Maybe Baby Lite

by ANDREA SMITH

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 and 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. The angel’s white cotton gown flared out into something I recognized.

  “Trey, is your Christmas angel made out of a…tampon?”

  He looked down from the ladder, the tree-topper in his hand, and studied the angel ornament I held. 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 tampons. As we put the finishing touches on the tree, I suggested to Trey that he bring down the presents we wrapped to arrange beneath 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 soon, 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’ll have to wait?”

  He cocked his head to the side. 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 role-play with me. I was curious to see if he would. I stared at him, my hands on my hips, feigning a rebellious attitude. His eyes traveled over me, 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've fucked you, do you understand? Now you've 30 seconds to get your ass naked and in that bed, ready to take my cock whatever way I choose.”

  I stumbled backward, my hands reaching behind me for the edge of the bed as his eyes burned into me. My fingers pulled my sweater 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.

  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 and watched him steadily, not sure of his next move. He approached the bed, unbuckling his leather belt and pulled it from the belt loops. 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 around my ankles, protecting my skin from the leather belt. My eyes widened as Trey bound my ankles. He then lifted himself off of the bed and assertively removed his clothes. 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're not to come unless I give you express verbal permission, is that understood?”

  I nodded, 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; he straddled my shoulders, lowering his erection toward my face.

  “Put your hands around it, Tylar,” he instructed firmly. I obeyed. “That’s right, now I want you to take it all into your mouth.”

  I guided his member 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.

  “Now rub my balls.”

  I complied, cupping them gently, tracing my fingertip behind them along the seam. I fingered his perineum. He gasped, thrusting himself forward into my mouth as my tongue continued to curl and swirl around his wide girth, pausing to lick the tip of the head.

  Trey had not touched me other than to guide his shaft in my mouth. My sex was wet nonetheless, wanting his erection buried deep inside of me, giving me the carnal release I now ached for deep inside. Trey was fucking my mouth now; 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 cock 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. 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 impossible. 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 muscle 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’m warning you, Tylar, if you come, you’ll receive further punishment. 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 cock 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’ll 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 leathe
r 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.

  “I hate it when I have to punish you,” he said, regretfully.

  “I hate it when you punish me Trey,” I replied, answering his kisses with my own. “I’m sorry that I wasn't as enthusiastic as I should've been 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, furrowing his brow.

  “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, holding his hand out.

  We were showered and dressed for the Christmas Eve festivities shortly after 2 p.m., our faces still flushed and my hormones thoroughly satisfied. Trey looked gorgeous as usual in black flannel dress pants, a white with grey pinstriped shirt, and maroon silk suspenders. I was wearing a black wool pencil skirt that fell below my knees, with a black scoop-neck tee, and a dark red wool blazer. I wore silk thigh-high stockings and a pair of black passion pumps with skinny medium-height heels. Trey had said no to the ‘fuck me’ spiked heels.

  We descended the stairs to the foyer as the limo arrived with Trey’s brothers and Caroline. I felt nervous and jittery. It was easy to be with Trey’s parents, they were friendly and nonjudgmental. I had no clue what his brothers would be like, let alone the dreaded Caroline. Trey and I waited in the living room near the lit Christmas tree, presents arranged neatly beneath its branches.

  Susan and Clive greeted them as they ascended the steps to the foyer. I heard Susan squeal and embrace her elder two sons. Thatcher carried their luggage to their suites. Clive took everyone’s wraps, hanging them in the guest closet while Susan shooed everyone into the large and elegant living room.

  Trey stood, locking his hand into mine and immediately I saw Tristan. My God, Susan was right. Trey held a striking resemblance to him, though you could tell in subtle ways that Tristan was several years older. They were approximately the same height and build, yet Tristan’s hair was more of a sandy brown, compared to Trey’s darker locks and burnished natural highlights. Tristan wore his hair a bit longer than Trey’s, probably because his chosen profession was more casual—winemaking—than Trey’s. Tristan caught me staring and I blushed. Both of the men made their way over to us.

  “Nigel, I’d like you to meet Tylar Preston, my soon-to-be fiancé. And Tylar, this is my oldest brother Nigel.”

  I smiled and took Nigel’s hand. He was handsome though he bore little resemblance to Tristan or Trey. Nigel was shorter and built stockier with very dark hair and dark brown eyes. He held out his hand, greeting me warmly. Just then there was action in the foyer. I heard a shrill female voice in distress.

  “Nigel,” she whined, “Are you positive I didn’t bring that other case with my suede pumps and matching purse in it?”

  Oh wow, that had to be Caroline.

  “Darling,” he said, patiently, “you’ve brought more than enough shoes for the few days. One pair couldn’t possibly make a difference. Come say ‘hello’ to Trey and his fiancé.” I could tell that Nigel was used to placating her.

  Caroline was tall and thin, almost too thin. Her face had sharp features, which was punctuated with a beakish nose. Her pale, taut countenance hinted that she’d already had a face lift at forty-something. Her grey eyes revealed nothing as she sized me up. She appeared to be taken aback by my appearance. I quickly reassessed my outfit and hair; nothing seemed to be out of place or in poor taste. She wore a casual pantsuit.

  Trey stepped forward, kissing his sister-in-law on both cheeks as she tilted her face to him. “Caroline, ageless as always.”

  With the help of a west coast plastic surgeon I bet.

  “Trey, still the flirt I see,” she said, gushing.

  “Caroline,” Trey said, pulling me close to him and turning to me, “I’d like to introduce you to Tylar Preston, who’s agreed to be my wife.”

  I could see a hint of surprise cross her otherwise impassive face. She held her long, thin hand out to me with a forced smile. “Tylar, welcome to the family,” she said without sincerity. “Susan has told me so much about you already,” she commented with an underlying tone that I couldn’t identify.

  “Caroline, it’s good to meet you. Trey’s spoken of you as well.”

  I saw a glint of irritation cross her tight unwrinkled face. Trey squeezed my hand and when I looked at him I saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “Trey, I see you’re saving the best for last,” a familiar smooth and silky voice said. The voice didn’t come from Trey; it was Tristan who spoke up, moving closer to us, his eyes locked on mine. My stomach did a bit of a flip-flop and I wasn’t sure why.

  “Tristan,” Trey greeted his brother warmly, grabbing his hand and slapping him on the back. Tristan turned his attention to me, his emerald green eyes flickering over me.

  “So this is Tylar,” he purred, taking my hand and raising it delicately to his full lips.

  Oh wow! It runs in the family!

  Trey was unfazed. Perhaps this was Tristan’s way with all women.

  “You are exquisite,” Tristan breathed, not taking his eyes from mine, “but then my younger brother has a penchant for exquisite women.”

  His comment made me uncomfortable and struck me as confusing; I decided to file it away for future reference. “Tristan, I'm pleased to meet you,” I replied, pulling my hand from his finally, finding Trey’s hand beside me and locking mine into it. Tristan threw his head back, seeming to laugh heartily at my discomfort. “You better watch her, Trey,” he said, “She’ll turn heads I can see that now.”

  Trey looked down at me, smiling. “There’s only one head she’s interested in turning big brother,” he replied, “and that’s mine.”

  “Touché,” Tristan replied, locking his gaze upon me.

  Susan had the servants bring out some eggnog, wine, and brandy. Trey fetched me a sparkling water. Everyone filled their respective cups or glasses with the spirit of their choice. I noticed that both Trey and Tristan chose brandy; Caroline drank white wine; Clive, Susan, and Nigel sipped eggnog.

  Clive stood with his cup of eggnog raised to toast, “To having all of my family here and healthy for this very special Christmas; to welcome our soon-to-be new family member, Tylar, who already feels like a daughter to Susan and me. Welcome Tylar, and Merry Christmas everyone!”

  “Here, here,” Tristan said, raising his glass of brandy, and clinking it with everyone else’s in the circle, one by one. As he got to my sparkling water, he clinked my glass, winking and taking a drink of his brandy his green eyes locking once again with mine.

  “To family,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER 50

  We sat down to an elegant Christmas Eve dinner. The staff had prepared a beautiful crown roast of pork with apple-cranberry stuffing, truffled twice-baked potatoes, asparagus casserole, and glazed carrots. Susan served Trey’s chocolate pie for dessert.

  Caroline picked at her food, commenting that she tried to avoid pork in her diet at all costs. I looked over as Tristan rolled his eyes at her statement, and then flashed a smile at me when he realized he'd been caught. After dinner, the family retired to the living room and reclined on the sofas near the Christmas tree. Trey pulled me next to him, his arm relaxed over my shoulders. Clive poured after-dinner brandy for everyone and he brought me a sparkling water.

  “Tylar, I see that you don’t imbibe,” Tristan commented, lounging on the armrest of the opposite sofa, sipping his brandy.

  “Well...” I stammered, unsure if Trey was ready to tell everyone. Trey interjected on my beh
alf.

  “Everyone,” he said, “now is as good a time as any to share our wonderful news.” Trey pulled a Cartier ring box from his pants pocket. He turned to me and held it open, his eyes beaming with love. “Tylar has agreed to be my bride. Though I’d marry her this minute, my fiancée has stipulated that we wait until after the birth of our child in May.”

  Caroline’s shocked gasp from across the room was quickly drowned out by the sound of happy applause and congratulations. I froze in a temporary state of panic, not generally accustomed to having all eyes on me.

  “Tylar,” Trey said softly, bringing me out of my daze, “do you accept this ring as a token of my love and promise of our engagement to be married?”

  “Oh Trey,” I cried joyfully, “you know that I do.” I lifted the ring out of the box. An emerald-cut diamond sat atop a platinum band, dancing with color. There was a baguette ruby, my birthstone, on each side of the enormous diamond.

  Trey proudly slid the ring onto my finger, giving me a sweet kiss on my lips. I threw my arms around his neck, tears streaming down my face.

  Susan rushed to my side, taking my hand to admire the ring. “We’re sure happy that you’re going to officially be a member of the family, Tylar, but I’ve got to tell you something, you already feel like a daughter to us!” I hugged her tightly, catching the sour expression on Caroline’s face. She was the only person who'd not done anything but gasp at the news. Was she more shocked by the engagement or the baby?

  Caroline finally sauntered over to me and glanced at the ring, my hand still in Susan’s. “Nice,” she commented, “a much bigger diamond than the one you gave Tess.”

  My head jerked up in shock. Caroline’s taut countenance remained expressionless. I felt Trey’s muscles tense at my side. Nigel ignored her comment, which was probably the result of years of conditioning. He'd learned to tune her out.

  Tristan finally broke the silence, “A much bigger diamond for a much greater love I think, dear Caroline,” he commented, not taking his sharp green eyes off of me.