by Leanne Davis
Then, both of his fingers plunged fully inside her. He felt her swollen walls, as his fingers explored and probed, while she nearly collapsed with desire. Her entire body became engorged with hot, throbbing necessity. The pressure inside her continued growing until she thought she might burst right then and there. Nothing had ever felt so good. Or happened so quickly to her. She vibrated with explosive thoughts.
Her legs turned to jelly when Spencer moved, and began walking backwards, pulling her body with him, his hand still lodged inside her. He hit the couch and sat down, pulling her between his knees, resting her back on his chest. He moved his fingers deeper inside her, touching every unexplored spot she wanted touched. He rubbed and massaged her until she moaned, and her breathing turned to hot, brief gasps. A rainbow of colors shot like sparklers behind her closed eyelids as she lay atop his chest, on her back, her body feeling heavy, and immovable as if she were intoxicated or drugged by him. Where did this come from? When did they agree to do this?
“Shh, Doc, shh… Thin walls,” he whispered into her ear after her cries and moans of ecstasy. She couldn’t help it. Nothing ever felt so good, and he kept doing more. She couldn’t contain her exclamations and could not be quiet. She was losing control, but vaguely aware of the tinge of humor in his tone. At seeing her this way: in her prone position against him, and sensing her undeniable need for him.
“Stop,” she panted, “before…”
“Don’t stop before. Just be quiet.” She assumed he knew what she meant. She was so close to coming, she could hardly hear anything beyond the roar in her head, and the rush in her body. Finally, she came and had to clamp her teeth shut to avoid making too much noise. Still, she moaned, squirmed, and gasped at the sensations now drowning her. She was powerless and it never felt so good.
Spencer sat her up, and turned her around, before opening her blouse and removing her bra. His mouth alternated sucking on her breasts, with a warm, wet, sensuous tugging. Her body still shuddered from her orgasm, but she perceived new sensations, as well as responses where his lips latched onto her.
She was still wearing her lab coat and he dug his hands into her deep pockets. What was he doing? He withdrew a condom, which she usually carried and provided for her younger patients whose mothers had no idea what their little girls were really up to. But how did he know they were there in her pocket? She’d never, during her entire career, used one of them for herself.
He shifted her off him, and fumbled with his jeans, as well as the condom. Only seconds later, he lifted her up by the waist, and easily positioned her back onto his lap. His large hands were on her open thighs, sliding seductively and making her wet again. He pushed her skirt up, moving it higher, then pulled her onto him, gently sliding into her. Slowly. Long. Hard. As deeply into her as he could get and she moaned. She couldn’t help it. He didn’t make a sound, and hardly seemed to breathe, or so it seemed.
His mouth returned to her nipple. He pulled on it with his teeth as she bounced her hips slowly over him. With her hands on his shoulders, she held on, and used his body for support while she slid up and down on him. Slower. Longer. Harder. It felt so good, that she did it again and again.
Looking down at his face, she saw his profile against her breast. His eyes were closed and his long lashes seemed blacker and thicker to her. His dark, silky hair dropped over his eyebrows as he sucked on her nipple. God, he was beautiful.
A strange wave of tenderness swept over her, at seeing him on her breast. The darkness of his skin against her whiteness as she watched his mouth on her breast, made her think they were too large, and much too saggy to be considered sexy, although he seemed to think so. His mouth came off her, and his hands went up, cupping her, and squeezing her sensuously. She’d never been caressed like that before. She got turned on from merely watching him suckle her.
The passion she now felt was like she’d never experienced. She never expected it could be so different, an act she based her career on and studied, while clinically analyzing it for her profession. But she never knew passion, and passion made all the difference. There was nothing clinical, or clever, or even accountable this time. She, who was always in control, completely abandoned it, and without regret. This was about her, and her need for it now.
When he thrust into her one last time, her body clenched around him, and nearly vacuumed him inside her. She came instantly, and he too, finally came inside her, but without a word. Or a moan. Or an “Oh!” or an “Erica” or even a “Doc!” Nothing, but closed eyes. Closing her off. He shut himself off to her now as he had previously. In every way, that is, but their bodies.
Then it was over.
There was no post-coital conversation or affectionate caresses. No sounds were uttered in the room. Spencer sat up and she found herself completely pressed against him. Her body seemed to sprawl around his, with her legs apart and her knees still bent, and her calves behind her. She felt like she could’ve died, she was so spent and exhausted, but never more satisfied physically. She’d gone from such an emotional low to this! She felt high as a kite.
Spencer started to move and she wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to hold him tighter. She was not ready to move. Or even think. Much less, be pushed away from him yet. She felt too vulnerable with him and even shocked by his actions. But mostly by her own reaction. But… there was no denying she felt glad just to be there with him, especially like this.
A knock pounded at her office door and the knob turned. Another knock. “Dr. Heathersby? What’s going on?”
It was Marge, her receptionist. Marge’s voice sounded nearly hysterical with worry and frustration. Erica jerked up.
“I’ll be right there, Marge.” Erica managed to finally reply after she found her voice again. It sounded weird even to her own ears.
“Is everything all right, Dr. Heathersby? You missed Misty Galina’s prenatal exam, and Tilly Peterson has been waiting for half an hour. What should I do?”
“Just reschedule, Marge. I just... I need a moment or two.”
“With the door locked?”
“Yes, with the door locked!” Erica snapped back. She was much too aware of Spencer now watching her, listening to her, and most likely, judging her.
Spencer stared at her profile, and his breath rustled through her hair. She still hadn’t made any eye contact with him after entering the next level of their relationship. Finally, she lifted her head up.
Spencer’s silence bothered her. His face was intentionally blank, as his arms fell loosely around her. He could retreat to his former self faster than anyone she’d ever met. He acted as if they’d merely shaken hands.
She licked her lips. “What is this? I mean, what was that? My God, Spencer…”
“My God is right.”
“But I thought that... you didn’t even like me.”
“I never said that. You did.”
“But…”
Spencer shifted her until her skirt covered them. Thank God for Erica’s way of thinking. She wasn’t the ideal specimen of youth and physical perfection that he was. Placing her arms back around his neck, she knew she was not ready for him to get up and ignore her. There was no doubt in her mind that he would casually lift her off him, get up and leave. She felt sure of it, so she rested her chin against his chest. Spencer stopped moving and froze at her touch. It was almost offensive. Then, he finally put his hands on her back, and through her coat and blouse, she felt the warmth radiating.
“How did you know what was in my pocket?”
“You hand them out like some doctors do candy.”
“I do not. You must have seen me do it before to know that.”
“So I guess I noticed.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you notice things like that about me?”
“I don’t know.”
She was surprised at his answer. She expected some rude, flippant reply, but not honesty. Especially from a man she’d known a while,
but still didn’t really know. She most definitely was at a loss for words now in this most intimate of moments.
Dear God, she just slept with her… what? Handyman? Delivery man? The jack-of-all-trades man? She just indulged in unexpected, unplanned sexual relations with him in her office. At work! During the day! After receiving the worst news she’d gotten in years. What happened? Why? Why did he do this now? And why did she let him?
She kept her head pinned to his chest so she couldn’t see his eyes. She whispered, while toying with the collar on his shirt, “Why did you do this?”
“Why did you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t expect anything like it. Not this. I never foresaw this between us.”
“You were crying,” he said simply, as if that explained everything succinctly.
“You could have just patted me on the shoulder.”
“Figured there were no words to console you.”
She closed her eyes and stifled a sigh. For someone who was so emotionally sealed off, and totally incognizant about his feelings, he simply told her what she felt.
“A patient, who is also a dear friend, was in car accident today; and she’s brain dead.”
He stirred under her and let out a deep breath. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“They tried for ten years to get pregnant and finally did. I was upset because I have to do a C-section on her to save the baby. I hate thinking about removing it from her comatose mother’s body. As soon as her husband arrives, who was in California, they’ll take her off life support and allow her to die. And this woman is, or was, my friend.”
Spencer’s arms were still around her and his muscles tensed. “My God.”
“You can’t tell anyone. It’s privileged and highly confidential. I just… I needed to say it out loud to find the motivation to do it. I have to do it and I will do it. I just don’t want to.”
“You’re fucking amazing. No one else I know could do that. Just you.”
“I don’t feel too amazing.”
“You’ll do it because it’s what’s right for your patient. No matter the cost to you.”
She finally sat up and felt ready to face reality. She knew how to perform microscopic surgery on babies in utero, and could treat cancer, and deliver babies; but for the life of her, right now she couldn’t look Spencer in the eye. Not like this. With half her clothes still open, and in disarray.
“I have to get back to work,” she said, although she still straddled him. He lifted her off him and her skirt fell into place as he stood her up on her feet. He adjusted his pants, and was all zipped up and pulled together in two seconds flat. She jumped when she felt his hands on her again. This time, they slid under her blouse, onto her bare back, where he rehooked her bra. He did it all without saying a word; then his hands fell off her. There were no innuendoes, or derogatory remarks, but also, no softness, or kind words to ease the situation. There was simply nothing else from Spencer.
She quickly did her blouse up, and located her underwear, which she found by her desk. She slid into them with as much dignity as a woman could, caught in the middle of her office with a man who made her uncomfortable just by staring at her. Or watching her. Erica wished he’d put his hand out, or touch her, or hug her, or hold her. Anything to ease the embarrassment she felt. The sudden alienation she received from him bothered her, when barely five minutes before she was sitting on top of him and as open and hot as she’d ever experienced her entire adult life.
“Spencer?”
“It was just sex. Don’t make anymore of it than what it is.”
Her eyes flew up to his, but his face was expressionless and unmoving. Uncaring. God! What a fool she just made of herself! He only screwed her because he felt sorry for her. And she let him! Her humiliation was now complete. He wanted nothing from her and never had. She already knew that about him. How could she have forgotten it? It had to be the heat of the moment. He caught her at her lowest point and she wasn’t thinking. So naturally, feeling something, especially something that good, was like a lifeline being thrown to a drowning woman.
“What are you doing, Spencer? Just making the rounds at the office? First Tamira, then me… Who’s next? Marge?”
“Not hardly.”
“I fell for it, but I knew better. It’s not like you didn’t warn me yourself.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and his jaw muscle tightened. “Do you want me to quit?”
“No! No, of course I don’t want you to quit. It’s your job. And besides, like you said, it was just sex, right? Same as with Tamira, and you still manage to work with her just fine. Why should we be any different? Isn’t that right, Spencer?”
He was silent, but his jaw clenched and released several times in obvious reaction to her words.
“I have to go,” she said as she swiftly passed by him. She went to the sink, washed her hands, splashed some water on her face, and turned away from him. Then she grabbed her stethoscope off the counter, and looped it over her neck, taking comfort in returning to work, and her own world, where her life was more or less under control.
She finally felt prepared to deliver the baby from a mother who would later die and never get the chance to see the child she tried for more than a decade to conceive.
Chapter Twelve
Erica was never so emotionally spent in her entire life. She was thoroughly exhausted. The surgery and post-op, then facing the grieving husband and father lasted until early morning. At six o’clock. She was numb, and almost too distressed to feel anything. She did her job. Her hands were steady, precise, controlled, and without any emotion.
Now it was over and she could walk away. But Beth couldn’t. Beth’s husband and daughter would have to live with this day for the rest of their lives. Erica’s only clothes were the same one’s she wore yesterday. She couldn’t bear putting them back on. They still reeked of sweat from nerves, grief, and sex with Spencer. Was that really just yesterday? She couldn’t conceive of it yet. Or what it meant to her… or him… or her future life. She put on a fresh pair of scrubs before trudging out the hospital doors. The blinding sunlight was rude and unwelcome to her sleepy, grief-stricken eyes. She wanted darkness. Gloom. Rain.
Starting towards the parking garage, she headed for the bottom row. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. Blinking once, then twice, no… she wasn’t seeing things, Spencer was on her car, but his image couldn’t compute in her brain. Why would he show up here?
He was sitting on the hood of her car with his long legs drawn up, and his feet resting on the wheel well. Sunglasses that were black and rather small, covered his eyes. She couldn’t see his eyes through them, so she had no idea of his expression besides the usual, cold, stony look on his face. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, again, as usual, with varying logos, colors, and mottos on them. He watched her walking up.
“What are you doing here?”
Lowering one foot slowly to the pavement, then the other, he straightened up to his full height and stood there, looking down at her.
She audibly sighed her unprecedented exhaustion. “No games today. What do you want?”
His eyes scanned her from head to toe. “You look tired.”
“No, exhausted.”
He nodded. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”
She paused, biting her lip. “You want to drive me home?”
“You don’t drive too well, even when you’re feeling good.”
She bristled. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen you pulling into the clinic often enough to know. Just get in.”
Still, she didn’t move. “How did you know when I’d be leaving work?”
“Didn’t.”
What? Had he been waiting here for her indefinitely? Why? Why would he do that? He made it quite clear to her how much she meant to him yesterday. Why would he do this today? She was so muddled, and mentally drained, she couldn’t fathom why. She was, however, extremely glad that
he had, since she felt like she was about to wilt.
Falling into the front seat of her car, she was so spent, she didn’t even bother putting her seatbelt on. She leaned her head against the window and stared dully out of it. Eventually, she had to shut her eyes from the glare of the beautiful, bright, summer morning.
Keeping her worn out eyes closed, she didn’t move an inch when the car stopped. She didn’t even feel the tears that rolled down her cheeks until his hand touched her face before wiping away the wetness beneath her closed eyes. She didn’t react or open her eyes, but remained leaning against the window.
“Beth is dead,” she finally told him. “She died an hour ago.” Her voice was hollow.
“And the baby?”
“I delivered the baby. She survived, but I wish I could’ve done more. It wasn’t enough.”
“It was enough,” he said quietly.
At the sound of his door opening, she finally looked out again. Her eyes were red and swollen with unshed tears. After allowing Spencer to open her car door, she commanded her body to get out and stood there on trembling legs as he slammed it shut.
“Tell that to her husband. Or the baby in three years. It’s never enough.”
“You did all you could. No one could have done more. You knew that going in.”
She shook her head as her tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked. She rubbed them away and sniffled the snot that was filling her nose. Leaning against the car door, her unending tears made her entire body convulse and tremble.
Then… she was suddenly against him. He had his hands on her shoulders as he pulled her closer. She pushed away from him. How could the man who so callously announce she was just a temporary sex partner three minutes after having sex with her even dare to try and comfort her? But… he was there. Now. And holding her. His arms tightened over hers and he won the battle in her mind. She was no match for his strength, emotionally or physically. She collapsed into him, wrapping her arms around him, and clutching his back for support. She pressed her wet cheeks against his t-shirt, and heard his heartbeat. And felt his breathing. She closed her eyes to inhale the clean smell of his shirt. And feel the radiance of his warmth. His seductive vitality. She wanted him simply because he was there. But why? She didn’t know and couldn’t care less. He was there, right now, for her.
