Page 37 of The Doctor

My little hurricane was tucked inside.

Beautiful.

Sinful.

Sleeping Clara.

The girl was snuggled under my covers, curled around the little cloud pillow I’d bought her when she was only two. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she looked innocent.

She wore innocent so well.

I lowered myself to the mattress beside her.

I curled my arm around her and pulled her to my chest.

And I fell asleep with perfection surrounding me.

A raging storm that lulled me into sleep.

“Clara.” A groan accompanied her name as it fell from my lips. The dream churning through my mind felt so real, for a brief moment, I thought it might be. But there was no way. No way I would have done that again. Woke up wound around her naked body, touching her in places I had no right to touch.

That dream was beyond my wildest imagination. Her touch felt so right, her fingers smoothing over my chest. Plucking at my nipples, sliding through my hair, fingering the tattoos that marked me like the hurricane that ruled my life.

I ached head to toe. Need pulsed through me like a heartbeat, blood pumping through my dick in time with the wild beat of my pulse. I could almost feel her slick pussy dripping her arousal onto my cock, and I clenched my hands, as if I could squeeze her ass and make her ride me straight to hell and back.

It was the quiet moan from her throat that tore my dream to shreds. Because that moan wasn’t hidden inside the dark recesses of my head. It came from beneath me as I was picturing myself curling my fingers inside her pussy, and it preceded a moan of my own as I dreamt of her hand clutching my dick.

Reality hit me as Clara’s lips touched my throat, pulling me out of my dream and to the very real scene that was playing out in my bed.

My hand was in her pants.

Her hand was in mine, too.

And I had her pinned to the mattress as she sucked and licked and bit at the sensitive flesh of my throat.

I couldn’t have stopped her if I’d wanted to. I was too lost to the sensations, my body craving the release I was sure I could only get at her hands.

At the thought, my fingers curled again, and Clara threw her head back, gasping out a glorious sound that had me wanting to do it again and again.

“Fuck.” She was beautiful, her slick pussy clenching around my fingers, her sweet body cushioning every thrust of my hips as her hand slid along my hard shaft.

She was beautiful, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving against me, her body trembling as I slid my fingers in and out of her tight clutch.

She was beautiful, her orgasm cresting before her entire body went slack.

Pretty brown eyes peered up at me with a heavy-lidded stare. For a moment, all I could do was watch. Then she lifted her head, pressed her lips to my own, and squeezed her fingers around my cock.

Fuck.

It felt so good, and I couldn’t stop the thrust of my hips. Just as I couldn’t stop the one that followed, or all the ones after that. Clara Vinci had me wrapped around her finger, even as her fingers were wrapped around me.

I was in the eye of the storm, surrounded by her chaos and lost to the turmoil that raged through me like the beat of a drum.

But her fingers weren’t enough. In my desperation, I tore my hand free from between her legs, gripped her hips hard and rolled onto my back. She gasped, and I took the moment to tear my mouth away from hers, before I was jerking her body along my aching cock.

“Fuck, Clara!”

She moaned again, then dropped until her chest was pressed to mine, until her lips were coasting along my throat once again. She sucked my skin as I thrust into the space between us, letting the dampness of her panties become a poor substitute for the warm, wet heat I craved.