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“Oh,” she laughed again, nervously. “I think I’m alright.”
I lifted myself off her, sitting back and putting my hands around her ribcage to help her into a sitting position. Her wild, red hair looked like a lion’s mane, and her eyes had a soft, sedated droop to them. She bit her lip, drawing up her knees and smiling uncertainly.
I almost passed out from cuteness overload.
“How-how was that?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, I’ve never, you know,” she searched for words.
My stomach lurched.You’ve neverwhatJune?
“… played games like that,” she finished, lifting one side of her mouth and resting her chin on her knees. “Was that the kind of cupcake you like?”
I liked cupcakes strapped down, moaning for mercy, and panting for my cock in every orifice in their bodies. Usually. But I was starting to think I would like any cupcake that had “June” written in sunshine yellow frosting over the top. I reached over and caressed her lips gently. “You are stunning, Cupcake. Literal perfection.”
Her eyes sparkled.
I looked down at my stomach covered in sticky syrup. “Shower?” I suggested.
She leaped out of bed. “Okay, but you have to soap me up again.”
“Touch you? The inhumanity.”
While we showered, June peppered me with questions about my personal life. Yes, I had a dad. He lived in California. My mom had passed away several years before, and no, June didn’t have to look at me with her pitying puppy dog eyes. Yes, I had siblings. My brother Zev and sister Azura were hot-shot lawyers in Denver. Apparently, June had four older brothers. Yes, I liked being a neurosurgeon. No, I didn’t have any pets. My favorite color was green. Why? I liked nature—forests, gardens, meadows… I didn’t tell her that my favorite shade might be her eyes, which reminded me of rustic earth tones and supple moss. My favorite food? Sushi.
I helped her dry off her hair, stealing kisses when I could because the luster of her pale skin, sloping and curving in all the right places, had me working myself back into a frenzy. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to wrap her tight and squeeze every inch of her until she gasped my name.
Which, I had noticed, she hadn’t. Yet.
June donned a simple, cap-sleeve babydoll nightdress that stopped mid-thigh and had tiny blue flowers printed on it. I rested my hands on my hips. “You had that thing this whole time?”
She shrugged innocently, brushing her hair. “I had to seduce you.”
“I hate to break it to you, June Bug, but I’ve wanted to screw you since you plopped your ass in my office chair the other day. I doubt your clothing would have influenced it that much.” Her mouth made a little “O.” I winked before pulling my shirt over my head.
“You gave me a nickname,” she sang.
I could give her a hundred nicknames that would never convey how adorable I found her. Sunshine, sugarbug, honeybunch. She personified every cavity-inducing, sweet nickname all rolled into one spunky package. “I’ve been calling you ‘Cupcake’ all night,” I pointed out.
“I like that one, too.” She plopped onto the bed and crossed her legs. “I suck at coming up with nicknames, though. I don’t even know any that would fit you.”
“Don’t,” I suggested wryly. I sat on the bed next to her. “Plus, it’s time to pay up, buttercup. You promised to let me take your vitals.”
She schooled her features into a serious expression. “Of course, Dr. Brady.”
Uh oh.I was insomuch trouble with this girl. Dopamine overload. I slid my medi bag between my feet and zipped it open. Then, I pressed the button on the pulse ox monitor first, slid it over her pointer finger, and fished out the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.
“So… you cuss when you fuck, huh?” June asked.
I rolled my eyes over to her. “Yes. I do.”
“Why?” she asked, drawing out the word with a tilt of her head.
I fitted the cuff around her arm. “I guess because it’s something good. Something fun. It’s not curse words themselves I hate. But most of the time, people use them when they’re talking to or about other people, and that feels uncomfortable for me.”
She nodded thoughtfully, her rosy lips pursed. “So, if you didn’t curseatanyone, or about another person, would it really be so bad to let a salty one slip sometimes?”
I searched for her brachial vein, palpating the inside of her elbow. “I guess I could probably ease up a bit,” I admitted. “Outside of work, that is.”
I clenched the bulb rapidly, and she wiggled angrily. “Could you ease that up a bit, dude?”
