Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2)

by Braxton Hicks

  Clive apologized for the interruption, and by this time, things had quieted down next door. But within twenty minutes, it started up again, though Trey had already passed out.

  I was left to listen to it alone. They had finished their second round and I had finally drifted back to sleep when more noise came from the room next door. It sounded as if there was an argument beginning. My female ears perked up. This was way more interesting that listening to sex.

  “What do you mean that I’m too friendly, Tristan?” Libby yelled. “No, I will not keep it down. You need to explain yourself to me.”

  Evidently, Tristan’s answers were in a quiet tone, so I didn’t get to hear them. Libby, however, wasn't pleased with them.

  “What the fuck! So I danced with Trey—what of it? I danced with Nigel, too. Oh, and I danced with Landon and some other guy named Ray. Why are you making a federal case about my dancing with Trey? Someone had to, I suppose. I just felt so sorry for him.”

  I didn’t hear anything further for several seconds.

  “Quit shushing me,” she hollered. “You’re the one that's making a big deal out of it. His wife deserted him, for the most part, during your party to play wet nurse to that baby of theirs. I felt sorry for the poor guy. Christ, don’t you trust me?” Tristan must've put her mind at ease with his response. “I love you, Tristan, and only you. You have to believe me.”

  Oh, Christ—what an actress.

  Tristan must've bought off on her explanation because I didn’t hear any further argument. Within minutes, the music of their slamming headboard against our wall was all I heard. And Trey managed to sleep through it all.

  Chapter 19

  I'd never been so glad to be home than after that long weekend in Bristol. I'd called Gina during the following week while Preston was napping to fill her in.

  “No fucking way!” she said, as I told her about the sex in the next room, their costumes and Tristan’s sudden engagement. The crème de’ le crème was when I told her that Tristan was moving to Atlanta to live here because of her job. When Gina asked what Libby’s job was, I told her about Sexabella. Gina knew of the company. Why had I not been surprised?

  “Oh, yeah,” she said excitedly, “they distribute a lot of that stuff we saw in the Sextique Shop at the mall in Bristol, remember?”

  “How could I possibly forget, Gina?”

  I remembered the Jack Rabbit Wallbanger w/Suction Cup she'd bought for me as a Christmas gift last year from that store. “So, how's it going with you?” I asked.

  “Well, we're sort of at a standstill with the division of property. We have the condo and the business. With what we owe on both there's no even split of equity or liability. It’s a quagmire, I guess. In the meantime, I’m still living at the condo, of course, and Ian is paying the bills. I still work at the club on days, but it’s hard, you know? I mean everyone knows what Ian did and continues to do with that skank. I’m not one for pity, girlfriend.”

  “I know that, Gina—I’m sorry about all of this. Hey, let me talk to Trey.”

  “Why would you talk to him about my problems?” she asked.

  “Well, he mentioned something about buying shares of Tristan’s winery; what if I could convince him to invest in the Sanctuary instead and buy Ian’s interest out?”

  “Oh, Ty, I mean I love you for thinking about me on this, but that's a lot to hope for from a friend. Given that the Hot Nazi doesn’t care for me, I don’t think you have a snowball’s chance.”

  “We’ll see,” I replied. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “Hey,” she said changing the subject. “How's your house coming along?”

  “It’s on schedule,” I replied. “Want to ride out with Preston and me today?”

  “Absolutely,” she said.

  I picked Gina up after lunch and we drove out to the house in DeKalb County. She'd been there with me before several times but it was nearly finished, with the exception of the flooring and final trim. We toured the house and Gina marveled at the layout.

  It was two-story with a partial walk-out basement. It was nearly four thousand square feet. The master suite upstairs was, in Gina’s words, ‘to die for.’ Our room had a working fireplace, ‘his’ and ‘hers’ dressing room/closets and a master bath that had a sunken Jacuzzi tub, double marble showers, double vanities and ‘his’ and ‘hers’ enclosed commodes. The horse barn was nearly finished. Trey was making arrangements to have Derringer and a couple of other horses brought out after the first of the year when we moved in. Gina had promised to help me furniture shop after Christmas.

  I asked Trey at dinner that evening about the possibility of buying out Ian’s interest of the Sanctuary.

  “Are you crazy? Absolutely not! Do you realize that restaurants and night clubs are the most risky types of investments? Aside from that, I can’t imagine being in business with Gina. Dumb idea, baby.”

  “But just think about…”

  He cut me off with his usual, “End of discussion, Tylar.”

  Sometimes Trey’s closed-mindedness really pissed me off! I mean he could've at least given me the courtesy of pretending to consider it before giving me a definitive 'no'.

  So much for it being “our” money, I thought. Maybe I could find another investor. I really hated to see Gina lose that club. She needed something to occupy her time and the social environment there was therapeutic for her.

  I was folding clothes in the laundry room when it dawned on me that I could be an investor without Trey. I had put all of the money that I'd cleared from the sale of the house and furnishings in Radcliff into my own savings account, along with the money I'd earned from the dressage competitions, the left-over money from the sale of my car and the ten grand I'd received from Maggie’s previous employer.

  I went to the bedroom and got my savings passbook out of my underwear drawer. I had over two hundred thousand dollars in my savings account. I had offered to buy the furnishings for the new house with it.

  Screw that.

  Gina was more important. I smiled at my ingenuity. I’d tell Gina the good news tomorrow while Trey was at work. She and I were going to be partners.

  I finished up in the laundry room and went to check on Preston. She was in her swing in Trey’s office, chewing on her pink rubber clothespin. She smiled when she saw me, dropping her toy and holding her arms up for me. Trey was typing away on his laptop. He looked up as I lifted her from the swing. He was trying to figure out whether I was pissed at him for blowing off my suggestion about investing in the club. I decided to keep him guessing.

  “Do you want a bath, Preston?” I asked, totally ignoring Trey. She still had slobber on her chin from chewing on the toy. She grinned up at me as I picked her up.

  “Tylar?” Trey called after me when I reached the hallway with her. I stepped back into his office and glanced over at him. “Oh, I see. This is how it's going to be now,” he stated, simply.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m going to get the silent treatment, aren’t I?”

  “I have no clue what you're talking about, Trey. I simply finished my chores for the day and decided to bathe my daughter. Is there something you need?”

  “Don’t let me keep you,” he replied, frowning.

  I bathed Preston and dressed her in one of the new nightgowns Susan had bought for her. I cradled her against me in the rocker. This had become one of my most favorite times of the day. She fell asleep in my arms. I kissed her forehead and gently placed her in the crib. She loved sleeping on her tummy now. I pulled her blanket up around her and her thumb found her mouth as she slept.

  Trey was still in his office. He was talking to someone on his cell phone. I only heard the tail end of the conversation where he told someone he would see them this weekend. I showered and climbed into bed. I'd fallen asleep by the time Trey finally came to bed. He was still damp from his shower as he curled up next to me.

  He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close to him. I felt his warm
lips as they kissed the nape of my neck, my shoulder and my cheek. He gently nibbled an ear lobe. I hoped he didn’t think we were going to have make-up sex. That was not going to happen.

  His hand lowered to my hip as he pulled my nightgown up, his fingers pushed past the elastic of my panties and plied the folds of my sex gently. His warm lips continued to kiss my neck, moving toward my throat as he rolled me towards him. I could feel myself getting wet for him.

  Damn.

  His mouth found mine as he drew me to him, kissing and tracing my lips with his tongue. I fought not to respond. I lost. I laced my arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to mine as our tongues danced together in a passionate kiss. I felt his hand move to lower my panties and he lifted me up to take them completely off. He pulled my nightgown up and over my head. He'd come to bed naked.

  He moaned against my lips. My body was responding to him and it pissed me off. I loved Trey, but he'd really hurt my feelings this evening with his fist-pounding tactics at dinner. He'd made me feel subservient, in a way; as if I didn’t have a say or a vote in our household or investments. He'd been the one who, only last week, insisted the money was “ours” and not “his.” I supposed it was “our” money until I wanted to spend some of it.

  “Come on baby,” he whispered against my lips. “You know that feels good. You know you love what I’m doing to you.”

  He lowered his lips to my breasts, tracing the nipple with his tongue, circling it over and over again. His fingers were expertly exploring the folds of my pussy and my hips were thrusting to meet his fingers as they pushed and rotated inside of me.

  Damn him!

  His lips and tongue traveled further south until they joined his magic fingers at the apex of my core. His tongue swirled over my clitoris, flicking it rhythmically as my hips gyrated against his mouth.

  “That’s my baby,” he said softly, licking and kissing me down there. “My baby's so wet and so ready.”

  I will not moan; I will not moan!

  Trey’s tongue continued to wash over my clitoris as he removed his fingers from me. I could hear the sound of a condom packet rip and felt his hands move to his erection as he rolled the condom over the length of his hard shaft. I hadn’t touched his junk at all tonight. I hadn’t even opened my eyes. For all I knew, this wasn’t Trey. This could be anyone, I decided. Yes—this could be someone other than Trey.

  Maybe this could even be …Tristan.

  My imagination decided that it was Tristan with me right now doing all of these delicious and forbidden things. Tristan, with his longer hair and emerald green eyes pleasuring me in bed. The same Tristan that was always caring and sweet to me and that never treated me dismissively the way that Trey had earlier.

  I felt him lower himself to me, and I opened my legs, to welcome and accept his erection. Once there, I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him deep inside of me as my hips arched up against him. It felt so good; so damn good.

  “Mmmm,” I moaned. “You feel so good. I love having you inside of me.” He increased his rhythm, thrusting in and out of me with beautiful and expert precision. I moaned in sweet pleasure feeling myself contract around him.

  “I need you to kiss me,” I said, hungry to see what his lips would feel like on mine.

  I felt his warm and sensual lips mold against mine perfectly. His tongue teased mine playfully.

  I imagined his emerald green eyes watching me as I writhed in pleasure; totally surrendering myself to him. We kissed with hunger and passion. My hips were rotating and I could feel myself squeezing and contracting him to climax. I arched my back as he placed his hands under my ass, penetrating me deeply. The head of his shaft was rubbing my sweet spot like I'd never felt before.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. “You're the best baby.”

  My orgasm exploded with intensity like no other I'd ever experienced, and I continued to whimper with each pulsating release. I could feel his climax unravel inside of me. I cried out with pleasure as it did. My lips found his and I kissed him as he finished coming; and he moaned with pleasure as well. I felt content that I had pleased him. He released a final shudder and his lips captured mine once again.

  We were both panting with our exertion. Too soon, he pulled himself out of me. I rolled over on my side, flushed with the afterglow of our lovemaking. I drifted off to sleep quickly, never having opened my eyes.

  When I awoke the next morning, I saw that Trey had already gotten up and headed to the gym for his morning workout. I recalled the events of the previous night and shame washed over me.

  I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. I needed to call Gina. There was no other person I could trust with this other than my very best friend. It was early, only 7:00 a.m. Preston wasn't even awake yet, but this could not wait. I needed to unload this from my conscience. I phoned Gina and heard her groggy voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Somebody had better have died for you to be calling me this fucking early, girlfriend!”

  “Gina,” I rasped, beside myself, “I did something awful! I cheated on Trey!”

  My voice gave way to racking, guilt-ridden sobs.

  Chapter 20

  By the time Gina arrived at our apartment, I'd fed breakfast to Preston and she was in her playpen happily chewing on her assortment of rubber toys. I had put a pot of coffee on for Gina because I knew she wasn’t a morning person.

  The doorman buzzed over the intercom that she'd arrived. I left the front door ajar for her as I returned to the kitchen to shut the oven timer off. I got the blueberry muffins out that I'd baked, trying to kill time before Gina got here. I poured myself a glass of apple juice and put the muffins on a plate. I heard Gina breeze through the front door, calling my name.

  “In here,” I called out. “Want a cup of coffee?”

  She appeared in the doorway to the kitchen looking as if she'd literally climbed out of bed, put a pair of jeans on under her nightgown, threw on her coat and drove over.

  “What the fuck? No, I don’t want a cup of coffee. I want you to sit your ass down and explain to me why you would cheat on your husband? After you saw all the hell that Ian put me through; the pain and suffering, the humiliation—how could you do that to your own husband?”

  I immediately felt a bit sheepish for my over-dramatization. “I didn’t technically cheat on Trey—it just feels as if I have,” I sobbed, taking a seat at the table.

  “What?”

  I explained to Gina that Trey and I had a bit of a disagreement without telling her the specifics. I told her that it wasn’t so much the content of the disagreement, but the tone he'd taken with me, making me feel subservient and insignificant. I explained that I'd gone to bed pissed off at him and that he'd come to bed horny. I admitted that, because I was horny as well, but still pissed, I fantasized that he was someone else and had gotten off seven ways from Sunday.

  I raised my head to look up at her where she was standing next to the breakfast bar. I saw her mouth twitch as if she was finding humor in what I'd just admitted to her.

  “I think I'll have that cup of coffee,” she stated. “Are those blueberry muffins?”

  “Gina? Did you hear what I said?”

  “I’m sorry, Ty,” she said, starting to giggle loudly. “You actually are beating yourself up because you fantasized in the sack? What? You don’t think millions of people do that every night? What about Mrs. Martello at the fruit stand near our club? You’ve met her, right?”

  I nodded wondering what the hell Mrs. Martello had to do with my infidelity.

  “Okay and you’ve seen Mr. Martello on occasion, too. You know, the guy wearing a gravy-stained, yellowed-with-age, tee shirt that doesn’t cover his big, hairy belly?”

  I nodded, still wondering about how this applied to my circumstance.

  “Mrs. Martello told me that she and her old man have sex every night of the week. Do you know why?”

  I shook my head, indicating that I was clueless.

  “She
told me the secret of their great sex life is that for the past twenty years she's pictured him as Sinatra when they're in bed. I swear to God, that’s the truth.”

  “But, Gina, that’s different.”

  “How so?” she asked, picking at a blueberry muffin.

  “Well, for one thing, Sinatra is dead. Plus it’s okay, I guess, to fantasize that you’re with a rock star or some famous sports figure or celebrity.”

  “Damn straight,” she replied. “I used to fantasize that Ian was freaking Johnny Depp—no harm, no foul. So, what’s your point?”

  “I fantasized that Trey was his brother, Tristan.”

  “Holy shit,” she said, sitting down. "That's a bit more complicated, I guess.”

  “You think?”

  “Well, be honest, Ty; do you think that you have an actual crush on Tristan?”

  “No, I mean, I like him a lot as my brother-in-law. I think it’s sort of because he looks a lot like Trey, yet he’s a little older and more mature. Plus, he's definitely more laid back than Trey. He never would've acted like Trey did when I brought up the idea of investing in the club.”

  Gina’s raised her eyebrows at that.

  Oops.

  I hadn’t meant to divulge the specifics of our argument.

  “So, you basically got pissed because the Hot Nazi trashed your idea about buying Ian’s share of the club?”

  “I’m sorry, Gina; I really didn’t mean to share all of that with you.”

  “No—no, it’s all good,” she said, pouring coffee into a mug and taking her place again at the bar. “So tell me, how hot was the fantasy sex with Tristan?”

  Gina had discussed my offer to invest my money with Jesse, her attorney. I specifically instructed her not to divulge my name. He was a junior associate located on the floor below Trey’s, but I didn’t want to take any chances on having Trey find out yet. Jesse was to make an offer to buy out Ian’s portion to his attorney, so at this point, there was nothing left to do but wait.