The Monster (Boston Belles 3)

“Hell no. I made a bet with a friend I could get into premed. Didn’t study for it either. But I read a gynecology book on one of my train rides to New York City while attending an arms deal and got the gist of it.”

I had a million questions to ask him, but all of them had to wait as my climax washed over me, shaking me to the core and making me cry out, grasping onto the edges of the examination table.

“Always so dramatic,” Sam muttered. Instead of getting on top of me like I thought he would, he grabbed me by the ankles, tugging me until my ass perched on the edge of the table.

“Sorry, Miss Fitzpatrick, but I couldn’t find what I needed. This might be a little unorthodox, but I think I know how to finish this exam.”

I was all boneless desire and satisfaction. I couldn’t even lift my head to see what he was doing before he squatted down between my legs, his tongue finding my clit and swirling around it slowly, teasingly, putting delicious pressure on it. I grabbed his hair and groaned so loud I thanked my lucky stars Dr. Doyle wasn’t upstairs in his apartment because I could probably be heard in neighboring cities.

“Merde,” I panted.

“I fucking love it when you say that,” he murmured between my legs, and I felt the wetness of me coating my inner thighs and his face as he began to eat me out, literally.

Eat. Me. Out.

Nibbled and bit and licked me thoroughly. My eyes rolled back inside their sockets, the pleasure so poignant, so intense, the oxygen rattled in my lungs. I was close to a second, violent orgasm, I couldn’t help but buck my groin, thrusting it into his face.

“Please. Ohhhhh.”

I stopped breathing, every muscle in my body clenching as intense pleasure coursed over me. I reached the highest point of la petite mort—my own little death, as the French referred to an orgasm—just when I felt him plunging into me, heavy and thick and long, in one smooth movement.

I was drenched, hot and ready for him.

My eyes opened and I saw him leaning against the examination table, between my legs, while I was full to the hilt with his erection. He closed his eyes and hissed, the pleasure too much for both of us, as he began to move inside me.

“Found what you were looking for?” I croaked, referring to his so-called pap smear.

He thrust into me with a punishing rhythm. “And then some.”

Something about his movements, so sure, so nonchalantly punishing, told me that he was used to getting what he wanted not only outside of the bedroom but inside it, too.

“I can’t believe I’m fucking you again.” He shook his head, frowning at me.

“Believe it.” My heart pounded loud and wildly. “Because I doubt you can do this with anyone else at this point.”

“Shut up.”

“You know it’s true. That’s why you couldn’t have sex with that woman at the ball, who looked exactly like me. You know what you want, Sam? You just don’t want to take it because the consequences would mean you’d lose my daddy’s fat paycheck.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your daddy.” He plowed into me angrily. I didn’t think anyone had ever been that deep inside of me.

“Then what is it? Please don’t tell me you actually convinced yourself you are bad for me. You don’t have a conscience, and I can make my own decisions.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Make me.” I blew a raspberry. For a second, he stopped thrusting and just stood still between my legs, buried inside me. Then in one swift motion, he removed the latex gloves from his hands, balled them together, and shoved them into my mouth, my juices still on them. My mouth filled with the bitter taste of latex and the earthiness of myself.

“There. That’s better.” He resumed his thrusts. “Never have I fucked a more infuriating creature.”

“Furrryerrr,” I offered around the ball of gloves.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Fucking you.”

He was close. I could feel it. The way his fingers tightened around my thighs, pushing them outward. The way his expression became less guarded and more surprised like he, too, couldn’t believe it was so good.

“Are you on the pill?” he asked, mid-thrust.

I tried answering around the gloves, but my voice was muffled, and he couldn’t catch that I’d said, “Yes, I was, since I was fifteen.”

“Never mind.” He pushed in and out with jerky movements. “Even if you aren’t, you are going to take the morning after pill. Am I clear?”

The pleasure and playfulness I felt just seconds ago turned into anger again. He came inside me, holding my legs still as his face tightened. I could feel his warm cum making its way inside my body. I spat the gloves out onto the floor, roaring with fury, swinging my body upright. I pushed him off of me, kicking him for good measure. He barely moved—just enough to let me stand up fully—already tucking himself in.