"Oh. Is this your place?" I'm definitely surprised.
"Yeah it is. I hope you're in the mood for steak."
Can he read my mind?
Wasn't I just thinking about how I've been craving a nice steak for over a week now?
He gets out of the truck and opens my passenger door. I know I'm staring at Trent with an odd expression on my face, but I'm a little freaked out that this guy might have some weird mind-reading super power that I'm not aware of.
Oh my god! What if he can hear everything I'm thinking at this very moment? Or all the times before this when I've stared at his pants and tried to telepathically take them off!
"Elle, are we going in or just going to stay here and stare at each other? I've got no problems with either choice." Trent is grinning from ear to ear, and those heavenly blue eyes are filled with mirth.
"Tell me what I'm thinking right now." I'm looking back at him seriously.
Don't think about his cock. Don't think about his ridiculously hot body.
"Uh, you're really hungry for steak?" He guesses questioningly.
I pull him by the shirt so he is standing between my thighs and I stare directly into his eyes.
"Are. You. Sure?"
Trent attempts to hide his amusement at my unexpected display of weirdness, but I can still see a small grin on his lips. "I'm. Not. Sure."
I nudge his chest a little with my hand and laugh. "Stop fucking with me. I feel like you're always reading my mind, and I'm just trying to make sure you're not hiding some Hamiltonian super power from me."
Trent softly kisses my lips and pulls me out of the truck. "I promise I can't read your mind, but now you've got me really curious about what's going on inside that adorable head of yours."
"Believe me, you do not want to know what's going on up here. All kinds of crazy!" I tap the side of my head lightly.
"Come on, Ellie girl, bring those fuck-me heels and get your sweet ass into my apartment."
He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the entrance of his building.
We make our way up to his place, and I'm utterly impressed. Large pillars, gleaming hardwood floors, and arched ceilings frame the open living area. The entire apartment is done in warm, neutral hues. The kitchen is state-of-the-art with stainless steel appliances and beautiful marble countertops. The apartment has a modern yet elegant feel to it.
“Your place is gorgeous, Trent," I tell him as I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window looking out onto a balcony that gives a nice view of downtown Charlotte.
"Thanks. I honestly could see myself living here for a long time." He opens a bottle of Merlot and hands me a glass. I try to ignore the idea of Trent living in Charlotte permanently. I just don't want to allow myself to get my hopes up.
“When is Dr. Grey due to be back from his medical leave?” My mouth sputters out, and now I wish I could just take back that stupid question. I don't really want a timeline I can obsessively watch like a hawk.
Trent's look is pensive, relaxed. “The last I heard, he is due back around the second week in October, but no exact date is set. I'm in no rush though.” His treacherously sexy smirk is nearly knocking the wind right out of my chest.
There's your fucking timeline, you idiot.
My brain is already trying to mentally count the days.
STOP. Don't do that. Don't make yourself crazy counting down. Just live in the moment, enjoy the fact that this undeniably amazing guy is here, and for some reason, he wants to spend time with you.
Sometimes I really wish I could take the advice my subconscious gives me…
Trent takes a plate of steaks out onto the balcony and puts them on the grill. I follow him out and lean my back against the railing, facing him. He tells me about his family in Seattle. His parents have been married for over thirty years and his dad, also a physician, just recently retired and sold his family practice. I can tell Trent is extremely proud of his father, and it's very apparent that his dad was a huge inspiration for him to finish medical school and become a surgeon.
His mother stayed at home with Trent and his two older siblings. She seems lovely, and Trent's adoration for her is undeniably cute. His brother, Josh, and sister, Leah, both reside in Seattle and are happily married. Leah has a four-year-old daughter named Mia, and Trent is completely in love with this little girl. His parents seem utterly delightful and are currently enjoying time together, road tripping to various tourist spots across the country.
"So tell me about cute little Mia. I can tell you adore her." I swirl my wine around in the glass and take a sip.
"My Mia is the cutest four-year-old you will ever meet. She has me wrapped around her little finger and I love every second of it." He smiles over at me as he flips the steaks.
"I bet you're an awesome uncle and spoil her rotten. Do you miss her?"
"I make a point to bring her a new Barbie doll every time I see her, and yes, of course I miss her, but I'm extremely happy about what Charlotte has brought me." He waggles his eyebrows and grins devilishly.
Good god, he's this irresistible combination of charming and sexy. This combination is lethal and dangerous, yet I just want to dive head first with my tongue.
"That's freakin' adorable, Trent. I would love to meet her someday." I let that little statement leave my lips before thinking about the fact that I'm openly admitting to wanting some sort of future with him.
Son of a bitch.
"Elle, I would love for you to meet Mia. Honestly, she's a lot like you. She's adorable, yet she has this sarcastic quick wit to her that keeps me laughing constantly. My sister Leah wants to strangle me most of the time because I seem to encourage her precocious personality."
He gives a sexy wink before turning his attention back to grilling the steaks.
I tell Trent about my family in Louisville—my wonderful parents and older sister, Elizabeth. My parents own a small diner that's conveniently located near the University of Louisville's campus. I tell him about my waitressing days, and he seemed to get a kick out of the idea of me in an apron. I still talk to my mom and dad daily but haven't really spoken with Lizzy in a while. She's married to a successful lawyer and always seems to have a benefit or charity function to attend.
Lizzy is six years older than me, and although we are similar in looks, we are complete opposites. She's conservative and, in my opinion, a little uptight. Lizzy worries about appearances and strives for nothing short of perfection in everything she does. I'm more of a free-spirit, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. I'm spontaneous and seem to make a career out of being found in embarrassing, ludicrous situations. Lizzy hates spontaneity, and I'm sure you can see why we're not as close as most sisters. Despite our differences, I still love her and would do anything for her. I would just rather do it from a distance in order to avoid her judgmental attitude. Because that's just Lizzy; she can be a little pretentious at time.
"I'd really like to see the two of you interact together," Trent says with a grin. Yeah, that's probably not going to happen anytime soon. The next time I see Lizzy will be when I head home for Thanksgiving in the fall.
We take our conversation into the dining area, and Trent refuses to let me help with anything. He grabs me by the shoulders and leads me towards the dining table when I attempt to help him with dinner.
"I'm making you dinner tonight, so sit your cute ass down and relax."
Once dinner is ready, Trent refills my glass of wine and sets my plate in front of me before sitting down at the table. My mouth is watering at the sight of this delicious meal. New York Strip, asparagus, baked potato, and bacon-wrapped-scallops. I take a bite of my steak and moan out loud with appreciation.
Holy shit this guy can cook.
Our dinner conversation is easy, relaxed. There are never any awkward silences or uncomfortable small talk, and I find myself wondering why I was even nervous about this date.
Trent continues to make me laugh about stories of him and his brother getting i
nto trouble growing up. It sounds like his mother had her hands full with those two boys together. They are only eighteen months apart, and if Josh is anywhere near as good-looking as Trent, I bet they had quite the female fan base in Seattle. I share a few stories of my own about Elizabeth and me. Most of my stories end up with me making an ass of myself and Lizzy being pissed. Trent finds this extremely sidesplitting. I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds her dramatic reactions comical.
I once dressed up like Lizzy for Halloween when I was eleven. I wore pearls, my grandmother's cardigan set, and a hideous pencil skirt. Let's just say her reaction was less than enthusiastic. She was furious. The costume was pretty damn accurate though, if I do say so myself. Lizzy never left the house in anything but conservative cardigan sets and prim-and-proper skirts.
I'm not really sure how she landed her husband. I guess he gets off on the Lizzy-look. It's a cross between "my husband is running for a presidential campaign" and "I'm the school librarian." It's hard to believe a sixteen-year-old girl was dressing like that in high school, but that's honestly Lizzy. Conservative, prim-and-proper, prudish Lizzy. If my parents weren't so head-over-heels in love with each other, I would strongly entertain the idea of me being the mailman's kid.
We move our conversation to the comfy leather couch in front of the ginormous flat screen television. I'm a little buzzed from the wine and can feel my face flushing as I register the fact that I might get into Trent Hamilton's pants tonight.
"What's with the blush, babe?" Trent puts his arm around me and pulls me closer to his side, rubbing his thumb across my cheek.
I let out a nervous laugh. "Uh…I'm not blushing. I think I'm just warm from the wine."
Or maybe it's because I keep staring at your crotch and wondering how big your dick is.
"I was hoping you'd say it was from me and the dirty things you're thinking about doing to me," he says with a wicked grin.
I playfully roll my eyes at him and shake my head.
"Are you sure, Ellie girl?" He's persistent and continues to gaze at my lips.
"No." I bite my bottom lip and my breath hitches.
"You weren't thinking about doing dirty things to me?"
He leans in closer, his breath warm on my mouth. He places his hand underneath my chin and brings my eyes up to his. His stare is heated, passionate, and it's practically burning me. I have no words. Literally, I have zero words to say. I'm speechless and dive lips first towards Trent's mouth.
Our kiss is hot, rough, and desperate. I've been thinking about kissing those lips again for far too long. Our hands are everywhere, all over each other, as his tongue slides against mine. His taste is sweet and devastatingly delicious. He roughly grabs my hips and pulls me onto his lap, my legs straddling him. I let out a breathy moan as he continues to kiss me deep and strong. His mouth is unrelenting on mine and his hands are in my hair, pulling me close, my breasts pressed against his chest. He trails kisses down my jaw and then his tongue is on my neck.
Oh fuck.
I moan loudly as my head falls back and I start grinding into his arousal.
He pulls the top of my strapless dress down, freeing my breasts. My nipples are hard and begging for his touch. Trent leans down with a groan and sucks me into his mouth. I'm writhing against him with desire and the intense, overpowering need to feel him inside of me. I vaguely hear my phone ringing in the background, but my brain just continues to ignore it and live in this moment with Trent. While he's licking and suckling at my breasts, he slides a hand up my thigh and under my dress. I feel his large, warm fingers slide my panties to the side and begin to rub soft, smooth circles against my clit. My hips jerk at the penetrating feeling that radiates up my spine.
"You're wet. So fucking wet," he says as he slides a finger inside of me.
I hear my phone ringing again, but my vagina is calling the shots at this point, and she doesn't give a shit about a phone call. Getting thrusted is her priority—her only priority right now—and I'm practically begging Trent to put his cock inside of me.
"Please…please…Trent, I need you inside of me."
He continues to slide his finger through my wetness as he brings his mouth to mine and kisses me with a fierceness that has me involuntary clenching.
“I want to feel you do that around my cock. Fuck, I need to feel you do that," he moans into my mouth.
“Yessss… Harder, Trent!" I yell out, my voice breathy and thick with wanton desire.
I'm grinding myself down onto his hand and practically riding his fingers. His continued assault on my clit has me panting and nearly screaming his name.
"Oh god, yes!" I moan, before his lips crash into mine.
"God I want to taste that sweet pussy, baby."
And that little line of dirty talk has me clenching his fingers tightly and coming with an intensity I didn't know was possible with just Trent's hand alone.
Oh holy orgasm.
I think I may have just had some type of unintentional spiritual awakening. What's going to happen when he thrusts inside of me? Death by motherfucking orgasm, that's what…and I will for sure rest in peace.
Trent takes his fingers that are drenched in my arousal and rubs them across my breasts, coating my nipples with my slick wetness. He gazes at me with hunger in his blue eyes and says, “I can't wait to taste you." And then he leans forward and sucks my nipple into his mouth.
Fuck, that's a hot move.
He's sucking and licking at my breasts like he can't get enough, and I feel him huskily moan into my chest. "Elle, your pussy is perfect. I want to bury my face between your legs all night, just to keep your taste on my tongue."
I think I just came again.
I start to unbuckle his belt so I can finally see that gorgeous cock I've been dying to feast my eyes on. And again I hear my phone ringing followed by several text message notifications. A large sigh escapes me, and Trent rests his forehead against mine.
"I think you need to answer that, babe."
In my head, I'm screaming, “God dammit! Can't a girl get finger-banged without being interrupted?”
I quickly get up off the couch and grab my phone from my purse. I see several missed calls and text notifications—all of them from Amy. The last text message she sent gives me pause.
Amy: Emergency. Call me back ASAP. Lizzy is here. She's shitfaced and crying.
What in the hell? Lizzy? My sister Lizzy?
I call Amy and I'm surprised to find out that my sister Lizzy showed up at our apartment with several suitcases in tow, saying she left her husband. Apparently she's drunk and sobbing. My heart breaks for her, but I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty pissed she decided to show up on this night of all nights.
And why is she running to me?
The last time I spoke with her was weeks ago. I tell Amy that I'll be home shortly and to keep Lizzy away from our liquor cabinet, because it's one thing to ruin your sister's chance of getting dicked by a hot, sexy guy, but it's a whole other thing to drink her alcohol supply. Alcohol that I'm most likely going to need tonight…
I also think my sister just gave the greatest unintentional cock-blocking performance of all time. She's now the MVC. Most valuable cock-blocker.
As Trent and I head out of his apartment, I think I can quietly hear my vagina crying as she puts Celine Dion on her iPod and calls it a night.
Chapter Sixteen
“Once you hit the age of fourteen, you should not have a day-of-the-week reminder on your snatch.”
Trent and I walk into my apartment to find an annoyed Amy and extremely drunk Lizzy. I don't recall a time where I have ever witnessed my older sister this intoxicated. She puts new meaning to the term intoxication. Her bags are strewn across my apartment as she rummages through her largest suitcase, throwing random items of clothing out onto the living room carpet. She's disheveled and her lack of clothing has me slightly concerned about what I'm going to face tonight—and more importantly, for the next few weeks.
Lizzy's auburn hair is stacked in a messy bun on her head, and her mascara seems to be attempting to make a great escape to her neck. She's stumbling around in an old t-shirt, and her pants have yet to make an appearance to this little party.
Her white cotton panties say “Thursday” across the front. Unfortunately, it's not Thursday. It's actually Friday, and the Lizzy I know would have never let a travesty like this occur. She's normally organized and has every detail planned to perfection, including her day-of-the-week underwear, which I'm a little shocked to see she still wears. I feel like once you enter adulthood, day-of-the-week panties should be pulled from your wardrobe. Lizzy is thirty-four years old. I'm pretty sure she doesn't need a reminder on her snatch to figure out what day of the week it is.
“Hey! It's my sister! My Ellie Jelly Belly!” Lizzy nearly tackles me in the kitchen with a sloppy hug.
“Hi, Lizzy. I'm a little surprised to see your face tonight.”
I attempt to disentangle myself from her vice-like grip around my neck. I settle myself against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. Trent is sitting across from me at my kitchen table. He's leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head, and a perfect picture of relaxation. I'm glad someone is relaxed.
I, on the other hand, am far from relaxed. I've got a drunken sister who resembles a hobo traipsing around my apartment like she owns the joint, and my juice-box is pretty angry she didn't receive a good screwing tonight.
“I fucking hate my husband. Matt Montgomery 'the third,'” She attempts to use finger quotes to accentuate her comment. “He's a tool. A stuck-up momma's boy.” I'm going to have to work with her on better insults. Later of course, once she's sober enough to comprehend English.
“I get that you're pissed at Matt, but what made you come all the way to Charlotte? Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but this seems a little out of the ordinary for the Lizzy I know.”
I need to figure out what in the hell has caused my sister to drive over seven hours and throw herself on my doorstep. The girl that is stumbling around in front of me is a chick I've never met. This isn't Lizzy, not by a long shot. Lizzy is prissy and conservative, and she always has everything in its perfect little place. This chick is drunk and obnoxious, and she has a serious issue with wearing pants.
The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series) Page 11