by Tia Siren
Anna growled again. “It’s not going to be a long ordeal. I’ll die or cut it out before that happens!”
We all laughed, which Anna did not appreciate. I helped her and then Ashley into the truck. I sped down the driveway, listening to Anna shout and complain about how stupid it was that women had to have babies.
I couldn’t wait until I got to make this same drive again with Ashley in labor. We planned on having lots of kids and filling up this big house. We were ready to add on if we ran out of room. It was a future I was excited for, especially the part where I got to get her pregnant. That was the best part of all. I chuckled to myself at the thought.
“Stop laughing and drive!” Anna screamed. “I need drugs!”
I laughed again and put my foot a little heavier on the pedal. By the end of this trip, I was going to need drugs. I prayed Ashley was far more pleasant when it came time for her to deliver our child.
***
END OF THE THIRD STORY
Double Doctors
Two hot surgeons want to play double doctor with me. This will be the naughtiest examination of my life.
It was my first day at work as a nurse.
The most famous plastic surgery clinic in L.A.
I tried hard to be professional.
Care for the patients. Learn from the doctors.
But I just couldn’t concentrate.
My two new bosses were hot as hell.
Double dirty.
Double demanding.
Sinfully tempting.
By lunch time, they had me blushing.
By the afternoon, they had me begging.
But I really shouldn’t.
It’s only my first day for goodness’ sake.
I’m supposed to look after the patients, not the surgeons.
But I want them.
Both of them.
Their talented hands all over my body.
Me in the middle.
Writhing and moaning.
So tonight after work, when the doctors order me to remove my clothing…
Guess what I’ll do.
*
Chapter 1
Mark
“I’m a surgeon.”
And, just like that, I had her.
She was the one leading me by the wrist into the bathroom. It had been the third thing I told her, off-hand. I didn’t know her name, I didn’t know her eye color, and I didn’t know one fucking thing about her. And yet, how much did I have to know about her, other than she was a hot blonde, whose body I really wanted to meet? Well while you’re at it, ask her name at least, asshole. Say something nice to her.
I shoved her to the wall, and kept her there with my kisses. Her skin tasted like banana cream pie, although I resisted the urge to ask. Talking led to questions, which led to stalling. I’d gotten what I wanted, why waste time with more chit-chat? Jesus, when did I get to be such an ass?
Although already, this hook-up was not as hot as I might have wanted. Bathroom girl was clearly into it, she was groaning like I was already in her, after all. But her body was limp, as if waiting for me to do what I wanted. And yet, when her hands snaked for my package, I grabbed them, lifted them over her head and held them there. She needed to understand—I’d be fucking her at my pace, not hers. And, if I was being perfectly honest, for most of these hookups, by this time I was critical as fuck. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been pleasantly surprised by a one-night bar stranger. Come on, admit it. Where women were concerned, I was a self-centered dick.
As my tongue explored her mouth, my hands explored her body. She tasted like vodka and felt creamy. I kissed my way down her body, my lips following the path my hands were tracing. First the long slick neck, then the silky pink camisole, then the short leather skirt, then the legs—
Her hands grabbed my face—I’d let them go in my haste. Now she was ramming her tongue down my throat. Just then I reached up her skirt and pulled down. Her black lacy G-string fell to the floor and she let out a pleased sigh.
That was when the bathroom stall door flew open. A girl, her freckled cheeks bright red with embarrassment, raced by and out the door. I watched her go with a slight pang. Maybe she could have joined us.
We both laughed. Bathroom girl turned my head so it was facing her. Her fake-nailed hands went for my package, and this time I let her. She fumbled a bit with the buttons of my jeans, the ones I jokingly called my ‘chastity pants.’ I spanked her. Dude, most people would have the good graces to be horrified or at least embarrassed right now. What’s wrong with you? Now there’s a question I don’t have nearly enough time to answer. Besides, if I knew, I wouldn’t still be living like this. I might have a wife, two kids and a dog by now. Hells-bells, somebody shoot me now.
“Faster,” I growled, trying to turn off the voice in my head.
She paused to narrow her—brown, they were brown, right?—eyes, in an expression of sassy defiance. I took those glossed-up lips and shoved my tongue in between them.
By now, my hands had found their way up her waist, up to her tits. One camisole strap down and then the other. And then, wow.
My first thought upon seeing her tits held precariously by a glittery bra, was that they couldn’t be real. My second thought was—who the fuck cares! They were ridiculously big and jiggly. The poor girl was still working on the buttons of my jeans, although I hardly cared. Right now I had much bigger—pun intended—things to concern myself with.
And oh, what big beautiful things they were. When I finally reached around and unhooked her bra, there was a beautiful second of anticipation where the thing hung there. Then I swiped my fingers into the strap, pulling it off of her and… there they were. Two jiggling mounds of perfection. I had been right, of course. Takes one to know one after all. Not to mention that anything too good to be true, usually is. But fuck—what fucking glorious orbs of fake perfection they were. You’d think a man in your profession would have a more discerning eye and not act like an adolescent obsessed with gigantic tits.
My lips shot to her breast. Around and around the nipple my sucking nibbling lips circled, drawing nearer and nearer. Her shrill moans grew louder. When my mouth finally closed on that perfectly pink nipple, her whole body sagged down a little. Down enough for my hand to slide up her thigh. Stroking, higher and higher and then, gotcha. Her pussy was just as wet as I’d expected.
My mouth moved on to her other perky tit, just as a few fingers ventured inside of her. Oh yes, this was more like it.
Now the girl was groaning loudly, her head thrown back, bleached blonde locks spilling over her shoulders. I paused, and she cast a tormented look down at me.
“Hey,” she whined.
I drew back, wiggling a glistening finger in her face. I pointed it at her skirt.
“Take it off.”
Never had I seen a girl fling off an article of clothing so fast. Her leather skirt toppled to the floor, adding to the pile her G-string, camisole and bra had made. She stepped out of it, then towards me, her lips meeting mine. Fuck, she even tasted like cotton candy, like this girl was some kind of candy incarnate.
When the kiss ended, she stepped away from me, indecision flickering in her eyes.
“What now?”
With the palm of my hand I pressed her to the wall.
“Now,” I said, devouring her neck, “I get to enjoy you.”
Enjoy her I did. As her body trembled with moans, I kissed, sucked and licked my way up and down the length of her, from neck to lower leg. She was deliciously tanned and soft. When my hands grasped her hips, her whole body was still shaking. In one rapid motion, I lifted her and set her on the counter.
Her eyes widened, while her lips parted. Perhaps to raise some perfectly reasonable, but inconvenient concerns about cleanliness—but right now who really gave a fuck? I slammed my lips onto hers, and tongued away anything she might have to say. I parted her legs with my hands, and when I glanced up, my eager gaze met hers. I smiled, and she unders
tood. That was when I shoved myself into her.
The first entrance was spec-fucking-tacular. Her pussy was crazy-wet, practically dripping. I slid myself in easily. As I pounded away, her moans joined into one cry of pleasure, and her tits jiggled with every slam. This was really fucking hot and clearly; this slut was nearing orgasm— but I wasn’t finished with her yet. Slut? Come on man, she didn’t deserve that. Have a little respect. And really, if she’s a slut, what does that make you?
As I thrust into her, harder and deeper each time, my hand snaked to her ass. It was all slick with her juice, so circling her back hole and then burrowing in a finger partway was easy.
As soon as I was in, her eyes fluttered open and she gasped. Immediately, I slid my finger and dick out, then flipped her around. Now, seeing her well-formed little ass right in front of my face, I couldn’t help myself anymore. I shoved one finger in her ass, then another in her pussy. She tensed up.
“Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” I said, and her ass drooped back down obediently.
I was true to my word. It only took about thirty seconds of jack-hammering her pussy and burrowing my way into her ass, before she was sticking it out for more. I gladly complied, pumping her ass further and further, until I was all the way in. By now, she was cooing pleasure and I was more than ready. So, I slid my finger out, and slipped in what she had really been wanting all along.
“Fuck,” she groaned as I entered her. Spurts of pleasure started at my cock and zipped throughout my whole body. Her ass was crazy-tight and wet as fuck, too.
I grabbed her hips to steady myself as I thrust even deeper. Both of us groaned, but I was clearly getting more out of this. That pert little ass, that jiggly-wiggly tightness felt like fuck yes personified, and ugh, already, I was on the edge.
The freckles on her ass looked like they were smiling at me. As if they could have any idea about just how good this feels.
In and out. Deeper and deeper. More and more. Bathroom girl is shaking, or maybe it’s me—it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that I keep on going. In and out, more and more, dick into ass, until the swirling feeling around my dick, grows, expands—explodes. I am. Exploding, and emptying myself into her, grunting and groaning with the glory of it. Oh fuck was it glorious!
Then, it was over. I grabbed some paper towels to clean myself up and handed her some as I pulled on my clothes, wondering why getting my jeans back on always seemed so much more difficult in these situations.
As I briskly left the bathroom, I caught the dumbfounded look on her face. Clearly, this was not how our sexy bathroom fuck was supposed to have ended in her mind, but what did she expect? She had plenty of time, it’s not up to me to jump through hoops to make a stranger cum? And besides, the longer I stayed around, the more opportunity she had to figure out my name or number, which would only lead to more disappointment for her. No, it was better to rip off the Band-Aid nice and fast. I’d seen all too well what giving these girls time to get attached entailed. Broken hearts and keyed-up cars, not to mention middle-of-the-night sob-fest calls, and vicious face to face encounters involving shrieking and threats. Nope, it was better to let the poor girl down as soon as possible. Nice try asshole. Justify it all you want, but you’re still a pig.
Outside, I called a cab. As I waited, a stunning woman with ebony skin and dark eyes passed by. I took a step after her.
A car horn sounded. It wasn’t my cab, but it did bring me to my senses. It was almost 1 a.m. and one glorious pussy and ass fuck session was enough. I had to work tomorrow, after all. Inside the cab, as my efficient bearded driver did a sort of Mario-Kart style weave through the other cars on the street, I glanced at my iPhone to check out my to-do list for tomorrow. Monday was consultation day, so my schedule was pretty much the usual routine. Consultation for rhinoplasty, consultation for breast implants, and two consultations for Botox. Then lunch and—oh yeah.
Grandma. It was the anniversary, I’d almost forgotten. As much as I hated visiting her there, in that stale garden of overdone stone memorials to the dead, I knew it had to be done. That woman had saved me, plain and simple. With her permed orangey curls and red-lipped kisses, she’d saved me, one bedtime story and home-baked cookie at a time. No one had ever loved me the way she did, and no one ever would. I’d never gotten to take care of her the way she’d taken care of me. Leaving her favorite pink peonies on her grave once every few weeks was the least I could do.
My gaze went to the box before ‘visit Grandma’ and saw ‘new nurse.’ Oh right. The new girl started tomorrow. Brooke Foley. I closed my eyes, tried to imagine what she looked like. Her voice had sounded like she was hot, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I imagined a slightly pudgy, snobbish thirty-year-old with suspicious drooping eyes. Nah—fuck that, try again. Now I imagined a smirking redhead with thick thighs and a little snub nose. Mmm, that would be more my style. The kind of nurse who fucked you literally, as in pussy to cock; not figuratively the way Helena had, one check at a time.
I snapped open my eyes and shook my head, annoyed. I didn’t want to think about that now. In the dark window, I rolled my eyes at my reflection. I’d been full of shit about fucking the new nurse, too. This was my job and my colleague, not some girl I met in a bar. My job was my life, and my life was important. Getting the two mixed up would be idiotic at best, and career-ending at worst.
Glancing at the name of the new nurse one last time, I shut off my phone. Brooke Foley, eh. I rolled the name around on my tongue. For some reason, I had a feeling that this Brooke was going to be something indeed.
Chapter 2
Brooke
Here goes nothing; well, everything actually.
I made myself smile in the window, wiping off a stray smear of lipstick. Today was the day. Screwing up was something I couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—let happen. So, whether it was this $250 Marciano professional two-piece suit, or my mahogany lip color, everything about my first day was going to be perfect.
I glanced at myself again, taking another deep breath. Checking my phone for the time didn’t help things either. I was still fifteen minutes early. Already I’d spent twenty minutes touching up in the bathroom and cursing myself for arriving so early. But I’d been so nervous about getting here on time and finding the place okay. Not to mention this job itself. Sure, I’d had nursing jobs while I worked my way through law school, but this was different. A nurse at Teller-Sawyer, the most prestigious plastic surgery outfit in town? Now that was something else entirely.
My breath came out in an exasperated exhale. Okay, fuck it. I was going to go out there and introduce myself, fifteen minutes early be damned. What are they gonna do, fire me for being early?
One foot out the door and I almost walk right into him. I mean, him. Not just some regular old guy, but hands-down one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen. Tan, dark curly hair, dark eyes with long-lashes, and muscular as hell. The works.
“Hello,” he says in a baritone voice with a kindly half-smile.
It was only after several seconds of staring at him stupidly that I realized I recognized him.
Rapidly, I flung out a hand.
“Hi, I’m Brooke. We spoke on the phone. You must be—”
“Jake,” he said.
His smile turned wry.
“Everyone always mixes us up.”
His hand clasp of mine was firm, his shake slow. Those dark irises flicked to my lips, then a line of confusion furrowed his brow. He released my hand as if he had just remembered that was how you were supposed to end a handshake.
“You’ll want to meet my colleague, Mark,” he was saying, as he lifted one of those muscular arms to gesture down the hallway.
I followed his gaze down the clouded-glass hallway to stop on another incredibly sexy stud. This one had sandy brown hair, greenish-blue eyes, broad shoulders and a cocky smile.
“You must be Brooke,” he said, as he advanced.
Instead of shaking my hand, he threw his arms ar
ound me. As he held me there, he spoke.
“Weird, I know; but we’re all friends here.” As he released me, he grinned from me to Jake.
“Okay, maybe you don’t know me, yet. Let’s see, Jake and I have been buddies since college. That’s when our love affair started and,” clapping his hand on Jake’s shoulder, “it’s been smooth sailing ever since.”
Jake gave his hand a quick pat and a half-smile.
“Speak for yourself.”
His curly head swiveled in my direction.
“You’ll probably be wanting a tour.”
“A tour, right,” I echoed hollowly. It was really kind of hard to concentrate on your job when your bosses looked like they belonged in a fashion magazine instead of a medical office.
“Right now, we’re in the hallway, as you can probably see,” Jake began.
“I don’t know,” Mark continued, “I was under the impression this was a waiting room.”
“Oh shut up,” Jake said, giving the other man a light punch on the shoulder.
He turned to me with a smile.
“He’s just making jokes about some of our rush hour times. When poor Deidre overbooks us, and some of our hordes of crabby customers have to wait out here.”
Mark’s hand closed on the door and opened it.
“Can you blame them though, really? he asked. We’re the best in town.”
Jake’s full lips spread into a not-buying-it smile, although he didn’t say anything.
“Isn’t that right, Deidre?” Mark said, now turning his attention to a pudgy woman at the reception desk.
“Yes, yes,” she muttered, adjusting her pink glasses nervously, not even looking up.
“Yes, of course we can book that for you,” she said, speaking on a headset, presumably to someone on the other line, “Unfortunately, the wait right now is at least six months for a preliminary consultation so—”