Chapter 6
Liz
I don’t know why I was so mad at him for saying that about Jen, but I hate that word. I think what I'm really mad about is my brother’s phone call. This time, he didn’t call me; he called my mom to tell her that he wasn’t coming home before flying to Jamaica, but that he would meet us there. My mom now thinks that he is working undercover with the police. How he convinced her that he was doing that kind of work, I have no clue; but the look of pride of my mother’s face when she came into the shop to tell me that she had spoken with Tim had been gut wrenching.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I look up into Trevor’s eyes and notice that he’s watching me closely.
“My brother called my mom.”
“That’s good, right?” I shake my head, biting my lip. Whatever is going on with Tim, I know now that it’s not good. It’s bad, really, really bad.
“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 *. 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 *. 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 f*cking knew I’d love your p-ssy, 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 f*cking serious this is?”
“Yes, I f*cking 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.”
“You’re pissing me off, baby,” I mimic. I can’t help it; he makes me so mad that I revert back to being five-years-old. I hear him laugh, and I want to punch him.
“Have I ever told you how cute you are when you’re pissed?” I open one eye to look at him. Sure enough, he has a big smile on his face. He takes a step towards me, his hands going to my hair. “I know you love your brother, baby, but you need to know that if something happens because you keep trying to protect everyone, you’re going to end up feeling like shit, because you could have said something.”
I know he’s right, but I'm torn. My brother and I were close after my dad died and my mom closed down. He was all I had for so long. I close my eyes, my forehead going into Trevor’s chest. He steps us back so I'm under the showerhead and starts rinsing my hair. He then leans over me, grabs my conditioner, squeezes the bottle, and then his hands are massaging it into my hair. “I know you’re right,” I whisper, guilt eating me alive. “I keep praying that Tim will come home and do the right thing, but deep down, I don’t think that’s going to happen. But I don’t want to give up on him either.”
“You’re not giving up on your brother. You’re giving him a chance, and letting the people who could end up hurt prepare.”
“How can I want to kiss you and punch you at the same time?” I ask, shaking my head.
“You’re kinky like that,” he says, tilting my head back. Before I can say something smart, his mouth touches mine, his hands travel down my sides to my ass, and he lifts me, my legs circling his hips. “I didn’t use a condom earlier,” he says against my lips. I freeze, pulling my mouth away from his. “I'm clean.” He turns, pressing me against the tile.
I swallow; why didn’t I think about that? I shake my head. “I'm on birth control,” I say, more as a reminder to myself. Then he thrust inside me. “November got pregnant when she was on birth control,” I say out loud to myself again, then moan when he withdraws, only to press inside me harder than before. My head falls back against the tile. He doesn’t say anything, just continues to slam inside of me, his mouth sucking and licking my neck, collarbone, and breast. When his teeth scrape against my nipple, I feel myself start to come around him; my nails dig into his shoulders, my legs tightening, pulling him deeper.
“Jesus, you have the tightest, smoothest f*cking p-ssy.” His hands squeeze my ass harder, lifting and pulling me down on him in fast rapid thrusts. “This is what heaven must feel like,” he grunts, his pace becoming more erratic. I can feel him hitting against my cervix, the slight pain bringing me closer to another orgasm. When I feel him start to expand, I come again, leaning forward, biting down hard on his shoulder. We’re both breathing heavy when my mouth lifts away from his skin.
“I'm sorry.” I touch where my teeth marks are imprinted into his skin.
“Don’t be. I love that I can make you lose control. That’s how I want you. That’s how you make me feel; it’s only fair that I make you feel the same.”
“You’re always in control.”
“Not with you.” His jaw clenches, his eyes looking angry.
“Is it so bad?” I ask, looking over his face.
“Not always,” he looks at the tile wall behind me. “Unless you consider locking someone away so that no one can touch them a ‘bad thing’.”
“I think they call that kidnapping.” I smile and he shakes his head, his eyes coming to mine.
“You are the one thing that scares me. Your power over me scares me.”
“You scare me, too.” I lay my head against his shoulder. He lifts me up and I feel him slide out; he kisses my hair, then let’s go of my legs so I slide down his body, and when my feet hit the floor of the shower, I take a minute to get stable. Trevor’s hands hold my face as he kisses my forehead, nose, and lips.
“You will always be safe with me.” I am not sure if he is right; I know that there will come a time when he will want more than what I can offer him. It wouldn’t be fair of me to keep him from having a family, even if it killed me that I couldn’t be the one giving it to him. “Are you off tomorrow?”
I shake my head. I can’t talk over the lump in my throat. As he takes his time washing me, he’s very gentle between my legs. Once he’s done, I step out of the shower, making sure not to look at him as I grab a towel. I put it to my face, taking a few deep breaths. “Do you work tomorrow?” I ask, as I lift my head once I know I’ve gotten myself under control.
“Yeah, I should be home early. When do you get off?”
“Well, Mom left today, and tomorrow is my last day until the day after we get home. Bambi’s going to be looking over the store while we’re gone, and November is going to help out as well.”
“Are you sure you should trust Bambi?” he asks, as we walk out of the bathroom into the bedroom.
I laugh and his eyes narrow. “Oh stop. Just because she is immune to the Mayson men’s charms, doesn’t mean she is a bad person.”
“You trust people too easily.”
“November is going to be there with her for part of the day. I need to have people I can trust with my business, or I'm going to end up never having a break.”
“I'm going to see if my mom can go over a couple of the days.”
“Trevor—uh—what’s your middle name? How do I not know this?” I bite my lip and try to remember if I have ever heard it anywhere before.
“Sorry, that’s top secret information,” he smirks, walking to the dresser; my eyes follow him as the muscles of his thighs and back stretch and expand, showing off the tribal tattoo that travels up his wrist, under his collar bone, down his chest, over his ribs, along his side, down his hip, and ending on his thigh. I love that tattoo. I want to lick it and trace it with my tongue; each step he takes makes my mouth water. When he looks over his shoulder at me, I look away, quickly pulling my towel tighter around my body. Until that second, I’ve never felt self-conscious about the way I look. Looking at him now, with not one ounce of fat on him, I'm thinking I should start to do some sit-ups, or maybe a few squats. “You keep thinking all those dirty thoughts, baby, and I'm going to be ripping your towel off and f*cking you against the wall.”
“I wasn’t having dirty thoughts. Not all of them were dirty anyways.” I mumble under my breath. I walk to my bag that is shoved under the bed, pull it out, grab a pair of panties, and slide them up under my towel. Then I find a tank top and slip that on over my head, removing the towel from under it. I bend to find a pair of shorts. I start to lift my foot to put them on, when they’re snatched out of my hand. “Hey! I'm going to wear those!” I yell, glaring at Trevor, who has my shorts balled in his fist.
“As sexy as that show was,” he says, shaking his head, “you’re in my house. I’ve finger f*cked you, eaten your p-ssy, and been inside you without a rubber. You are not going to hide your body from me.”
“You’re such a jerk,” I say, feeling my face burning bright red.
“Only because you’re not getting your way,” he shrugs, tossing my shorts on the bed, before walking out of the room. I’m reaching across the bed to grab my shorts when my ass is slapped, then I'm tossed over his bare shoulder and carried to the kitchen, where he puts me on the counter. My brain is still trying to catch up with what just happened; I can’t even form a full thought. “You want a sandwich?” he asks causally, walking over to the fridge. He starts to pull out lunchmeat and cheese; he sets them next to me before going to grab the bread. "Do you want a sandwich?" he asks again.
I look at him, getting ready to scream my head off and tell him that he is not the boss of me, he can't tell me what to do, what to wear, or carry me around whenever he feels like it. Just as I'm about to flip the hell out, I hear the dog door open. I look over, expecting to see Lolly, but instead, I see a little pink nose poke inside, then a small, round, black head. I blink a few times, trying to see if I have somehow imagined this, then a long, black body, with a white stripe down the center, starts to climb the rest of the way inside.
"Trevor," I whisper, trying to get his attention. His head is in the fridge so he doesn't hear me. "Trevor," I whisper a little louder this time, as I start to get up on the counter. The skunk is now near Lolly’s dog dish, where he starts to eat the food. "Oh my God!" I cry, covering my mouth.
Trevor turns around; he looks up at me and smiles. "You gonna attack me?"
I frantically start shaking my head no. He walks over to me, and growls, “Jesus, this is the perfect position for me to eat the f*ck out of your sweet p-ssy.” He slides his hands up the back of my calves. His face going between my legs, I can feel him take a deep breath.
“Trevor,” I whisper again, trying to push his face away with one hand.
“What?” He tilts his head back; his eyebrows come together when he looks up at me. My mouth is still covered. I point over his shoulder, and he turns his head and looks down.
"What the f*ck?" he says, jumping, stumbling back, banging into the counter, and then his hands go to the counter behind him. He jumps so that he’s standing on top of it with me. “That’s a skunk,” he says, taking a step back from the edge of the counter.
“No shit, Sherlock!” I laugh, still covering my mouth. I can’t help it; the look on his face is hilarious. His eyes narrow and I bite my lip to keep from cracking up. I do not want to set the skunk off. “You need to get rid of it,” I tell him, looking down at the skunk, who is happily chowing away on the dog food.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I have no idea. You’re the one who has the penis, and the one who likes to boss everyone around all the time; I'm sure you can figure it out.”
“You still pissed about not wearing your shorts?”
“Oh my God, Trevor!” I hiss, “There is a skunk.” I fling my arm out to show him the skunk, in case he forgot. “You want to talk about this right now?”
“Baby,” he laughs, “Calm down.” He pulls my face towards him by the back of my neck and kisses me. When he pulls his mouth from mine, we’re both breathing heavily. “I love your lips,” he says, biting my lower lip, giving it a tug.
“The skunk.” I remind the two of us. Leaning into him, he pulls away, looking down at the ground. The skunk is looking up at us, where we’re standing on the counter. “Where is Lolly?” I ask. The skunk hasn’t moved from its spot on the floor where he’s staring at us.
“I don’t know. Hopefully she doesn’t come inside right now.”
“What are we going to do?” I whisper. The skunk starts walking around the kitchen, then slowly makes it way to the dog door, where he pauses, looks up at us again, and starts to lift its tail. I bury my face in Trevor’s chest.
“It’s gone,” Trevor says, after a second, he jumps off the counter, walking towards the dog door. Just then, the dog door starts to push open, and Trevor flies back towards me, hopping on the counter as Lolly shoves through the door. “Holy shit,” he sighs in relief, jumping down from the counter again, running to the door, and sliding the latch in place. “Looks like we’re going to have to start making sure to lock this when it’s dark.”
“I can’t believe that just happened.” I hop off the counter and go over to Lolly, who is scratching at the dog door, trying to find a way to break out.
“I wonder if that’s the first time we had an uninvited guest,” Trevor says, going to the sink to wash his hands.
“I don’t even want to know; can you imagine getting up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, and getting sprayed by a skunk in the process.”
“Hell no. Guess that’s the price you pay for living in the country.”
“Why did you buy this place?” I love this house, but it needs work.
“The land; I wanted something outside of town, where I could have a party or ride my dirt bike without having to worry about neighbors.” He walks across the kitchen, grabbing my hips, lifting me back onto the counter.
“You really need to stop toting me around,” I glare at him.
“Why?” He looks at me like I just asked him to stop showering for a month. I take a deep breath.
“I don’t like it.”
“Yes, you do.” He walks across the kitchen, getting the bread out of the breadbox.
“Actually, I hate it when you do it.” I don’t really hate it, but I do find it annoying a lot of times when I'm trying to do something, and he just carries me off or moves me without giving me a chance to do what I want.
“You don’t hate it.” “You want to know how I know you don’t hate it?” He looks at me, raising an eyebrow.
“This should be good,” I mumble, watching him make his sandwich. I'm half tempted to stop him from finishing. He doesn’t even make sure that the mayo and mustard are spread evenly on the bread; he just globs it on there. I look up when he starts laughing. “What?”
“Like this. This is killing you; I see it in your face that you want to hop off the counter, take this out of my hands, and do it yourself.”
“So?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“You don’t get your way, and you want to throw a fit.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah, babe. It is.”
“Whatever,” I say, as he comes to stand between my legs, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter.
“You need to learn that not everything has to be done when or how you want it done. It’s okay to give up some of the control that you try to hold onto so tightly. With me, I'm not asking, I'm telling you how it is. It doesn’t mean that I don’t respect you or care about the way you feel; it just means that you trust me enough to make sure that you’ve got what you need.”
“I'm feeling a little lost. I thought we were talking about you manhandling me.”
“We were, and we are. I told you that you don’t hate it when I tell you what to do, or put you where I want you. And the reason I know you don’t hate it is because you listen or stay where I put you every time.” Holy shit. He’s right. What the hell is wrong with me? “Now, do you want me to make you a sandwich?”
“No thanks.” I don’t want to encourage his dominant behavior. I want to go somewhere and have a tantrum.
“Okay.” He kisses my forehead, and goes back to what he’s doing with me watching. The rest of the night, I think about what he said, and my need for control. I don’t know if he knows it, but with him, I have none. When we get into bed, he pulls me under him like he always does, kisses my temple, and goes to sleep. I realize that we didn’t talk anymore after our conversation in the kitchen. Like he wanted me to think about everything that he said. I huff out a breath, determined to stop thinking about everything; he can’t be the boss of my subconscious. Then I fall asleep, thinking that I’m comfortable, warm, and safe, so maybe giving him control isn’t so bad.