Until Trevor

“Fuck no.” He growls his jaw ticking. “And I don’t know how she got in. All I know is she broke into our home and drugged our dog. I would say that both those things point to her being unstable wouldn’t you?”



“Yes.” I sigh, ready for this day to be over.



“So it’s settled; we’re getting a restraining order, and if we don’t need it, good.”



“I think that would be the smart thing to do,” James says, looking between Trevor and me. “So, Susan says the wedding is planned for two weeks from now.”



“What?” I’m shocked. I have no idea what he’s talking about.



“Mom called today, baby. Well, actually, it was a conference call between both of our moms. They tried to get ahold of you, with no luck, so they called me. The pastor that married your mom and dad is only available that weekend; after that, he flies back to Nicaragua, where he’s helping to build a community center and won’t be available for a few more months. So I told them to go ahead and book him.”



“You told them to go ahead? You do know that I haven’t even gotten my dress, right? Our moms have completely trampled me.”



“You can find a dress. I don’t care if you show up in jeans; I am not waiting any longer for you to be my wife.”



“Why do we need to rush this? We already live together.”



“We’re living in sin.”



“We’re living in sin?” I repeat, shaking my head. Then I look over at James, and when I see his giant smile, I want to scream.



“You better find your dress, baby, because even if I have to carry you down the aisle over my shoulder in two weeks, you are going to be Elizabeth Star Mayson.”



“This is crazy, you’re crazy, and our moms are crazy,” I ramble. “I have no idea what I'm going to do.”



“Calm down; it’s going to be okay.” I look up at Trevor, who now looks worried. Good. He should be worried. “They said everything was taken care of; all you have to do was show up.”



“Do you know that little girls start planning their weddings from the time they’re young and get their first Barbie doll? They dream of what it’s going to look like, the colors they will choose, the style of their dress…” I trail off, shaking my head.



“You did that?” He asks incredulously, looking down at me with wonder.



“No.” I shake my head at him. “But if I had, it wouldn’t matter, because they have taken over everything. I thought, At least I get to pick out my dress, but it sounds like they have taken over that as well.” I watch as Trevor and his dad start laughing. “What the hell is so funny?” I yell, as the guys laugh. Lolly comes into the kitchen; she’s no longer stumbling around. I breathe a sigh of relief that she’s going to be okay.



“Nothing, baby. If you want to pick your dress, you pick your dress.”



“They already did,” I pout, making Trevor shake his head and look at his dad.



“I will tell them that you’re getting your own dress.”



“Fine,” I harrumph, and cross my arms over my chest like a bratty five-year-old.



“But you need to have it in two weeks. I don’t know how much time it takes to pick a dress, but you better get started.”



“Fine,” I say, and Trevor smiles at his dad.



“Do you need anything else, Dad?” he asks, then looks back down at me and suddenly, I don’t want James to leave.



“No, son. I go—”



“No! Don’t you need me to, like, tell you what happened?” I cut him off.



“Trevor already told me, honey.”



“But he told you what he saw. What about what I saw?”



“Like Jen’s bangs?” James asks, smirking.



“Ugh…I…um…well, you know. Oh, look at the time! It’s getting late. You should go,” I say, standing quickly. I can hear Trevor chuckle, so I elbow him in the ribs while smiling at James.



“Yeah, I need to drop these papers off at the station before I head home.” He pulls me in for a hug. “Love ya’, honey,” he says, bringing tears to my eyes.



“Love you, too,” I say, wiping my eyes, taking a step back into Trevor, who wraps his arms around me. He rests his chin on the top of my head.



“You’re gonna need to come down to the station tomorrow to fill out the papers for the restraining order.”



“We’ll be there,” Trevor says, walking us forward, following his dad to the front door. “Later, Dad,” he says, shutting the door behind him.



“Are you okay?”



“Yeah.”



“You tired?”



“No, not really.”



“Good. Then it’s time for your punishment.”



“No!” I squeal, trying to get free.



“Oh yeah,” he says, spinning me around, pressing me into the wall. His mouth crashes into mine, his hand going to my breast, and his fingers pinching my nipple through the material of his tee shirt that I'm wearing. He takes my hands in his, pulling them up over my head. “Keep them there.”



“But I—”



“No. Move them, and I stop.” He bites my lip, pulling it through his teeth; his hands at the bottom of the tee lift it slowly up my waist, and then over my breasts, and finally over my head and arms. Once I'm shirtless, his fingers begin working on the button of my jeans. Once free, he tugs them over my hips, but doesn’t pull them all the way off, keeping my thighs bound together by my jeans. “Remember, don’t move your hands,” he says against my ear, his breath causing goose bumps to break out over my skin.



His body leaves me, his hands going to the buttons of his shirt. Once he’s done, he pulls it off, tossing it onto the floor. His thumb travels over my bottom lip, down my chin, his hand opening over my neck, his other hand following the same path until my breasts are in his hands. “You’re beautiful, baby; but your tits are fucking amazing.” He leans forward, licking over one nipple, then the other. My stomach is in knots. I can feel myself clench, my clit throbbing, begging for attention. I love when he’s like this; it’s hotter than any book I’ve ever read.



His mouth comes back to mine, his body pressing me hard against the wall, his hands on my face controlling my every move. One hand travels down along the side of my neck, along the side of my breast, my ribs, and my hip, playing along the edge of my panties, fingers tracing the lacy edge below my belly button.



“Please touch me,” I beg, wanting to feel his fingers on me, and in me.



“I will,” he says, but doesn’t move his hand from the edge of my panties. His other hand knots in the back of my hair, pulling my head back and deepening the kiss. I feel his fingers slowly lower, until one lightly runs over my clit, making my hips jump forward towards his hand. His finger continues to graze over my clit, while his mouth works over mine, licking and biting. When he presses two fingers inside me, I moan into his mouth, my hips bucking, trying to urge him on. He pulls away, sliding slowly over my clit again.



“Stop teasing me.” I was so close.



“You want to come?”



“Yes,” I hiss when his fingers move quicker. I can feel the hard length of him press into my side; my hands above my head itch to touch him. Finally, I go off; the moan that escapes my mouth into his sounds wild. I can feel myself trying to pull his fingers deeper. When he pulls his hand away, I sag against the wall, my body feeling limp. The aftershocks of my orgasm still thumping through my blood, I don’t even notice when he pulls my pants completely off until my leg is being tossed over his shoulder and his mouth is latching onto me. I look down at him; his face buried between my legs, the sight alone causing a second orgasm. “Oh God!” My head falls back against the wall; my hands lower to his head, my hands running over his hair. Two fingers enter me quickly, and I scream his name, thrashing my head back and forth, trying to push him away. “It’s too much! Please, it’s too much.” I try to move, but he holds me tighter, his fingers moving faster inside of me.



When he sucks on my clit, I swear that I'm going to pass out. He drops my leg, and he presses his body tightly to mine, holding me up. I can hear his zipper, then I'm lifted; my legs circle his hips, and he pulls me down, impaling me on him. “Fuck,” he growls, lifting and lowering me onto him. I pull his mouth to mine, biting first his top, then his bottom lip, before my tongue seeks his.



His hips start thrusting faster. “You’re so perfect.” My face goes into his neck, my body wrapping completely around him. There is not one part of us that isn’t touching. I suck on his neck, and when I feel my orgasm begin to build again, he presses me deeper into the wall; his hand comes between our sweat-soaked bodies, his thumb pressing into my clit. “You need to come with me.”



“I know,” I breathe, lifting my head and watching his face. His eyes are dark, his skin glistening with sweat. We stare at each other, his thumb moving in faster circles. I can feel myself begin to tighten around him. He slows down, letting me feel every inch of him slide in and out of me; the head of his cock dragging against my g-spot, causing my orgasm to slam into me without warning. His hand goes back to my ass as he starts rocking hard and fast, lifting and dropping me onto him. I can feel him expand inside me, his hands squeezing me so hard I know I will have his fingerprints on my skin when this is over. His movements start to become erratic right before he plants himself inside me, roaring my name. His face goes into my neck; our breathing is labored and our bodies are covered in sweat. The coolness of the wall behind me feels amazing against my overheated skin. He turns us around, then slides down the wall, sitting on the floor.



“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he says into my neck, causing goose bumps to break out over my skin.



“I’m the lucky one.” I tell him honestly. I never knew that I would find someone who loved me so completely, who made me feel beautiful, safe, and important.



“No.” He lifts his head, and pulling mine from his neck, his hands hold my face gently. “I’m the lucky one. I didn’t think that I would ever want someone to have the kind of power over me that you hold. I know that my future is going to be amazing because you’re going to be by my side; and with you, everything is better,” he says, leaning in, touching his mouth to mine. When he pulls away, I feel tears falling down my cheeks.



“Ditto,” I say on a sob, shoving my face back into his neck.



“Jesus. I love you so fucking much; you would think I was growing a vagina.”



“I love you more.”



“Impossible,” he whispers, kissing my head. “Let’s get up and shower.”



“You’ll have to carry me.”



“My pants are around my ankles. If I try carrying you right now, we’re both going to end up on the floor.”



“Okay. Let me see if my legs work.” I untangle myself from around his hips.



“I hate that.”



“What?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together. I pick up his flannel shirt and put it on, wrapping it around me like a robe.