Until Trevor (Until, #2)(57)

“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 f*cking 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.