by Ciara Cole
Gwen did his bidding, her lithe body moving slowly yet purposefully. They both looked down at her body crouched over his, her hand carefully pointing his white stem to her swollen brown lips, a sharp hiss escaping his clenched teeth as she sank firmly down on him. She let her hand release his thick base only just before she enclosed him to the hilt within her stretched vagina. Gwen cried out, feeling him plowing right through to her uterus. She felt so filled, so tight, her every coital nerve feeling the friction of his turgid, veined power tool.
She sank on her knees and rode his hips, fighting the discomfort of being so full, and so complete. Ever observant, Trent cupped her face in his hands and reared up to gently kiss her lips, whispering, “Too much?”
Gwen shook her head no, smiling against his lips. “Just right,” she told him on a sigh as she began to move. She loved how she could dictate the pace and depth, her body taking just as much as it could endure with each rocking glide of her hips. Her thighs surfed his with a stormy passion that brewed to a tempest, their lust growing inside them. How was that possible? Gwen didn’t know they could want this more than they already did. Yet it seemed their need for each other knew no bounds.
Gwen sucked her bottom lip in ecstasy as Trent’s hands roved her breasts, then down her stomach to her hairless, puffy mound. He stroked her clit in tempo with their bounding counter-thrusts, and she flung her head back with a scream.
“I’m going to come,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes tight. “I’m too close.”
“Me, too. Gwen, look at me.”
She zoned her gaze to be level with his, and saw Trent’s smoldering green irises glimmer almost golden in its heat. “This is too good to blow off on a whim. You know I—”
In a state of inexplicable panic, Gwen quickly placed a silencing finger on his lips. “Don’t. Please. Let’s not ruin it. No promises, okay?”
She wanted this—whatever this was—to last long enough. And that meant no I love yous or I like yous or I hate yous. Trent seemed to understand, his response being his lips seizing hers as he cupped the back of her head and pulled her in. Moments later he broke their gasping kiss, and instead affixed his mouth to one achy nipple. He never let go, even when they climbed higher and higher and crested the Alps of pleasure and then tumbled down in an avalanche of abandon. Only as he filled her pulsating walls to the brim with his come, did Trent manage to dispatch his clamping lips from around her nipple. Then they were kissing like hell, knowing they had barely minutes left. And it all felt even more precious for it.
Later, when Gwen dressed in preparation to leave, they made plans to meet up again. There was no attempt to define what it was they had in mind. They just knew they would need to see each other again, and possibly—no probably, planning on having more sex.
Even without the promises or clarifications, their passion had been its most emotional so far. This wasn’t Trent pushing her, or exerting his authority. They couldn’t blame it on pure desire. They were entering into the affair with open eyes, and for as long as it stayed this good, Gwen didn’t plan on changing a thing. She only hoped that Trent would continue to see things her way.
Chapter Five
Trent Matthews had been having a really tough year. He’d had an unconventional marriage, but having to witness his wife suffer through cancer and finally lose the battle after six months, had been a saddening experience. It had brought them closer, but it had also been too late and he still had to live with that regret.
His career had survived a lot of ups and downs too. Fortunately, all of the PR of late had paid off, and the board had since voted for Trent to take on the role as president of the company in addition to being the CEO. Ever since his father, the founder, retired three years ago when Trent was 25, he’d faced numerous battles keeping his top position in the corporation. Now he had full decision making powers over the many subsidiaries of the conglomerate, a function he’d have had to share if another had been voted president in his place.
With the business side of his life holding more structure, Trent believed it was time to focus on his personal life. He called his minder, Max, into the office and made plans for a personal trip just outside of town.
“You’ll be visiting the chapel, Mr. Matthews?” Max asked perceptively.
“Yes.” Trent handed him a bulky file. “I need to put some things in order soon. You’ll be taking a look over those papers and working with the lawyers on my next step while I’m gone.”
Max froze in surprise, one of the rare times any emotion crossed his vague features. “You don’t want me with you on this trip?”
“I don’t want to draw attention. I’ll be fine on my own, so long as I’m careful,” Trent said, an easy smile crossing his lips for a moment. Then he sobered as he watched Max open the file and go through the pages.
“You’ve made up your mind already? About Jonah?” asked Max.
Trent drew in a deep sigh, rose from behind the desk and went to face the window. “I tell myself life is so simple. It’s people who thrive on complications,” he said thoughtfully. “Why did my parents have to send Gwen far away from me? I suspected they might have something to do with it, but I chose not to confront them. I took the easy way out, just like I did when I married Hailey—just to get them off my case.”
He huffed and pushed his hair back from his forehead with an impatient hand. “I just feel so frustrated!” He didn’t explain, though, why he felt that way, which had to do with wanting a real relationship with his son, while wanting the same with Gwen as well. In the past many weeks, they’d been sneaking around behind Jonah’s back, while continuing their affair.
She made it clear—she didn’t want her son to know. Said she wasn’t ready to bring Trent into their lives.
Trent felt the opposite. He believed he was ready and equipped to handle the type of love in his life he’d dreamed of—a family.
But right now, he could only take steps that were his sole prerogative. Gwen couldn’t stop him from adding the boy to his will and setting up a trust fund for him. “I’m putting you in charge of the team handling all the paperwork concerning Jonah,” Trent said, facing the silent Max again. “Of course, I don’t need to stress how sensitive this is and must remain confidential.”
“I understand, Mr. Matthews,” Max said, then after a beat, added warily, “You’re sure you don’t need me on your visit to the chapel?”
Trent moved to stand beside Max and squeezed one huge, suited shoulder. “If a man can’t pay his respects to his departed family in peace, then the world really has a problem,” said Trent with a wry smile. “You have a more important job with the paperwork. While I really do need the time on my own. So chill.”
Trent wasn’t sure an ex-army special ops turned ex-mercenary turned bodyguard knew what it meant to chill, but Max gave a nod and a small tilt of the corner of his lips in assent, so Trent figured they were good.
Hours later, Trent was driving the several miles it took to arrive at the outskirts of the city. A quaint, beautiful chapel stood in the autumn shade from the surrounding trees, while a beautiful sunset shed the building with a golden glow behind it. Trent parked the car and slowly moved to the section within the building where his wife and daughter were kept in their respective urns within a private columbarium inside the crematorium chapel.
It was a beautiful, serene room with glass-front niches through which he could view his wife’s and daughter’s inurnments. Pictures of Hailey stood in small frames next to the ornate vase-shaped urn, and they were a few of his favorites, mostly when she was younger. Like when they’d first met, her face hardly wearing makeup. She’d had lustrous brown hair and hazel eyes, a heart-shaped face and a petit frame. Somehow, seeing her smiling and glowing in those photos felt comforting for Trent.
His eyes shifted to the glass vault beside Hailey’s. It held a smaller urn, and the pictures next to it were unconventional ones to say the least. But Trent treasured them all the same, more than anything. He re
sted his palm against the glass, and viewed the pretty flowers pasted around the images of his daughter Sara.
He missed her so much. Smiling, he told her about meeting her big brother Jonah. “He has the warmest smile. He’s confident and protective. And just like those times I think of you and it makes me feel less lonely, Jonah does that for me, too. All I do is think of his beautiful eyes smiling into mine and I forget whatever had me so worried.”
Trent gently placed down the bouquets of flowers he’d carried with him for them both. His daughter seemed like a sunflower type of girl, and he’d brought the biggest, brightest ones he could find, while Hailey had always loved white chrysanthemums. How pure and calming they looked resting there on the ledge by the glass partitions of the niche.
It was dark when Trent headed back into the city. He wasn’t ready to face the empty penthouse just yet. He stopped by a neighborhood park where rowdy basketball games were in progress on the brightly lit courts. Something about being around people, and just the nameless comfort it gave, had him choosing to linger. Trent sat on one of the metal benches courtside and only half-watched the game, the teens loud as they made their passes, shots, and baskets.
He fished out his phone and scrolled over the screen till he saw Gwen’s number. Instead of calling, he decided to send a text. Not like the ones he sent when he wanted them to meet for their steamy rendezvous as per usual in the past several weeks.
“I miss Jonah. Being apart from him is hell,” he texted.
Minutes later, Gwen shot back, “We discussed this. No.”
Trent let out a harsh sigh and replaced the phone in the pocket of his leather biker jacket. He hadn’t even asked, and already she’d given her response.
Gwen didn’t trust him, even now. She made it like she was worried about his family’s acceptance of Jonah, and the public uproar they would receive. But if she thought that was enough to keep his flesh and blood locked away from him indefinitely, she needed reorienting. Jonah was old enough to understand what life was about. He didn’t want his son growing into a young man without the knowledge that he had a father who cared for him and wanted to be there like other dads.
Trent shook his head, lost in thought, when suddenly the ball from the game bounced right at him and into his hands. He caught it deftly, and froze as he slowly came back to reality and realized the night game on the brightly lit court was still in play and the crowd of teenage players, mostly black, were waiting for him to throw back the ball.
“Could you pass it over?” urged one of the males, a tall broad-shouldered African American who cocked his head curiously at the seemingly faraway Trent.
Trent’s answer was to rise to his feet, the ball cradled within his splayed palms. He bounced the ball twice on the concrete, then raised his eyes to the net. He leapt lightly into the air, before taking a fluid shot.
The next moment there came collective whoops and applause from the younger males as Trent’s shot sailed right into the net with a clean finish.
Good to see he still had it, thought Trent. Still, his heart felt saddened instead of gladdened even as the players went on with the game and he turned away.
He headed back to his car and once inside, drove the rest of the way into the city. His phone rang and he took the call with a press of his headset.
“I just sent Jonah off to bed. So what was that text?” Gwen asked in a calm tone that didn’t fool Trent.
“Each time I mention being with my son you grow defensive. I’m losing patience,” he said with the same deceptive calm.
“What do you really want? To publicly claim him, or keep him a secret while making your identity known to him? Which scenario offers him any kind of stability? Can you guarantee any of that?” she fired at him.
“Nothing in life is guaranteed. Maybe you should step back and stop trying to be so in control of everything in your life.”
Gwen voiced a wounded laugh. “Well! I should use that line for you as well.”
Trent slowed at a traffic stop, his finger rubbing thoughtfully at his lip as he paused before speaking again. “I just got back from my visit to my wife Hailey and daughter Sara at their resting place. Hailey wanted to be cremated like Sara had been, and to be placed right next to her. Hailey was far warmer at heart than I gave her credit for. She loved Sara as much as I did, even though after the stillbirth, Hailey chose not to try having any more children.”
There was a somewhat strangled silence on the other end. Traffic went moving again and Trent started up and picked up speed, waiting for Gwen to swallow the revelation.
“Your daughter—Sara, was stillborn?” she asked softly at last.
“At eight months,” he replied, the raw edge in his voice echoing the pang in his chest. “Hailey got pregnant during our third year of marriage, after ages of trying. When we lost Sara she seemed to lose her mothering instinct as well. Nothing I could say could change her mind. She went into a depression for a while but then had therapy. Later, she turned to shopping and glamorous pursuits to fill the void. Or maybe that’s just my conclusion.”
He chuckled humorlessly. “Tonight I stopped for a walk and saw kids playing basketball. The ball rolled over to me and I tossed it. I was standing way beyond the three-point line. It was at least eight meters away. I shot … and in it went.” He let out a pent-up sigh. “I wanted to be able to just call my son up and tell him about it. And maybe offer to play with him or teach him. Was that wrong?”
Trent could almost hear Gwen worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she paused a moment. “I’m sorry you lost your daughter. And I know it feels like I’m keeping your son away from you. But don’t you want what’s best for him?”
“If what you think is best for him, happens to exclude me from giving him my name and support, then you have your rationale mixed up,” Trent ground out, making the Mercedes go faster in his rage. “I’m done arguing with you about this. You do what you have to do and leave the rest to me.”
“Trent,” Gwen began, half in panic and half in warning, but Trent ended the connection.
He cursed under his breath and slammed his hand on the steering wheel.
What he hated more than loose ends, were dead ends. He couldn’t believe this was it for him, Gwen, and Jonah. But he wasn’t going to settle for having just a portion of the picture. He wanted it all.
***
His parents had called it high school puppy love. They’d told Trent to focus on his future. All those years, he shouldn’t have listened to them. When he realized Gwen had disappeared, he’d wanted his parents to help him find her. They’d told him maybe she didn’t want to be found.
“You know she’s from a single-parent family. We found out her mother ran some debts with loan sharks. If you keep looking for her and raising dust, you could bring her and her mother more harm than good. When Gwen has got it all sorted out, she just might come back.”
His father had been too persuasive. And Trent had been too easily distracted and deceived. He’d believed everything they’d wanted him to believe and he was paying for it—maybe for the rest of his life.
He didn’t want to lose her again, and certainly not his newfound son. It ached like hell when Trent thought of lost time and missed opportunities. Now life had given him another chance. He’d do whatever it took to have his world complete by the time he made Gwen and Jonah a solid part of it.
His secretary informed him he had a visitor. “She didn’t make an appointment and this is breaking protocol, Mr. Matthews, but she says it’s very important. Her name is Gwen Stanton,” said Edmund.
Trent felt an instant pleasure before it was taken over by alarm. Was there anything wrong? What if Jonah was hurt?
Trent wasted no time and permitted her to see him. She walked in moments later and Trent started forward. “Is everything okay? You’ve never come by the office before.”
“Please drop the act. We both know why I’m here,” Gwen said angrily. Trent’s glance slid to Edmund who hove
red at the doorway. He nodded and bowed out discreetly with one look from Trent.
Trent drew in a breath and faced the fuming Gwen. He’d never seen her so furious; she was shaking as she clenched her fists to her sides.
“Now why don’t you explain what the matter is,” he told her calmly.
“You two-faced brute!” she claimed. “I truly believed you were different this time. But you’re just as manipulating as your parents were all those years ago.”
Trent frowned. “Just what have I manipulated? You have me at a loss here.”
“Oh, there you go playing innocent like you didn’t plan the whole thing. How could you, Trent? How could you make Jonah find out the truth like that?”
Trent went still as a statue. “Jonah knows the truth? About me?”
“Yes. Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that why you somehow had the papers you’d drawn up for him to be delivered on my desk for him to find?”
“You’re not making any sense,” Trent said, his eyes following her as she began to stalk the office to and fro in agitation.
“I should never have trusted you,” she muttered, keeping up her pacing and barely listening to him. “You lord it up here in your huge glass tower and you think you can take over everything. Take over my life, and Jonah’s. That’s why you did it, isn’t it?”
Trent walked up to her and took her shoulders in a gentle, yet authoritative grip. “Calm down and listen. I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. What papers were delivered on your desk?”
“Some legal documents detailing your plans for Jonah and the financial settlements you’ve set up. Attached was a report showing the results of a paternity test which shows that you and Jonah are a perfect match. I don’t even want to think how you got hold of the means for a DNA test.”
Trent frowned as his head wrapped around all this info. Had his team sent it to Gwen in error? Or was there a leak in the system and someone was trying to cause some kind of upheaval between him and Gwen? Who could be responsible for something as crazy as this?