Her eyes scanned him quickly. Cocking her head to the side she said, “I very much doubt that.”
He leaned forward and flashed a seductive smile. “Are you finally admitting you find my man tits attractive?”
Her eyes widened and she blasted him with her middle finger. “Not just no, but hell no.” The playful glint in her eyes said otherwise, but Trent didn’t speak further on it. He just stood there with a shit-eating grin on his face.
After a bit of silence, he pushed away from the railing and moved to stand in front of her. “That’s good then. I’m not interested in women right now.” Part truth. Trent had so much on his plate, sex or any kind of relationship with a woman had him running in the opposite direction.
The curious light in her eyes had Trent doubling back to explain. "No, what I meant was, I'm not interested in dealing with women while I'm starting in the military. And shit,” he pointed at her, “don’t be acting like you're not flirting with me."
Her lips spread into a smile, creating a soft dimple in her cheek. "Ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You've been eyeing my chest since I walked up to you."
With an indignant huff, Trent countered, "You mean since you sauntered your sweet little ass over there, puffin' out those tits in the smallest scrap of cloth this side of the Mississippi?"
Her widened gaze shot him a hard glare. "You trying to say I'm askin' for something because of what I'm wearing, Mister?"
Trent caught the wary glint in her eyes as she eyed him cautiously. Her fastidious gaze went to his hands then darted around, scouting out an escape route. He took a step back. "The only thing you’re asking for is a right good kick in the ass for assuming I was gay."
Her shoulders relaxed and her mischievous smile returned. "You're not the first man who’s told me his aim ain't to screw me."
"Bullshit."
Leaning back, she propped her elbows on the top step and crossed her legs. "How so?" White teeth played with her bottom lip as she waited for his reply.
Trent held nothing back. "You know damned well that most of the men in your life are waiting for the moment you invite them to your bed." As her eyes hardened, Trent chuckled inwardly. "And why the hell not? That quick fire mouth of yours is sure to keep every man who crosses your path on his toes."
She quirked a brow, yet didn't deny what he was sure was truth. She watched him intently, and leaned forward, as if the conversation was just getting good.
"And from the area you live in," motioning to the area full of large homes, "you are the richest of the rich, yet you dress like a starving artist. You speak the truth, are fucking hot, and no doubt a talented artist." Trent took a slow step forward.
Her lips parted. The glazed look in her eyes showed pure lust. Blinking rapidly, she snapped her mouth shut. "Well, mister—”
"The name’s Trent."
"Trent. Trent." Her soft voice made love to his name as it passed her lips. "You said, and I quote,” pausing for some sort of effect, she continued, “’I am not interested in women.’”
"I'm interested in you," he blurted, not bothering to hide his heated look.
"You don't even know my name, let alone the real me." She waved off his interest in her.
He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "But shit in my life is complicated, and it'd never work between us." Not until tonight had Trent spoken to anyone about his self-induced celibacy. It wasn't as if he'd planned it in advance, but subconsciously, he knew he wasn't ready to start something up. His last ex had fucked him up six ways from Sunday.
Golden eyes sparkled with mischief as she gazed up at him. "Whoa there, cowboy." She threw her hands up as if to defend her delicate nature.
Trent rolled his eyes, yet he was still enamored with her unusually adorable, unkempt style. Most rich girls wouldn't be caught dead in the torn up, paint-splattered overalls, and black combat boots. She stood out in such a stark contrast to the sea of made-up Barbie dolls, and arrogant, pastel-clad preppies.
She placed a hand over her heart and fanned herself, as if she were plucked straight from Gone with the Wind. "I do declare, I'm not askin’ you to make an honest woman out of me." She bolted up from the porch and swung around to face him. “I'm just looking out for myself. Wondering if some angry, drunk chick is going to storm unsteadily down the street in a pair of high heels, sporting your Beta Fuck You fraternity jacket.”
Trent couldn't hide his smile at her glaringly incorrect assumption of him. He let her continue, excited for the moment he was able to prove her wrong.
"She’ll be ready to kick my ass for daring to chat it up with her rough-hewn, but incredibly sexy, high school sweetheart."
Trent's male appreciation roared to life at those words. A few wayward pale blonde hairs floated around her face as the hot summer night's breeze sent her sweet scent floating to him. Her chest rose and fell as she fought to catch her breath from her tirade, and dots of perspiration from the balmy night air dotted her brow. Her delicate features belied her whip-like tongue and 'take no shit attitude' and damned if Trent's dick didn't harden more. Warmth pooled in his belly and tingled up his spine, sending a lightning bolt of sizzling heat straight to his dick. The need to touch her transformed from an if he got his hands on her, to a when he got his hands on her.
Taking a small step closer, he kept his gaze on her, allowing the attraction between them to heat up. Desire burned him from the inside out, and his predator-like glance caused her eyes to widen. "Ain't no woman back at that shit-storm of a party who’s waitin' on me." He took in the massive, plantation style home stretching out behind her. The house screamed money, while the little blonde, smart-mouthed vixen screamed rebellion. "Is there a man laid up under the sheets in there?"
Her coal-rimmed eyes widened and her lips parted, allowing her pink tongue to forge a path over her plush lips.
"Is he gonna reach out for his woman's lush warm body, only to find a cold spot? You gonna make him find release by his own hand, instead of between your thighs?" As he spoke, Trent finished closing the distance between them.
Her intensity seared him to his soul, sending his brain into a torrid frenzy. His eyes blazed a hot path over her body, an animalistic smile stretching his face.
This woman had his blood warming, and his cock bunched in his pants. Her teasing quips fueled the fires of his attraction, and a one-night stand didn’t seem so out of reach after all. Of their own accord, his hands moved until he had a tight grip on her hips. Though he truly wanted to hear the little firecracker’s comeback, Trent leaned down and claimed her lips in a swift, brutal kiss.
It'd been too long since he'd tasted the sweet lips of a woman. And to his dick's delight, she ground her body against him, lighting him up. In that moment, Trent decided to end his all-consuming celibacy.
She pulled away from his lips, leaving her body flush to his. Her breaths coming in short pants pressed her breast into his chest. Beaded nipples rubbed against his chest as he pushed her farther into the darkness.
A breathless moan left her parted lips as his hands found her pert nipples. "Wait,” she breathed.
Her soft voice brought him back to the world around them. Whooping and hollering could be heard in the distance. Trent moved away and glanced up at the door to the house, thinking her mother was about to come down the steps in a rage, when he noticed the sounds weren’t coming from there.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, forcing Trent to look the way of the party as she pointed. “We are giving them a show.” She ducked her head into his shoulder.
He shot a glance at the party house to see what looked to be a group of men about to get into a fight on the lawn. He turned his attention back to her and hedged closer to the house. “You planning on inviting me in, or did you want to give them a show, cupcake?”
“Faye,” she returned. “Call me Faye, not cupcake. Hell, you want to impress me, bring me a cupcake.”
Trent laughed, full belly laughter. “You want a fucking cupcake
? Now?” She twisted out of his arms and headed up the stairs backwards, her outstretched hand the only thing keeping him at bay.
“Give me a minute?” she asked, and Trent found himself nodding, his feet glued to the ground, dick pointing fucking north.
Maybe if Trent walked away right then, and left Faye up there waiting for him, it’d be better for her. Shit, his cock had almost forgotten the warmth of a woman’s depths, which had been the goal. He turned and walked down the steps, making his way back to the party. A couple of shots would help him forget how her body swayed as she headed up those steps to wait for him.
A few yards from the frat house, Trent froze. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he argued with himself. Faye had said she wasn’t asking for marriage. In his mind that meant she knew this would be a one-night stand. So why the hell was he going back and forth like some fucking kid?
He turned the second her soft voice called to him. He glanced around, feeling like a fool for being unable to find her. Lightening flashed high in the sky, signaling the start of a summer storm. Trent glanced around and used the bolt of lightning to aid in his search as he walked toward her house. Running his sweaty palms over his jeans he opened his mouth to holler out her name, when her soft voice called to him again.
Soft sensual laughter pushed away the rest of his apprehension and caused his groin to tighten in need. Suppressing a groan, he continued his search.
Giving up, Trent stood stock-still waiting for her voice again. “You’re making me feel like a fool out here.” As he spoke, thunder boomed, drowning out her sweet voice.
Soft laughter drifted from above. “Look up.” When he did, he spotted her perched in an open window. “I’m ready. Meet me upstairs.”
Her coquettish smile sent sparks of lust down his spine and had Trent’s dick jumping for joy in his pants. He eyed the driveway, only to see no cars, but a two-car garage. He didn’t think Faye would invite him in if her parents were home, but he couldn’t be sure.
He pictured her golden eyes, soft pliant skin, and sweet lips. He’d take a chance with an angry father if he had to. Stepping inside, Trent was presented with a dimly lit foyer. Pictures of Faye and people he assumed were family lined the wall. Taking a few steps forward, Trent stopped at a family portrait, only the man standing with a preteen Faye was black.
He abandoned his search for the stairs and went straight to the large family portrait on the wall. A light-skinned black man and fair-haired blonde woman smiled dutifully at the camera, while holding onto Faye. Faye’s bright young eyes bursting with mirth and allure gave the stiff family photo an air of joy instead of the weird sense of family duty most family portraits held.
Trent moved slowly around the foyer, taking in the many pictures of family outings, graduations, and celebrations of Faye's family. A heavy ball settled in his gut, as he looked at the happy family that was a stark contrast to the home he'd been raised in. Further in was a large display of what he assumed was Faye's work. A sculpture depicting the beautiful form of a dancer in mid-pose caught Trent's attention. He eyed the woman's delicate features, and her somber face had him in awe.
Trent found himself lacking in many ways, and this fucking confirmed it. Reaching out he gently touched the sculpture and chuckled when he’d realized Faye had given the dancer her bright smile and golden eyes. There was nothing he’d ever created that offered a stranger solace, as Faye’s work had done for him, and in that instant, he knew she would become something great.
He’d spent his life working to impress others, but always fell short of the prize. How had he continuously met talented and intelligent women, when he had so little to offer?
“Trent?” The curious lilt in her voice caused him to turn around and follow the sound. Faye had made it down the steps and into the living room by the time Trent made it to her. “What are you doing down here?” He sensed the suspicion in her voice.
Looking over his shoulder, he took in more of her artwork. “Did you create this?”
Faye moved to the display cabinet, a reserved yet prideful smile gracing her lips. “Yes, this is all of my father’s favorite stuff.” She reached for his favorite piece—the delicate dancer. “This is my sister.” Trent treaded over to stand behind her. He watched as she caressed the fragile statue.
Placing a hand on her hip, he pulled her thick little body into his. “Is she a dancer, or is this how you see her?”
She eyed the statue longingly before responding. Holding the fragile piece in her hand, she pulled it close to her chest and cradled it. “I am not sure what you mean.”
He sensed the adoration she had for her sister as she embraced the figurine. Trent shifted her in his arms to face him completely. “I can tell it means something to you from the way you hold it.” He caught her eyes and leaned in, placing his lips over hers, gently tasting her.
Faye pushed her body into his and Trent couldn’t help but move his hips against her. “I’m hoping you touch me like that tonight.” He wouldn’t ask what’d happened to her sister, though from the sadness he’d seen creeping into her eyes, he sensed it wasn’t good.
Moving away, Faye placed the figure back on the display case and turned to face him. “Who are you?” Her question barely made it past his lust-filled haze, and apparently his confusion was written all over his face. She moved closer, reaching up to place the tip of her finger on his chest. “Who are you?” Her question held a hint of curiosity and wonder.
Trent was clueless in what to say to her. Instead of speaking, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. Placing a soft kiss there he met her gaze and answered in the only way he knew how. “Who do you want me to be tonight?”
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “You aren’t some rich kid looking for fun on a Saturday night.” Trent took a step toward her and nearly growled in frustration when she took a step back. “You smell and taste like passion, anger, and pain.”
Trent stopped mid-step. Pain and Anger? “What makes you say that? You barely even know me.” He watched as Faye placed her hands on his chest.
She slowly walked around him, leisurely exploring him with her hands. “It’s in the eyes. It’s always in the eyes.”
He stiffened as she spoke. Shit was getting a little too intense, and not in the way he’d hoped it would. As she made her way around him he gently grabbed her arms. Faye didn’t try to pull away, standing silent in front of him, allowing him to hold her wrists. This close, Trent could see the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, her golden coal-rimmed eyes, her wide-set nose, and lush lips. She was beautiful, and dangerous.
He spoke as he pushed her hands south. “And would you like to know what I see in your eyes, Faye?” Trent’s voice deepened. Unable to hold back the lust he felt for her, he continued pushing her hands slowly down his body, stopping over his zipper.
This night would not turn into one in which they bared their souls to one another. She’d perceived more about him than he’d ever wanted her to, and Trent was drawing the line in the sand.
Faye first unbuttoned the button, then gripped the zipper, holding it steady between her fingers. “What is it you see in me?” She made no move to push the zipper down. “If you guessed a broke artist with a dead little sister, you’d be right.”
Trent’s eyes moved over her body. “Then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”
She parted her lips to speak, but Trent leaned in and claimed her lips. Her tongue danced with his, her sweet taste invading his mouth. She tasted of whiskey and Trent nearly drew back. Instead, he urged her fingers to pull down the fly of his jeans. It was okay if she’d needed a bit of liquid courage, ‘cause he’d sure as fuck was going to devour her tonight. Then he’d disappear in the morning.
Devouring her mouth, he reached down, grabbed her hand and shoved it in his pants. They both gasped and the kiss slowed when her soft warm hand made contact with his ridged length. Trent widened his stance and pushed his hardened flesh into her palm.
His words were little more than a growl. “Grab it.” When her small hand tightened as best it could around Trent’s dick, he grunted and gently bucked. Somehow, he was the first to recover from the spark of lust, and once again, he took her mouth as Faye stroked him achingly slow.
Trent groaned and moaned his pleasure. His voice caught when Faye moved her hand from root to tip and massaged her soft palm over the slick head of his dick. Finding the strength not to throw her onto the floor and break her sweet little body with his need, Trent gently pushed Faye back until her back hit the wall. “I like the way you touch me.”
She bit her lip and took her hand out, using it to unbutton and unzip his jeans. Cock springing free, she looked down and inspected his length with her fingers. He kept his eyes on her face as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it.
Faye’s eyes widened. Releasing him, she reached up to take in her fill of his body, but he guided her hand back to his length.
“Uh-uh. Keep stroking.”
Her eyes met his and widened. “But I want to touch you.” Her eyes traveled over his muscled chest, taking in his firm, tanned body. Hours at the gym, boot camp, and playing football had awarded Trent with a tight body.
Trent glanced down at his engorged flesh. The tip glistened with pre-cum, and he swore he could see his heartbeat along the thick vein. He needed to be inside her. The idea of watching her release as he held himself above her made him close his eyes and moan.
She snatched his dick again, stroking it quick and hard.
Through gritted teeth, Trent warned, “Easy, baby or I’m going to spray all over your stomach.”
Faye loosened her grip with a grin of satisfaction on her lush lips.
He pulled her hand away and pushed himself against her warm center. Grinding in slow circles, he bent down and nipped at her ear. “How do you want it? Fast and hard,” he pushed into her with more pressure, or slow and sensual?” His hands traced up her sides and under overalls, until he cupped the undersides of her breasts.
Indelible: Beneath His Ink (Teal and Trent Book 2) Page 2
