Creamed - Page 19

Something tells me I’ll be barefoot for a while.

“That’s better,” the nurse nods to herself, surprising me with her own strength as she moves me back onto the bed like I’m a rag doll.

“Alright, Doctor,” the nurse huffs, yanking the curtain back once she’s satisfied I’m decent and ready to leave the bed she’s just put me back in.

“She’s all yours,” she calls over her shoulder, already puffing herself up for her next task.

And to think, I even thought about nursing. These guys, all of them do so much.

“Let’s get you home then.” Fox smiles, a low growl escaping him as he runs his eyes over me.

He makes me feel a little like something in a window that he just has to have, and he’s about to take it home and unwrap it.

“But what about you, Foxx?” I ask, sounding totally innocent. “Don’t you have work today?”

Before I know it, he’s come over and lifted me up again, cradling me and my bad leg with literally zero effort.

His muscles are flexing under my weight, but he looks and feels like a man who could carry this young lady home and back again without breaking a sweat.

My shock turns to laughter once I realize he’s actually serious about carrying me off someplace.

Probably just to get a wheelchair, but really?

What must people think?

So, with plenty of stares and gasps, we pass by the nurse’s station, out into the corridor, and all the way in the elevator down to the basement parking lot.

“Don’t I have to sign something? See someone?” I ask worried Foxx might be bending more than just a few rules for my benefit.

“Already taken care of,” he replies. “You’re mine now, Mandy. And I’m taking you home to make sure you get everything you need to get better again.”

Uh. I think I’m feeling much better already.

And in more ways than one.



The urgency I feel, the absolute need to get Mandy out of here, should surprise me. I’m not an impatient man, and my career isn’t based on impulse. But Mandy’s my new occupation now, and it’s gonna be full-time.

The thrill I feel holding her is only a sign of things to come. I can feel it. Literally, I can feel it rising in my balls as her ample chest presses into mine.

Her plump rear-end is bobbing against my fresh arousal by the time we reach the elevator.

She’s purring in my grip already, and I can’t stop the low, animal sounds that come out of me in reply.

This fox has finally caught his mate. And he’s never letting go.

Getting her away so fast was easy.

Once the hospital has their payment, they’re more than happy to see their patients gone and the bed re-made, ready for the next one.

Last night, even though I never left her side, I made sure her bill was pre-paid and that I really do have time off now to forget all about hospitals.

For a few weeks at least, Mandy and vacation time. Two things that are so new to me, but I know which one means the most.

It’s early, so there’s not too much going on in the doctor’s parking bay. No prying eyes or questions as I spot my car and take my time easing her into the front seat, mindful of her ankle.

The ankle she promises feels better, but at a glance, I can see I’m going to have to be gentler than I might like.

At least for a few days.

But she’s mine. All mine.

At least I’m not whistling like an idiot about it anymore.

Having her in my arms, now in my car on our way home, gives me feelings and thoughts I never even thought possible. And all of them are filthy. I can sense Mandy’s mind is full of questions, but her eyes tell me that she’s fine with coming home with me, even kissing me.

But I do feel there’s something else, like something she’s not told me yet.

I let that thought pass from my mind as I pull away from the hospital parking lot, not even looking back at it for what could be for the last time.

“This is a really nice car,” she finally says. After a few blocks, the silence between us is noticeable, and she’s trying to break it.

I’m focused on the road, on keeping us out of any more delays or trouble. But I’m glad she likes the car.

“You like nice things?” I ask, not meaning to sound pretentious.

Meaning that she’d better get used to more than what I’ve seen she’s already used to.

Thinking about her whole life was just that coffee shop, that apartment.

“I’ve never really had nice things, not expensive things,” she adds thoughtfully, looking out the window. It makes me feel like she’s looking away from me.

“I didn’t mean…,” I start to say, but going through a tunnel, I can see her eyes in the reflection of the side window.

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