Trey lowered his face to mine, his hand tilting my chin upward to meet his kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as we kissed for the first time as husband and wife. The minister interrupted our kiss with the introduction. “Ladies and gentleman, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Trey Sinclair.”
There was applause and shouting. I heard a champagne cork pop in the distance. We were immediately surrounded by family and friends giving us congratulatory hugs and kisses. Hand in hand, Trey and I made our way to the horse-drawn carriage that would take us over to the reception area on the other side of the plantation. Susan handed Preston over to Trey once he'd settled me into the carriage. He climbed in next to me, cradling the baby against his chest. He looked magnificent in his tan tuxedo. The flurry of activity had thrown her off schedule. Within moments, she'd quieted down against me. I looked up at Trey. He was watching us, his eyes full of love and warmth.
“I love you, Trey.”
“I love you, Mrs. Sinclair,” he replied, pulling me closer against him.
We had a sit-down dinner followed by a reception, complete with live music and dancing. Susan had taken full responsibility for Preston once we'd joined the reception. I allowed myself a couple of glasses of champagne. It was exquisite. Trey and I weren’t leaving for Tybee Island until the following day. Our official wedding night was to be spent in the bridal suite at the Marriott.
Trey had insisted on this and I suspected I knew the reason. As long as we were at the house, I'd want to have Preston with us. He'd put his foot down. It was close to midnight when our limo arrived. I kissed the baby goodnight as she slept in Tristan’s arms. We were pelted with birdseed as we departed the estate and headed toward the hotel and our wedding night. I snuggled against Trey in the limo; his arm was wrapped around me possessively. I felt happier than I'd ever thought possible.
Our suite was lovely. Our luggage had been dropped off earlier and was in our room when we got there. Trey opened another bottle of champagne and we shared a glass as we prepared for our bath.
Trey helped me out of my wedding gown. I'd lost the final four pounds gained during my pregnancy. Thankfully, I hadn’t gotten any stretch marks through the whole ordeal.
We lit candles in the bathroom and sank down into our warm bubble bath together. I leaned back against Trey, loving the feel of his hands as they massaged my skin with soapy lather. He lifted me up, turning me around so that we were face to face.
Our lips met in a long, passionate kiss. His tongue teased mine playfully. I laced my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I could feel his erection underneath me and I wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of me once again. I'd wondered if post-partum sex would be different. Trey lifted me from him, taking my hand as we left the tub. I had barely had time to wrap a towel around myself when he lifted me and carried me to the bed.
“I’m not waiting one more minute to bury myself into you,” he said, his voice husky. “Is your diaphragm in place?”
I smiled and nodded. I knew Trey needed an initial fuck before we got down to more creative lovemaking. I did as well. He pulled the towel from me, gazing down at me with hunger in his eyes. He was kneeling on the bed, his erection stood bold and ready. His knee nudged my thighs apart and he lowered his face to my sex, his tongue eagerly exploring the soft folds beneath. He inserted a finger inside of me; his thumb gently rolled the tip of my clitoris back and forth.
“You're wet already, baby,” he said softly, as I moaned and swiveled my hips in a circular motion in response to his touch. He moved his face up to mine, capturing my lips with his as he removed his fingers from my sex. I felt him poised above me, his hand guiding his cock to the apex at the top of my thighs. In one swift movement, he buried himself inside of me. I gasped as he plunged in and out of me. He placed his hands underneath my butt, raising me up to meet him. My legs were wrapped around his hips, digging into his ass, pulling him in deeper with each thrust.
“God, baby, I’ve missed this so much,” he rasped, continuing his perfect flexing.
I was meeting him thrust for thrust, moaning at the pleasure I felt, as he possessed my body again and again. I felt the familiar warmth spreading at my core; the swelling of my sweet spot as the head of Trey’s erection hit it again and again. I moaned with pleasure. “Is that your spot, baby? Does that feel good?”
“God, yes! Please don’t stop,” I gasped, my fingernails digging into his back.
“Tylar, you feel so good. You feel so fucking tight. I’m ready, baby.” Trey increased his momentum as our pleasure spiraled to a peak together. I was at the edge ready for a release I hadn’t felt for a while.
“That’s my girl,” his voice coaxed softly. “That’s my girl; come for me, baby.”
My orgasm exploded around us. I heard myself moaning and crying out Trey’s name as my body found the wet release it so desperately needed. Trey moaned with his release, gritting his teeth as his cock pumped his ejaculation into me again and again.
“Oh, God,” I rasped, as my body tingled with the aftershock.
“Oh baby!” Trey said, out of breath as he collapsed against me.
We were both covered in sweat. He perched his head on his hand, gazing at me with eyes still dark with passion. His fingers lightly traced my nipple, squeezing it gently. I was always sensitive post-orgasm.
I felt him squeezing my nipple again causing me to letdown. I knew what would happen if he did it again. I waited to see if he would. He rolled my nipple around between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing it again. This time a stream of breast milk squirted out.
“Whoa,” he said, surprised at the force of my milk stream. I laughed at his expression. He lowered his mouth to my nipple and sucked on it gently. “Hmmm,” he said, lifting his face up to mine. “That does taste good, Mrs. Sinclair. I can see what all the fuss is about.”
He lifted himself up and out of me. He lay down next to me and continued to press playful kisses on my face and neck. “She’s fine, Tylar,” he said, giving me a semi-stern look.
“What?” I asked, feigning confusion.
“Bobbin is fine,” he repeated.
“I know she is,” I lied.
I hated being apart from her and he knew it.
“Tylar,” he started, as a slight frown creased his forehead, “have you discussed your separation anxiety with your doctor?”
“What separation anxiety?”
“Oh, come on, sweetie. You can’t stand being away from her for more than an hour or two. And then this shit you’ve brought up about a family bed recently. I’m a bit worried, that’s all.”
Trey was starting to piss me off. That wasn't a good thing for a couple on their wedding night, I presumed.
“For the last time, a family bed isn't about separation anxiety. You’ve already told me ‘no,’ so why are you bringing it up again?”
“It’s not just that; what about you not wanting to be away from her even for our honeymoon? We fought about that, remember?”
Of course, I remembered. It had only been last week, for Chrissake. All I'd done was mention that it might be better to take Preston with us to Tybee Island, rather than have to pump my breasts five times a day for the three days prior to leaving and then ‘pump and dump’ eight times a day for the two days we were gone.
Trey had exploded when I'd mentioned it. He made me feel like some sort of "Mommy Dearest" control freak. It hadn't gone well. I'd given him the silent treatment for the better part of a day. In the end, he'd put his foot down again on that one.
“I just think it may be something to discuss with your doctor. It could be some form of post-partum stress or depression.”
“Trey, I'm not going to let you make me feel like some kind of nut job because I love my baby and I worry about her. Why do you think that's so abnormal?”
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” he replied, raking his hand through his just-fucked hair. “It’s our wedding night, baby. Let’s not argue, okay?”
“You started the shit,” I snapped.
“Come on,” he said reaching his hand down for me to take his, “let’s go shower, Mrs. Sinclair.”
I looked up at him seeing his warm and loving smile. I knew that he only cared and worried about me. Maybe I did have an attachment issue, but if I did, it was only because I loved Preston so much. I hadn’t told Trey about my recent dreams. They were the reason I didn’t want to leave Preston for any length of time. I smiled up at my gorgeous husband, taking his hand and letting him pull me into the bathroom where we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves in the shower.
Chapter 5
Trey and I returned to the manor the next morning to pack for Tybee Island. I'd been able to nurse Preston one last time before we left, getting my last “fix” with her before we left for two days. I kissed her soft cheeks again and again.
Our two days and two nights at Tybee were totally relaxing, romantic and sex-filled. We spent time on the beach; our honeymoon cottage included a very private beach which we thoroughly enjoyed—naked. Trey and I reconnected sexually to heights of passion I'd not imagined possible. We were inseparable. I felt so connected to him once again, emotionally and sexually.
Once we returned to Atlanta, it was business as usual. Trey resumed his hectic schedule at work. Gina and I hung out when possible, and Preston seemed to be growing and changing on a daily basis. I celebrated my twenty-second birthday with Trey and the baby at home.
Trey had, once again, put his foot down and said that Preston was old enough to be sleeping in the crib in her own room. He moved the baby monitor to her room and she commenced sleeping in her crib there, much to my dismay. Trey was good about hearing her through the night. He took responsibility for getting up and going to get her from her room, bringing her to our bed so that she could nurse. He made sure that once she'd finished nursing she was carried back to her own bed and tucked in. I missed having her fall asleep with us after nursing, but Trey was concerned that one of us might inadvertently roll over onto her. He also took advantage of the fact that, once I was awakened for her feedings, we could squeeze some sex in right afterward.
It was the second week of August. Trey had just celebrated his thirty-second birthday; Preston was a little over three months old. Gina had called earlier that morning, asking if Preston and I wanted to join her for lunch. I suggested that she come over to the apartment and I'd make lunch.
The truth was, I didn’t like taking the baby out in the August heat in Georgia. She'd been out over the past few days while I ran errands, went shopping and drove out to our house under construction to meet with a decorator.
Preston had a mild case of prickly heat on her bottom and the back of her neck. I'd been putting her in cloth diapers and pretty much letting her go without a shirt trying to get it cleared up.
I bathed Preston, putting some calamine lotion and a light dusting of a cornstarch-based powder on her diaper area. She was developing her own little personality now. Like Mommy, she loved her baths and loved it when I rubbed her skin with lotion. As I put calamine lotion on her bottom, she was smiling and gurgling, trying her best to grab her feet that were up in the air before I slid the cloth diaper up under her bottom. My cell phone rang. I quickly raised the sides on her changing table and pulled my phone out of the pocket of my shorts.
“Mrs. Sinclair?” The voice on the other end wasn't familiar to me.
“Yes,” I responded, “this is Tylar Sinclair.”
“Mrs. Sinclair, this is Cathy, Jean Harris’s daughter calling. I’m afraid there’s been an accident. My mother is in intensive care. I wanted to let you know on account of she won’t be coming in to work for you until further notice.”
“Oh, my God,” I breathed. “Cathy, what happened?”
Cathy explained that Jean had been on her way home from our apartment the previous evening. Apparently, as she got off of the bus that took her from our neighborhood to hers and started across the street, a car careened out of nowhere, hitting her. Jean had rolled off of the hood of the car onto the street. The car had fled and no one had been around close enough to get the license plate numbers. The car was simply described as a newer model SUV of some type. The color was white. Not much to go on for certain.
I asked Cathy the extent of Jean’s injuries. All that she knew for sure was that Jean had a broken shoulder, a broken leg, several broken ribs and a head injury, which had rendered her comatose, for the time being. Cathy said that the doctors had hope that the swelling would go down in the next week or so. I asked that Cathy keep me posted as to her mother’s condition and I got her room number at the hospital. I was reeling with shock. How could something that terrible happen to someone as sweet as Jean? What kind of monster would simply drive off?
The truth was that, since I'd been home since Preston's arrival, I'd really come to depend on Jean’s help with her those three days per week she was scheduled. The things that came up with the new house, as well as handling the bills, shopping and running errands for Trey had been made possible because Jean was more than willing to watch Preston on the days that she was scheduled at our apartment. I couldn't think of anyone else that I'd trust with Preston other than Jean or family.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard Preston start to fuss. I finished dressing her for Gina’s visit, putting her in a cute little yellow sun suit. I lifted my freshly diapered and dressed baby from the changing table and cuddled her against me. I was rattled from the news about Jean. Preston had taken well to Jean. She'd been a big help to me in many ways.
I headed to the living room, baby in my arms. We settled on the couch as I turned the television on with the remote. I got her situated for her feeding. There was something very unsettling about the whole incident. I realized that things like that happened every day, particularly in large cities, but this just seemed so random and yet close.
Once Preston finished feeding, she drifted off to sleep. I placed her into the crib in her bedroom and decided to phone Trey to let him know about Jean. I talked to Tonya; Trey was in depositions. She promised she'd have him phone home as soon as he was free. I went to the kitchen and started making chicken salad for our lunch. I'd been tempted to call Gina and re-schedule, but decided I needed the company of a friend right now. Right after I'd finished making the chicken salad and had just put the croissants into the oven to warm, Trey phoned me back. His voice had the uncanny ability to soothe and calm me.
“How’s my baby?” he greeted me when I answered the phone.
“Oh, she’s down for the count at the moment. I expect she'll be waking up any time now.”
“I meant you, baby,” he said in his smooth and silky voice. My heart fluttered.
“Not so great,” I admitted. “I had a phone call earlier from Jean’s daughter Cathy. Jean was hit by a hit-and-run driver last evening as she crossed her street from the bus stop. She's in intensive care.”
“Oh, God, that’s horrible,” he replied. “How bad is she?”
I told him everything that Cathy had relayed to me. Trey said he would phone the hospital and the police precinct to see if any new information had come in. He instructed me to relax and stay calm. He asked if Gina was still coming over. He seemed to relax when I told him the plans for lunch were still on. I could tell Trey knew I was stressed about the thing with Jean. “I'll be home on time this evening, baby,” he assured me. “We’ll talk more then, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied.
“Hey, I love you,” he said softly.
“I love you, too,” I replied.
“Give ‘Bobbin’ a kiss from Daddy, okay?”
“I will,” I said, smiling.
Right after I'd gotten off of the phone with Trey, the doorman buzzed letting me know that Gina was on her way up. When I opened the door to Gina, I knew immediately that something was wrong. She had her sunglasses on inside of the building. “What is it, Gina?”
“I caught Ian fucking around on me,” she said, unable to ho
ld the tears back. “I'm going to kill him and the bitch!”
“Oh my God, Gina, what are you talking about?”
I grabbed her hand, pulling her over to sit down. I'd never seen Gina distraught about anything. The fact that Ian would cheat on her was unfathomable to me. He seemed so totally devoted to her. The same way that Trey was devoted to me.
“We’ve had problems in the bedroom,” she admitted.
“Since when?” I asked, totally dumbfounded.
“Since we’ve been trying to get pregnant and not being able to,” she sobbed. “I know that I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on Ian to go to his doctor and get checked. It’s just that having the man checked first is way easier than having fertility testing done on a woman. My own doctor told me that.”
I nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“Ian has been putting it off and putting it off. He’s too busy at the club, or let’s give it another month—always another fucking excuse.”
She stopped to get a tissue out of her purse to wipe her nose. “Anyway, last night I knew he had to close the club, so I thought I'd surprise him and go there at closing wearing nothing under my trench coat except some edible undies I bought in his favorite flavor. I get to the club and David the bartender is cleaning up downstairs. He tells me that Ian is up in his office going over the nightly receipts. I go up to his office and he’s in there all right. He sure as hell wasn’t counting any receipts though!”
At this point, Gina broke out into loud sobbing. “He was on the couch in his office humping Shelly, the upstairs bartender, who is like 21 years old!”
“Oh, my God! I'm so sorry. What did you do?”
“I freaked out, naturally. I called him every name in the book and then turned to the skank and wished her luck. I told her not to worry about birth control because the fucker was shooting blanks! Then I left, went home, and packed his suitcase. I left it on the front stoop. Do you think Trey will represent me in my divorce?”
Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2) Page 4