by Dee Palmer
“The necklace was a little much, but everything else—”
“Was perfect.” I interrupt. He beams his killer smile down at me. “Well, maybe not the unicorn poo, but the puzzles, jewellery making, the snow globe. Other than the kids’ Kindle, the rest is what was actually stolen from my car. Are you close with your goddaughter?” He releases my hand, and I step back, desperately needing the distance.
“Not really. She lives in New York. I went to Yale with her father, but I like to think I listen to my patients.” He drags his hand through the long strands of hair that have fallen into his eyes and flashes a shy smile. Regardless of our history, I can’t fault him as a doctor. He takes time with the children, and they adore him.
“Ah, yes, of course. Well, I’m very grateful that your godchild is a daughter, not a son, or I would have to spend the day explaining to Ruby why Santa was gender swapping presents this year.”
“Kids like what they like; it’s parents that fuck them up.”
“Thanks.”
“You know I don’t mean you. You’ve done an incredible job, and Ruby is amazing. She’s the reason you switched from med school to nursing, right?” He arches back and looks affectionately toward the sounds of laughter coming from the living room. I squeeze through the narrow doorframe and marvel at the simple sight of Ruby dancing around in her new fluffy white unicorn slippers.
“I deferred for a year and tried everything to make the numbers work but there was just no way I could afford it. I could transfer my credits, though, and qualify as a nurse on the accelerated BSN in two years. I scoured the internet for all and any awards and grants available. Believe me, if there had been any way…” My voice drifts as I focus on my little girl. I feel the warm burst of pride and pure love saturate and silence me. I shrug and smile at Joel. “I did manage to find an obscure grant for single parents studying nursing that I qualified for. It covered Ruby’s childcare for the first year. I didn’t really have a choice but I wouldn’t have chosen any different. We do okay.”
“I can see that. Nevertheless, you know what I mean. How often do we try and mend the broken pieces of a child when we know full well they will never be truly fixed because of some asshole parent. We fix what we can, but for every physical scar, we both know there’s often a deeper psychological one that may never heal.”
“Everyone has baggage, Joel, even those with perfect childhoods and the best parents.”
“True, I’m sorry. It just doesn’t get easier, treating abused children in this day and age.”
“I would hope it never gets easy.”
“Again, not what I meant.”
“I know…I know. I feel the same, by the way, not everyone should be a parent. I really get that now, not that I regret a single moment, but it’s hard and there have been times when—” My jaw clenches shut, and my stomach knots with a sick tightness and with shame.
“When?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head and quickly lock the disturbing memory back in its box.
“It must’ve been hard on your own.” His statement is redundant, even if it sounds very much like an invitation to share.
“I was never on my own, Joel. I had Ruby.” I close and flick the lock on that door. “Come on, lets go and make some chunky wooden jewellery.”
“But you save lives, babies’ lives. Honestly, I think my ovaries just exploded.” The new gift shop girl dips her hip in a half swoon, looking up at Joel with impossibly large doe eyes. Her breathy words, swishy golden locks, and not so subtle body language makes my stomach churn. Christmas seems like a lifetime ago as we trudge out of winter and skip into spring. Joel saw Ruby open her remaining presents but was called away for work before everyone else showed up. I thought at the time he looked disappointed, but with hindsight that was probably relief. Harper was never a fan, and with a few glasses of wine inside her I couldn’t guarantee his safety.
It’s been ten long weeks since, unbeknownst to me, I performed a Christmas miracle, casting some sort of magical spell on Joel where he actually did exactly as I asked. He stopped this, and I kind of hate how easily he did, and how quickly he reverted to arrogant asshole type and moved on from us. I internally kick myself; there was no us.
“It’s lucky I am a surgeon then.”
“I’d like you to take me to the OR, or did I mean I’d like you to make me scream.” She croons, as a salacious smile tips her bright pink lips. He leans a little closer, tracing his long finger up and down her arm. She visibly shivers, and I swear I feel the same prickles dance over my skin with the ghost of his touch. She giggles like a high schooler, pushes her sizeable breasts together, and all but dry humps the trolley she’s holding on to. I can’t help myself.
“Urgh,” I retch into my cupped hand and make a show of swallowing the vile taste in my mouth. “Vomit in my mouth,” I clarify and fire daggers at Joel and a tight scowl at little miss cleavage. “Sorry to interrupt your busy schedule, Dr Prescott, but Mr and Mrs Walters have some questions about Tallulah’s surgery tomorrow. If…” I pause to read the name badge precariously hanging on to the cliff face of gift girl’s gravity-defying breasts. “If Zoe wouldn’t mind removing her tongue from your arse for a moment, they are in the family room.” I try to school my expression. I’m hoping to pull off impassive, but I can feel the heat of my irrational rage begin to creep up my neck. Joel seems to be regarding the interaction with wry amusement.
“Bitch, what’s your problem?” Zoe snarls at me, indignantly, with hands on her hips and more breast-thrusting, which is a little wasted on me.
“This is a hospital, Zoe, and your workplace, not hook up night at O’Malley’s. It’s that simple. And unless you want a harassment violation on your employee record I’d suggest you keep it in your pants until your shift is over.” My lips are tight with the worst attempt at a smile, but then I’m not really trying.
“You’re not my boss!” she huffs.
“She wasn’t harassing me, Regan.” Joel’s smug smile is mortifying.
“Zip it, Joel,” I growl and find myself hurtling head first into my own personal nightmare. Its like I’m having an out of body experience. I’m yelling at myself. Shut the fuck up, Regan!
No such luck.
I steamroller on, verbally attacking a senior surgeon in front of everyone. “This behaviour is despicable; your behaviour is unacceptable.” I jab my finger in the centre of his chest. “And you fucking know it.”
“Would you excuse us?” Joel grabs my elbow, and with only a backward glance toward Zoe, manhandles me along the busy corridor.
“Let go of my arm.” I hiss, trying to tug from his vise-like grip.
“No, and you’re one misplaced scowl away from feeling my palm on that sweet ass,” he threatens in a deep husky whisper that has the hairs on my neck standing to attention.
Get a grip, Regan!
“That would be harassment!” I fire off, breathless, as I try and keep up with his long strides and determined pace. We have marched far enough to be in a whole other part of the hospital, down several staircases, through countless double doors. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in this part of the hospital. It’s almost deserted. He pulls on several handles until one gives way and he drags me through the door into a pitch-dark room. He flicks the light on. Not a room, a supply cupboard. Great.
“And it would be totally worth it.” He straightens to his full height and steps so close, I instantly hit the shelves in my failed attempt to keep some distance.
“What?” I place my hands flat on his chest and curse my fingers that curl into the swell of the firm muscles. You’re supposed to push him away, Regan.
“Spanking your ass would be totally worth a harassment violation. Now are you going to tell me what was the hell that was about?” His eyes dip to meet mine, and as much as I want to, I can’t look away. My throat is arid, and it’s an effort to produce enough moisture to speak.
“I think I explained myself. This is the workplac
e and that behaviour—” I croak out my lame excuse.
“Yes, I heard you, Mother Teresa, but tell me what’s really going on, because I know it’s got jack shit to do with a little harmless flirting with the gift shop girl.”
“Harmless.” I scoff, crossing my arms as if that will provide any kind of barrier to the soaring sexual tension.
“Yes, harmless. I wasn’t going to fuck her on the ward floor, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” His hazel eyes darken and seem to bore right through me.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” I mumble
“Jealous?” His smile beams so wide, his teeth dazzle even in the dim light of this storeroom.
“Yeah, I’m green with it. Oh, wait, no, that’s nausea,” I snark, and he blurts out a deep dirty laugh.
“Oh, my god, that’s it!” He shakes his head with disbelief, like he is the idiot in this situation when that title clearly belongs to me. You couldn’t have just walked on by, could you, dumbass? “I’m respecting your wishes here, Regan. I am giving you time, space, or whatever other bullshit you think is going to prevent us from happening. You didn’t want me when I came back. Fine. And you don’t want me now. Well, that’s just fine, too, baby, because we both know you do.”
“I don’t.” I elongate the word and drop my tone to make it sound like both an incredulous and ridiculous assumption.
“Regan, I know you. You just don’t trust yourself as much as you trust me, but you will, and when you do, I’ll be here, waiting. Because, trust me, if it was up to me, I’d have you nailed to this closet wall with my dick buried so deep you’d know exactly who you belonged to.”
“Fucking everything in sight, you’re hardly a monk.”
“I never thought you were one for gossip.”
“It’s not gossip if it’s true.”
“Believe what you want, Regan, but credit me with some respect, because unless you actually see me stick my dick in another woman’s cunt, everything is gossip.”
“You’re such a fucking arrogant arse.”
“God, I love it when your English accent comes through. It only happens when you’re excited.” He hums seductively as if recalling a particular memory.
“Or really pissed.”
“Or about to come.” His voice drops an octave, deep and gravelly.
“Joel.” His name on my lips sounds nothing like the warning I intended. I don’t think the breathy exhale helped, but even to my fading resistance that sounded like a plea.
“Regan.” His nose brushes from the top of my cheek down to the tip of my nose, his breath scorching my skin as he exhales my name like he owns it.
“Mr and Mrs Walker are waiting.” My breathy words are like a red flag, and he looks every inch the raging bull fixed on his target. “What are you doing?”
“What does it feel like I’m doing.” He presses his full frame against me, and my body liquefies and melds to his. One hand threads around my neck and into the underside of my ponytail. He grips until I feel the individual hairs pull taut and painful.
“Please,” I gasp.
“Please what, Regan?” Please don’t? Please don’t stop? Please fuck me, Joel?” His lips brush mine, punctuating my redundant options. My head spins with the insanity of what’s happening. We’re at work, this is madness, dangerous, yet I can’t bring myself to stop him.
“Please…go to hell.”
“Not without you, baby.”
“Joel…” I press my hands on the lapels of his white coat, my fingers curl into the starched cotton, and I find myself pulling him to me. Damn treacherous digits.
“I know what you want, Regan, and trust me, I will give you what you want. You know I’m a man of my word, but this isn’t playtime. If you tell me stop, I will stop, but I want you hard and rough and right now, and you are going to have to tell me you want this.” His hazel eyes smoulder with raw animal desire. His lips hover a scorching breath from mine, and as the words fall unchecked from my mouth, I know, regardless of the danger, I do trust him.
“I want this.”
“Good, because I don’t want to stop.” He spins my body and pushes his hard frame against me, trapping me against the wall and squeezing the breath from my lungs with his weight. He roughly drags my scrubs and panties far enough down my legs to gain necessary access.
“I want your cock.” My wanton desire escapes my mouth with a moan-filled exhale. I’m achy and dripping, and at this moment extremely focused on sating a need he is all too good at igniting. I try to adjust my height to shift his cock from its current trajectory. He chuckles at my not so subtle tactic.
“I know.” he swipes the thick crown along my slick core, gathering abundant wetness and sweeping it back to my ass.
“No, not there. I want you to fuck me here.” I push back tilting my hips and sliding my entrance over the tip of his cock once more. I cry out and jump, feeling the sharp sting of his heavy palm on my cheek. Fuck, he’s got big hands.
“The scene you just caused up stairs…I don’t think you’ve earned my cock there.” His palm smooths the instant heat in my cheek.
“But I’ve earned your cock in my ass?” I turn to meet his gaze, and my brow arches high with my genuine query only to jump when his palm strikes again. His hazel eyes darken and swirl, sinking to impossible depths, and I can’t help myself. I dive right in.
“Yes, you have. You had your chance to stop this, Regan, remember? Would you like me to offer again? I’m a gentleman first.”
“Who’s about to pound my ass, yes, very gentlemanly,” I quip.
“I’m not hearing a no.” He rolls his hips in a tortuously slow grind that makes my eyes roll to the heavens, it feels so good.
“That’s because I’m an idiot.”
“An idiot that still wants my cock?” He peppers kisses down the side of my neck. A paradox of tenderness set against a backdrop of raw desire and depravity.
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” He grumbles the words against my skin and I can feel his lips carve a wide smile I can’t help but mirror. I feel him fumble behind me, and while he takes the time to get the condom, my mind races, pondering if the power this man seems to wield over me is real, or if I have, in fact, just lost my mind.
No, it’s not power, it’s just sex. Still, why does he have to be so damn good at it?
“Oh, my God, wait!” My hand flies to his wide muscular thigh, my small fingers no match for his strength, but he halts the thrust. The stretch of my muscles as his cock breaches my tight ring sends an instant painful shock through every cell in my body. Every muscle slams tight and contracts at the impossible intrusion. “Fuck! Just give me a sec…shit!” I suck in a deep, sharp breath as waves of pain and heat flash through my body.
“It’s OK, baby, when you’re ready, but you might want to let that breath out. I don’t want you passing out, well, not yet. I want you to come first.” His hands stroke and caresses where they touch, but his jokey tone makes me blurt out a laugh.
“Ha…oh, oh! No laughing, Regan…no laughing.” I caution myself, pushing out a long slow breath, forcing myself to relax. When I begin to move, the tension leaves my body, and Joel gradually pushes forward. Inch by steady, thick inch, he eases deep inside me. His lips glide along my neck, his hands stroking my skin, and if the blood rushing in my ears hadn’t blocked out all sound, I’m sure I could hear his deep, rough, panting breaths. This slow pace must be killing him.
“You feel amazing.” The strain in his voice makes me smile.
“You can move…I can take it now. You feel pretty amazing yourself.” I exhale a blissful moan.
“Really? You’re sure?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Thank fuck for that!” He groans and pulls back only to slam back inside me. I jolt, but the deep pain feels good, so damn good, I press my hands to the wall to give myself better leverage, pushing back to meet each of his deep animalistic thrusts with my own eager movement. One of his hands moves f
rom my hip to my throat, and he pulls me back into the perfect arc, slamming everything he has deep into my willing body. His other hand slips around to the front, down to where we are joined, hovering just above where I need it. My clit throbs for his attention, and when his fingers slide either side of my swollen nub, I start to tremble.
His firm, yet light, touch is perfectly combined with the stretch and pain from behind. The first spark of pleasure ignites deep inside me. It takes hold like a vice, and even if I wanted to, there is nothing I could do to stop this tidal wave of erotic pleasure crashing over me. His hot panting breath is followed by remarkably tender kisses at my neck right before his lips press down, and he sucks hard…biting into my skin. I explode, a deep build of pressure detonates, rocking my very being, and leaving me weak and shuddering, braced against the wall by his strong dominating frame. It’s the only thing preventing me pooling onto the floor.
Before I have the chance to revel in the unbelievable high or even regain my composure, he pulls his cock free, removes the condom, and spins me back to face him. My eyes dip to his violently painful-looking erection in his fist, and I’m suddenly very, very hungry. Without hesitation, I drop to my knees and open my mouth. His eyes crinkle with the wide smile spreading across his handsome face.
“Good girl,” His soft encouraging words are strangely addictive and I wish I didn’t like to hear them as much as I do. This is just sex.
I reach my hand to wrap around his cock, but a light tap on my cheek halts me, and I lift my eyes to his.
“No hands,” he says, holding my gaze with eyes so dangerous, I visibly shiver with the rush of adrenalin surging in my veins and chilling my blood. I don’t ask why, I don’t care; this is what he wants, and right now I want to give him whatever he wants. My tongue wets my lips, and I open my mouth wide. He holds the tip of his cock, wet with his own excitement, and he drags it like lipstick over my mouth, It’s a proprietary move that’s as confusing as the bite.
He pushes his cock inside my mouth, and I have to flatten my tongue and relax my jaw to accommodate him. Steadily he eases his considerable length all the way to the back of my throat, I swallow and take more. My eyes water as he pushes further than I’ve ever taken before, but when he pauses, my hands grip the back of his thighs, and I pull him in deeper.
