Until Trevor

Page 15

“He told my mom that he started working undercover for the police.”
“He what?” Trevor growls, “You need to tell your mom what’s going on. I understand why you didn’t want to before, but this is getting out of hand.”
“The wedding is this weekend. I can’t tell her now. When we get back, I’ll talk to her.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want her to be stressed about this right before her wedding.”
“If your brother shows up in Jamaica, I'm going to beat the shit out of him. Not only has he stolen money from you, now he’s playing your mom.”
“I know,” I whisper, not wanting to deal with this, but knowing that I have to. “When Mom gets back from her honeymoon, I will sit her down and talk to her about what’s going on.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Well, too bad; it’s not your choice. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Nothing to do with me?” His eyes narrow and I look away. “You are mine; that means that it has everything to do with me.”
I shrug. I know that it’s pointless to argue with him. In Trevor’s universe, he is right, I'm wrong, and there will be no convincing him any different. “Look at me, Liz.” His voice is quiet, so my eyes automatically go to his. “If something happens to you because of your brother, I will kill him. No joke. I will rip him apart with my bare hands.” I can feel my eyes widen; that is not what I expected him to say. “Like I said before, I don’t like this shit. And if something happens to you because you refuse to tell your mom, I'm going to spank your ass.”
My eyes narrow. “If you ever even think about spanking me, I'm going to beat the crap out of you, Trevor.”
His eyebrow rises. “You think you can take me?”
“No.” I shrug. “But I will give it my best shot.”
His smile is so devastating that it takes my breath. “When you’re giving it your best shot, are our clothes on or off?”
I roll my eyes. “Get off me, you perv.” I start to struggle to get up, but then I feel Trevor’s mouth open on my neck, and his hand travel down my side. His thumb brushes against my breast, then down to the hem of my shirt, and back up under. I feel the roughness of his palm against the softness of my waist. Oh my God, yes! My brain screams. I love him touching me. He sits back, pulling my shirt up and over my head; his eyes go to my black full-lace bra, then come back to mine.
“I missed you,” he says softly, and then he kisses me. My mouth automatically opens under his; he tastes like heaven, and I want to consume him. He pulls his mouth away from mine, licking and biting down my neck to my breast. His fingers trace the edge of my bra; he tugs the cup down, licks, then blows on my nipple, making me moan and arch into him. My body starts shaking as soon as his mouth latches onto my nipple and he sucks hard, making me rise off the bed; my hands go to his head, holding on tight. As his hand travels down my waist, I can feel him unbutton my jeans. Then his fingers are sliding through my wetness, one entering me as I moan loudly, circling my hips.
“Yes,” I whisper, as he hits my g-spot. He stops and pulls his mouth away; my eyes open. He’s looking down at me. I want to cry. He keeps doing this, always stopping when I want to go.
“I'm hungry,” he says, pulling his hand out of my pants. I start to sit up, confused and wondering if I was the only one involved in what just happened.
“You’re hungry?” I repeat what he just said, thinking this was strange. I thought we were going to have sex. I might not have a ton of experience, but I know the signs, and they are all flashing neon red with arrows pointing at my vajayjay… and he’s hungry?
“Very hungry,” he says, standing up. I start to look around for my shirt, because apparently, we were going to go get something to eat! Well, he is going to get something to eat; I'm going to find a way to kill him without going to jail. My head is turned when I feel his hand at the waistband of my jeans. He yanks and pulls them off. I’m startled and then pulled not-too-gently to the edge of the bed. There’s no time to prepare before he attacks me, his mouth latching onto my clit. The heels of my feet go to his shoulders; my hips lift, and my fingers grab onto the top of his head.
“Yes,” I moan, lifting and grinding my hips.
“You taste so good, baby.” His hands go under my ass, lifting me closer to his mouth. I start breathing heavy, feeling like I’m getting ready to fall off a cliff. “Come for me,” he whispers as he licks me, circling my clit. I’m so close; I just need something else.
“More,” I whimper, not able to form a complete sentence.
“What do you want?” he asks against me, his voice rough. I can feel the stubble of his jaw scraping against my skin.
“You. I need you!” I cry. He drops my ass, spreads my legs further apart, then two fingers enter me, pulling up against my g-spot so quickly that I shoot off the bed with the force of the orgasm that explodes through me. I fly apart while seeing stars; my body’s on fire, every nerve feeling exposed. When I finally come back to myself, Trevor’s above me, his clothes gone.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, taking my mouth in a deep kiss. He pulls me forward, removing my bra. I can feel his body press against mine, his hard muscles covered by smooth skin, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his size surrounding me, making me feel fragile and safe. He pulls his mouth away from mine and he looks at me. I can see the same desire coursing through me in his eyes. “My turn,” he says against my lips. Before I can ask what he means, he’s slamming into me. My legs circle his hips; my nails dig into his biceps. My head flies back, my body arching. “Jesus,” he grunts, stilling his movements, his forehead laying against my chest. “So perfect.” He slides out, then back in slower.
“Finally,” I breathe. I have wanted this for so long, and finally having it is like every holiday rolled into one. He starts to speed up, his hand traveling down my side, all the way to my knee and he pulls it up; I can feel him deeper. He’s so thick and long that every time he fills me, I bite my lip against the slight sting. I can feel myself tighten around him; I'm getting close.
“I fucking knew I’d love your pussy, baby,” he says, sitting up on his calves, pulling me up with him so we’re face-to-face. “Wrap your legs around me.” I do what he says. His hands slide up my thighs, to my ass, waist, and ribs; one stays there while the other tangles into my hair. “Move with me.” He pulls down on my chin with his mouth so I’ll let go of my lip. We start rocking together very slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Are you mine, Liz?” he whispers his question, and I nod my head. “I need to hear you tell me that your mine.” I swallow; for some reason this feels like something else, more serious than the ‘will you be my girlfriend’ question. “Say it, Liz. Tell me that you’re mine.”
“I'm yours,” I whisper, feeling like I just gave a giant piece of me away to him, knowing that it’s something I can’t take back.
“That’s right, baby. You’re mine; don’t ever forget it,” he says harshly, before he starts lifting his hips harder and faster. I bite down on his shoulder to keep myself from screaming out. When I feel myself tighten around him, he pulls my face out of his neck, and slams his mouth against mine. His other hand goes to my breast, pinching my nipple, sending me over. I hear him rumble my name, following behind me with his own orgasm. We’re both breathing heavy, my face tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around me. I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. “Why are you laughing?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Just thinking that you proved a whole lot of people wrong.”
“What?” He asks, bending back so that I'm now sprawled on top of him. He pulls my hair away from my face, tracing my eyebrows. I look in his eyes; they are so warm that I can hardly breathe. “What?” he asks, more quietly this time.
I shake my head, clearing my mind. “You know the old saying? Guys who drive big trucks have—” He rolls us over so I'm under him, and he grits his teeth, sliding out of me.
“Don’t finish that thought.” He shakes his head, chuckling.
“What? You don’t have that problem.” I laugh when he starts tickling me. “Okay! Okay! I won’t talk about it!” I yell.
He stops his torture, his elbow going into the bed next to my head. “You ready to get out of town?”
“Yes. Plus, I'm excited. My mom is the happiest I have ever seen her.”
“George is a good guy,” he nods.
“Yeah, he is,” I agree. My mom met George two years ago online. George had been divorced for four years; he waited until his youngest was in college before he started looking for a relationship. He had gone on a few blind dates and nothing ever worked out. One day, he was home watching TV and a commercial about an online dating site came on. He said “what the hell”, and signed up. That was around the time I signed my mom up behind her back. I wanted her to be happy. I hated seeing her so lonely; she deserved to find someone. Shortly after I signed her up, George sent her a message. That’s when I told her about the site and what I did. At first, she didn’t want to write him back, but I convinced her that if she didn’t like what he said through e-mail, that she never had to speak with him again. So she took a chance, and after a few e-mails and phone calls, they met up. He lives about an hour from us in Alabama, and since their first meeting, they have been inseparable.
“I'm going to talk to George about what’s going on.”
“No, you’re not!”
“He needs to know in case something happens.”
I narrow my eyes, “What could my brother possibly do?”
“Did you ask yourself what he could possibly do before he stole your money? Then called you needing more? He’s calling your mom, saying he’s working undercover; do you not see how fucking serious this is?”
“Yes, I fucking see how serious this is!” I yell, stand up on the bed, and look down on Trevor where he’s lying. “He is my brother; the same one who took care of me after my dad died.” I can feel my chest heaving up and down. “So excuse me if I don’t want to call the police or tell my mom. I'm trying to help him the only way he asked; he said he needed more time, so that’s what I'm giving him.” I jump off the bed. Realizing that I'm Naked, I stomp to the dresser and grab a shirt. Stomping into the bathroom, I slam the door and turn on the shower.
“Don’t walk away when we’re talking.” I hear him say as he opens the door.
“You were talking, Mr. Know-It-All,” I say, pulling the shower curtain closed behind me. I grab my shampoo, squeezing half the bottle into my hand out of anger, that pisses me off even more; its expensive shampoo, and you’re only supposed to use a little. I hear the curtain slide back, but I ignore it, and continue washing my hair.
“You’re pissing me off, baby.”