by ANDREA SMITH
I took the elevator down from the penthouse and was safely on the ground floor in the lobby of Trey’s building when I called Gina. Things didn’t go exactly as I planned, but they could have gone worse.
“Gina, can you pick me up, please.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Hurry,” I said, my voice faltering.
CHAPTER 29
I'd been feeling more at peace since the blow-up with Trey that had sent me packing to Atlanta because I realized that I truly loved him more than I could ever have imagined loving someone in my life. But I wouldn't abide his need to control me. Of course, there was also the matter of his avoidance of love and commitment, and general mistrust in all human beings. The emotional roller coaster had ended. I wanted an even keel even if it meant cutting Trey out.
I successfully avoided him for several weeks. The dressage training with Derringer was going well. Mark and I were able to pick up where we'd left off. The test was less than one week away. Mark continued to work on the choreography. He felt that both Derringer and I had the potential for a more advanced technical routine. We'd increased our training schedule from four hours to a total of six hours per day. Spending that time with Derringer each day made me feel close to Trey, and so exhausted I'd fall into bed fairly early each night, happy for the escape.
Tonight though, something had woken me from my sleep. My eyes flew open. I could hear the horses in the stable making a ruckus. My alarm clock told me it was 2:15 a.m. I was starting to regret taking the cottage that Ray'd vacated. Although the proximity to the stables made me feel safer, it was also louder, in particular when something was riling the horses at this time of the morning.
Finally, realizing that it wasn’t going to stop without some intervention, I got out of bed, pulling a pair of shorts on over my panties. I was sure the horses wouldn’t mind my attire of shorts, tee shirt, and boots. I found a flashlight in the drawer of my nightstand and tested it, rushing out the door.
A slight breeze blew, crickets chirped. In the distance, an owl hooted. There was a light on in the tack room. If someone was in there, I wasn't going in until I knew who it was. I couldn’t imagine any legitimate reason for someone to be in there so late with no foals due for months.
I crept alongside the stable and peered in to the corner of the window. The light was on in the tack room but it was empty. I moved directly in front of the window so that I could view the entire room. No one was visible. I suppose it was possible a light had been left on, but that wouldn’t explain the horses’ behavior. I opened the barn door just a crack and peered inside. The horses had quieted somewhat, but I could see that Derringer was restless. It was then that I heard his smooth and silky voice.
“Derringer buddy, how’s my girl been doing?” Trey’s voice slurred drunkenly. I’d never heard him like this. “Did you see my girl today, huh? Well, I didn’t. I haven’t seen her for quite some time. Are you keeping a good eye on her for me? You'd better have my back on this one, Derringer. You let me know if that son-of-a-bitch Montgomery fuckin’ touches her, you hear? No one can touch her except me. Isn’t that right buddy?”
I stifled a giggle; sharing his feelings with a horse was so not Trey!
“Who am I fuckin' kiddin’?” he asked the horse. “She won’t let me touch her anymore. You know why? I’m fucked up, that’s why! I smother her, I fucking smother her. I can’t help it Derringer, I love her. You know what that’s like, buddy? I guess not, seeing that you’re a gelding.”
Trey started chuckling to himself. “You know what Derringer? I’d been better off to have been gelded, too. Then I wouldn’t be fucking missing 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 man? 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. 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 paused by the door. The conversation from man to horse had stopped. Trey must've passed out. I opened the door and quietly went into the stable. I walked down to Derringer’s stall. Trey was passed out in the straw, his legs out-stretched; an almost empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s tipped over in his right hand.
I hurried over to him. I talked to Derringer, patting his hindquarters to move him 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 knew. 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, he squinted at me. “Tylar?”
“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.”
A slow drunken grin crossed his face, his dimple showing. “You…you’re gonna help me up, Tylar?” he asked, still grinning.
“I will Trey. I need you to help me though. I can’t lift you.”
“You won’t have to, baby,” he said, “I’m perfectly able to get my drunken ass up and outta here.”
He pulled his leg back and leaned forward 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. “Trey, I’m going to 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'd whipped his arm around, grabbing my booted ankle. “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'd never seen before. He flung the Jack Daniel’s bottle into the aisle where it hit a post and shattered. He staggered 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 aisle and into the tack room. “What'd you think you were doing out there?” I demanded.
He raked both of his hands through his unruly hair and went to the small refrigerator in the tack room. He retrieved a bottle of water, 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. He was trying to clear his head, I could tell. Trey didn't like being vulnerable, and the fact that I'd witnessed it would never sit well with him. He shook the droplets of water out of his hair and turned to me, giving me a look that made me feel like my heart was being ripped out.
“What the fuck do you care what I'm doing in my barn with my fucking horse!” he yelled. “I don’t have to explain anything to you, Tylar! Sorry if I disturbed your rest. Apologize to Mark for me when you get back to your bed!”
Oh. Hell. No.
He did not just say that to me. I glared at him. He stood there looking at me all cocky, his hands on his slender hips, his five o’clock shadow looking gorgeous, with his now unruly hair. He knew he’d insulted me.
In that instant, all I wanted to do was to wipe that smug look off of his face. How dare he regard me as if I were 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.
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 his cheek and held it.
“Let me go, you drunken bastard!” I screamed, struggling to free my wrist from his strong grip.
“Bitch!” he spat, still not releasing me.
I continued to struggle against him but he was stronger. 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. His mouth found mine, devouring me with his ardent kiss, his tongue plunging into mine with a vengeance. He had bent my head so far back I thought I'd 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 firm hold on me, burying his face into my hair, nuzzling my neck, murmuring softly into my ear.
“I want you so bad, Tylar. I’ve missed you so much.”
I didn’t want to give in. It would serve no purpose. Yet, 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 to make the magic thing happen that always did when he found it. I returned his kisses passionately. I hated myself in that moment. I wanted him, right or wrong, one last time. 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. 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 of my boots, 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 with him. 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 wasn't 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.
“I want you, Trey.”
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 erection free.
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 me.
“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 cock 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. It felt so good, so full, and so right. This was my Trey; I loved him no matter what.
He slowed his rhythm; his thrusting grew gentler, going into the familiar circular motion. Trey’s cock 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 muscle contracting, squeezing him in timed spasms. As our momentum increased, I heard myself moaning and groaning with pure, unadulterated pleasure. This was a seamless coupling of two people that truly loved one another, I was convinced of it.
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'd 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 rhythmic pumping as he emptied himself inside of me. I was right there with him, pulling every last drop from him.
“That’s it Tylar, take it all,” he said, thrusting the last of his climax into me. When he’d finished, he pulled out of me and rolled onto his back, finally catching his breath. I was doing the same. Our breathing steadied; Trey didn’t move to pull me close or kiss me, which is what he usually did after we'd made love. I was covered with sweat and straw, but fulfilled in every way.
“What a fuck!” Trey said, tucking his glistening cock 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 tore into a million pieces. I stood up in the straw and searched for my clothes. My vision blurred with flowing tears. I found my panties and shorts in one heap, my tee shirt a few feet away. I hurriedly dressed and ran from the stables. I stumbled back up the short path to my cottage. Slamming the cottage door, I let loose with sobs. His words came back to haunt me.
What a fuck.
That was the same thing that Daniel had said to my mom on prom night. My mom, the whore, deserved to be talked to that way. I'd done nothing to deserve that, or the nasty comment about having Mark in my bed. Where'd that come from? There was nothing between Mark and me except friendship. I had told Trey this. Our problems had nothing to do with Mark.
Why could Trey express his feelings about me to Carmelita, or to his horse, but not to me? When I'd heard him talking to Derringer in the stables, I felt my heart would burst with happiness. It was spoiled by Trey’s behavior after that; his anger with Mark; his disrespect toward me. There was nothing healthy about the situation that occurred tonight in the stables.
As my tears subsided, I knew that I must avoid Trey. I didn’t understand his behavior, and I'd never let it happen again. How pathetic I was to think that we were making sweet love? To Trey it was simply a great fuck.
CHAPTER 30
Two weeks had passed since that unfortunate encounter with Trey and I was successful in avoiding him. He'd left to go back to Atlanta two days later and Mark and I tirelessly practiced for the dressage competition scheduled for the following weekend. Everything
had gone exceptionally well with the competition. Derringer and I took 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'd received a letter from the law offices of Pierce, Harmon, Richardson & Sinclair the second week after Trey departed. There was a cover letter signed 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 wanted to avoid a protracted civil case and 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 called Trey’s office and the switchboard put me through.
“Mr. Sinclair’s office, Tonya speaking,” his assistant said.
“Yes Tonya, this is Tylar Preston. I received a letter from Mr. Sinclair requesting that I call his office to 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?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“I understand that you’ve received the copy of the letter 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 before you filed the civil charges?”
“It’s an attempt 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's just a token of the trust’s value.”