Page 172 of The Doctors Will See You Now

She got it pretty easily, pulling it down and dropping the dress from her shoulders to bare her breasts before forcing it gently over the curve of her hips and stepping out of it.

Sweet Lucifer, her nipples were peaked and perfect, the rosy, brownish hue unlike any color I’d ever seen before—and I’d seen a lot of nipples. Christ, it was like I’d been color-blind my whole life, and Harlow had bought me the special glasses.

I hopped on one foot and chucked one shoe and then the other before shucking my own pants and ripping my already torn open shirt—compliments of Harlow—off and letting it fall to the ground.

She looked on hungrily, a little grin curving just the corner of her abused mouth, as she stood there in nothing more than a sheer black thong.

I attacked.

Forward in a flurry of motion, I grabbed her by the hips and lifted her until the length of her legs wrapped my waist tightly, and I carried her until her back bumped into the wall at the mouth of the one hallway in my apartment.

She grabbed and yanked at my hair, and the nerves stood on end. One breast and then the other, I feasted on everything they had to offer, nipping and sucking until mottled red rose to the surface of each.

More, more, more, give me all of it, Low.

Her hips rolled against mine, and my cock poked out of the top of my boxers in search of her sweet heat.

She weighed next to nothing, but holding her against the wall wasn’t conducive to my best work.

I pulled her up, burying my face in between her perfect-handful-sized breasts one more time and licking.

Every inch of her skin tastes like perfect summer fruit.

Christ, I think I’m already addicted.

She let her head drop back, a soft, audible thud breaking the pants of our labored breathing as it made contact with the wall.

I put a hand to the drywall and pushed off before moving my lips to her sweet throat again and sucking there, stopping just shy of marking her skin, as I walked us back to my bedroom and dropped her in the middle of my king-size bed.

“Scott,” she rasped, and my dick started to ache.

I lost the only clothing I had left, my boxers and socks, and followed her down, reaching up and to the side until my fingers met the knob on the top drawer of my nightstand.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she was sure if she wanted to do this, but I choked on the words as I sent them back down. If she didn’t want to, she’d say it. And I’d respect it.

But until then, this was the best almost-sex I’d had in years—maybe ever—and I’d be damned if I was going to let being too polite ruin the moment.

Back to the task at hand, I opened the drawer and grabbed a condom before shifting to my knees between her legs and rolling it down my length.

She licked her lips and sat up, moving her hand on top of mine to assist, and just like that, any lingering doubt fled the building.

Urgency clawed at the line of my spine and robbed me of some of my finesse as I fell forward on top of her, our heavy, panting breaths the only thing filling the room, reached between us to pull the gusset of her panties to the side, and thrust myself in to the hilt.

Fire built in my back as she scored it with her fingernails and closed her eyes in ecstasy, the roll of her groan nearly guttural.

I could relate. I was feeling pretty fucking splendid myself.

One thrust led to two as I lost myself inside of her tight heat and moved my hands over every inch of her body. She moaned as I grasped at her hips, the thin material of her thong driving me crazy as I set a rhythm. Like a quick squeeze of a hand, her pussy clamped down on me and sucked at me until I’d lost any semblance of control.

I roared, I heard it ring in my own ears it was so loud, as I ripped the material on both sides of her hips clean through.

Bliss, pure and carnal, took hold of every last cell of my body as we climaxed together in a way I’d never ever fucking forget.

I might have been blind to the look on her face as she came thanks to my own pleasure, but I swore I could feel it bleeding in through the inky blackness behind my eyelids.

We’d hardly spoken, but the roughness of her cry and the sting of her teeth as they marked my shoulder as hers said all of the words—maybe all of the words in existence—for us.

Slowly and reluctantly, I removed my arm from my face. I blinked, closed my eyes, and blinked again. Streaks of sunlight penetrated the unfamiliar window and damn near blinded me with its hot, white rays. A bit disoriented, I sat up and curiously scanned the bedroom that wasn’t mine. The room was sleek yet personalized—king-sized bed, white sheets, white comforter, and a few pieces of perfectly selected art hanging on the walls.