by Milly Taiden
He kissed his way back up my thigh, across my hip, and skipped the bunched-up skirt to find my belly. He gazed up at me, his eyes dark in the low light. “I love every sound you make,” he said.
My face burned hot. I didn’t trust my voice yet to reply.
He sat up on his knees and closed his grip on the waist of the skirt. “This is in the way,” he said, and yanked it down. He tossed it aside. He smoothed the one loose stocking back into place. “These can stay.” He nipped my skin just above the elastic band.
His hand went back into me, and I was shocked to find that I still had so much need inside. Darion seemed to want to pillage me over and over again, his hands and mouth everywhere, never stopping, stroking, sucking. Little red marks bloomed across my belly as he made his way over my body.
“I hope I don’t need a physical exam anytime soon,” I said.
“Mmmm hmmm,” he said, landing low again. My head fell back. God, I was going crazy with it. This time he kept stopping each time I got close. My hands were worn out from clutching his shoulders.
“Please,” I said.
He grinned up at me with an expression I would never have imagined on his face. “Please what?”
“Get naked.”
“I live to serve,” he said.
He loosened his cuffs and a few top buttons, then whipped his shirt over his head. The T-shirt beneath was tight and hugged his ribs and abs. I ran my hands along the warm cotton, then grabbed the bottom edge.
“And this,” I said, yanking it up.
I couldn’t reach all the way, so he pulled it off. His chest was hairless and toned. I fitted my thumbs in the indentations of his belly, my throat thick. He was damn beautiful.
He unlatched his belt and slid it from the loops. I lay back to watch as he shucked his pants. A boxer boy, the fitted type. His shoes rolled away, and the black socks. Now it was just the navy underwear.
I reached for him, sliding along his length, straightening him until he peeked out the top. I couldn’t wait anymore and grasped at the waistband and jerked them down. He sprang at me, powerful and long.
Darion kicked the boxers away. “We really are going to break in the Pink Monster, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” I said, reaching out for him again. “Yes, we are.”
He braced himself over me, and I got hold of him, grasping at the base and sliding my fingers to the end. He sucked in a breath, his eyes closed, and I kept working it, rearranging myself beneath him so my stocking-covered knees were outside his legs. I wasn’t letting him get away this time.
His face dropped to my neck, burying itself there. I worked him until I felt a tremor in his arm. “My turn to say please,” he said into my ear.
“Condom?” I asked. I’d been on the shot forever, plus I had an IUD. I had no intention of accidentally getting pregnant ever again. But still, no use taking a risk for anything else.
He nodded against my shoulder and reached for the discarded pants. I kept my hands on him while he fumbled with his wallet and tore open the package.
“I’ll do the honors,” I said, and took it from him.
He groaned a little as I touched the circle to the tip and slowly rolled it down his length. He was trim but not bare at the base.
Darion didn’t dive in immediately, but reached between us. “I have been thinking about this for weeks,” he said.
“Weeks? Since that first time you asked to see me?”
“Yes.”
“But you never came back.”
He stilled a moment. “I had to leave town suddenly,” he said. “I had no way to contact you.”
“It was fine.” We shouldn’t have this conversation now. “Come here.” I grabbed his bulging shoulders and brought him down closer. “Show me how sorry you are for standing me up.”
He plunged in then, and I nearly screamed. God, it had been forever. He split me wide open, and I couldn’t do anything but hang on as he set the speed and rhythm. His breath puffed against my neck as he worked. I locked my ankles around his back. After a moment he sat up and brought me with him. I straddled him, sitting high, and he held my waist to assist as I moved up and down.
I felt dizzy, lost, like I wasn’t sure which direction was up or down. I held on to his shoulders, letting everything course through me, the splintering pleasure rising up, the burn in my thighs, the ache in my belly from need.
He slowed me down, letting each stroke get long and deep. I cycled against him, clutching his head against my chest. I could do this forever, truly forever.
But he reached between us to work that little nub. And I found that I needed to move, to pick up the tempo, to work it again. My legs were on fire, and I must have quivered, because Darion knew, and dropped me back on the sofa again.
His finger never left me, and now his strokes were powerful and fast. I couldn’t keep up with him and just let him take over, let him take me. I could hear us both, his groans, my faint gasps. I could feel the keen edge he balanced on, and so I just let go, stopped trying to control myself, and the second orgasm blasted out with more intensity than the first.
My ears were ringing with my own cries when Darion grasped my hips and pulsed against me, letting out one elongated groan.
I could barely breathe, my chest heaving. I wanted to cry, feeling so damn emotional. I tried to remind myself that this was just an act, just sex, but something had come over me. I couldn’t rein anything in, I couldn’t laugh it off or coat it with disdain. All the things that let me blow the guy off at the end were well out of reach, carried off in the tidal wave.
Normally I would push the guy away, throw on my clothes, and leave, never returning another call.
But we were here, at my place, and I didn’t want him to go.
Even if we only ever did this one, I was far from done.
***
Chapter Thirty Two: Dr. Darion
Something hard-core was going through Tina’s mind. Even in the low light coming in from the kitchen, I could see that her eyebrows were pressed toward each other. She seemed pained.
“Are you all right?” I asked gently. “Does anything hurt?”
She opened her eyes, baring just a flash of vulnerability, then she laughed. “You are such a doctor. No, nothing hurts.”
I dragged her against me. We were still pressed tightly together. I had spent the last hour worrying about crushing her. Sometimes I swore she was nothing more than feathers and vellum paper, so light and delicate.
But tough. Tina was a set of extremes I’d never seen in a woman.
“You’ll want to get that,” she said, looking between us. “Let me find a box of tissues or something.”
She slid out from under me, her body pale and gleaming above the stockings. Now that would be something to paint. She had hidden my earlier work in the art closet, but I could start another one. Her lithe little body, the striped legs. I stirred again just thinking about it.
I didn’t know what she would want now, for me to leave or stay. I needed to check on Cynthia, but I had to be careful about logging in with Tina so close. And to go to my place. Damn, my mind was already buzzing. I didn’t want that. I just wanted to be right here.
Tina returned and passed me a box. I crushed the condom in a tissue and reached for her. “Come here,” I said.
She sat beside me, but I pulled her onto my lap again. I wanted to keep touching her. I could not get enough. “Let’s just be for a while,” I said.
She nodded.
I pulled her down on the fuzzy sofa, facing me, and I cradled her against my chest. She tucked one knee between my legs, and I held fast to her. Her heart hammered, a little fast. This was good. She was engaged with me. I had this fear that she would kick me out, that she would be unaffected and want me gone.
But her own pulmonary response gave her away. I ran light fingertips along her neck and up around the base of those pigtails. Such a girl-woman. She built this whole way of protecting herself, but it couldn’t last. S
he felt things too deeply. I would take care with her.
We stayed like this for a long time. She slept a little, and I listened to the sounds of her apartment. A faint drip of a faucet. Doors slamming in other apartments. Cars coming and going in the lot.
I wanted to memorize her. I couldn’t stop looking. When she woke a little while later, I ran my hand along every curve I could reach, gently. I wanted her again, but I wouldn’t push for it, just wait and see.
“These are probably hindering circulation,” I said, tugging at the elastic of her stocking.
“You’re talking sexy again, doc,” she said.
“Do you sleep in them?”
“Not usually.”
So, I pushed one, then the other, over her knees. They got loose, and I tugged them down. “Now I get to see the rest of you,” I said.
“Are you one of those puritans who gets hot for ankles?”
I trailed my fingers across the bump of her ankle bone. “I do for yours.”
Maybe I would press. I was rock hard now. I shifted so she could feel it against her belly.
Her eyes got wide. “I can work with that,” she said. “Too bad there isn’t a gurney close by. That one thing you were doing when I was sitting —”
I couldn’t take any more and silenced her with a kiss. I nudged her knees apart with my thigh. She seemed fairly flexible, so I lifted her leg and locked her ankle on my shoulder.
Now I had all the access I wanted. I thumbed her little nub, and her breathing immediately sped up. God, I loved her reactions to this. Two fingers in, her body warm and wet and ready, and she was making these little gasping noises again.
I could not get enough of her. I keyed her up, working until she moved with me, until she clutched my arms.
I felt around for my wallet. I’d better buy more condoms. Thank goodness I had two. I wasted no time on this round, lifting her onto me as I sat on the sofa, back to the cushions. She reached on either side of me to hold on to the sofa, her pert little breasts right against my face.
She slid over me easily, and I clasped her hips, driving up into her until she cried out. I worked her hard and fast until I could tell she was close. I made sure she had solid contact with me and grinded against her until she began to tighten against me.
Then I unleashed, controlling the strokes, holding her in just the right place as it all let go, tight, then loose, relaxing, coming down. She shuddered against me and rested her forehead on my shoulder.
Damn, this girl had gotten under my skin. I no more finished one round when I was already thinking about the next.
I knew she had to be tired. It was late. I scooted forward on the sofa and brought her legs around my waist. She weighed next to nothing, so I was able to stand up with her on me.
I held on to her back and walked down a hall that I assumed led to her bedroom. It was seriously dark back here, but I spotted the illuminated numbers of an alarm clock and headed for them.
I could make out a pillow, then the bed.
I bent over, laying Tina down on it. As much as I wanted to curl in next to her, I knew I couldn’t. I needed to log in at the hospital, check Cynthia’s last vitals. Pick up clothes at my apartment. Shower.
Life. Work. So much getting in the way.
“I’ll stop by the art room tomorrow, okay?” I said.
“It’s Saturday, doc. We’re off.”
“Not for residents. I have to do a pediatric run.”
“Kiss Cynthia for me.”
“I will.” I squeezed her hand and let go.
Back in the living room, I got dressed and found a trash can for the tissues. The kitchen was bright and lit up, mostly empty. On the wall was a small framed photograph in black and white. I walked up to it. A premature baby, less than twenty weeks’ gestation by the look of it, photographed against a white sweater.
This must have been Tina’s. I thought for a moment about watching Cynthia slip away and realized, Tina has already lived through it.
I was never going to be as strong as her.
***
Chapter Thirty Three: Tina
I woke up to soreness in all the right places. I peeked under the sheet. Yep, still naked. I vaguely remembered the good doctor tucking me into bed.
I pulled the covers to my chin. Whoa. I should have added more doctors to my list. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be scouting around for one-and-dones for a while.
Had I really just thought that?
I sat up and peered at the numbers on the clock. Good God. Morning was half over. Darion had probably already seen a dozen patients, saved three people, and cured some obscure disease. AND painted a picture.
I flopped back on the pillow. Who was this man?
I had to know more.
I leaned over the side of the bed and pulled my laptop out from under the side table. I propped it on my knees and fired it up, heading straight for Google.
I typed in the search box. Dr. Darion Marks.
I got some easy hits at first. His graduation from med school. A couple hospitals’ press releases when he joined their staffs. His LinkedIn profile.
But nothing about a wedding. No dying wife. I found his father pretty easily, though. Dr. Gerald Marks, on the medical board. Hmmm. I wondered if he was the mysterious benefactor that got me my job back. But Darion said he didn’t know anybody with that kind of money. I took him at his word on that.
He was thirty-two Good to know. Nine years older. A largish gap, but not unreasonable. I clicked on a strange link that I felt probably wasn’t related to him but looked interesting.
Then sat straight up. The doctor took his art more seriously than he let on. While he was in medical school, he actually had a show of his work at a small gallery.
I clicked through the images. They were not unlike the one he had knocked out in my art room, almost impressionistic images of people, very close up, faces filling the canvas, or hands, or legs. No nudes, not like the one he had done of me. This made me a little happier than it should have.
I closed the laptop. I couldn’t think of anything else. Darion. Darion. Darion. Had he written me while I was sleeping?
I jumped from the bed and dashed into the living room. When I saw the Pink Monster, I couldn’t help myself, but dived right onto it, naked skin and all.
I buried my face into the fur, squealing a little as I remembered him braced over me.
I wanted him back. I wanted him right then.
My bag was under the table, so I bent over the arm and snatched it up. My phone had three text messages.
Two were from Darion.
I fell back on the sofa, clutching the phone to my chest. God, I was like a lovesick teen.
For the first time since I had been a teen.
I refused to go down any dark path. The third message was from Corabelle, so I pulled it up first. That way I could build a little anticipation for what Darion might have said.
Don’t forget the bachelorette party tonight! We’ll be by to get you at 8!
Damn. That was going to be so fun. But what if Darion was free?
I took a deep breath and scrolled back to pull up his first message.
You looked so beautiful sleeping there. You made it hard to leave. I’ll message you later, when you’re up.
I pressed the phone to my skin again. He definitely knew what to write a girl.
Then the second message.
Cynthia is doing well. It’s been a good day. I wish when I walked by the art room, you were there. Let me know when you are up.
I checked the time stamp. The second message was at 8:30 a.m. Ha, we were not a good match on sleeping in. But I could have guessed the doctor was an early riser.
I could cure him of that in a hurry.
What to say back? Please come back here and do everything again?
I laughed out loud. So much for one-and-done. I was practically begging him back.
Besides, we’d gone for two in the same night.
I hel
d my phone directly in front of my face as if it could tell me what to say.
Finally, I figured it out.
Feeling pretty sheltered this morning. Off to buy more condoms.
He didn’t answer right away, which I would expect since he was at the hospital. I decided that rather than sitting around to wait for a break in his day, I would shower and get myself together. I had a long night ahead.
I tapped off a quick note to Corabelle about the bachelorette party, asking her what to wear, and stepped into the shower.
I could not stop thinking about Darion. His hands on me. His mouth. I stuck my face in the spray, trying to shake off the memory. I had to get on with life.
But I didn’t want to. I wanted to stand there and relive every minute.
And I wanted to do it again.
My phone chimed a couple of times from the counter, but I forced myself to take my time washing my hair and wait to see who it was. Probably just Corabelle and Jenny. They were super fired up about tonight. We were going to have dinner at some Italian place, then head to a party hosted by Jenny’s director guy. Supposedly the whole cast of some movie would be there.
Gavin was meeting us. I wondered if Darion could go.
Good grief. I wanted to introduce him to my friends already? What had happened to me?
I toweled off and picked up the phone. Corabelle had told me to wear something sensible, since it would be a long night. Ha. Her definition of sensible and mine were probably not in the same universe.
Jenny had also written, telling me to ignore Corabelle and wear the skimpiest, most daring outfit in my closet and I could probably end up with three hot hookups before the night was over.
Oh, that Jenny.
I ran my fingers over the third name. Darion. He must have been watching for my message.
If you’re buying the condoms, I’m going to go lobby Duffrey to get you a raise.
I smiled and typed in another one.
Off to a bachelorette party for a friend tonight. What are you going to be up to?
