey departed. There was a cover letter signed off by Trey, with a copy attached of a letter that had been sent to Trey by Andrew Sneed of the law firm of Findley, Morris & Sneed, L.L.P. in Louisville. Mr. Sneed apparently wanted to avoid a protracted civil case a
nd was making an offer of a settlement to avoid a civil suit for $10,000. Trey’s cover letter requested that I call his office to discuss the matter.
I phoned Trey’s office and Tonya picked up once I got past the switchboard.
“Mr. Sinclair’s office, Tonya speaking,” was her phone greeting.
“Yes, Tonya, this is Tylar Preston. I received a letter from Mr. Sinclair, requesting that I call his office go discuss a settlement offer received from the firm of Findley, Morris & Sneed?”
“One moment please, Ms. Preston, let me see if Mr. Sinclair is available.”
A few moments later Trey came on the line, his smooth and silky voice still had the power to give me goose bumps.
“Tylar, how are you?” Trey asked.
“I’m fine, thank you, Trey. Are you doing alright?”
“Yes, fine.”
“I understand that you’ve received the copy of the letter we received from Mr. Sneed relative to the firm’s liability on the matter of the theft of your trust?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I’m confused though, why are they offering a settlement prior to your filing of the civil charges?”
“It’s simply a mechanism to avoid litigation. They want to present the position that we have a flimsy case based on their L.L.P. status, so they are making a token offer to avoid having to go to court and sort it all out.”
“Okay, I get it. Well, I’m fine with it Trey.”
“Tylar, are you sure? It is just a token of what the trust was worth.”
“I know, but when it comes down to paying the attorney fees and all of that...”
“We can request compensation for attorney fees as part of the settlement.”
“I just really don’t want to mess with it all, okay?”
“If that’s what you want,” he replied.
“It’s what I want Trey. Just take your portion of the attorney fees out of it and send me a check for the balance.”
“Tylar, I wasn’t planning on taking any attorney fees on this.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you Trey.” I heard silence on the other end. He didn’t know how to respond.