Note to self: Buy Chapstick.
I think he might make me a drool a little bit, too. Not one hundred percent certain of this, but wait, let me check… Yep, I'm officially drooling on myself.
Add extra paper towels to my grocery list.
I discreetly wipe the small dribble that is hanging off of my lip and pray that I manage to do this without Trent noticing. I peek over at him out of the corner of my eye and thankfully he's still savoring his Kung Pao chicken. Seriously, this man is consuming my head and turning me into a lick-lipping, ladyboner-sporting, mouth-drooling, cock-craving, bumbling idiot. I'm blaming this on him.
Trent Hamilton and his Hamiltonian Effect.
Yes, the Hamiltonian Effect. This is an actual thing. At least it is now, and I know this from experience because I got the full Technicolor experience last night. And let me tell you, Trent is hands down the best sex I've ever had. He puts new meaning to the phrase, “Take me to Pound Town.”
After eighteen straight hours of getting acquainted with him, I've come to one conclusion. His cock is a superhero. That mind-blowing piece of equipment deserves its own secret headquarters, cape, covert car, superhero side-kick, and independent wealth to purchase the giant mansion with a cave that he can fill with all of his superhero gadgets.
“What has your mind so entertained right now?” The sound of his voice encourages my eyes to wander towards his as I take another bite of chicken fried rice.
“Huh? What makes you think my mind is so entertained right now?” I place my chopsticks down next to me and my arms rest in my lap.
“The small smirk you keep flashing. What filthy thoughts are rolling through that head of yours?”
“I have a suspicion that your cock is a superhero.” My face is blank, giving him zero inkling of my actual intent.
“My cock is a superhero.” Trent has his poker face on, which only encourages me to continue this conversation further.
“Yes, I know your cock is a superhero. What's your superhero cock's name?”
“Dr. Hammer.” He's still straight-faced and doing one hell of a job at hiding his satisfaction regarding the whole superhero-cock topic.
Dr. Hammer? Really?
I mean, it's so lame yet so awesome at the same time.
“What's Dr. Hammer's superpower?” I challenge him with a quirk of my eyebrow.
“He's a take-action kind of guy. A doer, so to speak. Dr. Hammer has no qualms with thrusting himself into dirty situations, and his superpower is satisfaction. Dr. Hammer can one hundred percent ensure one hundred and ten percent of the time that he always gives satisfaction. No matter the job, no matter the task, Dr. Hammer will leave you satisfied.”
“Seriously? Did you seriously just come up with that on the fly or have you had that stocked away somewhere?”
“What can I say? I'm quick on my feet.” He finally drops the poker face and gives me a wicked grin. “Are you satisfied with Dr. Hammer's superpower?”
“Nope. I think Dr. Hammer is a fucking liar. He should be satisfying me right now and yet, there he sits, not satisfying.” I flick my wrist toward the crotch of his boxer briefs.
Trent abruptly grabs my feet, pulling my legs to the edge of the kitchen counter. He licks his lips at the sight of my legs spread open and black panties visible to his sensual gaze. I quickly smack his hands away from my thighs. “I'm kidding! I'm kidding! My vagina needs a break. You've been pounding her all day.” Trent's husky laugh vibrates from his chest as he swiftly moves his hands away from my persistent smacks.
“Just so we're clear, Dr. Hammer is going to make you pay for that little joke later.”
I laugh at his ridiculous threat. “Okay, weirdo. Give my pussy like an hour and I'll be ready for the wrath that is Dr. Hammer and his satisfying superhero cock powers.”
We continue to dig into our Chinese food, giving each other small bites here and there. I'm enjoying his company immensely. I love the easiness of our relationship. Our conversation always flows, and we seem to savor the occasional silences together. Being with Trent just seems to come natural for me. There's no pressure to be someone I'm not. No pressure to put on a perfect appearance or stress over saying the wrong things. Trent makes me feel like I can just be me…Ellen.
Taking the last bite of my chicken fried rice and swallowing it down, I tap Trent on the nose with my chopsticks and ask him a question I keep forgetting to bring up. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Shiiiiit, you're thirty-four?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You say that like it's really old. I'm not old. I'm a young, hot surgeon you can't seem to keep your hands off of.” He smirks at me before standing up and cleaning up our take-out containers.
“Well…thirty-four is kind of old, but it's okay. I think your ego more than makes up for the old age and wrinkles.”
“Shut up, smartass.” His back is to me as he tosses our silverware in the kitchen sink, washing them off before placing them in the dishwasher.
“Aren't you going to ask me how old I am?”
“Twenty-eight.” He closes the dishwasher and turns towards me, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms across his chest while a smug grin consumes his face.
“Uh, how did you know how old I am? Have you been snooping through my purse? Stalking me? Following me? Which is it? Do I need to call the police?” My eyes dance with hilarity.
“I stalked you when I first started at Regency. I had to know who the hot nurse with the fuck-me heels was in Nashville.”
“What do you mean you stalked me?”
“I got your manager Shirley to dish some dirt on you. Your age, work schedule… You know, all the important stuff so I could begin my seduction of The Infamous Ellen James.”
I laugh a little at the way he says my name as if I'm some sort of enigma instead of just a boring ER nurse with a proclivity for smut novels and hot surgeons with superhero cocks.
“How in the hell did you get Nurse Ratchet to give you details about me? Did you flirt with uni-brow, Trent Hamilton?”
“Yes, yes I did, and I'm not the least bit ashamed of it. I'm blaming it all on the sexy little nurse with perfect tits and that ability to wear a twelve-inch strap-on like no one's business.”
“You're never going to let me live that one down, are you?”
“Nope, never, and it doesn't help that I snapped a picture of that slide with my phone and I can look at it whenever I want.”
“What?! You have a picture of that picture?”
He nods his head yes.
“Oh my god! Give me your phone. We are deleting that right now!” I hop off the island and stalk towards him, frantically grabbing around the back of him where his Blackberry is sitting on the kitchen counter and charging.
He quickly snaps the phone out of the charging dock and holds it above his head.
“Hey! Give that to me! Give that phone to me now!” I'm jumping up and down in an embarrassing attempt to grab the phone from his hands. Trent is standing his ground, holding his Blackberry high in the air while laughter is bursting from his lips. I decide that tickling is my next approach. I speedily place my hands on his ribcage and begin furiously tickling his sides.
“Shit!” Trent squirms out of my reach and tosses his phone on the counter. Then he grabs me before I can manage to get my hands on it. His arms have me in a firm grip and I'm struggling to break free.
“I think it's time your pussy gets ready for Dr. Hammer,” he hoots before grabbing my waist and throwing me over his shoulder.
My head is pressed against his back and my legs are firmly in his grasp. He smacks my ass and then heads towards his bedroom, striding through the hallway with purpose.
“I hope you're ready to be satisfied,” Trent says and smacks my ass again.
“Oh my god! You're so lame! Enough with the Dr. Hammer and satisfied talk!” I yell as I continue to hang off of his shoulder, my boobs pressed against his back.
Trent chuckles loudly, smacks my ass for a third time, and walks into his bedroom.
He tosses me on the bed and traipses towards me like a predator—a predator that's ready to fuck his prey into a god damn coma. My pussy clenches at the sight of his strong, precise movements, and his eyes have my nipples harder than I ever knew was possible.
“We're not leaving this room until I've fucked you senseless and you have to tell me to stop making you come. Because that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make you come and come and come… and when you don't think it's possible to have another orgasm, I'm going to eat that delicious pussy like it's my last fucking meal and make you come again.”
Ohhhhhhhh, I think Dr. Hammer just gave me a lifetime guarantee.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“If your friend is going through some guy problems, always make sure you gauge her level of anger with this: 'On a scale of 1 to Adele, how pissed off are you at this guy?' If she says, 'Adele,' go ahead and take the matches from her and proceed to drive far, far away from that guy's house…immediately.”
Sitting contently in Trent's truck as he's driving me home, I turn down the music that's blaring through the speakers so I can actually manage a conversation with him.
"You can turn on whatever you like." He glances at me out of his periphery as he accelerates onto the highway toward my apartment.
I've been holed up in Trent's apartment for the past thirty-six hours, enjoying his company among many other things. I begrudgingly let him drive me home only because I have to work a night shift in the ER tonight.
"Tell me about the first time you had sex."
Trent sputters a little as he lets out a choking cough, obviously surprised at my request. "You want to hear about when I lost my virginity?" Turning his head towards me for a brief second, he allows me to see the curious amusement in his eyes.
"Yes I do. How old were you? Who was it? Where were you? Tell me everything." I tap my fingers lightly on the passenger door, grinning at him.
"I'll share mine, but only if you share yours." His eyes are back on the road, switching lanes on the highway and passing a slow-moving sedan.
"Deal."
He clears his throat and then begins to tell me all about Tammy, the girl whose vagina stole his virginity. "I was seventeen, and like any teenage boy, I had sex on the brain constantly. My girlfriend's name was Tammy. She was cute, too nice for a horny kid like me, and her father was a pastor. We were alone at her parents' house on a weeknight. I think they were busy at a church function. I'm pretty sure we were supposed to be working on some school project together, but one thing led to another…and then Tammy was lying naked on her bed, nervously ready to have sex. Hell, I was nervous too. Seventeen and not a clue what in the hell I was doing. The sex wasn't the best, being it was our first times, and I came in under a fucking minute, but it's what happened after the sex that makes this story so interesting…"
"Oh I have to hear this!" I turn in my seat so that I'm facing Trent, all ears, ready to listen to whatever comes out of his mouth.
"Well, right after I finished, Tammy's parents came home—"
"What?! Did they walk in on you two? Oh my god, did the pastor find you with your dick out in his daughter's room?!" This story is getting better by the second.
"Not exactly. I had time to throw on my pants, but I was so nervous that I forgot to take the condom off—"
"You left the condom on? The condom that was filled with your teenage spooge?!"
He lets out a husky laugh. "Uh, yeah, I had a very uncomfortable thirty-minute conversation with her pastor father about random bullshit that I can't even remember, and the condom that was in fact filled with my teenage spooge was still on." He looks over at me and smirks.
"Oh my god! That is hilarious!" I'm laughing at the mere idea of this entire jizz-filled condom fiasco.
Shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, he says, "Yeah, I know. Not one of my best moments, yet I can definitely see the hilarity in it. That condom stayed on until I got home. After I ate dinner with my parents."
Laughter is bursting from my lips; I clutch my stomach in pure merriment.
Trent gives me a minute or two to calm my jovial ass down before saying, "All right, all right. Enough laughter at my expense. Let's here yours." He gets off at the exit that leads to my apartment.
"Oh god. Mine might be worse."
"Then I definitely need to hear this," he demands with an intrigued tone to his voice.
"Okay.” I take a deep breath and then tell him all about Billy…
“I was sixteen and it was prom night. My boyfriend's name was Billy. Things were getting hot and heavy in my friend Tonya's room. We were spending the night at her parent's house. They were, of course, out of town. Cliché I know, but I was sixteen. So I was all prepared to let Billy pop my little cherry and then we realized we forgot one very important thing—a condom."
Grinning over at Trent, I continue on with my story. "Billy drove us to the nearest gas station. It was when he started to get out of the car that I realized he was only wearing boxers, a t-shirt, and socks. No shoes, no pants…" Trent starts chuckling. "I sat in the car patiently like any teenage girl who's waiting to get thrusted for the first time would, and I waited and waited and waited. Fifteen minutes went by, and I started to get a little concerned. How damn long did it take to purchase condoms? What in the hell was he buying in there? Then Billy came sprinting out of the gas station, tossed the box of condoms to me, and hopped his shoeless ass in the car, peeling out of the parking lot like a mad man. I remember sitting in the car thinking, What the fuck is going on? So I asked him why he was driving like his dick is on fire and he said it was because he'd forgotten his wallet...”
Trent glances over at me and raises his brow. "Forgot his wallet?"
I sigh and finish the story. "Yeah, he forgot his wallet, so he stole the condoms."
"He stole the condoms! Let me get this straight. He had no shoes, no pants, and he STOLE the condoms?!" Trent's chortles are now full belly laughs.
"Yes." My face flushes a little with embarrassment. "You have it straight. That was the infamous night that Ellen James lost her virginity."
"Holy shit! Yours is definitely worse than mine." Trent pulls into the parking lot, still laughing like an idiot, now at my expense.
"All right, all right. That's enough. I'm well aware that is one of the most ridiculous virginity loss stories ever." I give him a pointed stare, letting him know to knock off the laughter.
He winks at me and pats my thigh. "I'm done...for now. I can't make promises that I won't laugh about that one later."
"Preferably when I'm not around," I say with a roll of my eyes.
He parks the truck in a designated spot in front of my apartment and cuts the engine. "You want me to come inside or do you have to get ready for work?"
"I wish I could take you to work with me." I unbuckle my seatbelt and scoot closer to his side. "But you might as well just go on home. I have to get ready for work, and I'm sure Amy is going to berate me with questions about our weekend."
"A fucking fantastic weekend." He brushes the hair out of my eyes and places his palm on my cheek. "Thanks for staying with me."
"Thanks for having me. And I agree, we had a fucking fantastic weekend. Emphasis on the fucking." I give him a sarcastic smile.
"Yes, smartass, a whole lot of emphasis on the fucking." He laughs lightly before leaning in and giving me a sloppy, wet kiss that ends with him licking the side of my face.
"Oh my god! Stop licking me, weirdo!" I act exasperated, but I secretly enjoy his sense of humor and ability to constantly make me smile.
"You love it." His grin is as wide as Texas and I can't fight the urge to smile back at him like an infatuated idiot.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love it. Give me some more sugar, Casanova. This time no licking." I pucker my lips and he gently places his lips to mine, tenderly kissing me.
"Have a goo
d night at work, Ellie, and text me later if your night isn't too busy. I'm on call for the rest of the week so I'm sure we're going to cross paths at Regency at some point."
"Okay." I give him a swift peck on the cheek before hopping out of the truck.
As I head to the lobby door of my building, I notice a disheveled and very dirty-looking man walking out of my apartment's parking lot and toward the main road. His back is to me, but I'd know that man anywhere. That's Frank. ER frequent flyer Frank. I'm praying he didn't see me getting out of Trent's truck, and I have a feeling that I'll probably be seeing him in the ER very, very soon. This poor man has had a lifelong battle with mental illness, his primary diagnosis being paranoid schizophrenia. He's definitely made me feel uncomfortable at times, and he can come across as a total creep, like Amy would say, but I really do feel bad for him. No one should have to suffer through a life that's a constant battle of trying to keep your foot in the door of reality's house while crazy town is constantly trying to pull you right back out to Never Never Land.
As I unlock my apartment door, I can hear Adele's Rolling In The Deep blaring from the stereo. I am little concerned about what this could mean. Amy and I have specific music that we play when we are pissed off about a guy. Rihanna when we're slightly pissed off; think angry texts and phone calls. Taylor Swift when we're definitely pissed; think egg his car or toilet paper his house. And Adele, well, she's the big guns, the "I'm going to rip his balls off, make a nice slow cooker meal with them, and then shove said ball-roast down his throat" kind of pissed. Yes, we totally go Hannibal Lector.
Nice Chianti and some fava beans, anyone?
So you can see my concern when not only is Adele blasting from the speakers in my apartment but Rolling In The Deep of all songs is playing.
I hesitantly head into my apartment, finding Amy and Lizzy sitting on the living room couch, eating ice cream. Amy is belting out the lyrics of the song like she's singing for a crowd of thousands into her giant ice scream scooper that must be serving dual purposes—spoon and microphone. My sister is just sitting next to her, digging into her pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, seeming to enjoy the impromptu concert that's taking place in my living room. I walk towards the stereo and pause the music.
The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series) Page 16