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I don’t think I’ve ever touched a man this freely. My mind isn’t occupied with concern I might be doing something wrong, or worry I’ll be a disappointment. For the first time, I’m not weighing the pros and cons of every move I make but feel free to let instinct guide me as I wash his body as he did mine.
That freedom is what ultimately brings me to my knees, the long shaft of his cock warm and heavy in my closed fist, as my tongue and lips explore the flared crown. But when I slide him deep into the heat of my mouth, he suddenly pulls free, grabs me under the arms, and hauls me upright.
“As much as I fucking love where this is going, I’m on a hair trigger here, Gorgeous,” he gruffly states, before adding, “Let’s move this to your bed.”
He helps me out of the tub, and while he turns off the shower, I grab one of the towels, wrap it around me, and dart across the landing to my bedroom. There I climb into bed, resting my back against the headboard so I have a good view of Rick entering my domain.
Rick
* * *
I need a minute to literally cool my jets before I follow Dana.
I’ve never really had a particular preference for one body type over another; my ex, Chelsea, was slender and tall. I didn’t think I had one, until I got a glimpse and then a handful of Dana’s curves. I definitely have a favorite now.
After a brief stop at my bag to grab a condom I’d had the foresight to stuff in the side pocket—I was lucky I still had some floating around my nightstand drawer—I walk into the bedroom.
She’s already on her bed, holding her loosely wrapped towel around her, looking effortlessly seductive with her still-wet hair in ringlets down her shoulders. I stop right inside the door, taking in the view, as my jets instantly reignite. I know I won’t be able to hold back the moment I touch those soft, pale curves, so I drop the towel I slung around my hips, and tear the foil wrapper I was holding with my teeth while I can still think of safety first.
I notice the way her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she follows my every movement. Then her eyes slowly scan up to lock on mine, and she deliberately removes her hand from the towel, letting it fall open. I don’t even try to hold back.
Her body is soft and inviting when I lower mine on top of her. Her knees automatically spread to make room as she wraps me with her limbs. Everything is so easy, our bodies effortlessly aligning as she takes me in, already slick, making it hard for me to take it slow. I don’t want to hurt her.
“Don’t hold back,” she whispers against the skin of my shoulder. “I can take it.”
It’s when she digs her fingernails into my ass cheeks that I lose control and plant myself deep. I manage to pause briefly to give her time to adjust, but she makes it clear she’s ready by sinking her teeth into my pecs.
No need to tell me twice.
Chapter 17
Dana
* * *
I wince getting out of my car in the staff parking lot at the hospital.
As much as I enjoyed last night and this morning—I loved it—I’m a tad tender at the moment. Again, with the lack of exercise for certain select muscles, but I’m feeling pretty good about myself and my face must be showing it.
“Looks like you’re happy to be back. How is your poor father?”
Mildred Gessler targets me from behind the volunteer desk in the lobby when I walk in. She’s a dear old lady, but a bit of a snoop and a gossip. I suspect volunteering at the hospital keeps her in the loop on the latests drama in town.
“Morning, Mildred. How is that gout?”
The best way to avoid responding is to inquire about her health; it’s by far her favorite subject of conversation and does a great job distracting her. Mildred launches into a litany of complaints, and when she runs out of steam, I gently remind her to steer clear of the foods that trigger gout, although I know it’ll probably fall on deaf ears. I suppose habits don’t get any easier to change with age.
The walk-in clinic this morning isn’t too busy, but it gives me a chance to catch up on some of our ongoing patient files in between visits, and the morning still flies by. We’re already coming up to lunchtime when Rohan Sharma, our attending physician, pops his head into the clinic.
“How is your first day back?” he asks, flashing his white smile.
There was a time—when Rohan first took over Doc Wilson’s practice—I may have entertained the odd fantasy about the dark, handsome new arrival in town, but it wasn’t long before Rick Althof moved here as well. As soon as he started dropping into The Kerrigan, he had the focus of my interest.
“Not bad, although it was a challenge getting up and out the door on time. I’ve been spoiled sipping my morning coffee on my porch while leisurely taking in the beautiful view. This morning was a mad dash.”
Of course, the lazy, early-morning activities Rick coaxed me into didn’t help, but I’m not about to share that.
“Yeah, I heard about the new house. Congratulations. That’s exciting.”
