“It’s just Eaton, Red.”
“Yes, I remembered that much.” I roll my eyes as the embarrassment I feel rises to color my cheeks. “However, clinic policy states I should be using your surname,” I explain.
“It’ll be our little secret.” He chuckles.
I make a mental note to check his chart after he leaves. “Very well, Eaton.” I offer him a bright smile. “Since your procedure isn’t scheduled until Thursday. Did you have any questions for Dr. Snow?”
“Not questions, no. I just wanted to go over the styles one more time. Make sure I picked the very best one.”
“Let me get Dr. Snow, he can go over them with you.” My fingers wrap around the curtain to pull it open when I feel the warmth of his body pressed up against me. His voice is low and rich and intoxicating. It reaches every part of me, making my toes curl.
“I really think I need to return last week’s favor,” he purrs as his hand sits low on my abdomen. His fingers trace the edge of my scrubs; they make quick work of the double knot keeping them in place.
My hand falls away from the curtain as my scrubs hit the floor. I ignore the warning flashing in big red letters in my mind. Bad. Bad. Bad. I’m blind to the scrolling list of repercussions that can occur if we’re caught:
So fired
Losing my nursing license
So fired. Like never work again fired!
And somehow, in this moment, only his voice drives me.
“Lift your leg,” he orders.
I don’t question it. I follow the rhythm of his voice. Let it guide me as I step out of my scrubs.
“Good, now lie down.”
I stretch out in a similar position I found him in when I walked in. He sits on the revolving stool I use while examining patients. His eyes caress my bone-white legs. At least with this job, being on my feet twelve hours a day and running around all the time, I know they’re shapely. Still, his gaze devouring me with such intensity makes me quake in unexpected places. My heart is beating way too fast, yet I can’t slow it down.
“So tell me, Nurse Rivers, what is the best cut style?”
His voice is magnetic. There is no other word I can use to describe it. It’s as if every cell in my body is clawing to get out to respond to it. Or maybe it’s his touch on my body? His hand is riding low on my belly again, only this time his long fingers have slipped beneath the soft white cotton of my underwear and they are tracing my slit.
Shit! I already feel the wetness between my legs. Worse, he can feel how fucking wet I am! With barely zero contact. I’m so embarrassed. It’s not normal to be this turned on. Is it? God damn, sex-on-legs hottie. It’s all his fault. One look at him and I melt from the inside out. I swear I think I could orgasm just by looking at the man. It’s the eyes so intense as though he can’t contain every aspect of his personality. What is he trying to keep hidden behind that sexy smile of his? The one showing off a cocky confidence, but with a hint of sadness in it as well. That combo does me in every time. Not to mention, the rest of him is just plain hot! I’m screwed.
“Mmmm, ignoring my question I see. Maybe I should spank you for that?” He arches his brow.
Question? What question? My mind is trying hard to remember. Not fast enough. His fingers slap my clit. I detonate.
“Such a naughty, girl,” he exclaims and slams two fingers in my pussy. I feel my inner walls clamping around his digits.
“Now if you want more of this,” he says as he pumps his fingers to a tempo which leaves me breathless, “you’ll be a good girl this time and go over the cut styles with me.”
Oh, right the cut styles! “Of course,” I say, trying to sound professional. “Well, I’m sure Dr. Snow has been over these with you. There are three choices: low, mid or high cut. The high cut can also be referred to as the tight cut.” I run out of breath.
His nonstop rhythm is creating a ball of white fire in the pit of my belly. My lungs are swelling. My heart is thumping like mad. I’m sweating. I feel the sparks of fire dancing on my spine. I don’t want him to stop. His thumb circles my clit in a wicked, delicious way that makes my eyes spin in the back of my head. Fuck! I want more. And I know how to get it.
“I’m sure Dr. Snow did not recommend the low cut as most of the inner or sensitive skin is removed and this can impact your sex life, meaning you’ll lose too much sexual sensation.”
“Not in those exact words, but yes, you’re right Dr. Snow didn’t recommend the low cut.”
“In many cases, the mid cut is the norm. Where an equal amount of inner and outer skin is removed and the suture line is placed twenty-five millimeters to one inch from the head of the erect penis. However, with this cut when the penis is flaccid you’ll still have a degree of loose, or wrinkled skin, though not enough to cover the head. It could be Dr. Snow recommended this procedure for you. But...”
I need to take a minute, take in some deep breaths, focus on how he managed to get his entire hand inside me. I’m so fucking wet, my thighs are covered almost down to my knees with sticky sex juice. I don’t even care anymore. It feels like his fingers are shaped like a beak stretching against every inch of me. It’s not totally comfortable, yet it’s not unpleasant. The pressure of his hand invading such an intimate space so completely burns in a good way, which is weird.
“You were saying?”
“I can’t remember...” My head falls against the pillow, eyes closed to thoroughly enjoy the feel of his hand stretching me out.
“You like this don’t you?” he asks as he moves his hand gently. The beaked fingers caress my walls, stretching them further still.
“Oh. My. More,” I beg.
“So greedy.” He chuckles.
His laugh is so warm and sensual it unlocks something within me. I feel a warmth invade my core. My pussy tightens and the fire explodes. Waves after waves crash over me. His hand rides the incoming tide to intensify my orgasm. Never in my life have I experienced such a thing. Every one of my limbs is shaking. I feel depleted.
“I think that qualifies as more.” He winks as he carefully works his hand out of my pussy. “Now why don’t you think Dr. Snow recommended the mid cut for me?” He swivels around to the cabinets to grab some towels. Before coming back toward the gurney bed, he goes to the small sink, washes his hands, runs one of the towels under the water tap and squirts some soap on it. He squeezes out the excess water and swivels over to me. The warm towel feels nice on my skin.
“So?”
“I believe Dr. Snow would have explained that although a high cut leaves a large amount of the sensitive skin on the penis it can cause issues if it’s too high—such as excessive skin stretching. However, when done with precision, like Dr. Snow does, it gives the best clean look I’ve ever seen. Hence, its other name the ‘tight’ circumcision, because the skin of the shaft is tight when erect and when flaccid there is no loose skin. So, I think that’s why he would have recommended his best work and if you’re asking me, that’s your best cut.”
“Pheewww, glad you approve my choice, it’s the one I selected during my consultation with Dr. Snow,” he teases as he tosses the towels in the hamper across the room.
I glance around to see if I can spy my underwear.
“Looking for these?” He pulls out my bikini panties from his pocket. I stretch my hand out to grab them.
“Oh, no, I’m keeping these, Red.” He stuffs them in his back pocket.
Really? Okay. I hop off the gurney and march toward him. I stop a few inches away from his body. I feel the heat radiating off him. With my eyes locked on his I lower myself, bend my knees until I’m squatting in front of him. Then I stretch my arm between his legs and grab my scrubs. I straighten up and pull on my pants. I like the bulge I notice in the front of his jeans.
“Just one more thing, before you can go today, Eaton.”
He arches his brow.
I take a step closer to him. I want to taste his lips. In a ma
nner so unlike me, my mouth swoops down and claims his.
Chapter Eight
When her lips capture mine, I’m not prepared to face all the emotions swirling inside of me. The powerful fires of lust light up my core. A fresh tidal wave of guilt hits me in the pit of my stomach—nausea rides along with it—I swallow it down. Vomit is not something a girl appreciates when she kisses a guy! And this girl can kiss. She can kiss me to eternity. Her soft lips—Whoa, wait a minute where did that come from? All of the sudden a fierce need to protect her pierces my heart and makes me teeter close to the edge, one I never wanted to face again. What is she doing to me?
When I decided to come in today—a decision I’ve been struggling with ever since I visited Rylee’s grave last week and put the pieces together—I only did so to gauge her reaction. ‘Cause I came to the conclusion she’s the only one who would’ve left the tequila bottle for Ry. And why not. To her, the drink ruined her life. Ruined mine to come to think of it.
Seeing her all tongue tied made me nervous at first. Then I saw the flash of heat in her eyes. It gave me hope she hadn’t figured it out yet. Meant I still had a chance with her then. My tongue swelled in my mouth, wanting nothing more than to taste the sweetness, spiciness, and creaminess it’d been craving for the past week. My cock pulsed in my pants. Down boy!
As soon as she gave me an opening I took it. My hand riding low on her stomach tracing the contours of the waistband of her scrubs. Her body slightly leaned into me. It’s all the invitation I needed to untie the green hospital pants and make her step out of them. With quick commands, she followed to a T. Until I had her lay down on the gurney. I couldn’t believe how gorgeous she looked in her plain white cotton bikini panties. Made my mouth water.
Her mouth is still savoring mine. Lips so delicate and soft slanted across my mouth. An explorative tongue dancing to a slow sensual rhythm I want to amp up with teeth taking little nips on my lower lip. Fuck, she’s driving me wild.
Almost as wild as when I slipped my fingers under those cotton panties and found her drenched. Shit! I thought I would blow my top. Something that’s never happened to me before. I needed a distraction. Anything not to make me lose my shit. I asked about the cut styles, the lame excuse I came up with to come in today.
I found it cute when she’d lost her bearings and couldn’t remember my original request. Gave me an excuse to punish her a bit. The clit slap I delivered—wow, I’ve never seen any woman respond the way she did. Squirt after squirt of tantalizing cream oozed out of her pussy. I wanted to bury my face, chin deep and lap it up all. I had to control myself to only use my fingers on her.
In the end, two fingers didn’t satisfy my craving of her. And her pussy felt so slick with her natural juices lubing it all up. Three fingers glided in with ease. When I tried to slide in my pinky and found no hindrance I curled my fingers tight together, tucked in my thumb so my hand looked like a beak and knuckle by knuckle I pushed into her pussy, stretching it out until I fit my entire hand up to my wrist inside her wet heat.
I hadn’t tried fisting a woman in ages. My high school girlfriend, LouAnn Baker at our after prom party she’d taken me aside and said, “We’re trying something different tonight.” She showed me the porn videos of girls being fisted she’d watched online. When I woke the next morning. LouAnn had packed up her stuff and left me a note thanking me for the best night of her life, but, she felt she needed to move on. She didn’t see a future for us. Not if my only plans involved bumming around with music and I had no further aspirations—she had college and a bright future to get to!
After that night I promised myself no other girl would ever get under my skin the way LouAnn did. She fucked up my mind for too long. No strings attached sex is my style now. So why is this sexy nurse pulling emotions, worse, memories out of me I rather remained buried?
Fuck it to hell! She’s got me all twisted up inside with her hot mouth on me making it impossible to think straight. I need to get out of here. Away from her. Then why can’t I break this kiss?
About the Author
Roxanna is a mother of three teenage girls, a wife and she juggles a full-time career all the while living in two worlds. Being a writer, a dreamer, a drifter gives her an outlet to calm the voices in her head. Her quirky, sarcastic sense of humor and easygoing, non-judgmental temperament show through on the page, so hold on tight and embark on the neurotic roads leading to the journey’s end.
Happy reading everyone.
Roxanna Cross ~ Erotic romance you can really bite into!
Xox
Impulses Vol. 1 Page 3