by ANDREA SMITH
“Oh, well Tristan was fit to be tied. He hauled Trey back home, threatening to pummel him good if he said anything to either Clive or me about it. He dropped Trey off in the driveway and took off again with his girl. Trey was stubborn, and not one to be easily intimidated by his older brothers. He marched right in the house where Clive and I were entertaining some friends and told us that Tristan was ‘bumping uglies’ with Kate in his truck. I thought his Daddy was going to bust a blood vessel. Of course that precipitated the talk Clive had with Tristan about safe sex and all. We laugh about it to this day.”
“What was Trey’s relationship like with Nigel?” I asked.
“Well, Nigel is two years older that Tristan, so ten years older than Trey. To be honest, Nigel was pretty much out and about his business by the time Trey was five or so. Nigel went away to boarding school after the eighth grade. Tristan went to the local high school because he played a lot of sports. Nigel is more academic I would say; Tristan more athletic and Trey I guess I would say is a combination of both. You will definitely see a physical resemblance between Tristan and Trey. My God the day I delivered Trey it was if as I was looking at Tristan the day he was born. You never forget what your babies look like the day they are born, honey. I will tell you that.”
She smiled at me warmly, pulling another sheet of cookies out of the oven.
“Why do you think Tristan has never married?” Not that thirty-nine was ancient for still being single.
"He had one long term relationship out in California.
We really thought that he would marry Tara," she said. "Clive and I really liked her. You kind of remind me of her," she added. "She had the same coloring and build as you have. I don't know what happened with them. Tristan is a fairly private person about those things."
“I guess Trey’s kind of like that as well,” I commented.
“Not lately,” she said, smiling. “His emotions are very loud and clear where you are concerned, Tylar. I’ve never seen Trey so enamored and in love. I’m happy for both of you because I can see that you love him as well.”
“I do,” I smiled, flushing. “He is my world, Susan.”
Our conversation was interrupted when Clive and Trey came in the front, dragging the freshly cut Douglas fir tree behind them. Susan had already made room for it in the large living room that was off of the main hall next to the dining room. Clive and Trey got the tree situated in the stand and brushed the branches out. It nearly touched the ceiling and was beautifully shaped.
“That is the prettiest tree we’ve ever had,” Susan remarked proudly.
“You say that every year,” Clive teased, giving her a quick hug.
“Did you cut some greenery for the mantle?” she asked.
“I’m on my way to do it now, Susie, don’t fret,” Clive answered shaking his head in mock torture.
Trey turned, seeing me in the doorway, while Susan still fussed with some of the branches on the tree. He smiled at me, almost shyly. I wondered if he and his dad had been talking man-to-man about stuff.
He came over to where I was standing, his cheeks a bit rosy from the brisk December morning. His suede jacket smelled of pine and evergreen. He pulled me into him, wrapping his strong arms around me. His hand brushed
through my hair.
“Hey you,” he greeted, “What have you been up to?”
“Just hanging out with your mom, making cookies and learning about your childhood.”
“Did you learn anything interesting?” he asked smiling his lovely smile at me.
“A couple of things, maybe,” I answered coyly.
He lowered his head, tilting my chin upward with his fingers, finding my mouth with his. His lips moved slowly and sensually against mine, slipping his tongue in gently exploring my mouth. His mother was still in the room. I was a bit surprised at his ardor in her presence but she didn’t seem to be paying attention. He continued the deep, passionate kiss, thoroughly possessing my mouth with his tongue. He slowly drew back, his blue eyes dark with passion searching mine for something.
“I love you,” he breathed huskily against my lips.
“I love you, too,” I replied, softly.
Trey and I spent the next couple of hours decorating the tree. Susan and Clive brought down all of the lights and ornaments, some of them made by the boys when they were in grade school.
I was particularly fond of an ornament that Trey had made in the second grade according to Susan. It was a Christmas angel that had a wooden bead for a head; a wired Christmas tree bow was hot glued to the back for the angel’s wings. A metallic pipe cleaner formed the halo; the angel’s gown had gold and silver glitter. It was attached to wire ornament hook with a string knotted around it.
I looked at the ornament a little closer.
“Trey,” I asked, “Is your Christmas angel made out of a . . . tampon?”
He looked down from where he was putting the tree-topper on, glancing at the angel ornament in my hand. Recognizing it, he gave me his crooked grin.
“Yeah, a tampon,” he replied. “Some people don’t catch that.”
“Uh, it’s kind of hard to miss it,” I replied, wondering what kind of school would have second graders making Christmas angels out of Playtex tampons.
After we finished trimming the tree, I suggested to Trey that he bring the presents we wrapped down to put underneath it.
“Come help me?” he asked, playfully. I rolled my eyes and followed him up the stairs.
Trey shut and locked our bedroom door, then turned to me. His expression was clear.
“Trey, your mom and dad are downstairs; the servants are up here getting rooms ready; your brothers will be here shortly and we still have to get ready.”
“I know,” he replied, “This just might be our last opportunity before late tonight. I don’t want to wait.”
“What if I tell you that you are going to have to wait?”
He cocked his head to the side, giving me a quizzical look. He wasn’t quite sure where I was heading with this. The truth was I wasn’t sure where I was heading with it either. It was as if something else had taken over thwarting my hormones into an excited frenzy. I wanted him to play a role unfamiliar to me. I was curious to see if he would.
I was looking at Trey, my hands on my hips, a rebellious attitude copped. His eyes traveled over me, studying my defiant ones; a flicker of comprehension passed over his face, his lips showed a trace of a smile.
“Tylar,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on a hard and authoritative edge, “You’re not leaving this room until I have fucked you, do you understand? Now you have thirty seconds to get your ass naked and in that bed, ready to take my cock whatever way I choose.”
I stumbled backward towards the bed, my hands reaching behind me feeling for the edge of it as his eyes burned into me. His eyes were on fire, never leaving mine. My fingers fumbled with my sweater pulling it up and over.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, taking off my boots and socks. I unfastened my jeans, pulling them down to my ankles, shaking my feet out of them. I was still in my bra and panties.
“I said everything, Tylar. You’re not naked yet,” his voice was steely cold and harsh.
I reached up, unfastening my bra, letting it fall from me onto the bed. I tossed it off of the bed onto the floor. I lifted my backside up, pulling my panties down to my ankles.
“That’s far enough,” Trey said, sharply. “I want the panties left around your ankles. Lay back,” he ordered.
I did as I was told, my head resting against the double row of pillows. I had view full of Trey. I watched him warily, not sure of what his next move was going to be.
He approached the bed, unbuckling his leather belt and slowly removing it from the belt loops.
Oh, shit!
He lowered himself down onto the bed on one knee reaching over and wrapping the belt around my ankles. He doubled it over, and then buckled it to keep my ankles together. The silk panties were still ar
ound my ankles. The panties protected my skin from the leather belt digging into it. My eyes widened watching Trey bind my ankles together. He then lifted himself off of the bed, grabbing his sweater and pulling if off over his head and discarding it to the floor.
He bent over pulling off his boots and socks, kicking them out of the way. He left his jeans on, simply unfastening the button, and jerking his zipper down.
He eyes were burning with passion and punishment. I tingled with some primal fear as he moved with panther-like grace back to the bed, putting both knees on it and crawling to where I was.
“Now,” he said, firmly, “I’m going to fuck you and I’m going to come. I haven’t decided yet as to whether I’m going to permit you to come. You are not to come unless I give you express verbal permission, is that understood?”
I nodded affirmatively, afraid to speak.
He reached inside his fly, moving his boxers aside allowing his large, thick erection to spring free. He was on his knees, spreading his muscular thighs wide apart, he straddled my shoulders, his hand lowering his penis toward my face.
“Put your hands around it, Tylar,” he instructed firmly. I obeyed.
“That’s right, now I want you to lick it and suck it, taking the whole length into your mouth.”
I guided his manhood into my mouth, flicking my tongue around the crown, swirling it up and down his full length. I sheathed my teeth, and took it fully into my mouth, planting my hands on his jeans covered hips, moving him in and out of me. I sucked and licked him thoroughly, tasting the salty clear pre-orgasmic bead that gathered at the tip.
“Does it taste good, Tylar?”
I nodded, and continued tasting him, not looking up at him.
“Gently rub my balls.”
I complied, cupping them and manipulating them gently, tracing my fingertip behind them along the seam. I fingered his perineum lightly. He gasped, thrusting himself forward into my mouth; in and out, in and out. My tongue continued to curl and swirl around the wide girth of his penis, pausing to lick the tip of the head keeping it clear of fluid.
Trey had not touched me yet other than to place his shaft in my mouth.
My sex was wet nonetheless, wanting his manhood buried deep inside of me, giving me the carnal release I now ached for deep inside.
Trey was fucking my mouth now; his thrusting was deep and his rhythm had increased. His hips were moving in circular motions, just the way I loved it when he was inside of my sex. If I hadn’t challenged him earlier, he would be pleasuring me now instead of punishing me by withholding his touch.
He stilled his thrusting in order to delay his orgasm. Did he plan to fuck my mouth until our company arrived? I looked up and he was gazing down at me, his expression impassive.
“Stop,” he ordered. I obeyed.
He removed his penis from my mouth, not taking his eyes from mine.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Tylar,” he said.
He scooted back, continuing to straddle my hips. His hands pushed my thighs apart, drawing my ankles upward but still clasped together. His forearms rested on either side of me. His hips dipped down so that his manhood could find entry into my wet orifice that was now trembling for fulfillment. I wanted Trey’s fulfillment.
He thrust himself into me roughly and deeply.
“Ah!” I cried out, placing my hands on his hips to steady myself.
My natural reflex was to wrap my legs around him but this was not possible. My hands held him firmly, as he rolled his hips around and around, and then plunged in and out of me, slowly again and again. I could hear my wetness each time he pulled in and out of me. He didn’t kiss or fondle my breasts; this was my punishment for trying to deny him what he wanted when he wanted it.
The punishment was bittersweet. The sensitive spot deep within me was responding to his deep thrusts, swelling with intense desire for release and pleasure.
He continued to move his hips in ways he knew would bring me what I wanted more than anything. I raised my pelvis up to meet his thrust each and every time, my uterus contracted around him, squeezing his length to draw his
orgasm out and into me. My mind was swirling with abandonment, lust, and focused on the deep need for release that was growing with every thrust.
I moaned softly, raking my fingernails across his muscular buttocks as it continued to circle around over me.
“Don’t you come, Tylar,” he warned, gritting his teeth. He was close and I knew it. He plunged himself in and out, as his breath became ragged. I moaned again.
“I’m warning you, Tylar, if you come, you will receive further punishment from me. I’m going to come now, you cannot.”
He raised himself up straightened his arms out, arching his back for one final thrust, emptying himself inside of me, his penis throbbing in pleasured release. I came as Trey shuddered, biting down on the back of my hand to still my cries. I hadn’t fooled Trey, he knew.
His arms circled my hips as my orgasm rolled out. He raised me up, slapping his hand against my backside once, twice and a third time, the stinging of his palm against my flesh brought tears to my eyes as my orgasm heightened once again to a crescendo.
“Next time, it will be my leather belt against your bare ass,” he hissed into my ear, as my ejaculation squirted out around him.
Trey rolled off of me, scooting down to my ankles and releasing them from his leather belt. He pulled my panties up, lifting my backside and gently covering my now very pink butt cheek. He lay next to me, his head propped up on an elbow, gazing at me, his eyes warm and satisfied. His fingers traced my nipples which were taut and erect. He leaned down, gently circling the nipples with his tongue.
“I missed these and this,” he said softly, brushing his lips against mine tenderly, his fingers, running down my cheek, capturing my jaw and pulling me into a deeper, more sensual kiss.
His tongue moved into my mouth, gently and tentatively exploring, tasting me and moaning against me.
“I hate it when I have to punish you, baby,” he said, his voice filled with regret.
“I hate it when you punish me, Trey,” I replied, answering his kisses with my own. “I’m sorry that I was less than enthusiastic when we first came up here.”
“I’m not,” he said, grabbing me and hugging me to him, tickling me until I begged him to stop. We were both laughing now.
“That was definitely hot,” I said, propping myself up on an elbow to look at him, “Going all ‘Christian Grey’ on me like that.”
“Who?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Never mind,” I laughed. “Hey, next time can you be the naughty boy that gets punished?”
“No,” he said, rolling his eyes, and sitting up.
“Let’s shower, baby,” he said, standing up, holding his hand out to me.
We were showered and dressed for the Christmas Eve festivities by shortly after two o’clock.
Trey was wearing black flannel dress pants, a white with grey pinstriped shirt, and maroon silk suspenders. He looked gorgeous as usual. I was wearing a black wool pencil skirt that fell below my knees, with a black round neck tee, and a dark red wool blazer. I wore silk thigh high stockings and a pair of black passion pumps with skinny 2-3/4” heels. Trey had said no to the ‘fuck me’ spiked heels.
When we descended down the stairs to the foyer, the limo was just pulling up with Trey’s brothers and Caroline. I felt nervous and jittery. It was one thing to be with Trey’s parents, they were easy and non-judgmental. I had no clue what his brothers would be like, let alone the dreaded Caroline.
Trey and I went into the living room where the Christmas tree was lit. Our presents had been placed under it, along with a multitude of others.
Susan, Clive and Thatcher of course were in the foyer to greet them as they came up the steps to the porch.
I heard Susan squeal at seeing her elder two sons who for the most part she only saw a couple of times a year.
Thatcher and another man ser
vant who I didn’t recognize carried the luggage upstairs. Clive took everyone’s wraps, hanging them in the guest closet while, Susan shooed everyone into the large and elegant living room.
Trey stood up, locking his hand into mine and immediately, I saw Tristan. My God, Susan was right. Trey had a striking resemblance to him, though you could tell in subtle ways that Tristan had several years on him. They were approximately the same height and build; Tristan’s hair was more of a sandy brown, where as Trey’s was darker with burnished natural highlights. Tristan wore his hair a bit longer than Trey’s probably because he owned his own winery instead of working for a premier law firm.
Tristan caught me staring at him and I blushed immediately. Both of the men made their way over to us.
“Nigel, I would like you to meet Tylar Preston, my soon to be fiancé; Tylar, my oldest brother Nigel Sinclair."
I smiled and took Nigel’s hand. He was handsome though he bore little resemblance to Tristan or Trey. Nigel was a bit shorter and a built stockier with very dark hair and dark brown eyes. He held out his hand, greeting me warmly.
Just then there was a commotion in the foyer. I heard a somewhat shrill female voice in some sort of distress.
“Nigel,” she whined, “Are you positive I didn’t bring that other case with my suede pumps and matching purse in it?”
Oh God, that had to be Caroline.
“Darling,’ he said, patiently, “You’ve brought more than enough shoes for the few days that we are going to be here. One pair couldn’t possibly make a difference. Come say ‘hello’ to Trey and his fiancé.”
I could tell that Nigel was used to soothing her various irritations.
Caroline was tall and thin, almost too thin. Her face had very defined features; her nose was thin and beakish.
Her skin was very pale and taught like she had already had a face lift at forty-something. Her eyes were grey and nondescript as they sized me up. She appeared to be somewhat taken aback by my appearance. I quickly reassessed my outfit and hair; nothing seemed to be out of place or in poor taste. She was dressed in a casual pantsuit.
Trey stepped forward, kissing his sister-in-law on both cheeks as she tilted her face to him.