by ANDREA SMITH
Trey silently studied me from across the table. I took another sip of water, trying to figure out what was on his mind this evening. It was quite warm in the restaurant this evening. Carmelita returned with a glass of merlot for Trey. Trey ordered for both of us, knowing that I wasn't picky when it came to Italian cuisine. He raised his wineglass for a toast.
“To the most beautiful woman I've ever met, being here with me tonight in our special restaurant.”
I wonder if he made that same toast to Charlotte.
“Per la salute, Tylar,” he finished, clinking his wine glass against my raised water goblet. I waited until he took a long, leisurely swallow of his wine.
“Trey, vorrei sapere se questa e la tabella con le prostitute Charlotte? A proposito, hai fuck lei?”
Trey, I would like to know if this is your table with your whore Charlotte as well? By the way, did you fuck her?
Trey choked, as I expected, desperately holding his napkin up to his mouth to stifle his involuntary coughing. Carmelita rushed to his aid, patting his back.
“E il vino non a tuo piacimento, Signor Trey?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
Is the wine not to your liking, Mr. Trey?
Trey was still hacking, unable to respond. I took the liberty of answering for him.
“Il vino va bene, Carmelita. Era qualcosa che no andava bene.”
The wine is fine, Carmelita. It was something else that did not sit well.
I saw the flicker of amusement cross her face; Trey was still busy composing himself and did not notice the look that passed between Carmelita and me. She left the table seeing that Trey was regaining his composure. He took several gulps of water, eyeing me suspiciously.
“So,” I said, “are you going to answer my questions?”
“Why did you pretend not to understand Italian?”
“That’s not an answer,” I retorted. “Have you slept with anyone else since we made our baby?” I wasn’t sure why that was so important to me, but it was. I was more sad than mad that he'd brought Charlotte to “our spot.”
“For God’s sake, Tylar, lower your voice,” he pleaded, looking around at nearby tables where a few snickers could be heard.
“I’m waiting,” I said, quieter, arms crossed. I tapped one of my stilettos impatiently against the leg of my chair. Trey leaned in close, looking directly into my eyes.
“No, the answer to your question, to both of your questions is ‘no.’”
I believed him but my feelings were still raw. The server brought our salads and warm bread on a cutting board. My hunger had dissipated. I needed some answers.
“I know that you were seeing Charlotte again, Trey. I remember that you made it a point one night of blowing me off because she was at the manor with you.”
“Tylar, as God as my witness, I've never done more than kiss the witch. I promise you that. If you recall, I thought that you were seeing Mark…that you two were involved. It hurt me. As sophomoric as it sounds, I admit that I used Charlotte to show you that I was getting on with my life.”
“I see,” I said, keeping my emotions in check. “So Trey, you thought that I was seeing Mark. Did you think that I was sleeping with him, too?”
“Yes, the thought crossed my mind, more often than I liked as a matter of fact.” He visibly blanched at that question.
“So you admit you were behaving sophomorically in trying to get on with your life. I can’t believe that hooking up with Charlotte wouldn’t have occurred to you. Maybe it would have given you some closure in some way on our relationship?”
He lowered his head and I could tell by his body language I'd hit pay dirt. “I’m going to be honest with you Tylar, because you deserve that and it might sound messed up, but it's the truth.”
Oh God, what's he going to tell me?
“I know everything about your sexual history; you know none of mine. That’s not fair and I believe that you have a right to know. So here it is. The first girl I was ever with was Tess. I was 17, she was 16. I was faithful to her until she ended it. After that, I didn’t get involved in relationships. I'd no desire to ever put myself in a situation that would devastate me like that again.”
He took a sip of his wine and continued. “I’ve had casual dates that included casual sex with several women over the past few years since Tess. That’s probably what Charlotte would have been to me had I not met you. Once the woman wanted an exclusive relationship, I bailed. I’m not proud of that, but it's the truth.”
He paused as our entrées arrived. “After you left me, I called Charlotte. I wanted something to distract me from the emptiness I felt. It was a mistake.”
I kept silent, waiting for him to continue. I knew there was more.
“We dated off and on, Tylar. I was spending more time in Atlanta since you left. Until then, nothing had happened between Charlotte and me, though I knew that she was willing. She came to spend a weekend with me in Atlanta. We went out drinking. I was struggling to get over you.”
He stopped, took another drink of his wine, and I saw a smile flicker across his face. What did he find amusing about any of this? I felt that I was on the verge of being crushed.
“We were in the limo on the way back to my apartment. Charlotte was trying her best to seduce me. Don’t get me wrong, I'd every intention of hooking up that night. I wanted to wash away the emptiness. She unzipped my fly and went down on me.”
I don’t want to hear this!
“Nothing happened,” he said, “I couldn’t even get an erection. She wasn’t you. I hadn’t even touched her. She disgusted me. I finally told her to sit up. I put my flaccid cock back into my pants and told the driver to take her to the Marriott close to my apartment. I handed her $500 and told her to get a room for the night, that I'd ship her luggage back to her.”
How humiliating for her, I thought. My hormones were giggling and snickering. “What'd she say to you?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“I believe she called me an impotent faggot and told me to burn in hell,” he smiled, showing his dimple. I couldn’t resist laughing.
“Well, I mean eventually you'd have been able to perform sexually I’m sure,” I commented.
“I hope I never have to test your theory,” he responded. “So am I forgiven?”
“Trey, you don’t need to ask for forgiveness. I’m relieved that you couldn’t get it up; I won’t lie about that. I don’t like thinking about you being with anyone else, but given your past with Tess, I see why you can be emotionally distant.”
He nodded and reached out, capturing a lock of my hair between his fingers.
“Can I ask you a personal question that doesn’t pertain to me?”
“Go ahead,” he said, still rubbing my lock of hair.
“How long was it after Tess broke the engagement that you hooked up with someone else?”
He thought for a minute before answering, “It was about two or three weeks. There were plenty of women in Cambridge, trust me.”
“Did you have a problem getting an erection with whoever that was?”
“Not a bit,” he said, smiling.
“Now,” he said, pulling his hand back, “are we going to eat this food that’s getting cold?”
“Let’s see if Carmelita could have someone box it up to go.”
“You’re not feeling well, Tylar?”
“No, I’m fine Trey. It’s just that I’d prefer to eat this in the privacy of your room, later. I need to fuck you, now."
He gave me a startled smile, signaling our waiter over. “Italian food is much better warmed up anyway,” he remarked, giving me a wink. “Your wish is my command, Tylar.”
His story about not getting hard for Charlotte had turned me on. I'd taken my stilettos off in the car, holding them in my hands. Rushing through the front door, we ran hand in hand up the steps to his suite. Trey pulled my dress over my head and I sat on the bed, rolling my lacey thigh-highs down my leg.
“Leave them on,” Tr
ey instructed. I shrugged, rolling the stocking back up. I had black lacy panties on, and my new black push-up bra. Trey handed me my stilettos, “Put them on.”
I slipped them back on my feet, clasping the leather around the ankle. Trey led me over to his bed; he was completely naked, his member fully erect. He pulled me against him, his mouth finding mine in a hot, passionate kiss. His teeth lightly tugged at my lower lip. His mouth devoured mine, his tongue thrusting inside my mouth. His hands captured my breasts in a strong grip. He was rougher than usual, and I liked it.
He lifted me up, tossing me on my back in the center of the bed. Spreading my legs apart with his knees, he knelt over me. With his mouth, he freed my breast from the cup and hungrily licked the erect nipple, gently biting it bringing me to the fine line between pleasure and pain. Instantly I could feel my wetness.
His lips continued to move down my body, pleasuring me. He pulled the elastic band of my lace panties away from my left leg, exposing me to him. I was soaked for him and he fingered me roughly, but I loved it. He put his fingers up to my mouth.
“Lick,” he ordered. I obeyed. It was salty sweet. Not what I expected. His fingers went back down, kneading the area over my pubic bone, while his tongue pleasured my clitoris in a swift, circular motion. His mouth pressed around the hood of my clitoris, his teeth lightly nipping the area. It felt like electric shock waves zinged through my body. I moaned beneath his touch.
“What Tylar? Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me hard, Trey. I want you inside of me right now. I want you to make me come all over you,” I begged.
He let me keep my panties on, and pushed them to the side. Trey raised himself over me, and I watched as he held his cock, guiding it inside me. The elastic around the leg opening that was pulled aside rested against my clitoris. As Trey pulled in and out, the tension on the elastic flicked against my clit.
Oh my God!
“Put your legs up around my back,” he instructed. I obeyed; my ‘fuck me’ heels dug into his muscular back.
“That’s my girl,” he breathed huskily, plunging himself into me over and over again. His momentum increased, my hips rising to meet his every thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin was loud. He moaned then changed his tempo to slower, circular motions. I lowered my legs so that my heels now dug into his ass, kneading his gorgeous cheeks with the pointy steel toes as they circled over and over. I could feel the swell of my sweet spot. The head of his cock was tapping it now, spreading the warmth inside me with pleasure-filled spasms.
“Trey, you feel so good inside me,” I said hoarsely, pounding my pelvis against him, grinding my heels into him.
“Mmmm… Tylar it’s yours,” he said, “no one else’s, ever.”
I was ready and he knew it. His arms were beneath me, lifting my backside up slightly, tilting me so that he had full access to my sweet spot, the elastic on my panties continued straining across my clitoris. I was building toward dual climaxes.
“Oh God!” I screamed as both climaxes spiraled around me taking control of every nerve and muscle in my body. “Damn this feels so good, Trey,” I moaned, my mouth hot against his neck.
He was climaxing now around me. His thrusts pounded into me, forcing my orgasm to go on and on. I felt the gush of my ejaculation running down my thighs.
“That’s my baby,” he crooned to me, “that’s my girl. Keep it going, Tylar. That’s it.” He stiffened and shuddered; I felt his erection pulsate as the spasms of his climax emptied into me. Trey collapsed on my chest, spent. We lay there as our breathing slowly normalized.
“I love you so much, Tylar,” he said, softly.
“I love you more, Trey,” I said, lifting my mouth to his lips.
Overwhelmed with emotion, we drank in the closeness and intimacy we'd found. I didn’t want anything to break the spell and connection that we still had.
The room had cooled down somewhat. We hadn’t bothered to get beneath the covers. Our clammy skin rose with goose bumps. I pulled off my spiked heels and tossed them over the side of the bed. We pulled the covers over us and cuddled. The room smelled like sex; our sex. I loved it. Trey placed his hand on my bump, which seemed to be growing a bit every day. It was if our baby knew Trey was there. Usually within a minute or two, the stronger butterfly movements would start. Tonight was no different. The expression on Trey’s face never changed. It was as if he was feeling the baby’s movement for the first time every time.
“What?” I asked, noticing him staring at me.
“I don’t want to break the spell, but we do need to talk about our situation,” he said, his tone serious.
What situation is that?
“Tylar,” he said softly, “I want us to be married.”
CHAPTER 42
I groaned loudly, grabbing one of the bed pillows and putting it over my face.
“What? You don’t want to marry me?” he asked, sincerely perplexed.
“Trey,” I said calmly and reasonably, removing the pillow, “we’ve known each other for what, 10 minutes? Put things into perspective please.”
“I thought I was,” he replied, ticked off. “We’re having a baby together. We love each other. It’s the natural thing to do.”
“Trey, can we table this discussion until sometime after the baby’s born?"
“Tylar, our baby isn’t going to be born a bastard. I won’t allow it.”
“What do you have against bastards?” I asked pointedly, my eyes flashing angrily.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“How else could you have meant it?”
“Tylar, be reasonable, please? I only want what’s best for all of us. I love you, Tylar. I want you with me.”
My eyes were tearing up again, but this time for a different reason. Trey was getting upset; my tears weren’t going to help matters. I couldn’t help it. I was so emotional these days.
“I love you too, Trey,” I sobbed, burying my face into his neck. Once the floodgates opened, I knew the sobs wouldn’t stop anytime soon. Trey continued to rub my back, trying to soothe me with his sweet words but it wasn’t helping. He was getting frustrated.
“Tylar, please,” he pleaded, “stop crying. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I thought you’d be happy.”
“Trey,” I sobbed, “I'd be happy if I didn’t think the reason was because I’m knocked up. I want to marry you when I’m not pregnant. I’m sorry but that’s the way is has to be.” I rolled over onto my side to compose myself. I felt him get up out of bed and make his way to the bathroom. I heard him trip over something, and then his cursing as he picked it up and hurled it against the wall. I heard the bathroom door slam. I looked over at what he'd thrown against the wall. It was one of my ‘fuck me’ shoes. I couldn’t restrain a giggle as I pulled the covers up over my face so that he wouldn’t hear me.
I awoke Saturday morning desperately hoping that things were normal again between us. It was nothing personal about not getting married. It was simply the way it needed to be. Trey stood at the sink shaving and I went over to him, stood on my tiptoes, and planted a kiss on his lips. He was unresponsive.
Okkaay…
“We’re having breakfast with Mom and Dad,” Trey informed me. “They want to discuss the situation with us.”
Oh no, not the “situation” again?
I knew that he'd not just found this out. Why hadn’t he told me sooner? Were his parents were pressuring him into marrying me? The thought of that simply made everything worse.
“What are we, high school freshman? Thanks for giving me notice, Trey,” I snapped, grabbing clothes from my suitcase and going in the bathroom to shower. He shaved while I showered. Neither of us spoke.
Piss on him if he thinks his parents are going to pressure me into something that I’m not ready to do.
I put on jeans and a University of Kentucky sweatshirt. I wanted them to know that I was a “no frills” kind of girl. Trey dressed in khakis and a long-sleeved Polo
shirt. We descended the staircase together. Breakfast was being served in the formal dining room. My stomach was growling since I hadn’t eaten dinner the night before. Susan came over to us immediately, giving Trey a hug, and then reaching out to me, kissing me on my cheek.
“How lovely you look, Tylar,” she said sweetly, giving me her sincere and down-home smile. “You look very well-rested, glowing almost,” she gushed. “Please, take a seat. Clive will be joining us in a moment.”
As if on cue, Clive came into the room bidding everyone a good morning. A servant was busy bringing in warm platters of scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, fried potatoes, fresh fruit, and muffins, placing everything on the sideboard. There was coffee, juice, and milk already poured.
Trey pulled out my chair for me, waiting as I took a seat before taking his. Very properly raised, I thought. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair took their seats as the servant filled water glasses and poured coffee.
“Please,” Susan said, once the coffee had been poured, “You two help yourselves to some breakfast.”
I touched Trey’s arm as he stood, asking that he get me some scrambled eggs and a muffin. He nodded. Although I was very hungry, I wasn’t sure now just how much I'd be able to eat. My nerves were jittery. I couldn’t imagine what they needed to discuss with us. We weren’t high school kids who got into trouble.
Once everyone’s plates were full, we commenced eating in uncomfortable silence. I talked to Susan a bit about the horse auction they had attended. They had purchased two more warm bloods. To my relief, Clive finally got to the point.
“Tylar,” he said in his lovely British accent, “Susan and I want you to know that we’re here to support you in any way possible and acceptable to you. We’ve not been blessed with a grandchild as of yet,” he said, glancing toward Trey briefly. “We want you to consider staying with us so that we can provide you with anything you may need financially or emotionally during this time. We understand that Charlie Roberts’s trial is scheduled for January, and that you may need to be here in Bristol during that time, should they not meet a plea agreement.”