by ANDREA SMITH
I went through the clothes hanging in my closet, deciding on grey pinstriped slacks and a white oxford shirt. I got fresh panties and a bra from my dresser.
I went down the hall to the bathroom which Trey had now vacated. I took a nice warm shower. I touched my baby bump thinking it was growing. I wondered how much longer I had until it became obvious that I was pregnant.
I dressed in the bathroom after blow drying my hair, and putting my makeup on. Returning to my bedroom I finished up getting dressed in there. I was ready for the day.
Downstairs I could hear Trey banging around in the kitchen, and a few mumbled curses floated up to my ears as I descended the staircase. What now I wondered. He was dressed in black jeans that looked heavenly on his perfect, masculine body. He had on a grey long sleeved Henley shirt. His hair was still bit damp. He had nothing on his feet but socks.
“You need to go to the grocery,” he commented.
The source of his irritation was plainly evident now. He had flung cupboards open in search of food. It appeared he had found my lone box of Rice Chex and had poured me a bowlful. The milk was on the table, along with silverware and a small glass of orange juice. This was my normal breakfast. I didn’t see a problem.
“Thanks,” I said, cheerfully, taking my place at the table.
I poured milk on the cereal looking up at him as I took my first spoonful.
“This is what you eat for breakfast every day?”
“Uh yeah, why?”
“Tylar, this is hardly a substantial breakfast, particularly in your condition.”
I was being chastised. I had a feeling I was about to be lectured or bullied.
“You see this is exactly why you need to be with me in Atlanta,” he said in his irritated voice.
This was exactly why I shouldn’t be with him in Atlanta I thought to myself.
“Trey, let’s not argue about what I eat for breakfast, please? It’s not good for the baby.”
“What?” he asked genuinely puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve read up on pregnancy. Babies are much more aware of things going on in utero than you might think. For example, babies can start hearing things at eighteen weeks and respond to sounds. I know that I’m a few weeks away from that, but I am trying to get into the habit of not raising my voice, or being verbally combative. When this baby is born, I certainly don’t want him or her to think I’m the Nazi parent.”
Trey cocked his eyebrow at my insinuation. I saw a hint of a smile cross his lips.
“Then Tylar, I suggest we abstain from further love-making,” he replied, a look of sincere concern on his handsome face.
I hadn’t considered how vocal both Trey and I are during our sextivities. My hormones were yelling 'oh hell no' at the thought of abstinence from Trey.
“I would hate for our child to hear some of the things that mommy screams when daddy hits her special spot.”
He was unable to contain his laughter when he saw that I finally comprehended he was teasing. I had to laugh as well. It was so seldom Trey was playful with me and I loved it.
I finished my breakfast, making sure that I took my vitamin before I brushed my teeth.
I gave Trey a kiss before leaving, telling him that I would be home right after work. Fortunately the day flew by. I finished updating all of the files, and was able to close three out that were finally at zero balance. Everyone was pumped about the long Thanksgiving weekend. I was looking forward to spending it with Trey.
When I pulled into the driveway at home my butterflies surged at the thought of seeing Trey. Autumn was my favorite season and this one had been a particularly beautiful won.
For late November, there were still many colored leaves on the trees. The sun was still out, but that would be fading quickly as daylight savings time ‘fall back’ had occurred a few weeks prior.
The front door was open. Trey had apparently had a very busy day. My kitchen cupboards were well stocked with canned goods, boxed goods, and staples. Trey was busy in the living room, programming my new Blackberry phone. He had added my phone to his service plan. It also appeared as if I had a new lap top set up, along with a laser printer on a computer stand with a desk chair that had been assembled in the empty den.
“Hey you,” he said smiling as I came back into the living room having surveyed everything else.
“Your phone is ready,” he said, handing it to me. “Let me show you how everything works.”
The next ten minutes were spent with Trey showing me all of the features, functions, bells and whistles that came with this latest generation Blackberry. It had damn near everything imaginable on it. That was Trey though. He didn’t skimp when it came to anything it seemed.
“Trey,” I said finally, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done here. I mean the groceries, the phone, the laptop, but I have money saved up. I would feel better if you would let me reimburse you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tylar,” he snapped.
I had hit that nerve again.
“I explained this to you last evening. These are the conditions that allow you to stay here instead of coming back to Atlanta with me.”
(Conditions?)
"Trey,” I said not making an attempt to mask my irritation, “This is not about you imposing conditions in order for me to stay in my own home in the town where I live. This is about me having what I can afford to provide for myself, without depending on you or anyone else for that matter. I may have been born of trash, but I do have some pride and I would appreciate your recognition and respect for that.”
I exited the room heading toward the stairs feeling a bit angry and insulted. I hadn’t reached the landing to the stairs, when Trey was there, pulling me around to face his angry eyes.
“Listen to me,” he hissed, wagging his forefinger at my startled face.
“Do you understand what you’ve done to me? Do you know how much you’ve driven me to fucking distraction?” He was livid, but not so much at me as it seemed to be at himself.
“I can’t get the picture of you, or the feel of you, or the smell of you out of my fucking head. This is not a now and then thing, Tylar, this is a daily thing. I worry about you and having you accessible in multiple ways assuages some of that worry for me. Making sure that you eat healthy also puts my mind at rest for you and the baby. Do you understand that?” His blue eyes were blazing as he awaited my response, his hand digging into my shoulder.
“Do you?” he repeated, angrily.
I nodded, afraid to speak. His nearness electrified me. He didn’t realize that he did those same things to me. My lips wanted him to kiss me; my heart wanted him to love me, and my hormones, well they were all about him spanking me at the moment.
He relaxed his grip on me. His eyes softened as he continued to watch me. A tear rolled down my cheek.
His thumb was right there to brush it away. He lowered his face to mine, tilting my chin upward to meet his lips. They were soft, warm and gentle as they caressed my own. I circled my arms around his strong neck, pressing myself to him.
“Christ,” he mumbled, sweeping me up into his arms, holding me close to his hard chest.
He mounted the steps with me clinging to him, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He continued kissing and nuzzling my face, my eyelids, my mouth. He laid me gently on my bed, slowly and methodically he undressed me.
He then undressed himself, standing before me in his naked glory. His erection was strong as he approached the bed, sinking one knee onto the mattress. I quickly moved over to where he stood with one knee perched on the bed. I was on my stomach, my hands reached for his erection. I found it; the velvety smooth skin that covered the thick, strong rod.
I gently took him into my mouth, slowly, swirling my tongue all around him, licking and stroking him with my tongue.
He tasted so good. I was getting so wet just having him inside of my mouth. He reached down, cupping my breasts in his hands, sq
ueezing my taut nipples. He moaned softly, flexing his pelvis as I went up and down on him.
He lifted me up to him, kissing my neck and my lips. He knelt down on the bed, turning me around so that my back was to him, placing me in front of him on my knees. His hands brushed my backside; gently pushing my shoulders lower so that my upper body weight rested on my forearms, while my backside was raised up and tilted toward him.
His hands returned to my buttocks, rubbing them gently in a circular motion. I felt one of his long fingers gently slide into me, moving and thrusting in and out, causing me to get even wetter.
His fingers slid out and in a moment I felt the head of his penis gently pushing into me. His left hand was pressed against my left hip, moving it as he moved in and out of me. His right hand was splayed around me, pressed against my pubic area. One of his fingers continued to massage my clitoris, while his thumb continued to press the outside area just above my pubic bone. The tip of his penis was hitting that very same area from the inside; his thumb pressed down on the outside.
“There it is baby,” he said thickly. “Can you feel it swell up for me?”
I was moaning with pleasure as Trey continued his rhythmic movements within me, thrusting me from an angle that delivered pure pleasure. I felt myself quickening, the pulse in my uterus squeezing Trey’s manhood in sync with his thrusts.
“I want you to come for me now, Tylar, come on baby, and give it to me.”
His words pushed me over as my body reached the fevered pitch that transcended into the explosive surge of pleasure; the release of my own sweet ejaculation around Trey. I cried out his name again and again.
Trey’s thrusts were faster, harder as he cried out, stiffening for a moment while his penis pumped rhythmically inside of me until he was spent. His hands pulled me back toward him as he gave a final shudder. He gently released me.
I rolled onto my back to relax and catch my breath. Trey rested on his side right next to me, placing his hand protectively on my belly. He leaned over, brushing kisses on my face, my neck and my lips. His hands were tangled in my hair. I loved his nearness, his touch.
“Our flight is at 9 p.m. tonight,” he said, gently. “My parents are anxious to meet you, Tylar.”
I reached up, tracing his lips with my finger. He playfully bit down on the nail, tugging it. I had a question for Trey; my hormones were putting me up to it. He could tell something was on my mind.
“What is it?” he asked, a slight frown creasing his forehead; he could read me so well.
“Are we going to be able to fuck while we’re visiting your parents?”
“That’s not ‘mommy’ language, Tylar,” he gently scolded. “Let’s see if you can be a good girl while we are there. Good girls get rewarded.”
He smiled at me, his eyes soft and warm. My hormones breathed a sigh of relief, settling down for a short power nap.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Trey and I had first class tickets once again as we took the flight from Louisville to Tri-Cities Regional Airport. Our flight was a bit delayed in departing out of Louisville. I was tuckered from the last couple of days and ended up falling asleep almost as soon as we took off.
I knew that Trey had planned on working from his laptop on the plane, but having me sprawled across his lap for the majority of the flight interfered with those plans. When the flight attendant announced that we were beginning our final descent into the airport, Trey gently nudged me, lifting me from his lap.
“Come on, angel,” he said softly, “Let’s get you buckled back in we’re landing.”
He fastened my seat belt and my head rested back on his shoulder until we finally were able to deplane. I was glad that a limo had been scheduled to take us to Sinclair Stables. Trey and I climbed in as the driver stowed our luggage. I got to resume my nap in the back, curled up against Trey.
“Why do I think that you will keep me up all night as much as you’ve slept this evening?” he commented.
“Are you complaining?” I asked, my hormones yawning and stretching from their nap.
“Not at all, Ms. Preston,” he quipped, running his fingers through my hair.
I placed my hand possessively on his crotch, gently massaging it in a circular motion while I felt his manhood grow beneath my touch. I looked up and a naughty smile played on his lips. He did nothing to stop me but unfortunately, we were pulling up the long drive to the manor.
“I’m going to have to delay my entrance for several minutes thanks to you, Tylar,” he complained, moving my hand from his crotch.
Trey adjusted himself as best he could prior to exiting the limo. The driver carried our bags up to the front porch, as the door was opened by Thatcher.
“Ms. Preston, Mr. Sinclair, welcome back,” Thatcher greeted warmly, opening the door allowing our entrance.
“Hi Thatcher,” I replied warmly, Trey followed with our bags conveniently camouflaging his crotch area, greeting the manservant with a nod. Trey instructed Thatcher to take both of our bags to his suite as he helped me off with my coat. I had chosen a dark brown and powder blue plaid wool skirt, with a powder blue oversized crew neck sweater, tan tights and dark brown leather boots. I had french braided my hair into a single plait. Trey said that I looked very ‘demure.’
Thatcher indicated that his parents were both in the family room at the back of the manor. I was getting nervous, my mouth was dry and I felt so out of place here. Trey took my hand and led me back to where his parents were sitting watching something on the huge flat screen mounted on the wall.
As we entered the room, Trey’s father, a distinguished and handsome gentleman that certainly did not look near seventy years old, stood and walked toward us.
“Trey,” he greeted, putting his arms around his youngest son, patting his back a couple of times.
“Father,” Trey replied, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Tylar Preston. Tylar, this is my father, Clive Sinclair.”
I reached my hand out to shake the elder Sinclair’s hand. He brushed it aside gently, and stepped forward, embracing me in a hug.”
“Tylar I am so glad to finally meet you,” he said with his exquisite British accent. “I hope you’re making an honest man out of my boy.”
I blushed.
(If only he knew!)
“Mother,” Trey continued, taking my hand to where his mother had been sitting but now stood, “This is Tylar, Tylar, my mother, Susan Sinclair.”
I loved Trey’s mother from the moment I laid eyes on her.
“Tylar,” she said, putting her arms around me and squeezing me into a hug.
“I’m tickled to death to meet you.”
Her southern accent was as pronounced as much as her husband’s British accent.
“Please sit down here next to me hon, and tell me how your trip was.”
She immediately put me at ease. We chatted about everything from the weather to the past summer and the competitions. Both of his parents were impressed with the results of the competitions I had entered with Derringer. Both of them were aware that the season for me had been cut short due to the assault by Charlie. They apologized over and over again about that. I had hoped Trey didn’t share everything with them, but as owners of the property, I’m sure that they were not spared all of the facts. I was happy to live in ignorant bliss for the moment.
Susan filled us in on plans for the following day. Some long-time friends of the Sinclair’s, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, along with their son Landon would be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. I noticed Trey shifted nervously on the sofa next to me when his mother mentioned this. Ray and Denise had been invited for Thanksgiving dinner, but sent regrets as Denise’s children were coming in from out of state and she hadn’t seen them since early summer.
Susan also let me know that Becky had phoned just before we arrived because Gina had not been able to contact me. I forgot about my new phone number on the Blackberry Trey had purchased for me. He must not have programmed anyone’s number into my phone w
ith the exception of his. That didn’t surprise me.
Apparently, Gina and Ian were coming in tomorrow morning to have Thanksgiving with Becky. I was so excited that I would get some time with Gina as well. The Sinclair’s dinner was to start at 4 p.m. I’m certain they had a cook at the manor, though I’d never met him or her. Thatcher had always taken care of everything.
It was close to midnight when Trey took my hand, bidding his parents good-night so that we could get our rest. I felt sort of embarrassed, wondering if they even knew that Trey and I would be sharing his suite.
The manor was huge and they were in the other wing so perhaps they wouldn't stop to think about it. I was exhausted as Trey led me upstairs to his now familiar suite. I unpacked my bag, putting things in his massive closet.
Trey and I showered together, not lingering because of our fatigue. That was kind of a first I thought. I put a short ivory satin nightgown on with matching panties. I used Trey’s blow dryer and brush to style my freshly washed hair. Trey was already in bed as I snuggled in beside him. The room was only lit by the flat screen television he had turned on to watch CNN Money. My hormones were kicking into overdrive after the refreshing shower.
My hand slid under the covers and rested on Trey’s hard chest. I slowly moved my hand downward, enjoying the feel of his body beneath my fingertips. They traced along his treasure trail going lower. I was delighted to discover he had not bothered putting his boxers on after his shower. My hand encircled his growing manhood, and I heard his breath catch as I massaged it into further erection.
“You are fucking insatiable, Tylar,” Trey said, laughing.
“What do you plan on doing about that, Mr. Sinclair?” I asked, arching my eyebrow seductively.
Trey rose up, lifting me from him and placed me on my back. He straddled me, pinning me beneath his strong, muscular legs. His face lowered to mine, his lips warm and soft against my lips. His tongue playfully found mine and our kiss grew heated and passionate. His tongue traced down the column of my neck, his hands reaching to pull the spaghetti straps from my shoulders. I raised my arms up from him so that he could pull my nightgown up over my head.