Maybe Baby Lite (51 page)

Thatcher said Trey's
parents were in the family room at the back of the manor. I was
nervous, my mouth was dry, and I felt so out of place. Trey took my
hand and led me to the family room, where his parents were watching
TV.

As we entered, Trey’s
father, a distinguished, handsome gentleman who looked much younger
than 70, stood up to welcome us.

“
Trey!” he exclaimed,
putting his arms around his youngest son, patting his back a couple
of times.

“
Dad,” Trey replied
happily, “I’d like you to meet Tylar Preston. Tylar, this is my
father, Clive Sinclair.” I extended my hand to shake the elder
Sinclair’s hand. He brushed it aside gently, and stepped forward,
embracing me in a hug.

“
Tylar I'm so glad to
finally meet you,” he said with his exquisite British accent. “I
hope you’re making an honest man out of my boy.”

I blushed.

“
Mom,” Trey continued,
leading me to his mother, “this is Tylar. Tylar, my mother, Susan
Sinclair.”

“
Tylar,” she said, putting
her arms around me and squeezing me into a hug, “I’m tickled to
death to meet you.” Her southern accent was as pronounced as her
husband’s British accent. “Please sit down here next to me hon, and
tell me how your trip was.”

I loved Trey’s mother
immediately and she immediately put me at ease. We chatted about
everything from the weather to the past summer and the
competitions. Both of his parents were impressed with my results in
the competitions with Derringer. They were aware that my season had
been cut short when Charlie assaulted me. They apologized over and
over again about that. I'd hoped Trey didn’t share everything with
them, but as owners of the property, I’m sure that they were not
spared any facts.

Susan filled us in on
plans for the following day. Their long-time friends, Mr. and Mrs.
Andrews, along with their son Landon, would be joining us for
Thanksgiving dinner. I noticed Trey shifted nervously on the sofa
next to me when his mother mentioned this.

Susan also let me know
that Becky had called just before we arrived because Gina had not
been able to reach me. I forgot that I got a new phone number with
my new cell phone. Trey must not have programmed anyone’s number
into my phone except for his. That didn’t surprise me. Apparently,
Gina and Ian were coming in tomorrow morning to have Thanksgiving
with Becky. I was so excited that I'd get some time with Gina
during this trip. The Sinclair’s dinner was to start at 4
p.m.

It was close to midnight
when Trey took my hand, bidding his parents good night. I felt sort
of embarrassed, wondering if they even knew that Trey and I'd be
sharing his suite. I felt exhausted as Trey led me upstairs to his
now-familiar suite. I unpacked my bag, hanging things in his
massive closet.

We showered together, not
lingering because of our fatigue, a first for us. I put a short
ivory satin nightgown on with matching panties. I used Trey’s blow
dryer and brush to style my freshly washed hair. Trey was already
in bed as I snuggled in beside him, his face illuminated by the
flat screen television he'd turned on to watch CNN Money. My
hormones were kicking into overdrive after the refreshing
shower.

My hand slid under the
covers and rested on Trey’s hard chest. I slowly moved my hand
downward, enjoying the feel of his body beneath my fingertips. They
traced along his treasure trail. I was delighted to discover he'd
not bothered putting his boxers on after his shower. My hand
encircled his growing erection, and I heard his breath catch as I
massaged it into further erection.

“
You're fucking
insatiable, Tylar.”

“
What do you plan on doing
about that, Trey?” I asked, arching my eyebrow
seductively.

Trey rose up, lifting me
from him and placed me on my back. He straddled me, pinning me
beneath his strong, muscular legs. His face lowered to mine, his
lips warm and soft against my lips. His tongue playfully found mine
and our kiss grew heated and passionate. His tongue traced down the
column of my neck, his hands reaching to pull the spaghetti straps
from my shoulders. I raised my arms so that he could slip my
nightgown off.

Trey had always loved my
breasts. Now that they were swelling with my pregnancy he was even
more enamored. He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, his
tongue swirling around the pink tip. He gently suckled my breast,
kneading the other one with his hand. He then moved his mouth to my
other breast, giving it equal time and attention. I was so wet for
him and he hadn’t arrived yet.

He finally moved further
south with his magic tongue, gently flicking it around my navel
ring. His hands had moved ahead and his fingers gently plied the
folds of my sex, capturing my clitoris and rolling it between his
thumb and forefinger. I moaned, my hips starting to rotate beneath
his touch.

“
You’re wet for me Tylar,”
he said softly, inserting a finger inside me, while his thumb
continued to thrum my clitoris. “I want to taste that wetness,” his
voice husky now. In a moment I felt his hot tongue on my sex,
licking and sucking eagerly.

“
Mmmm,” he moaned, “you
taste so fine, baby.”

His hands and tongue
continued their play, igniting every nerve in the region. He
slipped another finger into me, stroking me from the inside with
gentle continued pressure. His other hand was splayed against my
pelvis, his thumb pressing rhythmically against the exterior of my
pubic bone. His tongue flicked my clitoris as his thumb pressed my
now engorged sweet spot. My hips were moving up and down, over and
around in tempo with his expert fingers and tongue. I couldn’t
quiet my moaning as my orgasm built.

“
Trey,” I cried, “please…
I’m ready...”

“
That’s it Tylar, I want
you to come like this.”

I tensed up, trying to
hold my release back. I'd never come like this; dual orgasms
synchronized perfectly with Trey’s mouth down there. I wasn’t sure
about this at all.

“
Don’t hold back, let it
happen Tylar. I want it now.”

My hands fisted his damp
hair. His rhythm increased steadily, driving me to the edge. In
that moment all that mattered was my release and it was there. My
orgasm exploded around him; my body pulsated, my fluid gushed. I
felt Trey's mouth drinking it in and he moaned at the intensity,
sucking and licking at the core of my sex. My clitoral orgasm was
right behind it, causing my body to shudder again and again as it
unfolded in spasms of pure pleasure. I cried out his name as tears
flowed down my cheeks. When the release finally ebbed, I was left
in total satisfaction and awe of Trey’s finesse with my
body.

“
You taste so sweet,” he
murmured, drawing himself up on his knees.

The orgasm left me feeling
both spent and invigorated. I wanted more; I wanted to taste him. I
rose up and positioned myself on my forearms in front of Trey. His
erection was bold and impressive. My hand encircled his shaft as my
tongue traced down its length, swirling around from head to root. I
took him deep into my mouth, sheathing my teeth as my hands lifted
his hips to my mouth.

Trey moaned and buried his
hands in my hair, twisting it at the nape to pull my head back. I
looked up into his eyes that burned with desire and something else,
not quite familiar. I increased my play at the head of his cock,
nipping gently at the supersensitive ridge. My hands kneaded his
sack from behind. I traced his seam, gently rubbing the area near
his prostate.

“
Oh God, Tylar,” he
gasped, thrusting his engorged erection in and out of my mouth. I
watched as he clenched his jaw and his thrusting stopped. His
erection throbbed as he emptied himself into my mouth. I swallowed
several times, the warm, salty liquid cleansing my throat, feeding
my need for replenishment, my need for Trey. I waited for his last
shudder and he relaxed back, pulling himself from my mouth. He sat
on the bed and lifted me into his lap. He kissed my hair, my face,
and my neck.

“
You’re mine,” he murmured
softly. “You’re my sweet, sweet girl and no one else’s, do you
understand that?”

I nodded and rested my
head against his chest as his strong arms encircled me. We sat like
that for several minutes. I could have stayed in his arms all
night; I loved feeling safe, satisfied, and secure in Trey’s arms.
I started to drift off to sleep.

“
Come on Tylar. Let’s get
you tucked in for the night.” Trey lifted me up, gently laying me
down beneath the covers, pulling them up over me. He rose from the
bed and I watched as he went to his closet for a pair of silk
boxers. He pulled them on; they hung low on his hips, his treasure
trail visible on his flat abdomen. I was in awe of his taut
muscular body. If our baby was a boy, I wanted him to look just
like Trey. Hell, if our baby was a girl, I wanted her to look just
like Trey. He was watching me watching him.

“
What?” he asked, giving
me his crooked grin.

“
I was just wondering what
our baby might look like.”

“
As long as it doesn’t
look like Mark, I'll be satisfied,” he replied, climbing into bed
beside me.

The spell was broken in
that moment. How could he have made such a tactless comment? Tears
immediately sprang to my eyes. Did he suddenly doubt what he
plainly saw? I turned my back to him, pulling the bed covers up
tightly around me, moving to the very edge of the king-size
bed.

“
Hey,” he said, gently,
moving over to me, “I was kidding, Tylar, it was a joke.” He put
his hand on my back, lowering his face so that his mouth was next
to my ear. “I’m sorry Tylar. I didn’t mean it. Please don’t be mad
at me.”

I turned my face toward
him. He saw the tears that stained my cheeks. His face showed
remorse as his thumb gently wiped the wetness from my
cheeks.

“
Don’t ever say anything
like that to me again,” I warned, my voice quivering. “Do you think
that I planned on being a mother at 21, Trey? Have you stopped to
think how this has affected me and my plans for the
future?”

“
Tylar, I said I
was—”

“
I don’t care about your
apology this time,” I interrupted. “Some things can’t be forgotten
with a simple apology.”

He leaned over, kissing me
on my forehead. I didn’t budge as I heard him settle beside me. In
a few moments, I heard his even breathing. I was still too angry to
sleep.

The time was ticking away.
It was just me, wide awake and tearful. Then I felt it: a fluttery
feeling inside me. There was no mistaking our baby’s movement. I
placed my hand on my abdomen to try to feel it from the outside.
There it was again!

“
Trey,” I said, turning
over in the bed to face him, “wake up!” I shook him
gently.

His eyes blinked open. I
threw the covers down and grabbed his hand.

“
What is it?” he said,
yawning.

“
Here, feel this,” I said,
pressing his hand to my abdomen. Once again, I felt the fluttering
inside of me. I watched Trey’s face as he felt it too and realized
what it meant. He smiled, moving his hand around to different areas
as the fluttering continued.

“
How does it feel to you?”
he asked, genuinely curious.

“
Kind of like butterflies,
but stronger,” I answered. He leaned down, kissing my belly and
abdomen. It warmed me some to see him do this. I had no clue how
Trey would be around a baby.

“
Come here,” he murmured
softly, pulling me to the center of the bed. “Please forgive me for
my comment Tylar. I know you’ve never been with anyone else. I
promise we'll work together so that you can continue college and
realize your dreams. Will you trust me on that?”

I nodded, burying my face
into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of
my head. His nearness, his scent, his touch calmed me. I was happy
to be here with him and his family for Thanksgiving and drifted off
to a contented sleep, dreaming of babies with sapphire
eyes.

It was after 10 a.m. when
I awoke. Trey, already up and showered, was now shaving in the
bathroom. I pulled the covers back and, realizing that I was still
naked, grabbed my nightgown off the floor and shrugged it on. I met
him in the bathroom and he smiled at me in the mirror. Feeling
comfortable in our intimacy, I showered as he shaved, the scent of
his body wash emanating from the steam.

Trey had just finishing
getting dressed when I emerged from the bathroom. He was wearing
dark blue Eddie Bauer cotton chino pants with a white long-sleeve
oxford shirt. He pulled a camel-colored cashmere v-neck sweater
over his head, rolling the sleeves of his shirt and sweater up mid
forearm.

“
I've some calls to make
and emails to answer this morning,” he said, as he sat on the edge
of the bed, pulling on his shoes. “I’ll be working downstairs in
the study. Do you want me to have Thatcher bring you some
breakfast?”

“
Aren’t you eating?” I
asked.

“
Just coffee for me this
morning. But I want you to eat something more
substantial.”