by Amanda Faye
With one more swipe, I bring the image back onto my screen. With the stalls of the locker room showers as the backdrop, there stands Emma in all her naked glory. Her hair is still up in its tail, and her body is angled so that I have an excellent look at half her ass and a long beautiful expanse of leg. All her curves are on display to absolute advantage, and there’s no doubt that she’s won today's game. Then, as if I needed anything else to give me permanent blue balls, the photo goes from erotic to just plain naughty. Emma is sucking on one of her nipples.
It isn’t until I have my hand wrapped around my dick and am halfway to the finish line before it dawns on me to wonder. Who the fuck took the picture?
Chapter 31
Logan
I’m exhausted. I’ve been at the hospital for fifteen hours today.
They called me this morning for a facial trauma that had come in before daybreak. A pair of sisters got into a fight somewhere between the late-night margaritas and early morning pancakes, and one went through the sliding glass door. I pulled over thirty shards of glass from her arms and face. Some were tiny; others were huge. It took forever. I lost count of how many stitches we had to put in her. I know the resident and intern kept track. I’ll have to remember to ask them. It may have been some sort of record for me.
By the time we finished, both were still drunkish, one crying from pain and humiliation and the other crying out of regret/sympathy/fear of their parents. Even though both women were well into their twenties, I couldn’t blame them when it came to fear of their mother. Drunk or not, that sounded like damn good instincts to me. I suggested that when the time came to speak with their parents, they change this morning into a tripped and fell getting ready for church scenario rather than a drunkenly threw my sister through the window by her hair situation.
Wednesday is my reconstruction day. Today I had two breast reconstructions for cancer survivors, and a nineteen-year-old male with a minor case a Gynecomastia. He’s been a patient of Dr. Andersons since their first consult at age sixteen. After years of exercise, training, and avoiding taking his shirt off in front of girls, I agreed with him that it was time to whip out the scalpel. No red-blooded man wants to tear his shirt off in the heat of the moment to show off a hard earned six-pack and man boobs that refuse to go away.
Since he’s been Noah’s patient for years now, I sent him an email last week letting him know that I’d agree to do the procedure and making sure that he was okay with me stepping on his toes, as it were. I would have done it anyway, but always best to let your co-workers think they had a choice in the matter.
Not only did I get a resounding agreement, but he included tons of pictures of some of the work that they've been able to accomplish while at the refugee camp. The photos were pretty epic.
I almost offered to stay for another three months so that they could stay longer, but then I remembered that I couldn't. I keep, not forgetting, but not quite remembering I have a family waiting for me to get home too.
While I still fuck like I'm in college, my exhaustion is a sure sign that I'm not in my twenties anymore. After the last patient is out of recovery and sleeping the sleep of the anesthesia hangover, I drag my ass out to my car.
*******
Speaking of asses, I’d recognize that butt anywhere. It’s dark out here, already creeping past eight p.m., and the lamplight in this part of the employee parking lot is fickle at best. Still, I know that backside better than I know my own by this point.
She’s leaving later than usual, so something must have happened with a patient. She’s not in her typical attire, either. Gone are the jeans, having been replaced with hip-hugging legging that shows off her ass and legs to their very best advantage.
Her lower legs encased in another pair of over the knee socks, and her boots are black and fuzzy, ending just over her calves.
I hang back for a minute, debating the merits of sneaking up on a lone female in a parking lot.
"Fuck it."
Hiking my bag close to my body so it won't make too much noise, I lengthen my strides and power walk the twenty feet separating us.
Closing the gap, I wrap my hands around her middle and whisper in her year, "Put your hands in the air and give me all of your deepest darkest fantasies."
My breath is hot against her throat. I nip at her ear, and she turns swiftly in my arms and beams me against the chest.
"Logan, you asshole, you scared the piss out of me!"
"Ow," I laugh out, rubbing my chest with my hand where she elbowed me.
"Damn Austen, where'd you learn how to lash out like that?"
Her hands are on her chest, presumably trying to calm her runaway heart.
"I grew up with a twin brother, you blockhead. It was either eat or be eaten. I learned quickly."
"That's gonna leave a mark, you know." I try to use my charming voice, moving my hands to place both on her hips.
"Good. You deserve it. I'm going to tell Mandy you thought it would be cute to sneak up on a woman alone in a parking lot at night. I bet she leaves a bruise too."
Threatening me with the wrath of my best friend only makes me chuckle more, and I try to pull her to me, so we're chest to chest. Or jacket to jacket as the case may be.
"How's Brandon? Have you got to be home soon? Please, please don't take this wrong. If I had my way, you'd never wear anything but yoga pants again, but where are your jeans?"
"Oh, that." She heaves a sigh of irritation and examines herself from head to toe.
"I made the mistake of leaving the hospital through the emergency room, and one of the paramedics waved me down as they were on their way through. I didn't stay for the whole situation, as I wasn't on call, but stood beside the gurney just long enough for the guy to puke blood all over me. My guess would be an intestinal perf."
"Eck."
"Tell me about it. After yet another shower, all I had left clean in my locker was this."
I let my hands slip from her hips to her butt and give it a firm squeeze, drawing her bottom lip between my teeth.
"I'm not complaining. I could recognize the dimples in that ass from a block off."
"Ugh, thanks, I think?"
Emma tries to shove me off of her, but I'm not that easy to get rid of. After a moment, she gives up and wraps her arms around my shoulders instead.
"Anyway, Brandon is fine. Yes, I have to go home. No, you can't come with me. I don't bring home strange men I don't like."
She seems to think about it for a minute.
"Anymore, at least."
That pulls another chuckle from me, and I unzip her jacket some so that I have better access to her throat.
"Well, if I can't interest you in making love in a bed, perhaps some good old fashioned car sex before we part for the evening."
Her skin is breaking out in goosebumps, but whether it's from my ministrations on her person or the fact that it's cold as the tundra out here, I can't tell.
"You know, I've never had sex in a car before."
That stops me in my tracks.
"How is that possible? Everybody's had sex in a car at least once."
"Nope. I've never had the need."
"Well, that decides it." Entwining my fingers in hers, I pull her next to me and travel a couple of car lengths over to where my jeep in parked in Noah's parking spot.
When we get close enough, I reach my hand into my pocket for my keys and hit the remote start button. No sense in not climbing a preheated car.
"Wait. Wait, we can't do this."
Emma tugs on my fingers and pulls me to a stop. Looking over my shoulder, she's glancing around the parking lot like her brother is going to jump out and scream 'caught ya' any second.
"Why? Afraid we'll get caught? The next shift change isn't for another two-plus hours. The employee parking lot will be dead until then."
Giving our still entwined fingers a hard tug, I pull her off balance and catch her in my arms. The way she's looking up at me makes me feel like
a God among men. It's addicting, and I need my next hit.
Her lips twist into a delicious little pout, and it occurs to me. I don't think we kiss nearly enough. It's time we rectify that.
As slowly and patiently as my desire will allow, I bring my lips to hers. Emma opens her mouth for me immediately. I demure the offer, choosing instead to place little kisses around her lips and up and down her jawline.
"You are so fucking beautiful. Have I told you that recently?"
She's stretching on her tiptoes, trying to force me to deepen my kisses, but instead, I take her bottom lip between my own and suck, flicking my tongue around the swollen tissue until it leaves my mouth with a pop.
"I think— I think you need your eyes checked, but I'll take it all the same."
How she still doesn't realize how desperately I want her is beyond me.
Without realizing it, we've been taking baby steps towards the car, and I suddenly find myself slammed up against my door.
Pinned where she wants me, I surrender to her insistent tugging on my face, and at last meld my lips with hers. Her tongue slips against my own, and I pull to her me as tight as our cumbersome outerwear will allow. I know she can feel my need for her hard and thick between us, and I relish in the way she tries to rub herself against me like a cat. I love it when she scratches her nails against my head and neck, and bring one of my own hands to her throat to coax her deeper to me still. If we stay out here much longer, I'm going to come just like this.
"Time to move this inside love before the snow freezes us in place."
Emma looks as if she's in a trance, and it takes several long moments for her to realize what I'm saying.
"Oh," she giggles, and I grab her for one more kiss before giving us space to open the back door of my car.
"Ummm, not to sound like a newb, but I'm wearing pants. How exactly is this going to work."
"Oh, ye of little faith. Get it, and I'll show you."
Rolling her eyes at me, she climbs into the back seat of the jeep then looks at me expectantly.
"Spoiled much? I guess I've got to do everything." I give her my wicked grin so she knows I'm playing with her and toss our bags into the front seat, leaning forward to finger the seat controls, pushing the passenger seat as far as it will go. Then I tug off each of her boots, tossing them haphazardly upfront as well. Unable to resist the temptation, I bury my face in her crotch, blowing hot air on her through the fabric, and pull away when her unexpected laughter turns to a moan.
"Strip wench!" I command in my best knightly voice, then slam the door and run to the other side. Repeating the process with the driver's side seat, I toss my boots in before me and yank my jacket and shirt off over my head before crawling into the back seat with Emma.
Her shirt is gone somewhere. Her bra is half off. Her ass and hips are in the air as the tries to shove her pants down her thighs. She looks fabulously debauched, and I fucking love it. Still on my hands and knees on the seat, I try to lick at her skin and help push her pants down simultaneously. Instead, I end up buried face first into her lap with such force I knock her against the seat.
"This is supposed to convince me this was a feasible idea?"
I'm laughing so hard I'm snorting into her belly button, and I have to roll onto my back to catch my breath. It's a tight fit, she's right. I'm bigger than I was in college. Still chuckling softly at my complete lack of finesse, her pants and panties still bunched at her knees, Emma runs her fingers over my forehead and through my hair. We sit like this, both half-naked, with me bunched against the car door, long enough that the timer on the remote start goes off, and the chill starts to creep into the car again.
She pats me on the chest, in the universal signal for get the fuck off me, and pouts, "Since that was a failure, I've got to get home."
Oh, hell, no. I roll until I'm a heap on the floorboards, then grab Emma's bottoms before she can attempt to pull them back up.
I'm less than graceful, and anybody else's laughter tinkling in my ears like that would ruin my manhood for life, but Emma is different, thank God. Her laughter just brings on a round of my own.
It takes nothing more than my hands running up her inner legs before she's frantically helping me pull her leggings off rather than trying to put them back on again.
It's a tight fit, and the seat is poking into my ribs in a way that makes me positive it's going to bruise tomorrow, but I can't let Emma's first bout of car sex be an absolute failure.
I can't get my face to the apex of her thighs, but a dip of my fingers in her folds confirms she's still dripping wet for me. With one hand in her clit and the other caressing her legs and hip, I busy my mouth, laying kisses on the bare skin I can reach.
"Upupupupup," is followed with insistent tugging on my hair, and I join her on the seat again, trying to wrangle my pants off. When my bottoms are far enough that my bare ass hits the seat, I use my feet to push them off the rest of the way. Emma wraps her sweet little hand around my cock. Shudders of pleasure explode around me at her touch. The way she strokes me down before covering the tip with her palm does me in.
In a move much more graceful than me, she climbs to her hands and knees and encases my dick inside her powerful lips. Her tongue is twirling like she's kissing it, and my hold on the frame of the car is so tight my knuckles have gone white. Her hair is cascading in waves around her face. I gather it together in my hand so I can watch as my dick appears then disappears into her mouth over and over again.
Her breasts, large and glorious, sway in the steamy air with every bob of her head. I find myself aching to be in two places at once, so I can suck her tits while she sucks my dick. I contend myself by switch my hands in her hair, so I can run my fingers over her back and ass, dipping them into her wetness and teasing them around her entrances. The moan she lets rip is pure sex, and suddenly she's pushing back against my hand, searching out deeper stimulation.
When my pelvis starts to thrust up of its own accord, she puts both hands on my hips and pins me there with her weight. It's the sweetest sort of torture, the way her pace slows to a crawl up and down my cock because of it.
When it's stop or come time, I tug at her hair and groan at the loss of contact against my dick. He's not alone for long, though, as she pulls herself upright and swings her leg over my lap.
Without a second's hesitation, I pull her face down to mine. I can't get enough of her. It's not oxygen I need to survive anymore. It's Emma. She tries to rut against me, but I have her held so tight she's pinned against my chest. Destined to take whatever I give her. We can't kiss anymore; there's not enough coordination left to do that. But I can't pull my mouth away from her either. Instead, with every glide together, we eat each other's air, swallow each other's whimpers. The only sounds are our grunts and the music of skin against skin.
It's not chilly in the car anymore — quite the opposite. Sweat is dripping off of our bodies, and the windows are fogged and melting from the heat of our lovemaking. Anybody who walks by will know what's going on. Good. I want them to all know she's mine.
“Wait! Wait. I have to do it.”
My thrusting slows immediately at her call to halt. I change so that my dick is slowly sliding in and out of her, pulling against every ridge she has. The sensation turns exquisite, and she bites out her moan into my shoulder blade.
“You’re killing me, Logan.”
The way she's panting, gulping down oxygen in those short little gasps makes me feel drunk.
“Ditto, Austen.”
There's still just millimeters between us, and I feel her lips move against my skin.
“Have you ever seen Titanic?”
“What?”
I can't keep my confusion out of my voice.
Of course, I’ve seen Titanic. I took three separate girls to that movie and made it to third base twice. Then it hits me.
I’m already snickering when I lock eyes with Emma, and the playful giddiness on her face sends me over the edge.
>
In a perfect parody of Leonardo DiCaprio, I slam my hand against the steamed-up window and slide it down the condensation built up against the glass. All it takes is meeting Emma’s eyes again before she’s collapsed on top of me in a fit of giggles, with me still inside her. At every twitch of our bodies, we rub against the other. Nerve endings send fireworks of pleasure up my central nervous system.
I move her hair out of her face and stretch up to steal another round of kisses from her. I laugh more with this woman then I have any time in my life before this. What is she doing to me?
"Thank you, Logan." She pulls away just enough to look me in the eye, then begins to rock her hips once more. Gone is the fevered pace from moments before. In its place is something sensual, erotic. Loving. My arms wrap around her again, hands spread wide on her hips.
Emma has one hand open against my face, running her thumb up and down my cheekbone. Bringing her other to my mouth, she slips her thumb between my lips, allowing me to suck and roll it with my tongue. My eyes never leave hers as her muscles clench around me. It catches me off guard when my orgasm tumbles after hers. It makes it that much sweeter that she can unravel me without the slightest provocation.
We sit like that, forehead to forehead, arms wrapped around each other until the chill Of the air encircles us once again.
Chapter 32
Emma
I can't sleep. I think I've looked at my phone every ten minutes for the last four hours. I'm sure my hair is a mess from all the tossing and turning. I kick my blankets to the side one minute, only to groan in frustration and pull them back on me the next. My sleep shirt kept bunching at my hips, so I lost it at about 11:30. At 12:30 I went to the kitchen and took a shot of vodka. No help. Somewhere in the middle I even tried to masturbate, but it took all of thirty seconds to realize that that was never going to work again. Once you've ridden in a Porsche, a chevy just won't do the job anymore.