“This is serious. Please, sweetheart, lay low.” It’s him, no question. Hunt’s voice could be recognized in a swarm of angry hornets.
“I’m still your girl.”
They kiss on the lips. Gah.
I spin and charge down the hall, the opposite way, to avoid him. Like a lead zeppelin, my heart falls. Still your girl? What the shit?
Chapter 14
Impulse sweet and heavenly
Hunt
Following a six-mile run and a long hot shower that resulted in me jerking off to Happy, twice, I arrive at the office. Sela and Happy back to back. Both on their backs. Crazy thing is, the one who’s making me hard isn’t Sela; for once. It’s Happy.
Finally, I’ve met a girl who has me so twisted up, I can look past Sela. I’m even seeing flaws in her I shouldn’t have been okay with, thanks to my sisters and Bowie.
“Preeclampsia is very serious, sweetheart. You have every sign of it. I want you here next week so I can monitor you.”
Sela digs through her purse and pulls out her phone. “I hate this pregnancy thing.”
She flips her hair around, flashes a big smile, then takes a selfie.
“Should have thought of that before you got knocked up.”
“I missed two pills, and this happened.” She flips off her belly. I bite back a comment, choosing restraint over the rage brewing in my head.
“You missed two pills then slept with another guy.”
“You want to know who?”
“I do not.”
“You know him well.”
“Sela, don’t bait me. I already told you, I don’t want to know.”
“The worry line creasing your forehead says you do.” She unwraps a piece of gum and folds it on her tongue. “It’s not Bowie.”
I slam a hand on my desk. “Enough.”
“You so rarely get pissed, it’s entertaining to get a rise out of you. How about dinner this week?”
“We need to stop doing dinners, remember, you broke up with me.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at her. I love her, yes. But my need to be in love with her is slipping away with every repulsive word she utters. This trimester of her pregnancy is showing me Sela in a whole new light.
“But we’re still friends.”
“Of course we’re friends.”
She taps her long red lacquered nails on my desk. I used to love those nails scraping my back when we fucked. Loved seeing the marks the next day.
“Friends do dinner.”
“I have another appointment in fifteen, we need to wrap this up.”
She stands, comes around to my side of the desk, places her hands on my shoulders, and bends forward. A family of three could live in her cleavage. “Are you seeing someone?”
“Sela, Christ.” I point to the chair on the other side of my desk. She frowns, walks around the desk, and slumps in the chair. “No more travel. No drinking, and no drugs. Bed rest. You can get up only if it’s necessary. Tell your housekeeper she’s now your cook too.”
“I’m not going on bed rest, you’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic will happen if this progresses and develops into further complications. There was protein in your urine, also traces of meth and pot. What the fuck are you doing?”
She rolls her eyes. “I just want to feel good. I’m giant and nauseous and my headaches are making me nuts. I’m tired of all this.” She flips her belly off again. I want to reach across the desk and throttle her into understanding she’s carrying a life inside that belly that she keeps disrespecting.
I go for calm and lower my voice. “You’re so close, another eight weeks only.”
She stands and walks to the mirror, then messes with her hair. “Can’t you just give me a C-section and get it out of me? It would live, right?”
I groan out an animal sound. “A human being is in your womb. Can you please connect to your child.”
“I’m not joking, I can’t handle this anymore. And now I have to lay in bed all day? Shoot me now.”
I shove a hand through my hair. “Next week, Friday, I want to see you again. Come in Thursday for a blood test.”
“What are you, my parole officer? I’m not doing another blood test.”
“Damn right you are.” I stand and take a breath, then approach her. She rests her face on my chest, and I wrap my arms around her. “My job is to help you carry a healthy baby to term, so that when we deliver, all goes well. I can’t risk losing you or the baby. I care for you and I will love this kid.”
“Something has changed between us.” She looks up at me. “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”
I chuckle, then kiss her forehead. “Goodbye, Sela.”
I walk to the door and open it; she walks backward as I hold her hands.
“I’ll see you next week. Love you, baybee,” she says.
“This is serious. Please, sweetheart, lay low.”
“I’m still your girl.”
She plants a kiss on my lips that throws me for a loop. What the hell is she up to now?
When she spins and saunters away, waving over her shoulder, Happy turns the corner heading away from me, toward the waiting room. My pulse races, did she see that kiss? Fuck.
Chapter 15
Pull me to you…swim in my flood
Happy
The nurse instructs me to undress and put on the paper gown. Our exchange is funereal at best. I’m pissed: at him and me. What was I thinking? Men are dogs… I know this. Who was that woman…what a kiss. It wasn’t a peck, it was a, you-mean-something-to-me kiss. Not a patient who was just examined kind of kiss. So he has a girlfriend? A pregnant one no less?
The knock on the other side of the door sends my nerves flying. “Come in.”
“Hey,” Hunt says. I stare at the neatly framed degrees on the wall. Stanford. Harvard. They could say fuckvard, and I’d study them like I was going to be electrocuted if I didn’t memorize every line on them.
I can’t utter a hello. The only thing I put forward is my chin meeting my hand at my throat.
“Happy?” He touches my arm and I flinch. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I stare at my knees and bury my shaking hands under my thighs.
“I’m glad to see you again.” He tries to lift my chin, but I fight it.
Hunt walks to the sink and washes his hands. I keep my chin down, and my eyes on his feet. Even his shoes are sexy, hell, the bottom hem on his pants is sexy.
He arrives at the exam table and rests his gloveless hands on my knees.
“Are you nervous?”
“No. I’m ready for my exam.”
The one peek I take ruins me. His chin is dipped, his eyes…ready to pounce. And, if my heart wasn’t beating like a queen whose head is on the block, I might have convinced myself I heard his heart thumping.
“So, we left off at your…” He turns and faces the wall, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other at his groin.
“At…” Hormones take over when he faces me with a smirk on his face, and an obvious erection in his pants, which I cannot take my eyes off. Suddenly I couldn’t give two fucks who that chick was. I’m about to be examined by Doctor Hard Dick again, and he’s hard.
He positions himself at the end of the exam table. His broad shoulders and chest jutting. Sleeves rolled up on his crossed arms. Legs spread.
“Take it off.” He yanks one string on my gown, exposing my left breast. “The whole thing. I want to see your tits when I examine you.”
“This is insane.” That goes for me too. I grip the gown, though I’m hopeful he’ll strip me bare since I’m a pathetic off-roading dodo bird. This is why I plan. It’s so much safer than going with your gut.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” He stares at my lips while licking his. I gear up for a kiss, or some other heart jolting surprise he might spring on me. “You want to leave?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Are you married?�
��
“No.”
“Seeing someone?”
“No.”
“What do you want?” I try so hard to sound bossy and ready for battle. That crack in my voice might have been a white flag. Damn.
“I want in.” He presses his forefinger to my pout, then thrusts it into my mouth. “I want to date you.”
“I don’t date.”
“You wouldn’t have come back if you weren’t interested, or at least curious about me. Next week will be our third date, you on the exam table, legs spread.”
“Next week?” I shake my head. Legs spread?
“Yes, today is your vaginal and anal exam. Next week you’ll need to come back for tests. You still want to get pregnant?”
“Yeah, but—”
“You want a different doctor?” I shake my head again. Now I’m a bobblehead. “I didn’t think so.”
He helps himself to the second string on my gown, then grabs fistfuls of the wrinkled paper and jerks it off my body in a few swift tugs. Scraps are the only thing remaining under my ass. I cross my arms over my chest.
“I don’t think so.” He stares at my eyes then my arms.
Just when I thought I was terrified, in a naughty-wonderful-god-do-I-want-and-need-this way, he says, “Drop your arms and scoot down. I want your ass at the edge of the table.”
His throat bobs, and his eyes relax, then become feral. His breathing deepens, matching mine. “I’m not going to fuck you. Not today anyway.”
“I know you’re not.” I scoot down, my body covered in goose bumps, my nipples stiff and pointing at him. I exhale an uneven breath.
“Lie back, I’m going to examine you now.”
I stay upright. “I have my period, and um…” I sound like I’m twelve. The guy sees blood every day, this isn’t going to panic him like it is me. My first day is light, close to nothing. So what now? Can I have a tissue? Turn around?
“And what?”
“And I have a tampon in. I need a…”
He presses my knees an inch apart, his gaze landing on mine as he licks his lips. The man has to be as turned on as I am, he’s still hard. And when he reaches between my legs—his hair-dusted knuckle grazing my inner thigh—and grips the string of my tampon and says, “May I?” And slides it out before I answer, I die. I die ten times in two seconds. That’s a lot of fucking death. That should not have been sexy, but Jesus…it sure as hell was. He lays my tampon on the silver tray that holds the lube and speculum. I glance at it, praying it’s pristine white, then letting out a breath that it mostly is. I, on the other hand, go beet red—nose to toes. I don’t know where to focus considering my transported-to-a-new-planet libido and the breathtaking specimen of man standing in front of me. So, I stare between my barely spread legs, where one of his hands is petting the crinkled paper. Even that turns me on. I journey my gaze back and forth between his hard-on and his fingers. One thumb now stroking my inner thigh.
He exhales, long and slow. I’ll bet he fucks like that too.
“Happy.”
I look up at his lips, then eyes. Big mistake. “Yes?”
He places a hand between my breasts and presses me back, keeping his hand there until I’m lying flat, and shamelessly hoping he’ll do things no doctor should do to their patient.
I clutch his wrist when my adrenaline spikes. “You make me nervous.”
He breathes deeply a few times as his eyes travel up and down my naked body.
He sucks his bottom lip through his gorgeous grin and says, “You make me fucking crazy.”
He backs toward the sink, his gaze on mine. After washing his hands and gloving up, he yanks the stirrups out and places my feet in them.
“Spread for me,” he says, encircling my ankles with his hands and massaging them.
I keep my knees pinned. “Is this how you treat all your patients?”
“You don’t want what I give them. You want this.” He smirks and adjusts himself. “Or you wouldn’t have come.”
“I haven’t come yet.” The sky this girl dropped from? I have no idea where in our solar system it exists. But I love her. I want her giant balls to replace my pea-sized ones.
“You will.”
He squirts an obscene amount of lube on his fingertips, parts my knees, and passes his hand between them, then wipes the glob of lube, just above my narrow strip of pubic hair. Then he bears down on my thighs, spreading them, and studying me, all the while keeping his hands on my knees once they’re dropped open. My heart zips and pulses through my body in tango rhythms and abrupt pauses.
Hunt’s hands navigate my inner thighs until he reaches my labia. He spreads me open, using his thumbs. “You didn’t use your vibrator this morning.” Our gazes meet when he strokes my clit. “Thought you might be swollen again.”
“I…” My tongue circles my lips like they’re coated in man sugar and a perfect future.
“You what, Happy? You used your hand instead? He licks his thumb, his other hand splayed, keeping me open and exposed. He traces over my nipples with his wet thumb, stopping to pinch and tug on them. Each tug attached to the arch of my back and my need. He licks his thumb again and circles my clit with the wet slippery pad of it.
“Answer me.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Because you didn’t want me to see your swollen clit, didn’t want me to know you were thinking of me all morning?” His lips curve up on one side. “You’re too wet to hide.”
He swipes his thumbs across the lube, then meanders down my vagina; when he reaches my cheeks he parts them, then presses a lubed thumb between them and encircles me. Every last bit of bashful surfaces on my skin.
“Are you still nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Turned on?”
“Oh…fuck.”
“You like this?”
“What are you doing?” My world tilts.
“Does it feel good?”
“God, yes,” I answer, having no idea how he’s doing what he is, but melting under his touch. His fingers journey every inch of me in decadent sweeps and plunges. In and out, over and around; and god, it’s slippery and sweet and scintillating. He’s not rough and he’s not tender, but he’s determined and intense. Our eyes don’t veer from each other, save for the momentary full-bodied arching and moaning that causes me to close my eyelids every few seconds.
“Jesus. Oh, Hunt.” He grips my hips, his fingers pressing hard into my skin as I squirm beneath him. His lips meet my clit, his tongue crushing it with vigorous, delicious, teasing licks. Then I remember I have my period. I clamp my thighs to his face; he groans and presses them open.
“The blood,” I whisper. Though I don’t see any on his face or lips when he tips his head up.
“I don’t fucking care.” He sucks my inner thigh while pressing my legs wider. His tongue and lips work across my need, each lick beckoning me to the edge. “I will take you.” The deep tone and assuredness in his voice coaxes an orgasm out of me. His gaze crosses my face, landing on my lips.
“You’re so fucking wet and tight. So sweet. I want everything.”
“Don’t stop, I’m…”
I pull myself up using his well-muscled arms as rope. And I rock into another orgasm, my teeth clamped on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he says, feather soft. “You’re the one.”
“The one what?”
“The one I want. The girl I’m going to claim. Your world and my world…they will fuck, it’ll be sweet and heavenly, and flesh and tease and commitment. No more denial. Give in and let me have you.”
Shit. What have I done to my plan? I double-o-off-roaded at my gyno’s office with a guy I’m crushing on but terrified of. And the worst part. The way I feel when I’m around him is beautiful, but my nerves are going crazy and that’s what makes my vitiligo spread like wildfire.
Chapter 16
Life can eat you or you can eat life
HUNT
“Just let me see,�
�� I say to Lucy. We’re sitting in her kitchen having a glass of wine. Her tits are so engorged she has her bra stuffed with cold cabbage leaves.
“They’re gross. And they hurt, fuck they’re going to pop. You sure?”
“Christ, I’ve seen more tit than the bra section at Victoria’s Secret. Yes, unleash the hounds.”
She shakes her head, opens her blouse, and unsnaps the front closure on her bra. “Where the fuck are my sisters when I need them?”
“Shit, sweetheart. They’re massive, how many days now?”
“Three. I’ve tried everything, this cabbage is my last resort.”
“Have you asked Jasper to suck them?”
She laughs then takes a swig of her wine. “You’ve met my husband. Get real.”
“You’re his wife. He’s knocked you up five times, but he won’t suck milk from your tits to help relieve the hell you’re in?”
“He’s the most conservative guy ever.” She removes cabbage leaves from a bowl of ice water, dries them, and layers them on her breasts. “He won’t even fuck me doggy style.” She snaps her bra and fixes her shirt.
“Trust me, he will. Throw on some sexy lingerie, light the candles, and get on your knees. No man with a working dick can say no to that.”
“Kama Sutra via my little brother.” She chuckles. “Some might call us strange.”
“People who can’t talk about sex with sibs are the strange ones.”
“Truth.” We clink glasses.
Felix, who’s in a baby rocker on the counter, starts screaming like he’s been stung by a hornet. I reach for him.
“You look good with a baby.” Lucy smiles as I wrap Felix with his blanket and nestle him in the crook of my arm.
“I wish.” I fast forward to a relationship with Happy, which is insane considering she won’t date. Then I picture Sela, who has been texting me three times a day now that she’s on bed rest.
“What’s going on with you trying to score a date with Happy?”
“No scoring. Unless sexting and obscene exams count as dating?”
“Define obscene.” Lucy grins. We have the kind of relationship most siblings would find enviable. There isn’t much we don’t share or talk about.
Of Winged Creatures & Nesting Grounds: (A Quirky, Sexy, Dirty Doctor Romance) Page 8
