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“Holy shit.”
The pressure of pleasure floods my body. I can’t contain it any longer. I want to remain where I am for a little while longer because this feeling is just so wonderful, so warm and fuzzy, but my pounding heart, which is shooting burning hot blood through my body, won’t let it happen…
I fall back as the pleasure crashes through me, as the orgasm bucks and racks through me. The hot bliss burns through me, rocketing over me—the waves don’t stop coming, it’s absolutely endless. A tsunami of pleasure that I can’t get enough of.
This is phenomenal.
I never want this to end.
Whether this is a dream or not, this is not a feeling I want to let go of.
I glance down once more, looking at the man between my thighs. Only this time, the face isn’t one of a stranger. I don’tthink he’s ever been a stranger, really; it just took me a moment to work out who he is.
But now I know, and it makes the pleasure that much more overwhelming.
Wilson Anderson.
Holy shit, the homeless guy that I see regularly in the clinic.He’sthe one doing this to me?
A little part of me always thought that he might know his way around a woman’s body, but wow… I’m blown away.
If only I could stop that horrible shrill sound from trying to pull me away from Wilson. I want to talk to him, to know more about him. We never get a chance to talk…
Ring, ring… Ring, ring… Ring, ring…
But he’s slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. I can hardly even remember the sensation of pleasure which was so strong and overwhelming only moments before.
I’m being tugged away from this man’s arms and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to keep him here.
I snap my head upwards, blinking furiously, trying to let reality flood me once more.
Ring, ring… Ring, ring… Ring, ring…
I find the clock first. It’s three AM, which means I’m on break.
At the clinic, working, but having a break.
I’m not really supposed to nap during my downtime here, but I don’t think anyone will mind. All my colleagues are just like me—wanting to help as much as we can, even if it sometimes leaves us drained and in need of a time out.
Oh shit.
But as soon as I grab my cell phone, all warm and fuzzy feelings subside. It’s my father, and at eight AM his time, I know this will be a serious talk.
He always has his serious chats first thing.
“Hey, Dad.” I do what I can to sound upbeat and happy.
“Emma.” Oh God, he’s grave. “Why haven’t you been in touch with me? You know that we’re all waiting here. The whole fucking country of God damn Ireland is waiting for your answer.”
My heart sinks. He isn’t ever going to like my answer, which is why I don’t give it.
“I’ve been busy, Dad. I haven’t had time to think…”
“Fucking hell, Emma. Do you know who we’re dealing with here? This isn’t just you choosing what shoes to wear to prom. This is Rickie Flynn Junior and a marriage proposal.” As if I need to be reminded of that. “He’s getting impatient, you know that, right?”
I sigh heavily. “But it helps you, doesn’t it? Having me here in New York with my ear to the ground, helping you out that way…”
“Emma,” Dad snaps, shutting me down completely. “Don’t be ridiculous. The best way you can help me right now is to marry Rickie so I can get him and his family off my back.”
