Love and Repair Series Box Set

by Chelsea Camaron

  The pregnancy wasn’t easy; at fifteen, my body wasn’t ready. The heartbreak of knowing once he was born it was all over, weighed heavily on my mind daily. Trenton, my boyfriend, my love, and at that time, he was my life; yet, he turned his back on me in the ultimate betrayal. He was seventeen at the time. I’d known him almost all my life.

  My mom started working for his dad when I was five years old. He helped me learn English. My mom only spoke Spanish to me. When we came to live and work with the Thurman family, I hadn’t learned much English. School was hard and I got teased a lot, even with a teacher that specialized in students with English as a second language. Trenton always looked out for me and took care of me. He was my best friend.

  Trenton Joseph Thurman by no means had an easy life, despite the beautiful home, the money, and the lifestyle the ranch afforded his family. No, Trenton lived with a tyrant of a father. Wayne Joseph Thurman was anything but nice, loving, and supportive.

  He acquired my mother as his housekeeper when he, through some shady dealings, bought out our previous employer’s property. They were struggling, yes, but surviving. Mr. Thurman went out of his way to buy out the ranch at a huge undercut on the market value. When we were packing to move, he presented my mom with a job offer that included our housing. She took the offer, having no real options, as Mr. Thurman threatened to report her to the authorities as an illegal alien. No other options presented themselves, and she accepted reluctantly. We moved into the nightmare that Trenton was born into.

  Trenton was never good enough, never did anything right, and was never given any support or encouragement. The level of expectation on him, from an early age, was unattainable. Trenton was smart, worked hard, and tried every day to become something his dad could be proud of. His mom had left before we moved in. I never asked what happened and why Trenton didn’t visit her. She was the skeleton that stayed buried in the closet. You didn’t dare mention her name around Mr. Thurman.

  Over time, the dynamic of my feelings for Trenton changed, as did our relationship. My best friend grew into so much more. Trenton was always solid for me, in a world of unknowns, a world of wondering when his dad would send my mom away. Looking back now, I can easily see the attraction and progression from friendship to love. Lately, I find myself wondering, if it was really love. We were so young and clueless.

  If it was really love, it certainly wasn’t strong enough to fight against the powerhouse that was his dad. When he found out I was pregnant, my world was quickly turned upside down. What should be the time where you realize what life really is, became the time I wished for nothing more than death. The little beating heart growing inside of me was going to be taken from me. He was clear on what would be happening. I was no good. The mistake that would be washed from his son and soon to be grandchild’s life. No way would his precious Thurman blood be tied to the likes of me. We may live in the modern times, but Wayne Thurman held some long lasting prejudices. The papers drawn up, my mother’s freedom threatened, and my entire world crashed around me. If my mom was deported, where would I go? At fifteen I couldn’t support myself, much less myself and my newborn baby. My options were limited; I signed the papers, not understanding the full extent of what the man put in the details.

  Reality of it all finally dawned on me when I was in labor. The morning began with cramping that I was hoping would go away. Only it didn’t. When I arrived at the hospital, Trenton didn’t stay with me. He stayed outside the door. My mom held my hand as I pushed through every pain as my young body was ripped in the most intimate of places. Somehow, the all-powerful Wayne Thurman had enough influence to make sure I was given no drugs and that my baby was born in the most natural way possible, inside a hospital. My tiny body ravaged as the baby, which had spent all these months growing inside of me, made his entrance. Delirious from the twenty six hours of active labor, my body was crying out for sleep as I strained to take in every moment he was with me.

  Only, my little boy wasn’t with me. He crowned, I pushed. The fourth push he was out. Looking down, I saw him for a split second as he opened those tiny lips to cry out for his first real breath. A sheet was quickly raised by a nurse hiding the rest from my view. Typically, in a natural birth, the baby would be placed on the mom’s stomach; only that didn’t happen. No, the doctor cut the cord and passed the baby off to a nurse who took him over to a tiny baby cart to measure and clean him up. I was trying to watch, but the doctor got my attention as he began to push hard on my sensitive abdomen to deliver the afterbirth. I could hear the nurse call out an APGAR score of nine; my little boy was strong, healthy, with ten fingers, ten toes, and weighing in at eight pounds, twelve ounces. The little linebacker that came out of my tiny frame left me amazed. My baby was wheeled out without me ever seeing him again. My breasts soon cried out in fullness, my body aching to continue to give sustenance to my child, my life. I, instead was left with an empty heart and an empty hand as I tried to pick up the pieces.

  I was discharged from the hospital and then directly boarded a plane with my mother. As part of the deal, my mother was placed in another job in Georgia. Our trip expenses covered and a little money to get ourselves established. My body may have left the state of Texas, but my heart would forever remain with the little boy I left behind there.

  Chapter Two

  Learning Discipline

  No reason to hide from the past, no reason to be held back further. Yes, I went a little wild for those few years in Georgia. I gave my mom hell. In my defense, her decisions had the direct effect on what I was forced to leave behind. Anger, resentment, and loss had all consumed me. At eighteen, my mom had to set me straight. I was becoming too much for her to handle, to be able to keep her job, and have a safe place here in America. We moved from Georgia to Charlotte, where my mom was able to get a job as a nanny and housekeeper for a family that wasn’t tied to Mr. Thurman.

  Finally, I was away from the bastard who took everything from me. My mom’s job in Georgia, although the family was better than Mr. Thurman, the job was still arranged by him and a tie to him. A tie to the son I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hold, I couldn’t raise, I couldn’t show how much I really loved and wanted him.

  Deciding to do better and actually doing better, are two totally different things. Charlotte was supposed to be a fresh start. A way to let the baggage of the past stay in the past. At first, I couldn’t help but slip. Staying home allowed me too much free time. Idle hands make for idle minds, when I’m still the memories flood me, the thoughts eat at me, and reminding me over and over of all that I don’t have.

  One night, I was out running amuck. High on ecstasy and drunk, I went into a club. After hours of dancing and grinding on the floor, I met Kinsley Kiden. She was there with her man, or who I thought was her man. He was watching me. He whispered in her ear, she came over, and we spent the next hour grinding on each other before I went home with them.

  Marcus and Kinsley gave me an introduction to discipline that night. Once at their place, my body was on fire for a release. After Kinsley kissed me, I was ready to explore a woman’s body in a way I had never done before. My hands immediately removing her shirt, my body seeking skin to skin contact. Marcus, ever the observant one, watched for the longest time. I thought it was because men were like that. Hell, I had his girlfriend laid out on the couch, her top gone, breasts exposed as she wasn’t wearing a bra, and my hands on their way up her skirt to the lacey panties hidden under the denim. She removed my shirt, bra, and pants. I was grinding shamelessly against her leg. It didn’t faze me that she was a female and I was by no means a lesbian. I wanted to fuck. I wanted to get lost in sensations. Forget everything. I sucked hard on her nipple, as my hand roamed further down, finding her damp panties. Kinsley pushed her hand between my core and her leg, down into my panties. Her fingers rubbing slow circles on my clit left me craving more. I attacked her breasts, my fingers pushing the scrap of fabric covering her aside to plunge into her with determined fervor. I wanted her. I
wanted him. Hell, I wanted anyone that would give me pleasure and fill me with something to take away the void even for a moment.

  Just as Kinsley inserted her finger inside me, Marcus barked at us. “No, Kinsley.”

  She immediately stopped everything and stilled. What the fuck? I’m so close, my body shaking in frustration. She was soaking wet. Seconds ago she was rocking into me, seeking more. Her release building as I felt her clenching around my fingers. On his words, she stopped. Like she could turn it off that easily. Who has self-control like that?

  Marcus looked at me curiously, “Sophia, are you on something?”

  Annoyed at his ability to see through me, angered by my need to escape and inability to be lost in the sensations anymore, and ashamed that I was willing to go so far with another woman, I immediately stood up and started getting dressed.

  “Stop,” Marcus commanded. The edge in his tone was one that turned me on and halted my movements.

  Turning to look at him, I was embarrassed by my behavior; but, more so, I was still craving release as the ecstasy was still running through me.

  “Sophia, you need discipline and control. The build-up to an orgasm is not one that needs to be aided by any drug induced euphoria. When your partner knows your body and controls your situation, your natural endorphins will be the only high you need.”

  That night was enlightening, to say the least. Marcus was my first Dominant partner. He sent me home unfulfilled that night, but soon taught me so much that not only gave my body the release I was seeking but taught me self-control in all things.

  Marcus also owned a tattoo parlor. Over the course of time, I shared with him my passion for drawing. He saw the talent in me and took me on as his apprentice. My career as a tattoo artist has been amazing. Being able to mark someone’s body, permanently, is not something to take lightly. They will forever look at that ink and think back to sitting under my skilled hands. A piece of me goes into them with every jab of the needle.

  Kinsley and I never fooled around again. Marcus would not allow me to continue any drug use or drink. As my body is my temple, and his playground, I needed to take care of it. Kinsley was being trained by Marcus, but not in a traditional relationship. She became a close friend who helped me sort through information overload of the BDSM world. Kinsley moved on to a full relationship with another Dom named Henry. Marcus and I were together as a Dom/Sub for two years before deciding to move on.

  I still work for him now. He knows my story and even paid for a lawyer to look over my paperwork to try to get my son back. When, once again, I was faced with a dead end at getting my son back, Marcus realized that I truly couldn’t give more than my body to him, or anyone else. He wanted more than what I could give. As with Harrison, Marcus, and the two others I have given myself to, I could be in a sex only relationship, but nothing deeper. I need the release, I need the pain, and, at times, I need the humiliation in a club setting; I need the punishment to keep me focused and in line, and, most of all, I need the ability to turn over the control of my release to someone else.

  At least as a sub, I have my limits. I have a safe word when it gets too much. With these boundaries and measures, I have a say in what happens to my body. When my son was born I had no say as he was taken from me and wheeled away. I didn’t even know his name until Marcus had his lawyer on it. Wayne Trenton Thurman, III is my son’s name; they call him Trey for short. The private investigator said he is happy, thriving, and unaffected by my absence. He is living with Wayne and Trenton on the ranch. Trenton does not have a love interest or woman in his life or Trey’s. I have a picture from when my son was five years old that the investigator gave to me. The PI felt that the boy is fine, considering the circumstances. Well, I’m glad someone is fine in all this because I am not. My heart bleeds for my baby boy every single day. No man can fix that for me.

  Chapter Three

  Unexpected News

  “Sophia, your mom’s on the phone.” Marcus calls from his office. “I can’t understand her, but she sounds upset. Are you at a breaking point?”

  “Shit, alright, tell her un momento.” I answer back, as I continue the shading I’m currently doing on a back piece.

  The client was due for a break anyway. My mom knows I can’t answer my cell while I’m with a client; every movement of my hand is important. Her English is very broken, so I can imagine that Marcus is struggling to understand her; especially if she’s frantic or angry. Finishing as quickly, and correctly, as I can, I wipe the excess ink and blood away. My client stands, stretches, and heads out for a cigarette as I make my way to the back to answer the phone.

  “Mama, ¿Qué pasa?” I immediately ask what’s wrong.

  “Hija, recibimos una llamada. It’s…it’s…,” she’s stuttering her accent overpowering her attempt at English. I can hear the tears in her voice, her emotions at their highest.

  “¿respire, madre, qué es esto?” Telling her to breathe, in hopes of calming her down so I can find out what has her so worked up.

  “Trenton quiere venir aquí, hija.”

  Panic fills me; excitement and fear all intermingle as my mother’s words sink in. Trenton wants to come here. After all this time, suddenly my ex wants to come see me. Why? What is he going to take from me this time? Is he going to try to send my mom back to Mexico? On the flip side, would he give me a chance to meet my son now? Without wanting to get my hopes up for a letdown, I try to calm my nervous energy and rambling thoughts. I’m not sure I can survive another disappointment.

  “¿Cómo? ¿Cuándo?” I question her how and when. How does she know this? When is he planning to come? What the hell is going on?

  “He…he…said as soon as possible, Hija.” She’s calming down and can speak better in English now that she’s not so wound up.

  “¿Dejo un número de devolución de llamada?” Asking her if he left a number to call him back at, being as I’m pretty sure she didn’t ask any questions as this is all so unexpected.

  “Sí, sí.” She confirms he did.

  “Ok. A abordarlo cuando salga de trabajo.” Needing to get back to my client, I let her know I will handle this when I get off. I’ve waited fourteen years to hear from my ex, he can wait an hour for me.

  Three days later, I wait impatiently at the airport for Trenton. I have a paper in my hands with his name on it since I don’t know that either of us would recognize each other. Nervous energy engulfs me making it hard to breathe, as the seconds ticking by feel like hours. Feeling someone’s gaze on me, I look up to see a taller, bigger version of the boy I once loved. Trenton is walking to me in a confident stride. His boots, wranglers, flannel shirt, and belt buckle all scream, ‘I work on a ranch’. His golden brown hair is a little shaggy but perfect to run your fingers through. His hazel eyes lock into mine as he’s now standing right in front of me.

  Do I hug him or slap him? The awkward silence consumes us as neither of us can seem to speak. Rather than stand here uncomfortably any longer, I turn away from him and lead us to the baggage claim. We reach my car, still having yet to utter a word to each other; I get in and buckle up. His hand covering mine as I begin to change gears stops me.

  “Sophia, stop. We need to talk; that’s why I’m here.” There is a pleading in his eyes for something, but I’m not certain what exactly.

  “Trenton. What do you want me to say? I don’t know why you’re here. What are you gonna take away from me this time?” Before I can stop myself, the tears are running down my face.

  His face is a full of regrets as he reaches up and wipes my tears away. The rough feel of his thumb against the soft skin of my cheeks reminds me of the contrast that Trenton and I have always been.

  “I’m so sorry, Sophia. For everything. For every minute, every second, and every ounce of pain I’ve caused you. I can’t change things. I’m here because I want our son to know his mother. I can’t give back the missed time.” Cupping my face, he forces me to make eye contact. His golden eyes glisten in unsh
ed tears. “I wish like hell I could go back and make different choices. That things wouldn’t have turned out this way. I can’t though. God, I’ll hate myself until the day I die, Sophia, for what was taken not only from you but from our boy.”

  “I want to see him.” I manage in a whisper.

  “That’s what I’m here to work out.”

  I nod in agreement as he releases my face, turning to buckle his seat belt. Silently, we make the drive to his hotel. I drop Trenton off with plans to meet for dinner later.

  He’s here to give me a chance to meet my son. This swirls around in my head over and over again. Rather than wait four more years, I may meet my son in the near future. Everything has changed. As I dress for dinner, my anger and resentment builds once again. Reminding myself that I need to play this right, I calm down. If I piss Trenton off now, I may lose the opportunity in front of me.

  I dress conservatively in a sage green scoop neck tunic shirt with a dark wash pair of skinny jeans and my favorite black heeled boots. My dark hair straightened and lying simply on my shoulders. Deciding I have no need to impress, I kept my makeup and accessories minimal.

  Arriving at Trenton’s hotel room, he quickly answers the door. He’s in a different pair of wranglers, boots, pearl button up black shirt, and looking freshly showered with his hair still damp. The shiny metal at his waist catches my eye. My heart pounds so loudly in my chest, I feel like my ears will explode as I recognize his belt buckle. It was the last gift I ever got him. It was the Texas flag with his initials on it. Four months later, I was two months pregnant and his dad was serving me papers to make sure I gave up my baby.

  Falling against the wall of his hotel room, I slide down as the breath leaves my lungs. Memories flood me of the times I shared with the man in front of me. Some of them good and some of them bad, but none of them were anything I wanted to go back through. His large arms engulf me as he’s scooping me up easily and taking me to the edge of the bed. Trenton has always been a hard working rancher; his muscles come from days of hard labor. His large frame towers over me as I sit on the edge of the bed with him leaning over me.