Until Trevor (14 page)

“
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 fucking pussy.” 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 fucking 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 fucked you, eaten your pussy, 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 fuck out of your sweet pussy.” 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 ag
ain, 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 fuck
?" 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?”