Trent (Redemption Romance Book 4) (11 page)

Of course, my father would know when my trust was to be released and just like he did when I turned twenty-five, he would probably come knocking again, trying to give me his sob story, so I’d help him out. Of course, his idea of me helping him out last time was two-hundred-thousand. Since the release of the rest of my trust would be much larger, I imagined that he’d try for more this time.

I had no way to prove it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him behind all this. Mom apparently thought the same, I could see the regret on her face when she looked down at the file in frustration.

Gavin started to look for fingerprints on and around the desk, on the drawer she kept it all in, as well as the hidden key hooks where she kept the keys to the file drawers. Unfortunately, my father was a complete asshole, but he wasn’t a moron. He wouldn’t leave prints. We’d be lucky if we found a hair

The only bright spot in all this crap was that after all he had done to Nat, my father hadn’t gone to her with his sob story, looking for a handout, which would have been a step too far – even for him. She didn’t need to see him again, not ever. I’d do just about anything I could to make sure she didn’t have to.

Hugging my mom, I felt the tension in her rigid posture, before she headed back to Mrs. Madison’s house. I thanked the officers on scene, whom I knew had spent a lot more time on this than necessary, because it was my mother. Finally, I headed back to Amber.

I thought a lot about my father on the drive home, and how much he’d fucked up his life. He had it all, money, a sweet, loving wife, a family. Everything and he’d fucked it all away.

Recalling all I missed ate at me when I allowed it to, I hated thinking about it, how much my mom and sister went through right under my fucking nose. I knew that neither of them blamed me in any way, they appreciated that I helped them to get away from him. They believed that I saved them that night. I failed so many times in my life, when all I wanted was to help, to protect, I fell short again and again.

Pulling up in front of Amber’s house, I left both hands resting on top of the steering wheel and lowered my head to rest on my arms. Closing my eyes, I thought about Amber, about what we already had been through together and hoped fervently, that things would go better for us this time around.

I couldn’t imagine one single thing that I wouldn’t do for Amber, and prayed it would be enough. I knew on some level that she had left me, had shut me out, because of some stupid need to protect me, to shield me from a life with her. She thought that my desire for a dream was bigger than my love for her – she was dead wrong.

Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I walked up to the house, noticing that there were lights on. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was after five, I hoped that Amber hadn’t stayed up all night, she had a long day or work ahead of her. I was fortunate enough to have a little flexibility when I needed it, and that morning, I would need it. She didn’t have that luxury.

As I crept inside, I saw her beautiful long hair trailing over the arm of the couch. She was curled up there, obviously trying to wait up for me. My bad little girl. Rounding the sofa, I looked down at her sleeping form. She was curled up, a soft pink afghan draped over her, covering the left side of her body. Her right leg had snuck out of the covers, as she had a habit of doing, teasing me with the vision of her slender leg, only covered by the fluffy lace-topped socks that came up just past her knee. Pink lace panties peeked out below an old ratty tee. The shirt was thin, threadbare and way too big for her.

On closer inspection, I saw the insignia on the front and realized she was in my old Indian Motorcycle shirt. I had that thing since high school, it didn’t fit me anymore, and she’d confiscated it one night, months ago when she found it in my condo. I had no idea she had kept it this long, but I loved the sight of her in it.

Looking at her like this, I could see the innocence that surrounded her. Amber was a complex woman, hiding an incredibly vulnerable soft center under her layers of brashness and frivolity. I was one of the only people she’d ever exposed that part of herself to, and as I bent and gently lifted her into my arms, I vowed to myself that I’d always make it safe for her to share that part of herself with me.

“Hey,” she mumbled as she rolled into me once I’d slid into the bed next to her.

“Hey, sweetness,” I replied exhaustedly.

“Your mom okay?”

I explained what had happened, with the fewest details possible, leaving out the issues regarding my father. She knew my dad had been in prison for hurting my mom and sister, she knew we weren’t close, but not all the gory details. I wasn’t purposely keeping that from her, I just didn’t have it in me to tell her right then.

Once I was finished, she ran her hand up and down my chest, comforting me, soothing my nerves, and before I knew it, she had moved up, over me and was kissing me.

Moving her lips to my ear, she whispered, “Let me suck you to sleep.”

I let out a guttural groan but didn’t think I accomplished any actual words. As she kissed down my bare chest, slipping under the blankets, I felt my old tee riding up her stomach and her bare skin brushing against me. She was the sexiest woman alive.

Small, sure fingers wrapped around the waistband of my boxer-briefs and tugged them down. I lifted my hips so she could ease them down. I was just trying to help her out, after all, I was a gentleman.

Without further playfulness, she inhaled my cock. No teasing, no work up, she held my dick in her hand and fingered the metal balls piercing the glans. I felt her tongue peek out and lick over the head, giving her the lubrication she needed, and she sucked it all the way down without delay.

Swear to God, Amber gave the best blow jobs of any other woman – ever. She could probably win fucking awards with her technique. She got her lips wet, sucked in the head, licked the piercing and held her lips tight all the way down, sucking in like a vacuum. Once she got down as far as she could, without swallowing me into her throat – which she’d actually done a couple of times – she would bob on me, then push back up. At the top, she’d lick around the head, lick the metal and the sensitive skin around it bob some more and start all over. That was great, obviously, but what got even better, were her hands.

While her mouth worked, she got one hand going, pumping me in time with her lips. The other hand would slowly, but firmly fondle my nuts. She rolled them, caressed them with her fingertips and on occasion, she pulled her mouth off the head, licked down the shaft and sucked my balls too. She was a fucking head-genius.

Looking back, I didn’t know the exact moment I fell in love with her, but it might have been during that first blow job. If I let go, she could have me cumming in a minute or two, but I liked it too much to go that fast. I didn't wait too long, though, I wasn’t an asshole. No woman wanted to suck your dick for an hour. I had a buddy tell me he had done that once. I felt bad for the girl. Unfortunately for him, it had been his wife, who wasn’t his wife anymore. She wised up, I thought uncharitably. I had no way of knowing, but he didn’t seem like the type to return the favor, or if he did, he wouldn’t put much work into it.

No, I didn’t keep score. I didn’t figure out how many minutes Amber sucked me, or was on top and then make sure to hit the same on her. I always - always made sure she came more times than I did – always. There was no excuse for lackluster effort, especially with how easily women came. If a woman was still too stuck in her own head to let go, you knew you weren’t doing something right.

The moment Amber scratched lightly at the skin underneath my balls and sucked me in deep, I tapped the top of her head, warning her. I knew she wouldn’t pull off, but I didn’t want to choke her with it either. Little vacuum mouth of hers was about to get filled up.

“Ah, fuck,” I shouted into the room as my balls tightened up further, and the hot jet of semen shot out the end of my cock into Amber’s hungry mouth. I loved how she took my cum. She sucked me dry, licking every drop like she couldn’t get enough. I loved how she smiled up at me sometimes like I had just given her the best gift.

“You know you’re the best girlfriend in the world, right?”

“I know,” she replied lazily, as she slid back up and cuddled into my side.

As I began to roll her to her back, so I could return the favor, she stopped me.

“No, honey, not tonight, just sleep.”

Kissing her neck and her ear, I whispered, “Let me, sweets, I know how much you love my tongue on your sweet little clit.”

Amber’s groan came just before she pushed me off and pressed back into my side. “Not tonight, you can have pussy privileges back in five to seven days.”

“No!” I protested loudly into the room. We had watched
My Girl
together. She cried in my arms that night. I remembered the part where the girl got her damn period, and she slammed the door in the poor kid’s bewildered face.

I pouted for a few minutes, making Amber giggle. How she saw me so well with just the dim night light coming from the bathroom, I didn’t know, but she could. She thought it was funny when I was cut off, but I hated losing pussy privileges.

Thankfully, I fell asleep quickly, which, of course, was Amber’s plan. She knew me well enough to know that I would think about my mom’s house, her safety and whatever else was swirling around all night. She helped me clear my mind, and when I woke up, late the next morning, she was already gone.

“Yeah Mom, don’t worry, okay. We’ll be there.” I reassured my overly-excited mother for the fiftieth time in five days. Apparently, the idea of me bringing a man home for Sunday dinner was more than she could handle. She was determined to have food that Trent would like, which was pretty easy because he liked almost everything. She wanted to know if she should invite his family – no, not yet. Knowing that I had enough already, she got my dad to call me and ask what kind of beer Trent preferred and if he liked a certain kind of scotch.

The beer, I knew – Guinness. The scotch, I had no idea if he preferred the Glen Livet or the Macallan. My dad explained that there were other good ones too, and if I only knew what Trent would prefer he would make sure to have it on hand. Of course, then dad had to explain the difference between them. He even talked to me about the oak and the peat or something. I had no idea and zoned out for the rest of our conversation. Thankfully, I was in the middle of painting my toe nails, so I had something I could focus on.

As I drove home from the store, leaving it in Dawn’s capable hands, I thought about the night to come and how my parents would most likely embarrass me. They loved me, but I still would rather they not lose their minds just because I was bringing someone home. I swore to myself that if I saw one baby album, I would grab Trent and run. We could be in Mexico in a few hours, and they would never find us again.

“Sweetness?” I heard called from somewhere inside the house.

Walking into the front room, I smiled when I saw Trent. His tall, beautiful body was dressed up. He wore a pair of flat-front charcoal gray trousers with an awesome peacock blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, showing off his delectable forearms. The color was perfect, matching the outer rim of his irises. I wondered, just before my lips met his if he did that on purpose.

“You almost ready?” He asked, a sweet smile on his face.

“Yep, let me grab my shoes.” Racing off toward the bedroom, I heard his heavy footfalls against the hardwood floor.

Before I had a chance to spin around, he grabbed me around the waist, lifted me high and flipped me around, pulling me into his chest. When he did, my legs flew, and I wrapped myself around him. Holding me tight to his chest, he finally peeled his lips away from me and rested his forehead on mine. As I shrieked, I heard Snowball cry out in protest. For a cat, he was rather protective. A few nights before, he even jumped on Trent’s back when we were making love.

To be fair, the session was very energetic, and I was making a hell of a lot of noise, which apparently, made my cat lose his mind and try to protect me. Fortunately, the presence of a blanket and the lack of claws saved Trent’s skin and the cat slid off the bed and thumped on the floor. I was so focused on my pleasure, I hadn’t paid much attention to the injured pride of my kitty, but he seemed to give Trent the evil eye for an entire day after that episode.

“What was that for?”

“Couldn’t resist. When I saw your sweet ass swaying back and forth in front of me.”

Laughing I shook my head, and he lowered me back to the ground. I finished getting ready to go, without being harassed anymore, and I finally noticed his sleek Camaro sitting in the driveway.

“You brought the car?” I looked up just in time to see his cheeks flush just the slightest bit. I quirked an eyebrow in question and had to wonder why he would be embarrassed about bringing the car instead of the truck. Both were nice, but the car was more subtlety sexy, where the truck was big and with that diesel motor and some other turbo whatever, it demanded attention.

Trent shrugged and held my door open. “Easier to get into,” he suggested, with a fair amount of question in his voice.

Once he slid into the car, I grabbed his hand across the center console and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Are you nervous about meeting my parents?” Stupid, I knew. Of course, he was, at least a little, but I didn’t think Trent got nervous very often. There was no reason for him to be unsure of himself.

Without answering, his lips tightened, as if he were going to smile, but didn’t. His eyes rolled up toward the roof of the car, he was considering how to respond to me.

“Don’t worry about it, okay. They’ll love you. They’re so worked up about meeting you, my mom is probably ten times more nervous than you could ever be. Besides, even if they don’t love you, I always will.”

Without a word, he leaned over, smacked a quick smooch on my lips and reversed out of the driveway.

Trent seemed to relax on the way, keeping up a simple conversation with me. I was a little nervous about us coming out completely too. Luke and Aurora were the last in the group to be told, and they would be back on Tuesday. She and I would have time to talk then, and I was concerned about her reaction. Aurora and I were close, and I didn't want her to be hurt that I hadn't told her about dating Trent before.

I was mostly concerned about her delving too deep into our previous relationship. I didn't think I would be able to tell her about the miscarriage. Telling Aurora how I had behaved with Trent, how I had ended things would be difficult too.

The truth was, I’d been a selfish cow, and I knew it. I would hate for everyone else to see me in that same light, it distressed me when people didn’t like me or didn’t approve of my choices.

My decisions after that horrible night had been deplorable. I cut Trent out when he was hurting too. Looking back, I knew that he was in just as much pain as I was, and after Nolan’s death he needed me even more. I hadn’t been there for him. I knew how all that would make me look, and I was afraid that his friends would see me for the bitch I truly was and discourage him from continuing to see me. That they would help him come to his senses and cut his losses with a mentally unstable woman who couldn’t give him the children he so craved.

My mood had taken a serious hit and by the time we reached the street where I grew up, Trent noticed. Pulling the car to the curb, about a block from my parent’s driveway, he put it in park and turned in his seat to face me.

“What the hell is going on in your head? I know there is some shit you’re allowing to fester and upset you. What is it?”

Breaking eye contact, I looked down and toward my window, obviously not taking into account his incredible observation skills.

“Knock that shit off right now, look at me, sweets.” Placing a gentle finger under my chin, he turned my face, so I was looking at him once more.

“I was thinking about Aurora back in the store.”

Trent seemed to consider what I said for a minute, and his amazing ability to read me took effect. He got it, and I knew it. His face softened with both sympathy and understanding.

Shaking his head, he cupped my cheek and pulled me in for a deeply loving kiss. I was breathless and rather warm when he finally pulled away then completed the drive to my parents’. He reminded me, without words that he loved me and that he was in this thing with me.

How could I not love him? He was strong, and tall, resembling a Norse god. The god of surfing maybe. Trent was kind, sweet and understanding beyond belief.

It was an enjoyable meal. Mom had gone all out, which I expected. Fortunately, she only got overly excited twice and didn’t pull out my old pageant photos.

Looking at those things now just creeped me out, but Mom had loved them and had kept me competing until I was twelve and finally put my foot down in such a way that she couldn’t force me anymore.

Dad hadn’t ever thought the pageant circuit was a good idea, so it had been easy to get him on board with my plot to escape. He didn't like how focused everyone was on physical beauty. Dad didn’t want me to think that was all I was or all I was good for. Mom had been upset, she put up a bit of a fight when I quit, but with Dad backing me, there wasn’t much she could say.

At least Trent hadn’t been tortured by them, and I didn’t get pressured into showing him my pageant smile and wave, which were both meticulously practiced. God forbid mom get me to do the old dance routine.

Dad talked to Trent a lot about a recent case that had come through his office. Dad hadn’t been the attorney in charge of the case, but he had read the file. The sheriff's department had rescued three young children who had been living in deplorable conditions. The mother had been taken into custody for something, and their father had come to save the day. Unfortunately for him, it had taken a lot longer than the father had hoped. He had to answer some pretty uncomfortable questions about why he allowed his children to be brought up that way and why he hadn’t stepped in before. He also had to explain how he would support his children, since he had no job and why he hadn't paid any child support in three years, nor seen the children. The youngest apparently didn't even know who he was. In the end, the maternal grandparents had won custody, which was who had hired my father’s family law firm to help them. They had been fighting for the children for years and though older, were stable, loving people who still ran a small farm about thirty miles away.

It was interesting to listen to the two men I loved most in the world, discuss such a delicate and difficult topic with such empathy and intelligence. They both had been on the periphery, but close enough that they had a lot to say about it. Sadly, they both saw some horrid things in the world, and I knew that those things must weigh on both of them greatly. I knew that, of course, but I’d never heard my dad talk so openly about his work with anyone. He’d kept his work life so separate from me, and I wondered why.

As far as I knew, he didn’t talk about cases with my mom either, even in the abstract, he took the confidentiality of his job seriously, but I wondered if he wanted to save us from the pain he experienced. I had no idea what emotional toll it took on him.

Trent talked with me openly about things going on at work. Of course, it was sometimes frightening, but I believed that he needed to get those things off his chest. Since I wasn’t directly involved with his work, he could be totally open with me about his frustrations and struggles. Trent was careful to exclude names and details since he too was concerned with people's privacy.

I wouldn’t judge him, but I didn’t have any bias or my own opinion about the situations he found himself in. If he didn’t talk to me, then he’d have to find someone to talk to, to confide in. That person could be Gavin, they were best friends after all and had been for a long time. I thought the more likely scenario would be sharing with a female officer, dispatcher or someone else he worked with.

In that type of situation, it would be easy to form an emotional connection with that person, especially if he felt that he needed to keep me safe, to keep me protected from that life, he would maybe see me as less than capable of dealing with important things, just like my parents did.

Trent had female friends at work, but I'd rather he opened up to me, shared his thoughts and concerns with me, instead of with someone else. I was selfish, I wanted our bond to grow, not his bond with another woman.

When I asked about my dad’s current case, he smiled sweetly at me, and patted my shoulder and gave a bullshit answer, much like he’d give to a child if he’d been asked the same question. I hadn’t thought much of it, aside from the constant feeling of annoyance, since my parents did that stuff all the time. I noticed Trent though, when my father said, “Oh, sweetie, it’s going just fine. You don’t need to worry about your old dad.”

Trent’s entire body stiffened, and I could see his jaw tighten. It looked like he was grinding his teeth. His eyes had narrowed fractionally. If I didn’t know him as well as I did, I wouldn’t have ever noticed how irritated he was.

I wondered what it said about me, that my parents would speak to me that way. They were never anything but kind, always loving and overly generous. I couldn’t refute their love for me, the way they cherished me and supported me endlessly. They didn’t, however, see me as an adult, which was something I noticed a long time ago. They not only babied me, spoiled me, they pitched a fit if I didn’t allow them to support me financially. I didn’t, of course, but they still tried to buy me outlandish gifts for my birthdays and Christmas.

After Mom had reminded me, for the millionth time, that I was their only child and the only one they could spoil, I’d relented for a few years. After I graduated college and bought my house – much to my father’s protesting – I put my foot down and stopped the crazy gifts. Dad was thrilled with the house, but he wanted me to get something closer to them – like I was a millionaire – and he wanted to pay the down payment. When I not only forbidden him from paying a single penny, or from cosigning my loan, he had been irritated and had tried to go around me, contacting the realtor. Thankfully, I had warned her in advance, and she dissuaded his benevolent attempts.

They wanted to help, to support, to love, I knew all that. I wanted to grow, to flourish and to be independent. I wouldn’t be one of those spoiled divas acting like an idiot just because my parents would give me any stupid thing I wanted.

I even tried to help pay for college. Though my parents hadn’t let me, I maintained a job and worked my butt off for grades, so I could keep my scholarships. I found out later, that my dad had given a financial gift to each of the organizations I received a scholarship from, and it just happened to be a gift in the amount of the scholarship I received. Mom had explained that Dad had felt guilty for taking money that another student who truly needed it could have used. I understood what she meant, and in Dad’s line of work, he had a much better understanding of the challenges that shaped so many lives. I never talked to him about that, but I was so proud of him for donating that money back. I didn't know how many other people, even those who were well off, that would do that.