Shirley Daniels, countrified nurse anesthetist and fish-out-of-water in the big city, was in serious need of a serious lay. And if she didn’t get one soon, she just might need serious medical attention.
Shirley had read about being “lovesick” in books—mostly historical romance novels where ladies swooned at candlelit balls and men brawled and dueled with pistols to blow off pent-up sexual frustration. But she’d never actually believed that being lovesick was possible in the real world.
Until now.
Shirley’s entire body was an itchy ball of fire. Her head ached and throbbed, her mind was filled with nothing but racing, raging thoughts about hot sex. The pit of her stomach churned and rocked—she couldn’t keep anything down, not even saltine crackers. Her legs felt heavy and sluggish, and her crotch was molten lava. She could barely walk. She could barely think. Hell, she could barely breathe.
And it was all Dr. Randall Hamm’s fault.
Damn him. Damn him, his movie-star looks, hot bod, and indifferent attitude straight to hell.
Shirley was beginning to understand why Beth Peking—The Dragon Lady—was so annoying and reviled by everyone. Beth Peking lusted after Dr. Randall Hamm, too, after all. And Shirley supposed if one day of unrequited lust for Dr. Randall made her feel this awful, she figured that months or years of it would make her just as loony as her new boss.
Shirley’s hand strayed below the hot, raspberry-scented suds and found the space between her legs.
She found her seam deep in the dark recesses of the steaming bathwater, and parted the curtains of her sex with her index finger. Her cunt was slick with a combo of bathwater and her own salty juices. She ran her fingers lightly up and down her slit, feeling herself get slicker and hotter with every stroke.
Shirley hoped that by getting herself off here in her relaxing evening bath, she’d stop feeling like such a lovesick hothead. But the exact opposite was happening. Instead of relieving her pent-up frustration, each stroke of her fingers against her cunt just made her that much more hot and bothered.
She wouldn’t last a week in Raleigh at this rate.
She rubbed herself harder and faster, concentrating on making herself come. Yet there was no relief in sight. She brought her washcloth and even an oblong bar of rose-scented soap into the act. No dice. All that happened was her cunt got hotter and more swollen, her head throbbed even more, and her whole body became a live wire of pent-up sexual frustration. If she were a fair maiden in a Regency novel, she would have swooned (hell, maybe even died) from a nasty case of the vapors a long time ago.
If Shirley didn’t come soon, her head would explode.
Time to bring out the big guns.
Shirley looked up and eyed the detachable shower massager that hung from a hook on the wall over her head. She reached up to grab it, fiddled with the controls until she found the heavy-jet setting—the punishing spray designed only for pressure-cleaning dirty bathtubs. A slow smile spread across her face as a thoroughly naughty idea formed in her mind.
She tested the stinging water jets against the palm of her hand. Satisfied with the pressure, she slid the pulsating shower massager between her legs, aiming the spray directly at her clit. The sensations were intense—Shirley’s eyelids screwed shut and she gritted her teeth as she felt the blood rushing to swell her already white-hot clit. Her deepest muscles clenched as the pulsing waterfall hit her cunt, sending her closer and closer to the edge. Her whole body was an electric current, jumping back and forth between two charged poles, ready to explode into a million scorching sparks.
And finally, just when she thought she could stand it no longer, Shirley finally came. Her hips bucked as she fell over the precipice, becoming one with the powerful waterfall between her legs until her whole being ran rampant like Niagara Falls in springtime.
Her orgasm hit like a runaway train, exploding up and down her entire body. Her hips bucked and her limbs thrashed wildly, sending steaming bathwater splashing over the sides of the tub. Obscene sounds fell out of her mouth and ricocheted off the bathroom tile. It was truly an orgasm for the history books.
But even after all that, Shirley wasn’t even close to being satisfied.
Time to take things up a notch or two.
She ran her hands up and down the slick stainless-steel handle of the shower massager. Firm, hard, smooth, easy to lubricate. Its heft felt good in her hands, the perfect weight and thickness for fucking. She unscrewed the massager top from the handle and let the water run through the plain round hole at the handle’s end. The resulting stream was light, but not without a little pressure. The scored edges of the opening were a little rough, so she wrapped her damp washcloth around it for protection.
Safe sex with a cold metal dildo, she thought with a chuckle. Classic.
She was still sitting in the hot sudsy bath, and she’d already finished one orgasm, so she knew she was plenty lubed enough to fuck herself with a stainless-steel plumbing appliance that had itself seen better days. The only question was, was she that desperate?
Yes I am, Shirley thought to herself, plenty embarrassed. Yes I am.
But just as she was about to cram the thing up her cunt for a nice long solo fuck, she heard a knock on her apartment door. A loud knock.
Shirley sat bold upright. Who could it be? She didn’t know anybody in Raleigh, except for Marla, Dr. Randall Hamm, and The Dragon Lady. And she seriously doubted any of them would be showing up at her apartment door on the third floor of a rundown Victorian at eleven o’clock at night. Besides, they didn’t even know where she lived.
Shirley got out of the tub and pulled on her bathrobe without bothering to dry off. The pounding at her heavy wooden apartment door got louder and louder. Whoever it was, Shirley guessed they were angry. She pulled her keychain out of her purse, which had a small spray can of Mace attached to it. She was home alone in a strange town where she knew no one, and she was taking no chances.
Shirley unlocked the door and opened it slowly, leaving the lock-chain attached. She peeked through the crack, and nearly fainted dead away at what she saw.
Framed in the tiny space between the heavy wooden door and the cracked, peeling doorjamb was a tall, buff, and handsome man who looked to be in his late twenties.
And he was wearing nothing but a towel. A damp towel.
“H-hi there,” she stammered through the crack. “Umm, can I help you, sir?”
You could sure as hell help me, she thought silently to herself.
“I’m real sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” the gorgeous specimen of the male species drawled back, a thick mountain accent pulling at the edges of his words. “But I think you must have some kinda plumbing problem, ‘cause I got me some water a-leakin’ down from my bathroom ceilin’. Would ya mind if I showed it to ya?”
You can show me anything you want, baby, Shirley thought to herself. She had to bite her tongue to keep from saying it out loud.
“We should prob’ly call the landlord,” the man went on, shifting back and forth on his feet. Shirley could see the outline of his formidable equipment sculpted against the threadbare blue towel he held around his middle, and the sight was enough to drive her wild.
“You know, sir, that water dripping down is probably just because I had a little—accident when I was taking my bath,” she said, twirling a lock of her damp hair nervously around and around on her finger. “I—ahem—slipped and ended up splashing a bunch of water out onto the floor.” Not entirely the truth, but not entirely a lie, either. “So I don’t think it’s necessary to call the landlord. But you’re welcome to come inside and take a look for yourself, just to make sure I don’t have any broken pipes or anything.” She batted her eyelashes at him shamelessly, doing her best to play the role of the classic Southern damsel-in-distress. “What’d you say your name was, sir?”
He smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth. “Didn’t, ma’am. But it’s Ed. Ed Main. I live right downstairs from ya. Been meanin’ to come an’ properly
introduce myself, but ain’t had occasion to before now.” He glanced down at the damp towel around his middle. “Hope you don’t mind my bad manners, ma’am, but I didn’t wanna waste no time a-gettin’ dressed when water was a-rainin’ down on my head. Had to come see what the whole mess was about.”
“No problem at all,” she sang. “Just one minute, if you please.” She shut the door momentarily, disengaged the chain from the slide, reopened the door. “I’m Shirley. Shirley Daniels. Pleased to meet you, Ed. Won’t you come in?”
Five
Ed seemed surprised—maybe even a little shocked—at her invitation, but that didn’t stop him. He strode right into her worn attic apartment, his bare feet leaving little damp tracks on the pockmarked hardwood floor. He grasped tightly at the towel wrapped around his middle, almost as if he expected it to drop to the floor as soon as he crossed the threshold.
And how, Shirley thought to herself. Honey, you have no idea.
Ed scanned Shirley’s cluttered living room, which was still strewn with her half-unpacked moving boxes. “Looks like you just moved in,” he said, obviously still a little uncomfortable at being there.
“Yes, I just moved in over the weekend,” Shirley replied. “And I just started my new job today. Haven’t had a lot of time to get settled yet. I hope you don’t mind the mess.”
Ed nodded and tipped an imaginary hat at her with his free hand. “Not at all, ma’am. If you’ll jest show me yer bathroom, I’ll take a look at the leak situation an’ then be on my way.”
Saying that he’d soon be on his way was the polite thing for him to do as a Southern gentleman, of course. But Shirley guessed by the growing bulge underneath that threadbare towel of his that the not-so-genteel part of him had other plans in mind. “If you’ll just follow me, Mr. Main,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and guiding him down the hall. “But I do hope after you’ve seen to the leak you’ll stay and sit for a spell. I have some lovely lemon herb tea I picked up at the store just yesterday that I’ve been meaning to share with someone.”
And that’s not all I’d like to share with you, she thought as he followed her into the bathroom. If only that stuffed-shirt Dr. Randall Hamm could see her now. At work he was a cold fish who didn’t know that Shirley existed. And yet, here Shirley was about to seduce a half-naked hottie who’d just shown up at her door uninvited.
Dr. Randall Hamm didn’t know what he was missing. She’d show him, all right.
Ed poked around her splattered bathroom, eyeing the big puddles on her floor. “Looks like you had quite a party in here, ma’am,” he said, a twinkle forming in his blue eyes. “If ya don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
“The party was just getting started when you arrived, Ed,” was Shirley’s scintillating reply. “Now it’s time for the real fun to begin.”
With that, Shirley shed her terrycloth robe in one swift motion. It pooled at her ankles on the damp floor.
Ed’s jaw dropped to his knees. “Damn, ma’am. That’s one helluva pretty sight.”
“Please, call me Shirley. All my closest friends do.”
“I guess that means I’m ‘bout to become one of your closest friends then, ma’am.” Ed sauntered up to her and dropped his own towel to the floor. It joined her robe on the damp floor, where they both helped soak up the same pool of water.
Well, that was easy, Shirley thought. She really should seduce random total strangers more often.
Her violet eyes passed over Ed’s gorgeous young body. With that soft, velvety skin and smooth face, he couldn’t be more than twenty-six. That lean, hard body was the picture of glorious youth. His arms were firm and sculpted, rippling with the kind of muscles that come from hard day-to-day work in the real world, not occasional workouts in a gym. His legs were just as firm, with defined calves and rippled thighs. A light coating of sandy blonde hair coated his angular pecs like goosedown, then gathered into a darker line that led from his belly button downward to his thickly furred crotch. His cock was thick and dripping with precome. Its uncircumcised head poked through his shining foreskin, bursting like an overripe peach.
Ed Main was ready to fuck.
But Shirley was biding her time. As aroused as she was at the sight of Ed’s raring-to-go body, Shirley wanted to draw things out as long as possible. She’d just made herself come five minutes ago, after all. She had plenty of sexual energy to build upon. And besides, this was her apartment, her turf—and Ed was her conquest, dammit. Her house, her rules.
Instead of going to meet Ed, as she was sure he wanted her to, Shirley hung back and waited for him to come to her.
She didn’t have to wait long. Before she could say boo, Ed swept across the room and enveloped her naked body in his thick, strong arms. His mouth plunged onto hers with abandon, sucking her lips, her tongue, her entire being hard into his mouth. The feel of his unshaven cheeks against her face and neck was the hottest sensation she’d ever known—even if it did rub her skin raw. Hell, she was ready to be rubbed raw. She was single, new in town, and horny as hell—and she deserved to have a little fun.
Without even asking permission, Ed pushed her down to the damp, slippery bathroom floor tile. The feel of the cold, chipped porcelain against her bare back was jarring and sensual at the same time—an eclectic mix of shock and pleasure. After her first solo orgasm in the steaming hot bath, all of Shirley’s senses were on high alert, and the mixed signals rising from the cold, still bathroom tile underneath her and the hot, aggressive male body writhing on top of her were made for some of the most incredible sensations she’d ever experienced.
Shirley felt Ed’s hot, thick cock thrust itself between her legs. Ed was pressing one finger, then two, then three into her already wet and swollen cunt. He was ready to get busy, that was for sure—but ever the Southern gentleman, he was just waiting for Shirley to give the word so he could plunge himself deep inside her.
But Shirley still wasn’t ready. Everything was happening so fast. She needed to slow things down, big-time. And not just to maximize her own pleasure, either. Her mind was full of too many thoughts. Doubts and worries ran through her brain a mile a minute, and they refused to stop. Was she doing the right thing? Was she being too rash? Was it really a good idea to drop her drawers on the spur of the moment with her new downstairs neighbor? What if things ended badly? How would she handle it?
And what about Dr. Randall Hamm? After all, he was the one she really wanted to sleep with. As hot as Ed was, he was just window dressing, something to occupy her time until the man she really wanted decided to want her back.
Ha. As if that would ever happen.
Shirley squeezed her eyes shut tight, tried hard to clear it of all the random thoughts and distractions. What did she care about Dr. Randall Hamm, anyway? Especially when she had another hotter (and younger) man already naked on top of her anyway? What the hell was she thinking?
It was high time she stopped thinking and started fucking.
She guided Ed’s hand to where she needed it most. Her clit was already swollen to twice its normal size, so Ed had no trouble finding it. He went to work right away, rubbing her nub with a fingertip in rapid circles, just the exact way the Shirley did when she brought herself to orgasm. It was as if this perfect stranger could read her sexual mind.
Damn him.
Finding a perfect stranger who could satisfy her perfectly was all she needed right now. And yet, her heart seemed to long for something—for someone—more.
And that someone wasn’t in the room. He was somewhere else—probably burning the midnight oil back at the hospital, not paying attention to anyone. Just like he did not pay attention to her.
Damn him, too.
Shirley’s legs involuntarily widened, pulled in, raised themselves up as her orgasm approached. Oh, this hot Southern good ol’ boy was serviceable, all right. Hell, he was more than serviceable. But he wasn’t the man that Shirley really wanted. No siree.
Well, she couldn’t think about
that right now. She shouldn’t. She should concentrate on the matter at hand—namely, getting fucked by the man who currently had his hand between her legs.
Shirley’s breath quickened, her hips bucked, her belly clenched—and she came. Hard. “Mmmmmm, yesyesyes,” she groaned, pressing herself into Ed’s hand. She pretended for a moment that Ed’s hand was really Dr. Randall Hamm’s hand—and that was more than enough for her to come again.
“Yyyyeeeessssss,” she groaned. “Oh, baby, yeah.”
If Dr. Randall Hamm could make her come like that in her imagination, just think what he could do to her in real life.
Damn.
A gentle touch on her cheek brought her back to earth. She opened her eyes, saw Ed’s lovely blue ones staring into her own. “You all right, ma’am?” he asked tenderly. “I thought I lost you for a second.”
You have no idea, Shirley thought to herself with embarrassment. Really, she wasn’t being fair to this man, who was working so hard to satisfy her—and only her. It was a good thing that he couldn’t read her mind. If he could, he’d dump her on the hard cold tile and make a mad run for the door. “I’m all right,” she finally sighed. “Just—you know. Kinda spent from coming.”
Ed’s eyebrows raised in concern. “You wanna stop, hon?”
She reached out and stroked his stubbled cheek. “Oh no, sweetheart. Just let me take a breather for a minute.” He smiled, and Shirley breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t suspect a thing, and she wanted to keep it that way. “You sure know how to push a gal’s buttons,” she said. “I wanna see what else you can do.”
“Quite a lot, ma’am,” he drawled. “If you’ll just let me show ya.”
Shirley held up an index finger and touched it to Ed’s lips. “Just one second, hon.” She stole over to the bottom drawer of her vanity cabinet, where she kept a travel-sized box of lubricated Trojans. Anticipating a busy night, she grabbed three condoms from the box, slipped them between her teeth, and crawled slowly back to where Ed lay sprawled on the tile floor. She shook her head back and forth, growling like a tomcat around the foil condom wrappers. His eyes widened at the spectacle. And if Shirley the well-educated nurse didn’t know such things were medically impossible, she could have sworn she saw his cock grow three inches at the sight.
Hot Bodies Boxed Set: The Complete Vital Signs Erotic Romance Trilogy Page 22