He didn’t even hesitate. It didn’t throw him out of the moment, didn’t make him disgusted. He kissed it once, twice, then moved down, tugging my yoga pants off, and I was so surprised that I let them slide off and drop to the floor.
He spread my legs and kissed my inner thigh, and I moaned, whispered his name, as his tongue found me, licked me top to bottom, worked me and made me wild. He pushed aside my underwear and took me, fingers teasing, tongue driving me mad with pleasure and lust. He licked me top to bottom, spread me wide, fingers sinking inside, tongue rolling along my clit, and it felt like heaven.
I moaned his name, panting and gasping, rolling my hips as he licked faster and faster, a growl in his throat, a purr like a lion. It was heaven, it was too much and much too far, but I wasn’t going to stop, didn’t want to stop. I needed more—and he kept pushing me, pushing me, teasing me, driving me up to that edge, that incredible edge, and I moaned his name, whispering it, gasping it, until I felt the pleasure build and build into a spiraling crescendo as I came on his tongue.
He lapped me up, not stopping, before he kissed me again. I tasted myself on his tongue and loved it, pressed myself hard against him and he held me there as I breathed hard, sweat rolling down my back. I had to blink a few times to clear my blurry vision, and he smirked at me, head tilted to the side.
“That was— unexpected.”
“You invited me up for drinks.”
“I know, but—”
“We both know what drinks means.”
“Drinks means drinks.”
“Drinks means I take your clothes off and makes you feel good.” He kissed me again and laughed. “And cook you dinner, of course.”
I chewed my lip. “What are we doing?”
“We’re just being people.” He kissed me again. “Forget about doctor and nurse for a second, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, and let him dress me again, let him lead me to the table, let him refill my wine glass, and let him finish cooking dinner.
Then we ate, laughing, smiling, talking, and when he left for the night after offering to sleep on my couch, I felt strangely empty, strangely hollow—like I needed him back to feel complete.16DeanDreams of Fiona fluttered through my head.
I hadn’t expected that when she asked me into her apartment, even though drinks as almost always code for sex—at least with the girls I typically brought home. I was used to one-night stands, only sex, only two strange bodies coming together for a few hours of fucking, of release, and then nothing more.
It was different with Fiona. I couldn’t bring myself to take her like that—not yet, at least. I knew she needed more time to get used to the idea of taking our relationship to another level, of getting more physical. Something held her back the same way something held me back, and I knew it was more than the workplace drama of it all.
I thought of the scar of her abdomen, jagged and nasty, and the taste of her lips, the taste of her coming, her moans ringing in my ear. I licked the sweat from her inner thigh and loved it, wanted more of it, wanted every inch of her like lightning in my body. She drove me to something I didn’t understand yet.
She made me want to break my rules.
The next day, I had a morning shift, but she was off. I figured I’d check in on her during my lunch break and maybe at night, if she wanted me to come over again. My goal was to convince her to stay with me for a while, and not just because I wanted her all to myself all the time, but because it would be safer if we stuck together.
On my way outside, two shadows detached themselves from my building, and I barely had time to react.
They came fast. The shorter one grunted like a bulldog and swung at me wildly. He hit me in the gut and I staggered back, coughing with surprise. The taller one went to smash his fists down into my face, but I pulled back, instincts kicking in, fight or flight taking over.
“Should’ve gone away,” the shorter one said with a growl and came at me.
I fought back. I hit him hard in the teeth, made his lips bleed, but the tall one got me from the side and smashed me up against the wall. I elbowed him in the nose and felt bone crunch, and a wild, sick glee came over me. All those years of training in martial arts while my father watched me, shouting at me to work harder, to fight through the pain, to take more hits and to dish out more punishment, it was all coming to fruition in this moment, all those years of fighting and blood and sweat. I did it to make my father happy—and I did it to make him shut the hell up.