Read The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series) Online
Authors: N.A. Alcorn
The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series)
The Infamous Ellen James
By
N.A. Alcorn
Copyright
Published by: N.A. Alcorn
N.A. Alcorn
The Infamous Ellen James
Copyright 2013, N.A. Alcorn
Amazon Edition
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Disclaimer
This is a work of adult fiction. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.
Cover design: Copyright Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs
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Table of Contents
For, Georgia. The most beautiful, kindest, sweetest dog in the entire world. I miss your big brown eyes and soft ears. I miss you lying at my feet as I type on my laptop.
Rest in peace, sweet girl.
***
Prologue
“Every once in a while, someone will catch your eye. Someone you can't seem to get out of your head
—
a once-in-a-lifetime kind of girl. A girl who makes you feel like a complete pussy for even entertaining the idea of love at first sight, and sometimes it takes you off guard so much that you might even have to reach down and make sure your balls are still intact.”
Between the delay in my flight from Seattle and the cougar at the hotel bar who kept insisting I go back to her room last night, I'm running really late for this morning's presentation. And to answer your question, no, I did not hook up with that cougar. Although the idea of her lips wrapped around my cock were extremely intriguing, I decided against it despite my dick's continual insistence. Normally I'm all for a little hotel sex, but it was getting late and I didn't want to miss this conference that Seattle Medical Center was so generously paying me to attend. Plus, I'm getting a little tired of the impersonal, lack-of-emotion hookups I've been indulging in over the past ten years. I'm still a guy though, and the morning wood I'm sporting at the moment is making it difficult to
not
jerk off before heading down to the first presentation.
The summer morning sun is filtering through my hotel window as I hurriedly get dressed. I fix my tie, adjust my now semi-hard cock in my pants, and throw my suit jacket on as I head out the door of my hotel room.
I jump on the elevator and head quickly towards the conference room on the lobby level. The conference room door is already shut, and I can make out a woman's voice speaking. I check my Rolex and see it's only a few minutes past nine. I'm not too late, but obviously they've started without me. I open the door and notice that an
extremely
attractive woman, who manages to be adorable yet fuckably hot at the same time, is standing in the front of the spacious room, starting her presentation.
The room is painted in neutral tones, typical of any business conference area. Hotel chains most likely hire interior designers to keep rooms like these
conducive to professional settings
. Go ahead and insert a sarcastic tone with that last statement. You see, I know I'm kind of an asshole when it comes to things like this. I honestly don't give a shit about appearances and making the perfect impression. I'm a fucking trauma surgeon. I'd much rather have my hands elbow-deep in a gunshot victim's chest than sit around and play “I'm a prestigious doctor, make over five hundred grand a year, and drive a Mercedes” bullshit.
Because that's what it is—complete
bullshit
. Most surgeons walk around with this better-than-you persona and that kind of crap makes me pissed off. I became a trauma surgeon because I wanted to spend my days—and a shitload of nights—in the OR attempting to save lives. I live for those moments. The adrenaline rushes. The high-stress pressure of being the one to make all of the decisions. The decisions that could potentially mean life or death for my patients.
The ridiculously attractive presenter makes eye contact with me, and I know that my attempt at sneaking in unnoticed isn't going to happen. She's in the middle of her introduction, and I continue to watch her as I make my way towards the only empty seat near the front of the room. My eyes roam her body from head to toe. I manage to mouth, "Sorry," as I sit down and shoot a wink and a smile in her direction.
She smiles back and I feel my cock twitch against my zipper.
Fuck, this chick is hot
. Too hot. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to stay engaged in this presentation. Don't get me wrong—I'll be engaged all right. Just not on the actual material. This chick's body is practically singing to my cock.
"And for those of you who have joined us a little late, my name is Ellen James. I'm a nurse for the ED at Regency Memorial in Charlotte." She shoots a slightly pointed look my way. I laugh to myself at her ability to be sarcastic despite the noticeable nervous energy she is giving off.
I can imagine presenting in front of a group of well-known physicians and hospital board officials is nerve-racking. Most of this crowd is men, and I know from experience that they can be extremely intimidating. And being a man, I'm sure I'm not the only one focused on the tight, black knee-length skirt and fuck-me heels Ellen James is wearing while strutting around this room.
Ellen James
. This woman has my full attention. She is talking about Regency Hospital's staffing protocols and procedures, but I'm honestly just focused on her full, pink lips that are accentuated by the perfect amount of gloss. She is a natural beauty. Classically beautiful. Long, wavy auburn hair and minimal makeup, and this girl is no doubt drop-dead gorgeous. Downright stunning
.
Her natural beauty in combination with her fuck-me heels makes her look like a cross between the girl next door and a porn star. Okay, maybe I'm saying porn star because of all the filthy things I'm imagining doing to her right now, but can you honestly blame a guy? I consider myself a nice guy. I treat women with respect, but that still isn't going to stop me from thinking about sex the majority of my day. And damn, does this chick have me thinking about sex.
She has my mind daydreaming about fucking her forty ways into Sunday all over this god damn conference table. Her ability to be sensual and sexy without even realizing she's doing it has my dick nearly bursting through my black dress slacks. Now I'm really started to rethink my decision to not rub one out this morning. I'm definitely taken aback by the instant attraction and undeniable intrigue I feel towards a woman I've never even spoken with. Ellen James is making me feel like some shmuck on a Lifetime movie. Well, maybe it's more like a cross between a shmuck on a Lifetime movie and a teenage boy desperate to get laid on prom night.
And the only thing that's going through my mind right now is that I have to find a way to meet her...talk to her...wrap her legs around my waist...
She's making that offer to temporarily take over Dr. Grey's practice more tempting by the second. Dr. Grey is a well-known trauma surgeon located in Charlotte who primarily scrubs into surgeries at Regency Memorial. Now can you see why that offer is starting to look so enticing. What a coincidence, huh? A fucking perfect coincidence if you ask me. Honestly, the offer Dr. Grey extended will more than likely only help my career. Regency is Charlotte's main hospital for trauma surgeries, and this will only add to the experience I've already got under my belt from working at University Hospital in Seattle.
Yes, the job offer is looking better by the second, and it has almost everything to do with the girl in the black fuck-me heels and white button-up blouse. A blouse that reveals just enough cleavage to allow the assumption that Ellen has fucking perfect tits. I'd say she's a full C, maybe even a D cup. I discreetly adjust myself in my seat and attempt to reel in my wayward thoughts about Ellen's perfect tits in my hands—and my mouth. This girl makes me feel like I'm eighteen years old, hornier than a motherfucker, and ready to stick my teenage dick into anything wet and willing. I honestly can't remember the last time a girl had me this turned out without actually talking to her—or touching her.
God, would I love to touch her.
Fuck, Trent, get your balls in line.
I'm sitting here daydreaming about fucking some woman I've never even spoken to, a woman I've seen all of fifteen minutes. I'm Trent Hamilton, prestigious trauma surgeon, for fuck's sake. There are hospitals all over the country begging to get me into their OR. See, that's what a normal prick of a surgeon would think to himself on a daily basis, but I'm not like most surgeons. I tend to have more of an "I don't give a fuck" attitude. Honestly, I think it suits me well—
really
well. Materialistic bullshit and prestigious awards don't impress me. I prefer to go in, do my job, and then go about my day. I'm not the type of guy who flaunts his money or title in order to receive some sort of acceptance or approval.
Fuck. That
. I'd rather drive around in my Ford F-150 truck than be caught dead in some pretentious car like a Jag or Benz.
Ellen continues her presentation, smoothly running through each slide while discussing her main points informatively and with precision. The more she talks, the more I find myself wanting to get to know her. The more she struts around the conference room, the more I find myself wanting to fuck her.
What? I'm not a prick—I'm just honest. Any hot-blooded, straight man in this room who isn't thinking about what it would feel like to be between Ellen James's thighs should check to make sure their balls are still there. Seriously, this girl has my dick screaming for attention, and I'm not sure I can pass it off as just the pleats in my pants.
I continue to watch Ellen and try like hell to focus my attention on her actual presentation instead of her long, shapely legs or perfectly round ass. An ass that is practically begging for me to grasp in both of my very willing hands.
She turns to the next slide as she continues to highlight some of Regency's preferred methods of staffing protocols, and that's when my mouth drops open. The next slide is a picture of a very scantily clad Ellen James sporting a huge strap-on
. Shit, that rubber cock must be at least eleven or twelve inches.
She's oblivious of the current picture that is up on the screen, and I find myself unable to pull my eyes away. She is dressed in sexy little boy shorts and a provocative lace top. A top that leaves little to the imagination. A top that confirms my suspicions of her having perfect tits.
Dear god, she really does have perfect tits.
I can almost see a hint of her perfect, rosy nipples poking through. So much for even attempting to hide my arousal...