by Sophia Henry
I press the bottom button as she instructed. “Is it on?”
“Yep.” The silly smile lighting up her face should have told me, but I wanted to hear her say it. There’s something about getting the breathy verbal confirmation from her smooth pink lips.
I must look like a fucking idiot with a lame-ass grin on my face as I watch her reactions. I can only imagine what it feels like buzzing at the sweet spots between her legs. I press and hold the button again, which is supposed to turn it off. “Still on?”
“Yep.” She giggles.
“It’s supposed to be off.”
“Well, it’s not.” Bree grabs my hand and places it between her legs.
A glorious buzz zaps my fingertips, and I’m pretty sure all the blood in my body is draining south—straight into my cock. I take a sharp breath to control myself, because all I can think of is yanking her jeans down and replacing that fucking piece of plastic with my mouth.
“You love this, don’t you?” I remove my hand and grab my beer. I can’t keep my hand on her crotch all night. I want to, but it’s a bar, not a sex club.
“I do.” Her eyelids flutter and I’m about to come just watching her facial expressions.
“That good?” I ask, shoving the remote into my pocket.
“It’s interesting, but it’s not that strong. It would never do the job on its own. It’s more about the fun.”
The fun? Yeah, like when Pasha and KK get here and I tinker with this thing while she’s trying to engage in conversation. I chuckle to myself. Then I reach into my pocket and press the top button, hoping it speeds it up or changes the rhythm—something.
“You turned it off.” Bree’s bottom lip puffs out like a pouting child. I want to grab that lip with my teeth and suck on it.
I pull the remote out of my pocket and analyze the keys. “I must’ve had it upside down.”
Bree glances at her cellphone on the table, then at me. “There is an app that controls the remote.”
“Really?” I immediately reach for my phone, but Bree intercepts me by placing her hand on mine.
“You can’t use the app tonight.”
“Why? It might work better.” I’m not trying to sound desperate or anything; my main concern is getting this thing kicking. I make sure the remote is right side up and stuff it back into my pocket.
“But if you use the app, then you’ll be on your phone all night and that’s rude. Plus, Pavel will ask you what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, ’cuz he’s not gonna ask why I have my hand in my fucking pocket all night,” I say. Then, to tease her, I add, “You know I’m gonna tell him anyway, right?”
“No!” Bree looks mortified.
Her embarrassment is endearing. She’s bold enough to hand me the remote to a vibrator in the middle of a public place, but flustered at the thought of people finding out. “Not right now. But this is definitely locker-room talk.”
Though I’m the one who made the offhand comment to tease Bree, I realize how much it strikes a chord with me. I’m not even in the fucking locker room with the guys anymore. Bree doesn’t know that yet. I wonder if she’ll still want to fuck me when I tell her I don’t even play right now. If I tell her. We may never even get to that conversation.
I can’t let my fucking pride ruin the moment. Handing me a remote for a vibrator in the middle of a crowded bar is one of the sexiest things any girl has ever done. I’ve been with all types of bold and sex-crazed girls, but no one has ever surprised me with something like this. The ones who were open enough to use sex toys saved them for the bedroom. This is something I totally would have done, if I’d ever found someone I wanted to bring around my best friends.
It’s like Bree beat me at my own game.
Having a discreet, sensual secret between us was exactly like her. Classy and sweet, but naughty. Dorothy on the streets, Blanche in the sheets type shit. The perfect fucking woman.
And if she’s the one introducing toys like this in public, I can only imagine what else she’s game for. The thought sends more blood to my cock.
“About that app,” I say to get the conversation back on track, because I’m two seconds from dragging her out of here and bending her over the hood of a random stranger’s car, since both of us took cabs to Petra’s.
“It’s not that easy. I think it has to be synced and all that. And I can’t really pull it out and mess with it right now.”
A laugh escapes me. “Later?”
“Yes. We can figure it out later.” She lifts her eyes to meet mine. “Together.”
“You look like you have a secret,” Kristen says as she lifts herself onto the tall chair across the high-top table from Bree.
“Who?” I ask, trying to conceal my sly smile. I’d been too consumed by Bree’s vibrating surprise, that I didn’t even notice Kristen and Pasha walk up.
Kristen’s head swivels between Bree and me. Her eyes narrow as if she’s trying to figure something out. “Both of you.”
“We were checking out the group at the next table. Trying to figure out how they all know each other. Making up stories, ya know, normal people watching,” Bree says quickly.
Damn, she’s good.
“Pasha and I were just doing that with the couple at the bar. The ginger in the gray sweater dress and—”
“The banker in the button-down who looks uncomfortable as fuck to be sitting next to a hot chick?” I ask. “I noticed them earlier. Looks like an awkward first date.”
“Exactly!” Kristen says.
I reach under the table and set my hand on Bree’s leg as a thank you for her quick thinking. As my fingers inch toward her inner thigh, the slight vibration surprises me. With my other hand, I press a button on the remote I’d shoved back into my pocket when our friends showed up.
Bree’s smile widens and I’m blasted again by how amazing and different this girl is. We’re going to have so much fucking fun tonight.
I’m about to take my hand out of my pocket when a waitress passes by and bumps my arm. The remote falls to the ground. Pavel reaches down and grabs it before I have the chance to. Out of all the times for my dickweed best friend to be a gentleman.
“Here, man,” he says handing it to me. I glance at Bree, whose eyes are wide with horror. I know she thinks we’ve been caught, but Pavel doesn’t even blink. He’s not even interested. All is calm.
But Kristen is. Of course she is. If Pasha is the loud obnoxious one of the group, she’s the loud observant one. “What was that?”
“What?” I ask.
She points to my hand. “That gray thing. Is that some kind of new technology?”
I’m at a loss for words. I rack my brain, trying to think of a quick explanation. Out of respect for Bree, I don’t want to say anything. Pasha and KK are the type of people you can share a good vibrator story with, but Bree doesn’t know that yet and I don’t want her to be embarrassed.
“It’s a remote for a vibrator,” she blurts out before I have a chance to make something up.
Suddenly, Pavel straightens in his chair. “What?”
“Are you kidding?” Kristen asks.
Bree shakes her head.
“Let me see it!”
Bree’s smile turns to confusion. “Well, it’s kind of in a strategic place right now, so I can’t really—”
“The remote, you freak! I don’t want to see the thing that’s been”—Kristen glances at the general vicinity of Bree’s crotch—“down there.”
After Bree gives a quick explanation about how it works, Kristen says, “That’s so cool! Where did you get it?”
“This conversation is happening right now.” Pavel nods at the girls.
“Yep,” I say. This night just keeps getting better and better.
—
After what seems like the longest three rounds of music trivia ever, we cab it back to my place, unable to keep our hands or mouths off each other the entire ride. Our bodies are twisted and tangled in the backseat. Bree’s
fingers are in my hair, raking and squeezing, while my hands clench her waist, pulling her onto my lap. Her lips taste like lemon and hops, from the wheat beer and garnish she’d been drinking at Petra’s.
I bury my face in her neck, as the familiar scent of vanilla lotion grounds me and envelops me in warmth. I can be romantic. I can get onboard with slow, sensual, last-all-night sex. Sliding it in while in spoon position, with my arms around her and my lips on the back of her neck. Yeah, I can definitely get down with that. And I’d love to show Bree that side of me someday.
But that’s not where I’m at right now. Not when Bree upped the game by commanding me to control her vibrator in front of our unsuspecting friends in a crowded bar.
It was so fucking hot. She’s a goddess. A goddess I plan on banging on every surface of my condo tonight. As soon as we shut the door, I’m going to push her against it and take her from behind because there’s no fucking way we’re making it to my bed.
“I can’t wait to ride you when we get home,” Bree whispers before taking my earlobe in her mouth and biting it gently. Her nails dig into my skin as she holds the back of my neck and my eyes roll up as she tugs my ear with her teeth. “I can’t wait to slide up and down on your long, hard cock.”
Her sexy, breathy whisper makes me I realize I can’t even wait until we get to my place. I need her now. I reach down, yank my zipper, and unleash the beast below.
Bree moves her hands to my face and steadies it. Our eyes lock. “I don’t have a condom,” she says through a ragged pant.
“We don’t need one, baby,” I say. “I want your mouth on my long, hard cock. Now.”
Bree’s eyes light up, telling me she loves it when I command her. And I know she loves to give me head. She’s made that clear on multiple occasions, so much so that I sometimes wonder if I’m dating a fucking porn star moonlighting as a pediatric nurse.
Before I have a chance to think about how lucky I am, Bree slides to the backseat floor and takes my dick into her mouth. And I’m lost.
Chapter 10
Bree
I’m not the grim reaper here.
This is the phrase I have to keep repeating to myself. According to the good-natured ribbing from my colleagues at my previous job back home in Anaheim, my soft bedside manner is suited for delivering bad news. I know they meant it as a compliment, but always being chosen as the harbinger of doom and death had taken a toll on my mental health. I might as well have worn an albatross around my neck to let people know what’s coming when I approach.
But here on assignment in Charlotte, no one knows my reputation. All they know is that I’m a traveling nurse from California. A little different in my attitude and methods—as a few people have told me since I started—but that’s a compliment I’m happy to accept.
Different is good. Different can change the world. One patient at a time.
I cross the hallway to the nurse’s station where Tonya is sitting. As if she feels my presence, she lifts her head from the paperwork she’s completing. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Luke yet today?” Asking someone seemed more efficient than sticking my head in every room looking for him.
She nods. “Yep. He’s—”
“Right behind you,” Luke’s sexy, scratchy voice finishes her sentence. He stands behind me, shaking a pack of hockey cards between his fingers like a sugar packet. “Do you need me for something?”
We’ve been hooking up at least twice a week for the last month. The teasing lilt of his voice, coupled with his sinfully sexy smirk would normally make my skin tingle and heartbeat race as it brought back the last time we were together. But this is serious, and pushing back the ridiculous rush of lust is easy when I’m in full-on nurse mode.
“Jack—” My voice catches as I hold back my emotions.
While I’d been training, Summer told me that Luke had a special relationship with Jack Dellinger, an eleven-year-old patient with terminal cancer. She never explained why the two had such a connection. The only thing I know about Jack is that his father passed away a few months ago while Jack was on his fourth round of chemo. She never explained the circumstances of his death.
The skin around Luke’s brown eyes wrinkles in concern. “What is it? Is Jack okay?”
“Ally asked for you,” I finish. My heart speeds up, twisting in agony thinking about the news she has for him. I feel like I should warn him before he walks to Jack’s room, but it’s not my place. This is one of those times that a visible albatross would come in handy.
I beckon Luke to follow me. “Come on.”
According to the regular nurses on staff, Jack was diagnosed with an aggressive, inoperable type of lung cancer less than a year ago. He’s undergone surgery and five rounds of chemotherapy and radiation since then. Ally, Jack’s mom, decided not to put him through any more, because nothing was helping to get rid of or even shrink the tumor. On the contrary, his condition has gotten significantly worse.
It’s a sad, horrible situation. I don’t know if Luke has any idea how bad it is. I’m pretty sure his heart will bleed when he finds out Jack is being discharged into home hospice care tomorrow.
“Ms. Dellinger,” I say softly as I enter the room. “I found him.”
“Luke!” Ally releases her son’s hand and hurries toward us. She throws her arms around Luke’s neck and squeezes him tight.
I edge around them, moving forward to check on Jack while they have their moment. I doubt she’s stopped crying since she and Dr. Culver spoke about Jack’s future this morning.
“I’m going home, Luke!” Jack cries. His voice is barely above a whisper, but his smile is warm, highlighting the cute dimples under the smattering of light-brown freckles on his cheeks.
“What? You’re, you’re what?” Luke stammers.
“I get to go home and be in my own bed and my friends can come over to see me,” Jack explains. “And Mom said we could get the hockey package so I can watch all the games I want.”
When I glance up, Ally’s lips are close to Luke’s ear, whispering something. Luke’s head snaps back to the frail boy lying in the hospital bed.
“That’s good news, Jackster.” Luke’s gravelly voice breaks as he speaks. He squeezes Ally one more time before releasing her and rushing to Jack’s bedside, where he leans over and gives his friend a gentle hug. Then he takes Jack’s hand in his own and holds on.
“You said you were gonna invite Luke over to watch some games, right?” I pat Jack’s shoulder and back away from the bed to give Ally room to stand next to her son.
With Luke holding Jack’s hand and Ally standing by the beside gazing at both of them with affection, it feels like I’m interrupting an intimate family moment. I wonder how well Luke knows the Dellingers.
Suddenly, the smile slips from Jack’s lips and his eyes scrunch as if he’s in pain. Instinct kicks in and I rush to his side, edging Luke out of the way with my hip. He shuffles to the side, giving me access.
“Are you okay, Jack?” I ask, eyes darting to check a monitor above him.
He nods and swallows hard. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just—I’m gonna miss seeing you all the time, Luke. Would you, um, would you want to come over and watch some games with me?”
A slight sigh of relief escapes me and I back away again.
“Yeah, man.” Luke doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ll do a game of the week kind of thing. As long as that’s okay with your mom.”
Jack lifts his eyes to Ally, who smiles and mouths the word, “Yes.” The brown, spiral curls she’s pulled back into a sloppy ponytail bounce with her answer.
“You have my phone number. Whenever you want to talk, you just call or text, got it?” Luke tells him with a wink. Then he tosses something onto Jack’s bed. I peer over his shoulder, recognizing the gift instantly—the shiny, silver pack of hockey trading cards. “Thought you might like those.”
“Thanks, Luke.” Jack lifts the pack and immediately tugs at the seal. After a few unsuccessful att
empts, Luke takes it from him gently and tears a corner off, making it easier for Jack to open the rest. When Jack beams at Luke, it rips a hole in my heart.
“Yes, thank you, Luke,” Ally echoes. She closes her eyes tight. “I can’t imagine going through all of this without you. You have been an angel. Thank you.” Ally places both hands over her mouth as a tear slides down her cheek.
Jack stops flipping through his cards, reaches out, and takes his mom’s hand. “It’s okay, Mom. Everything’s gonna be fine now.”
His words cause the dam holding back Ally’s tears to burst, which puts me over the edge. I’ve cried with my patients’ families before, but I’ve rarely ever had such an emotional reaction that I had to leave the room. Having a child with cancer is one of the most difficult things a family will ever go through. My job is to be professional and compassionate; their teammate and sounding board.
After closing the door quietly behind me, I press my back against the wall and pound my head against it. I haven’t known Jack long enough to have this rough a reaction, but I’ve gotten close enough to Luke. My heart hurts for all of them.
“You okay, Tinkerbell?” Tonya calls from the nurse’s station.
An aide wheeling a medication cart passes in front of me, giving me a moment to compose myself and find words. I wipe my fingers across a solitary tear that escapes. “Sometimes I wonder why I do this.”
“Because the good you do outweighs the bad that happens. You’ve saved more lives than you’ve lost.”
I scoff. “You’ve only known me for a month.”
“You wouldn’t have been hired if you were the grim reaper.”
My body tenses, startled by her word choice. Then I peel myself off the wall and ask, “Do you still get angry? Or sad?”
Tonya has at least twenty years more experience than I do.
“Of course. That’s why I’m at the Philadelphia with a glass of Pinot Grigio in my hand by four fifteen some days.”