by Zoey Parker
With his hand on the knob of the bathroom door, he counseled himself: Just go home. Take a break. Get some air. You can do it.
He turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Sam held out the ring for Krissi and their two other coworkers to admire.
“You seriously got married,” Krissi said, for the fifth time that morning like she just didn’t believe it.
Sam nodded, beaming at Krissi.
“But you weren’t even dating anyone last time I checked?” Fellow counselor Margie looked understandably confused.
After all, this whole premise was a shit show. Going from zero to married in four days. Who was she trying to kid?
And why was she even attempting it?
Oh right. Because your dad’s safety and future are on the line. Don’t you forget that, Sam. Don’t you even forget for a second that this whole thing is a sham and Trent isn’t the guy you think he is.
“It happened fast,” Sam said, shrugging. “We’ve known each other for less than a month. But… we just thought it was right.” She laughed into her hand. “I know it sounds insane. Maybe this will come back to bite me in the ass. But for now…?”
“Well, you certainly are every part the lovebird,” Krissi said, sliding back into her chair at the reception desk. “I’ve never seen you this giggly.”
Sam leaned into the doorframe, checking out the opal beauty on her ring once more. She wanted to spill the story to Krissi… but at the same time, it wasn’t the time. Not when so many other things were in flux.
“Was it that guy who came in on Thursday?” Krissi asked as she typed her details into the log-in page on the computer.
“Yeah. It was.” Sam gnawed on her lip, the secrets of her past weekend bursting at the seams.
All the juicy details. The sex. Oh lord, the sex.
“So this is what you had to explain later, huh?” Krissi lifted a brow. “I can’t believe you kept it from me.”
Oh, honey. If you only knew what I was keeping from you.
“I didn’t want to keep it from you. Trust me. It’s just… been a wild ride.”
And maybe that was all she could say. A wild ride. Certainly, having Trent in her life, inside her home, had proven to be a wild ride in the less than a week that she’d known him. From threats to a proposition to mind-blowing sex to… what was this now? The opal ring caught her eye. Some sort of sham relationship that didn’t feel entirely fake.
No, what was happening between them felt a little too real.
It had really hit home yesterday. When she’d tried to reel it in by not asking questions. When Trent had ended up staying the entire Sunday, even when she could tell that maybe he was thinking better of it. When their fucking had hit an emotional speedbump on Sunday night, like they’d both realized that something slightly stronger than obligation was burbling beneath the surface.
Sam locked herself in her office that day when a couple of patients canceled. She opted to use the unexpected time to catch up on paperwork and just zone out. A chance not to think about Trent or Lucas or her father or… any of it.
When Sam got home from work that day, she found Trent napping on the couch in the living room. It was almost four p.m. She set her things down quietly on the dining room table, not wanting to disturb him. The fresh cut he’d gotten in the mall the other day still surprised her, especially now that he’d grown into it a bit more. Made it his own.
His dark tresses were mussed, one palm flattened over his chest as he slept. She knelt down beside him, smiling despite herself.
This man was gorgeous. That much was obvious. She smiled down at him, maybe for a little too long. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open.
He stretched, peering at her through one eye.
“You spyin’ on me?” he asked, his voice groggy.
“I just got home.” She smiled, covering her hand with his. “Didn’t want to wake you up. But hi.”
“Hi.” He yawned, rolling onto his side. “You have a nice couch.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
“Nice day at work?”
“Yeah. As nice as it can get, for working with severely mentally ill people most of the time.”
Trent’s eyes drifted open and shut. “Anyone say anything about the ring?”
She scoffed. “Everyone said something about the ring. Even my patients. They’re so curious.”
“And you told them?”
“I said it was a whirlwind romance. We met a month ago. Eloped in Vegas. The rest is history.”
A lazy smile crossed his face. “Not too far from the truth. Minus the marriage part.”
Sam straightened a bit, Trent’s words thundering through her. It sounded a lot like he was saying that this was a romance. Between them. She squinted at him. His eyes had drifted shut.
“You mean we’re a whirlwind romance?”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, but was clearly lost between worlds.
She quirked her lips. Had that been sleepy honesty or unaware murmurings? She got to her feet, intent on finding a snack. She would pursue this later. Once he was fully lucid. Once she’d gotten something into her belly.
She perched on a stool at the island, chomping through some cereal as she squinted over at Trent’s napping frame on the couch. She had half a mind to wake him up and beg him to clarify. But she didn’t want to look desperate. She didn’t want him to know how curious she truly was.
Trent stirred again once she tugged open the dishwasher and set the bowl inside. He yawned loudly, groaning. He sat up a moment later, rubbing his eyes.
“Man, being home all day must be really exhausting.”
Trent grinned, peering over at her with one eye pinched shut. “I’ll have you know, I worked today.”
“Oh yeah? Working on nothing much?” she teased, sauntering his way. She plopped down onto the couch beside him.
“I went to visit some of my crew,” Trent said, that heartbreaker smile crossing his face. “Thought about going to pick you up for lunch but didn’t want to cause a scene.”
“You made a wise choice. They would have been all over you, pestering you with questions.”
“So they took it well?”
Sam lifted a brow. “You don’t remember what we talked about when I got home?”
Trent shook his head. Her stomach twisted – the flash of disappointment. So maybe he had just been asleep when he said they were a whirlwind romance. Maybe this whole thing was just in her damn head.
“You already asked me once how it went.” She fought the urge to touch him, to drag her finger up along his arm.
This whole thing was getting confusing. At work, she was happily married. At home, she was helping out a man who worked for the bad guys. And in the bedroom, she was more satisfied than she’d ever dreamed possible.
In short, it was a clusterfuck.
“Damn. Musta been asleep still.”
Disappointment trickled through her. She didn’t want to bring it up. Just thinking about vocalizing these crazy thoughts of hers made her chest hurt. This situation on top of the stress of her father wasn’t the most helpful, nor was it ideal.
Part of her wondered if maybe Trent should go back to staying at his own place.
But a larger part raged at the idea of him not being around.
She’d grown too comfortable with him, and too fast. She almost never wanted him to leave.
“Everyone freaked out, as expected,” she said, smiling down at the ring.
“You called it,” Trent said.
“I gotta say,” she added, “It’s hard not to get swept up into… I don’t know.” She looked at the window overlooking the front of the apartment complex, seeking out the leaves of her favorite tree. She’d decided she wouldn’t go here. So why was it tumbling out of her mouth? “This whole thing is a little crazy, you know?”
Trent nodded, even though the words she’d used didn’t quite grasp what she was trying to say. He lo
oked down at his own ring.
“Yeah. I feel like we’re really married.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Exactly.”
“And the weirdest part is, I don’t fucking mind it one bit.”
His words fell like a blanket around her, soft and reassuring. She pulled her hands down to cover her mouth, seeking out his gaze.
“You don’t?”
He jerked his head to say ‘no’, his hand finding the dip in her waist. “It’s kinda nice just to… escape. I dunno. We’re living in this story. You know what I mean?”
She knew more than well what he meant. But the problem, as far as she could see it, was that the story had to end.
And she had a pretty good idea how this one would end up.
“Yeah. It’s kind of a nice escape. Although I don’t know if I had much choice.”
Trent’s gaze fell, his lips tugged down in a frown. “Trust me. You helping me is helping your dad. And even if you hadn’t wanted to do this… I wouldn’t have forced you.” He searched for her gaze once more. “Do you want to back out?”
Sam searched his face too, looking for some overriding truth to pop out at her. That this man was safe. That this situation they were in was pure. That this thing bubbling inside of her wasn’t crazy.
“I don’t want to back out,” she said, the firmness of her voice surprising even her. “I think we should see it through.”
The two of them meandered through the rest of the evening like old lovers – turning on the television during dinner prep, then working in tandem to get the chicken cooked and vegetables steamed. She could tell Trent didn’t usually feed himself, nor did he normally feed himself well. His body, though ripped, was a byproduct of physical activity and general neglect, it seemed. Like the man did pushups daily while eating only Oreos.
“We need to get you on a better diet,” Sam murmured, tossing all the vegetables in a little olive oil.
“My diet is fine,” Trent protested.
“You told me once you normally eat toast and Burger King,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “That sounds pretty far from fine.”
“Okay. So I could eat a little better.” He jerked his chin at the skillet, where the perfectly seared chicken breasts awaited. “See? I’m eating just fine today.”
She swatted his shoulder as he set the table. Something about seeing this tall, ripped man – who left bruises on her body from their intense sex – doing the domestic act sent more thrills of anticipation racing through her. He might be a bad boy, but he also seemed like a good guy at the same time.
Or maybe that was just the amazing sex clouding her judgment. Even still, she wanted him to push her up onto the kitchen island and have his way with her.
They sat down for dinner, getting lost in laughs and chit-chat as they devoured the food. Trent even went back for seconds.
“So you like my cooking,” she said, watching him scoop more vegetables onto his plate.
“Maybe I do.”
“Good thing, since I’m supposed to be your wife.”
He smirked. “I’ll tell anyone who will listen how good your cooking is. If that’s what you’re getting at.”
“How about this? I handle dinner, and you handle dessert.”
His eyes darkened like he was catching onto her train of thought just fine. “Dessert?”
She nodded.
“Like perhaps… pussy pie?”
Chapter Seventeen
Sam dissolved into giggles as Trent picked her up from the dining room table. She liked where this was going. But she wanted to see her fantasy come to life.
“Wait. Let’s go to the island.”
Trent paused, changing his course for the kitchen island. He plopped her down on top, pushing aside the cutting board left over from dinner prep.
“So this really is dessert,” he murmured, dragging his finger below the waistband of her pants. “Right here in the kitchen.”
She nodded, smoothing her palms over the flat planes of his chest. Her pussy pulsed in anticipation, knowing what was just moments away. He pushed his thumb between her legs, dragging it up and down over the crease of her pussy.
“I’ve never been hungrier in my life,” he said, leaning in to capture her lips in a kiss.
They kissed desperately, fervently, his hand finding her breast. He squeezed, as he loved to do. She inhaled sharply through the kiss.
“You’re starving,” she murmured, watching as he unbuttoned her work pants.
He tugged her to standing point for a moment so he could slip her pants down over her hips, followed by her panties. Once they were off, he set her back on the island, naked from the waist down.
She giggled, feeling exposed in an entirely new way. “I’ve never sat ass naked on my island before.”
“Well look at that.” He pushed his warm palms up over her thighs, resting at the point where her legs met her groin. “First time for everything.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Lots of firsts with you.”
Trent flashed an evil grin, and then he bent himself between her legs, his lips skipping a warm path up her inner thigh. Her legs spread for him voluntarily, knowing what was coming, her entire body tense from wanting it. When his velvet lips met the hard nub of her clit, she gasped. Expecting it didn’t make it any less amazing. The naughtiness of him eating her out in the kitchen only added to it. Electricity coursed through her. She fisted what little hair he had left, urging him closer.
“Yess.” The word had come out more like a hiss when his plump lips enveloped her clit again.
He pushed a finger inside her, pumping it in and out slowly. The feel of his finger inside her only made her more desperate for the real thing. The massive centerpiece between his legs. She bit her bottom lip, bucking against him as his tongue made slow, thorough swirls around her clit.
Trent pushed a second finger into her. Then a third. He fingerfucked her while he slurped at her clit, his blue eyes soldered on hers as he worked her.
He grunted, his jaw flexing with the effort of his ministrations. The soft, rhythmic laps of his tongue pushed her straight to the edge. Her thighs tensed.
And then he pulled away.
“Dammit, Trent.” She wheezed, grappling for him. But he dodged her easily, a wicked smirk on his face.
She ogled the impressive bulge in his pants as he unbuckled his belt. The jeans crumpled to the floor, and then he shoved his boxers down. His cock sprang free, heavier and more delicious looking than she remembered from that morning.
“You’re close,” he murmured, dragging a thumb over her sopping wet entrance. He nudged his cockhead into her pussy, dragging his gaze up to meet hers.
She inhaled sharply, nodding.
“I want us to come together,” he whispered, then sunk into her, the heat and the stretching sending a moan ripping out of her.
She crumpled, but he held her by the hips, starting a fast, pummeling rhythm that had her entire body shaking and anxious for the climax. Sweat broke out on his brow, his intense blue gaze set on her. The look in his eyes reached deep inside her, touching something that no other man had touched before. This felt like more than just fucking. More than just intense sexual energy.
In his grip, in his gaze, she felt like she was his.
Trent drilled into her, and she couldn’t hold it back any longer. Her orgasm ripped through her, pussy quaking and convulsing as he pushed into her one more time and then drew himself out quickly, his semen spurting into the air.
And then he dipped down again, lavishing her pussy with more attention, sucking and nipping at her throbbing clit. Another intense orgasm crashed through her, and she lost it, collapsing backward. Trent scooped her into her arms before she fell off the island. She clung to him, quaking.
“Holy shit,” she murmured, pressing her cheek to the reassuring solidness of his shoulder.
“Mm-hmm.” He laughed softly. “That was pretty fucking hot.”
Pretty fucking hot did
n’t even do it justice. It was life-changing. It was epic. It was something she needed now.
“I’ve never had a man make me orgasm so much,” she said, hardly able to form the words. Her eyes drifted open and shut lazily. “You’re gonna kill me.”
He shifted, stroking the back of her head. “Not a bad way to go out though, right?”
She laughed weakly. “Death by orgasm.”
“There are worse ways to die.”
