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My first four, semilucid nights at Misericordia Hospital were spent in a haze, and for that reason I was unsure as to whether or not I had imagined him. So picturesque, dark curls offsetting his hazel eyes, an exquisite blend of feminine and masculine, he looked like he had walked off the GQ pages of my dreams and materialized by my bedside to check my vitals. I could only recall brief flashes of him coming and going. I heard his voice, reading something about a woman too disturbingly beautiful for this world, how she ascends into the heavens, and then his words faded away in the distance. I saw him taking a syringe to my drip line and then everything went blank. I even thought I could recall his scent, trailing off into the night. My body—a much more reliable source than my mind at this point—distinctly remembered feeling how he positioned himself on the edge of my bed one night, the heat of his thigh pressing up against mine. Then gone.
Surely it had to be the drugs.
My memory could not quite piece together the facts surrounding my accident either. The rain was coming down hard and so I didn’t see the big cat until the very last second. Her gold-brown eyes staring at me through the droplets on the windshield, confused as to why I would disturb her moment of peace as she stood, unflinchingly stoic in the middle of the road. I flinched, swerved, felt the car gliding along the slick pathway and then everything spinning in slow motion. But that’s all I could recollect. The doctors informed me that the car rolled several times. The air bags saved me from death, but my head hit the side window hard enough to knock me out for a couple of days. Even when I regained consciousness, I was still in and out with little, if any, warning. Between the skull-numbing pain and the drugs they fed me to keep the worst at bay, I couldn’t trust myself to distinguish reality from dream. Then there was the layer of surreality surrounding my gaze-divertingly hot nurse. Gabriel.
On the fifth day of this bedridden state, I resolved to approach the evening with a clear head. Or at least as clear as my concussed brain would allow. I refused the pain meds they tried to push on me so that I could be cognizant of Gabriel’s late-night visitation. I had to know that he was real. Perhaps he wasn’t? But that’s about as far as I could let my imagination wander. Had I been in my right mind, I wouldn’t have even taken it that far.
I awoke to his light eyes peering intently into mine. Mierda. I must’ve drifted off.
“How’s the pain, cielita?” Glancing down at my chart, he continued, “I see you’ve been refusing the Dilaudid.”
Somewhat taken aback at the immediate intimacy of his stare penetrating me upon waking—the feeling of him inside me even before my first thought could form—it took me a second to put words together. “I’m still trying to find my way out of the haze. At moments, I felt like I was losing my hold on reality. I just want to think straight. Without the drugs, the pain is certainly keeping me bound to reality. I hope.”
Gabriel began nodding at my mention of grogginess, letting me know that he understood. He didn’t see anything unusual about my choice to take on the pain for clairity’s sake, unlike the other nurses. Rather, he respected it. I sensed that he thought it wise and actually quite reasonable.
“You’ve been able to sleep despite the intensity of the headaches, so that’s a good sign.”
“I’ve actually grown somewhat accustomed to the maladies in my head...” I spotted the slightest shift in his facial expression and I crumbled. “Oh, god, I used that word incorrectly, didn’t I? How embarrassing.” I launched into a babble about how it’s all still quite fuzzy and I know it’s nothing in comparison to a severe head injury but I’ve been having these damn leg cramps at night that wake me just when I seem to drift off, and I heard my voice and recognized how ridiculous I sounded. Why the hell was I telling him this? My mouth kept flapping and I beseeched my brain to please stop.
Rescuing me from the red-hot flushing across my face and my mouth that wouldn’t seem to quit, no matter how much I willed it, Gabriel broke in, “Why don’t you let me see what I can do to keep your calves from tensing up?”
Not waiting for my consent, he reached for my legs. He slowly peeled back the stark white hospital bedding until just the edge of my thigh was exposed. He gripped just past my knee and began massaging me there. Gabriel took his time working out the soreness, digging into my atrophied muscles firmly, hurling me into delectation. As he brought needed relief to my legs, it felt as though he was sending every last drop of blood in my veins directly to my clit. I began to throb. Hard. So hard I feared that he might be able to hear it. I couldn’t help but stare at the thick vein in his neck that seemed to be pulsating in time with my licentious heartbeat.
“I have to admit, I’m delighted to have you so lucid tonight. It feels a little...selfish.” Gabriel stopped himself, but I couldn’t muster the courage to ask him why. After a while he spoke again, telling me that this was his last night at Misericordia. He was involved with a program that transferred him all over the world and he’d be heading to Aracataca, a small river town near Soledad in Colombia’s Caribbean region, the very next day.
“I know you haven’t exactly been coherent for most of our conversations, but I wanted to thank you because for the first time since I got here, I haven’t felt alone. There’s something... comforting about you....” His voice trailed off so I could hardly make out the last bit, “...and deeply provocative.”
As he’d just barely uttered those last three words, the air sparked, igniting a palpable intensity between us, and I felt all my inhibitions fall away. They hit the floor, shattered into a hundred indecipherable fragments and dissipated into the atmosphere, as if they had never existed. Usually, I bury my passions in exchange for practicality. I resist ever getting swept up in a moment, never one to indulge in lustful craving. And yet here I was, sitting in a fucking hospital bed, ready to tear off this godawful nightgown, rip out my IV with my teeth, and devour this most sumptuous of men.
Fuck. I have to get a hold of myself.
I allowed myself a sideways glance at him and immediately felt the pull of a skydiver’s traction, the pressure of oxygen pushing up against its tank, the skin stretched taught across a firefighter’s healing burns. I perceived every single bit of tension in this hospital straining against the space between us.
“I want to subdue the rest of your pain.” And with that, again needing no permission, his hand crept up over my knee. Trailing along my inner thigh with just his fingertips, Gabriel blanketed my skin with goose bumps.
My heart surging and breath short, I couldn’t look at him. I looked down at the sea of white that covered my body, distancing me from myself. Although utterly responsive, I was outside of it all, as if I was looking down on something that was happening to me, instead of being an active participant. Or at least a willing recipient. I watched intently at how the sheet rose and fell, undulating like waves in the wake of his hand as it gradually made its ascent toward my cunt.
I wanted to scream, but not out of pleasure. I was dying to drive a crack in this pristine surface, to scream out in protest at the top of my lungs, to struggle and fight him off, to push away this satisfaction that I needed so desperately. This desire that I had to have. Still I wanted to scream. I opened my mouth but instead only a moan escaped as I felt his fingers glide across my rain-slicked path, causing time to slow, the room to spin. I gasped at the shock of his fingers, the arousal that grabbed hold, the pain that shot behind my eyes.
“I’m going to need you to be a good girl for me and be very, very quiet. No one can know about this. We can’t risk anyone hearing....”
This awakened an altogether new, more depraved level of excitement in me and without warning, someone—far more brash than me, much bolder and inexplicably crude—someone else’s words were rolling off my tongue. “One scream from me and you could lose your license. You’ve got my DNA smeared all over your fingers and I’m a defenseless, drugged-up, concussed crash victim. It wouldn’t look good, would it?” I witnessed a lustful abyss pooling in his eyes. “So you’re gonna want to do exactly as I say.”
Where was this coming from? I knew that I’d hit my head pretty damn hard in the accident, but what the hell had come over me?
I had started down this path, seemingly, of my own volition; guided by some inner drive, some deep-seated compulsion. No one else to blame but me for having unleashed this nasty woman from inside myself. Clearly I had no control over her aims. She would not be reeled in, so I guessed I had no choice. I had to.
I yanked his hand out from inside me, grabbed the extra tubing coming off my IV, and wrapped it around his wrist a few times. Having used up practically all the slack, he had no choice but to keep his hand adjacent to mine.
Heightening the stakes, I instructed him, as if he wasn’t already all too aware, “If you make one false move, cariño, you’ll tear this IV from my wrist and blood will spatter all over your hands.” I’ve always had a thing for literal figures of speech.
I guided our hands back under the covers, to where I needed them most, hovering just above so as to draw out the torture for both Gabriel and me. He was panting with want, I was aching with need. Curling my pinky and ring fingers around his, I shoved both sets of our first two fingers inside me deeply. Four fingers filled me beautifully. I held us there and could feel the strange sensation of my pussy quivering around both of us at the same time. It all lent itself to the dreamlike quality of the situation I’d somehow managed to get myself into.
Gabriel grew impatient and began pushing in even deeper and so I pulled him out almost completely, granting only our fingertips the gift of lingering inside me for moments that stretched on like days. Having taught him his lesson, I thrust us back inside of me and then immediately forced us out. Our fingers in tandem, fucking me in and out, as fast as my risky bondage would allow. I slammed my hungry cunt down on us just one more time, shuttering and burying us deep inside before curling our fingertips onto my G-spot. I was so close to coming, my body writhing against the once-sterile sheets, it only took a few flicks to push me over the edge. I was weightless, spiraling in slow motion; my head hit the glass and I heard it shatter as my body quaked and I spurted all over our hands.
I opened my eyes and yet again Gabriel met me with his invading gaze, this time just inches from my face. Suddenly, he rammed his tongue into my mouth and we delighted in tasting each other—sucking, biting, wrestling back and forth, tongues snaking around each other, sliding in and out of each other’s mouths. Finally we broke away, heaving air into our emptied lungs. His piercing eyes radiated pure temptation.
He leaned in and kissed my forehead with the longing of insatiability, the tender sweetness of a fallen angel. “I’m going to give you something to help you sleep through the night.”
