Mount Mercy

He slid a hand down between us, still slow and reverent. A thick finger parted my folds and pushed up inside me. He watched me, eyes hooded with lust, as he found my clit and brushed his thumb across it—

I groaned, mouth opening wide, and squeezed my thighs around his hand, twisting around his finger—

And that sent him over the edge. He couldn’t wait any longer. He scooped both hands under my ass and lifted me again, marching me over to the padded table in the center of the room and laying me down on it on my back. He hooked his muscled arms under my knees and with one tug pulled me towards him, so that my groin was right at the edge. Oh God, he’s going to—Right here, on the table—

He shoved down his scrub pants and boxer shorts. His cock sprang out, straining and ready, and he rolled on a condom. He stepped between my dangling legs and I gasped as the head brushed my wet folds….

And then he was in me. Fast at first, rushing into me, and I sucked in my breath and arched my back at the wonderful, silken friction of him. Then he slowed, but kept going, grabbing my hips and pinning me in place as he sank deeper and deeper, my eyes widening and my back arching as he filled me completely.

He leaned down and we kissed, open-mouthed and panting. His hands sought out mine and he pressed them down to the table above my head, his sculpted forearms like tree trunks. He knitted his fingers with mine, possessive but gentle. And then he began to move.

I groaned at how good it was, at the glorious hot stretch as he filled me, at the needful ache as he left me again. The moonlight coming through the window lit up his body, each hard slab of muscle edged in silver. He loomed over me: that broad chest and powerful back, narrowing down to that tight, powerful core and the hard ass that let him lunge into me again and again—

I caught my breath and bit my lip as the pleasure started to build, a swirling, violet hurricane that wound tighter and tighter, faster and faster. My fingers squeezed his in time with his thrusts, my hips beginning to rock and twist around him. He growled at how that felt and picked up the pace, moving mercilessly faster and faster, pounding at me until I had to squeeze my eyes tight shut, everything gone except the pleasure, coiled so tight and so hot inside me that I thought I’d explode. I began to cry out with each thrust, high little cries that didn’t sound like me. I was panting and gasping, my hair sticking to my damp forehead. My legs scissored around him, heels climbing his back. God, I was out of control! And it felt great.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered. The more turned on he was, the stronger the Irish got in his voice and right now it was stronger than I’d ever heard it. “You’re incredible. You drive me fucking mad.”

Me? I did that to him? I was close, now, the climax thundering towards me.

I sensed him leaning down, felt the heat of his breath on my lips and then he was kissing me, hard, staccato little kisses on my panting lips that drove me absolutely crazy. Then his head moved lower and—Oh Jesus! He started doing the same thing to my nipples, catching each one with a quick little swipe of his tongue as his cock hammered into me faster and faster. His words came out as hot little rushes of air against the shining, sensitive flesh. “Beckett,” he rasped, “I’m keeping you forever.”

That did it. I cried out, my back arched and my head pressed into the softness of the padded table. My thighs crushed tight around his waist, but even that friction couldn’t stop him: he kept slamming into me, each hard thrust lifting the pleasure higher. I squeezed his fingers so hard it must have hurt and came with a long, keening scream that they must have heard down in the Emergency Room. I spasmed and shuddered around him and then felt the heat of his own release. At last, I slumped back against the table, panting.

He leaned down over me, panting as well...and chuckling. He had a huge grin on his face and it was the most open, the most relaxed, I’d ever seen him. It was infectious: within seconds, I was giggling, too. And then he leaned even lower, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me.

* * *

When we’d dressed and turned the lights on, I insisted on clearing up the mess we’d made. The floor was littered with kidney bowls, instruments and boxes of drugs and, as we picked them up, I put them back in their proper places, lining everything up just-so.