The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series)

by Alcorn, N. A.

  The Infamous Ellen James

  By

  N.A. Alcorn

  Copyright

  Published by: N.A. Alcorn

  N.A. Alcorn

  The Infamous Ellen James

  Copyright 2013, N.A. Alcorn

  Amazon Edition

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Amazon License Notice

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you wish to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of adult fiction. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.

  Cover design: Copyright Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  Editor: Mickey Reed- www.mickeyreedediting.com

  Ebook Formatting: White Hot Ebook Formatting

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgements

  Reader Thank you

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek

  For, Georgia. The most beautiful, kindest, sweetest dog in the entire world. I miss your big brown eyes and soft ears. I miss you lying at my feet as I type on my laptop.

  Rest in peace, sweet girl.

  ***

  Prologue

  “Every once in a while, someone will catch your eye. Someone you can't seem to get out of your head—a once-in-a-lifetime kind of girl. A girl who makes you feel like a complete pussy for even entertaining the idea of love at first sight, and sometimes it takes you off guard so much that you might even have to reach down and make sure your balls are still intact.”

  Between the delay in my flight from Seattle and the cougar at the hotel bar who kept insisting I go back to her room last night, I'm running really late for this morning's presentation. And to answer your question, no, I did not hook up with that cougar. Although the idea of her lips wrapped around my cock were extremely intriguing, I decided against it despite my dick's continual insistence. Normally I'm all for a little hotel sex, but it was getting late and I didn't want to miss this conference that Seattle Medical Center was so generously paying me to attend. Plus, I'm getting a little tired of the impersonal, lack-of-emotion hookups I've been indulging in over the past ten years. I'm still a guy though, and the morning wood I'm sporting at the moment is making it difficult to not jerk off before heading down to the first presentation.

  The summer morning sun is filtering through my hotel window as I hurriedly get dressed. I fix my tie, adjust my now semi-hard cock in my pants, and throw my suit jacket on as I head out the door of my hotel room.

  I jump on the elevator and head quickly towards the conference room on the lobby level. The conference room door is already shut, and I can make out a woman's voice speaking. I check my Rolex and see it's only a few minutes past nine. I'm not too late, but obviously they've started without me. I open the door and notice that an extremely attractive woman, who manages to be adorable yet fuckably hot at the same time, is standing in the front of the spacious room, starting her presentation.

  The room is painted in neutral tones, typical of any business conference area. Hotel chains most likely hire interior designers to keep rooms like these conducive to professional settings. Go ahead and insert a sarcastic tone with that last statement. You see, I know I'm kind of an asshole when it comes to things like this. I honestly don't give a shit about appearances and making the perfect impression. I'm a fucking trauma surgeon. I'd much rather have my hands elbow-deep in a gunshot victim's chest than sit around and play “I'm a prestigious doctor, make over five hundred grand a year, and drive a Mercedes” bullshit.

  Because that's what it is—complete bullshit. Most surgeons walk around with this better-than-you persona and that kind of crap makes me pissed off. I became a trauma surgeon because I wanted to spend my days—and a shitload of nights—in the OR attempting to save lives. I live for those moments. The adrenaline rushes. The high-stress pressure of being the one to make all of the decisions. The decisions that could potentially mean life or death for my patients.

  The ridiculously attractive presenter makes eye contact with me, and I know that my attempt at sneaking in unnoticed isn't going to happen. She's in the middle of her introduction, and I continue to watch her as I make my way towards the only empty seat near the front of the room. My eyes roam her body from head to toe. I manage to mouth, "Sorry," as I sit down and shoot a wink and a smile in her direction.

  She smiles back and I feel my cock twitch against my zipper. Fuck, this chick is hot. Too hot. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to stay engaged in this presentation. Don't get me wrong—I'll be engaged all right. Just not on the actual material. This chick's body is practically singing to my cock.

  "And for those of you who have joined us a little late, my name is Ellen James. I'm a nurse for the ED at Regency Memorial in Charlotte." She shoots a slightly pointed look my way. I laugh to myself at her ability to be sarcastic despite the noticeable nervous energy she is giving off.

  I can imagine presenting in front of a group of well-known physicians and hospital board officials is nerve-racking. Most of this crowd is men, and I know from experience that they can be extremely intimidating. And being a man, I'm sure I'm not the only one focused on the tight, black knee-length skirt and fuck-me heels Ellen James is wearing while strutting around this room.

  Ellen James. This woman has my full attention. She is talking about Regency Hospital's staffing protocols and procedures, but I'm honestly just focused on her full, pink lips that are accentuated by the perfect amount of gloss. She is a natural beauty. Classically beautiful. Long, wavy auburn hair and minimal makeup, and this girl is no doubt drop-dead gorgeous. Downright stunning. Her natural beauty in combination w
ith her fuck-me heels makes her look like a cross between the girl next door and a porn star. Okay, maybe I'm saying porn star because of all the filthy things I'm imagining doing to her right now, but can you honestly blame a guy? I consider myself a nice guy. I treat women with respect, but that still isn't going to stop me from thinking about sex the majority of my day. And damn, does this chick have me thinking about sex.

  She has my mind daydreaming about fucking her forty ways into Sunday all over this god damn conference table. Her ability to be sensual and sexy without even realizing she's doing it has my dick nearly bursting through my black dress slacks. Now I'm really started to rethink my decision to not rub one out this morning. I'm definitely taken aback by the instant attraction and undeniable intrigue I feel towards a woman I've never even spoken with. Ellen James is making me feel like some shmuck on a Lifetime movie. Well, maybe it's more like a cross between a shmuck on a Lifetime movie and a teenage boy desperate to get laid on prom night.

  And the only thing that's going through my mind right now is that I have to find a way to meet her...talk to her...wrap her legs around my waist...

  She's making that offer to temporarily take over Dr. Grey's practice more tempting by the second. Dr. Grey is a well-known trauma surgeon located in Charlotte who primarily scrubs into surgeries at Regency Memorial. Now can you see why that offer is starting to look so enticing. What a coincidence, huh? A fucking perfect coincidence if you ask me. Honestly, the offer Dr. Grey extended will more than likely only help my career. Regency is Charlotte's main hospital for trauma surgeries, and this will only add to the experience I've already got under my belt from working at University Hospital in Seattle.

  Yes, the job offer is looking better by the second, and it has almost everything to do with the girl in the black fuck-me heels and white button-up blouse. A blouse that reveals just enough cleavage to allow the assumption that Ellen has fucking perfect tits. I'd say she's a full C, maybe even a D cup. I discreetly adjust myself in my seat and attempt to reel in my wayward thoughts about Ellen's perfect tits in my hands—and my mouth. This girl makes me feel like I'm eighteen years old, hornier than a motherfucker, and ready to stick my teenage dick into anything wet and willing. I honestly can't remember the last time a girl had me this turned out without actually talking to her—or touching her.

  God, would I love to touch her.

  Fuck, Trent, get your balls in line.

  I'm sitting here daydreaming about fucking some woman I've never even spoken to, a woman I've seen all of fifteen minutes. I'm Trent Hamilton, prestigious trauma surgeon, for fuck's sake. There are hospitals all over the country begging to get me into their OR. See, that's what a normal prick of a surgeon would think to himself on a daily basis, but I'm not like most surgeons. I tend to have more of an "I don't give a fuck" attitude. Honestly, I think it suits me well—really well. Materialistic bullshit and prestigious awards don't impress me. I prefer to go in, do my job, and then go about my day. I'm not the type of guy who flaunts his money or title in order to receive some sort of acceptance or approval. Fuck. That. I'd rather drive around in my Ford F-150 truck than be caught dead in some pretentious car like a Jag or Benz.

  Ellen continues her presentation, smoothly running through each slide while discussing her main points informatively and with precision. The more she talks, the more I find myself wanting to get to know her. The more she struts around the conference room, the more I find myself wanting to fuck her.

  What? I'm not a prick—I'm just honest. Any hot-blooded, straight man in this room who isn't thinking about what it would feel like to be between Ellen James's thighs should check to make sure their balls are still there. Seriously, this girl has my dick screaming for attention, and I'm not sure I can pass it off as just the pleats in my pants.

  I continue to watch Ellen and try like hell to focus my attention on her actual presentation instead of her long, shapely legs or perfectly round ass. An ass that is practically begging for me to grasp in both of my very willing hands.

  She turns to the next slide as she continues to highlight some of Regency's preferred methods of staffing protocols, and that's when my mouth drops open. The next slide is a picture of a very scantily clad Ellen James sporting a huge strap-on. Shit, that rubber cock must be at least eleven or twelve inches.

  She's oblivious of the current picture that is up on the screen, and I find myself unable to pull my eyes away. She is dressed in sexy little boy shorts and a provocative lace top. A top that leaves little to the imagination. A top that confirms my suspicions of her having perfect tits. Dear god, she really does have perfect tits. I can almost see a hint of her perfect, rosy nipples poking through. So much for even attempting to hide my arousal...

  I would put money on the fact that Ellen did not plan for this picture to be displayed during her presentation. I'm curious to know who is behind this unfortunate-for-Ellen-but-very-fortunate-for-me change in presentation agenda. When Ellen finally realizes why the entire conference room has ridiculous smirks on their faces, she is completely mortified. This moment of mortification only lasts a few seconds before she quickly changes the slide and addresses her audience with a sarcastic quip about wanting to make sure she had their full attention.

  You definitely had mine.

  Even in embarrassing situations, she manages to pull through with grace. Really sexy, grace. I'm in awe of this woman. Undeniably intrigued. I think she has me under some kind of spell. It's either that or someone has drugged the complimentary coffee that sits in front of me. I discreetly lift my Styrofoam cup and glance inside to make sure I don't see any evidence of an odd powder or residue floating around.

  Nope, nothing.

  I can't write this unquestionable attraction off.

  I only have myself and my ever-willing cock to blame.

  I know this makes me sound like a complete jackass, but I can't remember a time where a woman managed to get my attention without even really trying on her part. She's just up there being herself, presenting to a group of people, and I'm nothing but in awe of her.

  She manages to smoothly finish her presentation without further assistance from her slides. I'd take a wild guess and say Ellen did this to avoid any other unexpected pictures to become front and center in a room full of surgeons and hospital officials. Mostly male surgeons and hospital officials at that.

  I spend the rest of the time formulating a plan on how to get Ellen alone to chat after her presentation. Unfortunately for me, once she gives her closing speech, she rushes out of the conference room like her ass is on fire with the excuse of not wanting to miss her flight.

  In this very moment, I have decided that Regency Memorial will be seeing the face of a new trauma surgeon very soon. That's right—Trent Hamilton, will be willingly taking that temporary offer to oversee Dr. Grey's practice.

  I just hope Ellen James is ready...

  Chapter One

  “Not every moment in life is worth the purchase of a Hallmark card…”

  Exhausted and starving, I sit down in the breakroom to enjoy a little R&R away from the trenches. I've got to stop agreeing to double shifts. For some reason, Regency has seen an all-time record this July in ER patients, and my manager might as well have me on speed dial. If I even see Nurse Ratchet headed my way to beg me to pick up another shift, I am running in the opposite direction. I don't care if the crazy bitch offers me triple time!

  Nurse Ratchet is the less than friendly nickname that has been bestowed upon my wonderful manager, Shirley. She is a beast of a woman who has been a nurse longer than I have even been alive. She lives and breathes her job, and being stylish isn't one of her priorities. Her Groucho Marx eyebrows and gray roots are a testament to that.

  I don't even want to imagine what the carpet looks like…

  I am newly single, twenty-eight years old, and working over sixty hours in the ER most weeks. Yeah, my life is fucking fantastic right now. I reside in Charlotte, North Carolina, and have been working a
t Regency Medical for over seven years. Nursing is my job, and I'm thankful it pays my bills, bar tabs, and addiction to smut novels.

  My name is Ellen James. Elle for short. I'm ornery and sarcastic, and my favorite word has four letters, starts with an F, and ends with U, C, and K. I'm loud, obnoxious, and inappropriately honest. I have a girl crush on my yoga instructor and take pride in the fact that I can double plow. I promise it's a yoga position!

  With that being said, I'm also an advocate of equal opportunity and do not discriminate against any type of plowing. I feel completely certifiable most days, and my therapist's recommendation is Prozac. I'm actually partial to a bottle of tequila and a rough ride to Pound Town. Can you feel my sexual frustration?

  Three months ago, I came home early from a nursing conference to find my fiancé in bed with another woman. Not just any other woman though—my friend and coworker, Veronica Morris. Shit hit the fan, and let's just say we won't be sharing Pinterest recipes or braiding each other's hair anytime soon. And to top it all off, I still work with the two-timing asshole and his hooker slut.

  I'm not bitter.

  Okay, I'm a little bitter, but can you honestly blame me?

  I mean, my soon-to-be husband dicked one of my coworkers in our bed. Our god damn bed! Who does that? An asshole, cock-sucking, lying scumbag, that's who. If I could cut his balls off and make him wear them as a necklace, I'd do it.

  Just thinking about the night I walked in on them banging it out makes me feel stabby. I've fantasized about running over my ex, John, with my car, more times than I'd like to admit. Nothing can bring out your inner-psycho-bitch like seeing your spouse's cock inside another woman. The only thing that could have made that situation better is if it would have broadcasted on that show Cheaters. I would have found a decent amount of sick-and-twisted enjoyment out of seeing that moment televised for the world to see. John butt-ass naked and begging for my forgiveness while sporting a raging erection with his whore's pussy juice dripping off of it, attempting to hide his face from the cameras…