Doctor Steamy

by Kristen Kelly

  “Ever been married?” Susan asked.

  “I have.”

  Delila looked genuinely shocked by that. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You never asked,” I said because I couldn’t think of anything else.

  Okay, subtract two points.

  “And where is she?”

  “She died a long time ago.”

  “Oh,” said Delila, diverting her eyes toward the clock. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Like I said was a long time ago.”

  Susan leaned back, arms crossed. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  “Before that?”

  “Two years in New York.”

  “And before that?”

  “Dublin.”

  “Oh yeah, she told me that.”

  Delila made to rise. “Are we done here? I don’t want to miss...”

  “Any plans on marrying my sister?”

  “Susan!”

  Delila turned to me, biting her lip. “Don’t answer that. It’s none of her business.” She scowled at her sister. “If and when that ever happens,” she said testily. “ I’d like to be the first to know if you don’t mind.”

  Susan rolled her eyes. “It’s important to know all the good stuff right up front, Delly. Before you get in too deep. Shit, I can’t believe you didn’t even know about his wife.”

  “That... that isn’t important.”

  “Not important? Of course, it’s important. Isn’t that right, Officer?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, relationships are hard enough. Don’t you think it’s better to get to know a person really well, the whole person, before you get married, have kids. All of that stuff.”

  Delia’s hard eyes zeroed in on her sister. She looked like she wanted to rip her head off. “Who said anything about...?”

  Knees spread, I leaned forward, fixing a gimlet stare on Susan myself. “Listen, no offence, I know you care about your sister and want what’s best for her, but I think these conversations are better left to the two of us. Don’t you?”

  Susan nodded, her lips pressed together. Then she threw up her hands. “Just trying to look out for her is all. I guess it’s your turn then.”

  “How did you get this house?”

  “My husband’s aunt was very rich. She also was very frivolous with her money. Luckily her creditors couldn’t touch it because she put it in my husband’s name. So when she died...”

  “It went to him in probate.”

  “Exactly.”

  “One more question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What’s going on with your investigation?”

  I COULDN’T HELP THINK that if I were to pick one day out of my life that felt perfect, this would be that day. We hadn’t stopped holding hands since we got out of the car. I felt young. Like a new man. Like I could go anywhere. Do anything.

  After taking in a concert at Gillette stadium, a picnic in the park seemed the next logical step for our date. Boston’s Public Garden reminded me of Phoenix Park back in Dublin, with its pristine walkways, flora and grassy fields, and mothers strolling with their prams. Instead of the Wellington monument there was a statue of George Washington on his horse. I wondered if they’d given him a catchy name like the monuments in Ireland. There was Molly Malone or Tart with a Cart, James Joyce or the prick with a stick, or my favorite of all, , Oscar Wilde in Merrion Square Park, commonly known as the fag on the crag or the queer with the leer. When Delila caught me grinning about all this, I asked her if old George had a nickname.

  “Just Washington. Americans don’t have a sense of humor like that.”

  “Maybe one of these days we’ll think of a nickname for him.”

  “Sounds fun, but for now I need brain food.”

  After strolling through the park for nearly an hour, we sat on a blanket eating tacos under a tree. I caught her licking sour cream off her lip and giving me that ‘come hither’ look. My cock pulsed against my zipper.

  She did it again, noticing how my eyes must have darkened. When she did it a third time she burst out laughing. “Doesn’t take much with you, does it, Patrick?”

  “Evil woman.”

  “You love it.”

  I stuck my finger in her mouth. “You wanna suck something? Here.”

  “Don’t ever let my sister hear you say that. She’ll be inviting you over for dinner and grilling you about your intentions.”

  I smoothed my hand down the side of her face with the back of my hand wondering how a guy like me got lucky enough to be with a woman like Delila.

  “So what if I do?”

  “What?”

  “Tell Susan how much you mean to me.”

  She didn’t smile, but didn’t frown either. I found it impossible to read just what kind of expression she was giving me.“Ready to ride the birds?” I finally asked.

  “Funny way of saying it, but yes.”

  Crumpling up our paper baskets and napkins, I threw them in a nearby bin. Then I pulled her up and off the blanket.

  “Wait here,” I said, settling her on a nearby bench a few minutes later near the swan-shaped boats. I wanted this day to be perfect. End on a perfectly romantic note.

  It was a breezy afternoon, more breezy than normal for August.

  Approaching a man selling tickets, I glanced back at Delila; she was wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, the temperature dropping. I hoped we’d get a ride on the swans before it rained.

  After about fifteen minutes, I reached the front of the line before a man with dark skin. He wore a Red Sox cap and looked to be about fifty.

  “How many seats are on each boat?” I asked.

  “Number in your party?”

  Why did people always answer a question with a question?

  “Not what I asked you,” I said, slightly annoyed.

  “There are twenty seats but you only need...”

  “I’ll take them all.”

  The man cocked his head to the side, looking past to the people behind me. “That your party?”

  “No.” I pointed to Delila seated on the bench, wrapped up like a cacoon. “That’s my party.”

  “I see. Well, this one is half booked already, so you’ll have to wait for the next one.”

  “No problem.”

  The man’s face broke out in a wide grin. “She must be one special lady for you to rent the whole boat for her.”

  “She is.” I shoved my hands in my pockets staring up at the clouds.

  When I told Delila we had to wait for the next boat, she just nodded and continued a conversation with an elderly gentleman who looked tickled to death to be conversing with a pretty girl. I knew how he felt.

  I watched the next swan boat come into dock, empty out, and then Red Sox man called me over.

  When I handed my wad of tickets to Delila, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Why am I not surprised?” she said, sounding amused.

  “Well, when I want to do something, I do it right.”

  “I can see that.” She smiled and took my hand. “Oh, thanks for the chat,” she told the old man beside her.

  “My pleasure,” he called as we made our way toward the swan boats

  Somebody new had taken Red Sox Man’s place, A guy younger with dark hair, broad muscular shoulders, and a mustache. My jaw tightened as he helped Delila into the boat, a twinge of jealousy rearing its ugly head. Where the hell did that come from? I wasn’t a jealous kind of guy. In fact, it never bothered me when dates just happened to be nonexclusive in our relationship. So, why was I suddenly feeling protective all of a sudden?

  I shook off my feelings of inadequacy. This is supposed to be fun, I reminded myself. Not a lead to anything more. The last thing I needed was a woman who thought our relationship exclusive. It was okay if I was exclusive. It went with the territory. I didn’t have time for anyone else. But Delila...? I guess that was up to her.

  It was best
she didn’t get too attached. I needed to make that clear to Delila. What with her sister, hinting at marriage and all. My job was precarious at best, the ties to drug cartels in Ireland dangerous. I needed to keep that shit under-cover so no one got hurt.

  Not today though. No serious talks today. Today was for fun.

  I dipped my hand in the water on the side of the boat. Scooping up a handful, I shook it all over Delila making her shriek and object, but then break down into a fit of giggles.

  “Nice to see you’re relaxed,” I said laughing, myself.

  Her body tensed. “I’m relaxed. Why do you think I’m not relaxed?”

  “Your...sister.”

  “Oh that. I wish you hadn’t asked her about all that stuff? It’s a painful subject.”

  The boat slid under an arched bridge, blocking out the sun. I slid closer to Delila.

  “Wanna share my blanket?” she asked.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” And then, “Maybe I can help,” I said for about the tenth time today.

  “That’s nice, but you did say they have an iron clad case and you’re not a lawyer, Pat. You’re a cop.”

  Yep. I actually am.

  “Iron clad case? I did not use those words.”

  “You didn’t have to. I saw it all over your face.”

  I hugged her to me and then kissed the top of her head. “It will work out, Delila. I promise.”

  She let out a loud sigh. “You don’t understand. I owe my sister everything. She’s the most wonderful person and she never asks for anything in return. Up until recently, she’s paid all my tuition bills and she’s a single mom! I feel so useless.”

  “You’re not useless.”

  “But I can’t do a fucking thing to help the situation.”

  “It may seem hopeless now but I promise you it will work out.”

  “You keep saying that, but the only thing that would help is if I robbed a bank so I could pay some hot-shot lawyer to get us out of this mess.” Then she looked at me. “And don’t you dare say you’ll lend me the money.”

  “But...”

  “Patrick...” The warning tone to her voice reminded me of her independence.

  “I was just going to suggest...”

  “Promise me.”

  “What?”

  “Promise me you will not mysteriously drop some money on our doorstep. I know you have a few dollars saved, but I don’t want you emptying your retirement account on this. It isn’t right.”

  “But...”

  “Promise me, Patrick.”

  I ran a hand over the back of my head, filled with the need to tell her just how many dollars I was worth, and that it wouldn’t be a hardship for me at all. I lived for chances like this. I desperately wanted to help Susan. Besides, it was a way to thank her deceased husband who gave up everything for his country.

  “Promise me,” she repeated.

  “Okay, okay.”

  Now was not the time to go over this. I would make some phone calls later and see where it went.

  The blanket was a wonderful distraction, I decided, it concealed anything I wanted to do. I slipped my hand over Delila’s knee, inching higher and higher until my fingers crawled beneath her short flowery sundress.

  “Oh,” she said jumping.

  I whispered in her ear, “You want me to promise something? I promise to make you come so hard you won’t walk straight for a week. I promise to make you scream. I promise to lick your pussy until your juices run dry. How’s that for promises?”

  Her breathing quickened, her eyes gone dark, and her mouth parted. “Can we go home now?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Delila

  We drove to my apartment because it was closer.

  Boston traffic was awful and my panties were sticking to me. I couldn’t wait and neither could he. The minute Patrick pulled out onto Charles Street, my hands were in his lap, my fingers fumbling with his belt, and ten seconds later, my hands around his cock. Man, that thing was massive. So hard. Like the bricks from Susan’s brownstone. Patrick groaned, slipped one arm over mine, and then reached between my legs.

  I spread my legs further, giving him access inside my panties, his fingers deliciously warm probing my swollen pussy. “Mmmm.”

  I pulled on his cock with tight strokes, a drop of precum glistening from the mushroom tip. Seeing it made me so hot all I could think about was going down on him.

  Tasting that salty lick.

  My nipples hardened almost painfully, pressing the thin cotton of my dress.

  I’d never gone down on a man before. Never wanted to but now, I yearned to know what it must taste like to have a man’s cock in my mouth.

  Patrick growled as we sat at a stop light.

  The more he tickled that bundle of nerves between my legs, the more I wanted to suck his massive cock. This was a new high for me. I’d never even been remotely interested in cocks before.

  But Patrick was good. Real good. I didn’t want to go down on him when he was giving me what I needed. I couldn’t experience both forms of stimulation at once. Not in a car. All thoughts of sucking his rock hard dick were put on hold while I rode out that intense sensation of heat and friction and deep pleasure between my legs.

  A blazing heat started to rise, like an inferno in my groin. My whole body spread wider, my bottom lifting right off the seat, aching for as much as he could give me. Then I felt myself soaring.

  High, and higher and finally so high I needed the release or I would burst.

  His voice sounded thick inside my ears and he smelled scrumptious. So scrumptious. “You’re so wet and hungry for daddy.”

  Daddy? That was a new one. He’d never referred to himself that way before, but I guess it made sense since I was old enough to be his daughter.

  “You want to come for daddy. Don’t you sweetheart? And then you want daddy to stick his big cock inside you? No. You want to suck all the cum out of daddy’s cock, don’t ya? Yeah. Fill that pretty little mouth with daddy’s cum. I can see you’d love doing that.”

  I murmured an agreement, surprised that I was getting off on this dirty talk. What the hell was wrong with me? All my Catholic school girl upbringing went out the fucking window. I giggled to myself.

  “Oh God. Patrick, you’re making me... Oh. Oh. Oh!”

  “That’s my good girl.”

  My mind jumped off that imaginary cliff, soared into oblivion, heart beating like a drum and keened so loudly I was glad no one could hear me. When it seemed the sensation couldn’t get any more intense, I exploded, the orgasm ripped through me; my breath coming so fast I could hardly breath.

  When we got to my apartment, Patrick, picked me up bodily and carried me over the threshold. “Don’t tell my sister you did this,” I said with a giggle. To my surprise he abruptly placed me on my feet.

  I placed a key in the lock while Patrick nibbled on my neck from behind.

  I was so incredibly happy at that moment. Patrick was so kind. So smart and so loving. Was he in love with me or was this just lust? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to scare him away.

  We went straight to the bedroom. When he threw me on the bed I laughed so hard, tears streamed from my eyes.

  I’d never had a man in my apartment before. The fact that Patrick was so tall, legs hanging off my small twin sized bed, made me think of Goldilocks and the three bears.

  We both ripped off our clothes, grinning like children as we scanned each other’s bodies.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Patrick said.

  “My tits are small,” I declared.

  “Not to me they aren’t.”

  I’d always felt self conscious about my body. Until recently I’d even shopped in the boys department at Walmart.

  “You’re the one who has a great physique,” I said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  I ran my hands along his broad chest, letting my fingers do circles around his nipples, when he pulled me firmly against him, his erection nestled i
n my belly.

  “Oh, Samson,” I said in a little girl voice. “Happy to see me I see or should I say I feel.”

  “You have no idea, little girl.” Tipping my chin up to his, he gave me a quick kiss. Then he let out a fierce growl, picked me up in his arms and then threw me on the bed.

  Unfortunately, my little bed couldn’t take it and we both burst out laughing.

  “I guess baby bear’s bed has seen better days,” I said. I leaned against the headboard and Patrick crawled between my legs.

  “Damn but you are gorgeous,” he said, getting up on his knees between my legs, his cock bobbing out in front.

  He cupped both of my breasts and then brought one to his mouth sucking the pink tip until it was erect and firm. He did the same to the other, all the while praising them for craftsmanship, which had me laughing so hard I almost rolled off the bed. When he was finished, he paused and straightened. “What should we do now?”

  “It’s a little late for that question.”

  “I mean, what do you want, Delly?”

  I pulled him to me, planting a rich ravenous kiss on his sexy mouth. “I want you,” I said.

  “How?”

  “What do you mean, how?”

  “Where do you want...” He grabbed hold of his cock. “This.”

  “Oh.”

  “Should I fuck you or...”

  “Or is good.”

  He covered me with his body, the huge hardon between the two of us. “I could fuck you right now and be done with it or...”

  “Or we could take our time.” I was giddy with excitement; it was obvious he had some hard core sex in mind. Something original beyond what we’d always done. I was up for that. Big time.

  “Little by little,” he explained.

  “Nothing little in this room,” I said. “Well, except the bed.”

  We laughed.

  “I’m game to try something new if you are.”

  “Can you handle me?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good. Come here, little lady.” He pulled me down until I was flat on my bed. Then he slipped a pillow beneath my head. “This is called sixty-nine.”

  “Oh goody. Party games.”

  “I’m going to flip myself around and straddle your face.” He did as he explained, his cock pointed straight down over my mouth. “Just take as much as you can and stop if you need to.”