by Eva Luxe
“And then I’m going to lay you down and fuck you,” Harlow says.
He takes off his shirt and I trace my fingers over his well-defined abs. I love seeing and feeling the tattoos on his ripped, muscular pecs and down one side of his torso. Then they dance right beneath his belly button and right above his perfect “V” of a pelvic area.
I can’t believe this hard, well-defined SEAL body is mine, and that it’s going to make me come for my very first time. I’m so soaking wet I want to slide all over him. I bet I’d have not only my first orgasm but many: one for each time my pussy hits one of the peaks of his ripped six-pack. He’d be my own personal slip and slide SEAL.
I tuck this thought into the back of my lust-driven brain, to try out later, after he’s made me come for my first time. It’s a little too risqué of a thing to suggest for your first time having sex with someone, I think.
First things first, Whitney, I tell myself. You don’t want him to go from thinking you’re so chaste to a whore. It’s just that although you’ve had a lot of thoughts about things you’d like to do, you’ve never met the right person to do them with. But now you have, so take things slow and don’t ruin them.
This idea is something that might be best mentioned after a few dates, or saved for a really part of the relationship— like how in a movie when they put the outtakes at the end of the credits, or in a romance book when they put the deleted smutty scenes at the back of all the other fun stuff.
Harlow bends down again and takes off my panties, drawing me back into the sweet and delicious here and now. My pussy is exposed to him and he spreads its lips open while he places his own lips on it.
I groan as he licks my clit while fingering my pussy hole. And then he switches his up, placing his tongue in my hole while he fingers my clit. His rhythm feels so good that I grab onto his hair. I feel weak-kneed.
“I don't know if I'm going to be able to stand up much longer,” I whisper, as heat radiates through my body.
“Good, then I’m doing my job correctly,” Harlow says.
After a few last pulses of his tongue and rubbing with his finger, I’ve reached the height of pleasure.
This is it. He’s making me have my very first orgasm.
“Oh, my God,” I practically shout, hoping my neighbors can’t hear me. “I’m coming. In your mouth.”
“That’s it. Come all over my mouth, for your very first time. Drip your wet pussy juices into my mouth,” he says, lapping up my cum as I let go completely.
I bend my back and feel a million sensations ripple through my body as I finish the longest orgasm of my life.
“Oh, my God, that felt so good,” I say, as Harlow picks me up and lays me down on the bed. “Do you need a break?”
“Just a short one,” I say, panting and out of breath. “I don’t have the same level of stamina as you do. I’m no SEAL.”
I laugh as well as I’m able too, since I’m still trying to catch my breath.
“And so the student becomes the teacher,” he says, and I laugh again.
“Stop it,” I tell him, holding my ribs. “Stop making me laugh. I’m going to pass out or something.
He holds me tight as I look at his sexy body in amazement.
“Well don’t do that,” he says. “Because I’m not finished with you yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”
Maybe this could really work, I think to myself.
He’s clearly thinking the same thing.
But I keep wanting to pinch myself, to make sure I’m not dreaming. Maybe it’s too good to be true. Maybe, like Lance says— and Lance was spot on about Tony— Harlow is just a player, and I’m his latest conquest. Harlow’s right that I could do better than Tony but there’s a reason I’ve always stayed away from guys like Harlow.
They’re players. Heartbreakers.
They don’t know what true love is.
I reach my head up and kiss Harlow on the cheek.
Too late.
I’ve already gotten too close to back out now.
Chapter 35
I take Whitney’s kiss as a sign that she’s ready for the next round. I can’t stop looking at her naked body, and touching her soft skin.
I’m glad I accomplished my goal of making her feel so good and giving her her very first orgasm— while standing up, even. I must admit I’m very proud of myself. And now I want to take her, claim her as my own while I keep making her feel even better.
I turn her over so that she’s lying on her stomach.
“Oooh,” she says teasingly, as I run my hand down her naked back. “What a way to start out.”
“You know it,” I tell her. “I want our first time to be magical and memorable, not the traditional missionary position.”
Although I wouldn’t mind being in that position— and any and every position— with her in the future, of course. I still I have no fucking idea what’s gotten into me. I just know I want to be in her— in every way possible.
I take off my shoes, pants and underwear while I kiss her neck and then my lips make their way down to her back and her perfectly round ass. I slip on a condom as I knead her ass, which makes my dick hard as a rock.
I get onto the bed and sit behind her, pulling her ass up to my cock while her head rests on the pillow.
“You just relax and keep feeling good,” I tell her. “Let me do the work.”
I put my cock up against her pussy and I can feel it throbbing desperately for her. I might even feel embarrassed at how much I want her, if I weren’t so turned on.
I’m wishing I could feel her naked pussy on my raw cock. I have a feeling that we’ll get to that in due time, which is another sign that this could be The Real Thing. But for now, I’m wearing the condom.
I slide through her wet and welcome opening and she moans as I slip inside her. I love how she moans. Her pussy feels so warm and tight. When I’m almost all the way inside, a tiny gasp escapes her mouth.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”
I pause.
“No. I mean. It’s fine. Keep going.”
I continue until I’m all the way inside her and then I gently pump while she starts moaning again. I love how tight and wet her pussy feels when my cock is all the way inside it, completely filling her up. I can’t restrain myself now, and I push in and out of her at full force.
“Yes. Harlow. Yes!”
“Whitney,” I groan. “Whitney.”
I hold onto her shoulders and then her hair. I pull her hair and she doesn’t even cry out in pain. The only sounds escaping her lips are those of pure pleasure.
“I’m coming,” she calls out, grunting in animalistic instinct. “I’m coming on your big cock.”
“Come on me,” I tell her. “Come again. All over me. Just let yourself go. Feel as good as you possibly can.”
“Mmmmm,” she moans. “Mmmmm, Harlow.”
I’m excited that I’m making her feel so good, while I myself feel good too. It seems like the perfect balance that is usually so unattainable.
I grip her hips and push myself into her further, faster, and harder. I’m panting and she’s groaning and calling out my name.
“Whitney,” I say, wanting her to know how she makes me feel. “Whitney. Whitney. Whitney.”
I feel her pussy tighten even more around my cock as her juices explode on it.
“You’re making me come. I’m coming again.”
“I’m coming too. I’m coming with you now.”
I feel the cum from my cock pulse inside her, as her pussy spasms around it. I can’t remember ever feeling so good physically and emotionally after one fuck.
It is just a fuck, right?
We collapse together on the bed, my arms wrapped around her in a cuddle.
I don’t fucking cuddle.
I also don’t usually fucking come so quickly. But I haven’t been with anyone in a while thanks to having Whitney all up in my head.
All I wanted to do was let myself go with
her, physically and emotionally. I may have just give her her first—and second and third— orgasm, but she’s just given me the best orgasm I’ve ever had.
What the hell am I doing?
I hope to God that Jensen’s wrong, that this really is a real thing and that real things can actually last. Could I be fooling myself?
Hell, just a couple weeks ago I thought this “mystery woman” was my worst enemy. So, what if I really am literally sleeping with the enemy?
As I hear her breath slow down, and feel the relaxed comfort of the side of her hip in one of my hands and her soft, gorgeous brown hair in the other, I know I’m not going anywhere tonight.
If I’m sleeping with the enemy, at least we just had out-of-this-world sex, and at least I’ll have sweet dreams before I wake up to my real-life nightmare.
Chapter 36
The first thing I see when I walk into my office is Dr. Davis.
He’s sitting in my office chair. I freeze in the doorway, before saying a startled, “Hello?”
“Whitney,” he says, and beckons at me to come in. “How nice to see you today. Please close the door.”
I do it, if only out of complete shock. He’s acting like this is his office.
Who let him in here? Who is allowing him to do this?
The questions fly through my mind faster than any answers can come. But it’s obvious that he has more power and control here than I thought he did. I’d best tread carefully.
I obediently sit down at the chair in front of my desk, which is supposed to be for patients. I wonder if Dr. Davis somehow knows what Harlow and I have been up to.
Would Harlow have told him? Does he somehow have Harlow on some sort of high-tech top-secret surveillance? He sure does seem to keep close tabs on him.
Dr. Davis is staring at me suspiciously, as if wondering how I’m going to play this. So, I decide to play it cool— pick up where I’d left off with Dr. Davis, or tried to anyway— and not show any of my fear. Not that that’s as easy as it sounds when the plan first crosses my mind.
“I’m so glad you’re here, too, Dr. Davis,” I say, taking a moment to regain my composure. I sit up straight in my chair and smile at him, as if nothing in the world is wrong. As if I didn’t just have sex with his prodigy patient. “I left you a message, and was hoping you’d get back to me soon about that. So, thank you.”
“Yes, I’m here to discuss Harlow, of course,” he says. “Which is something that obviously needs to happen.”
“Obviously,” I say, trying to suppress a gulp.
Is it possible that he’s really just here to discuss my voicemail and Harlow’s treatment plan? Could I be worrying for nothing?
I try to relax.
But I can’t. Harlow had told me not to worry until something happened, and now something is happening— or might be— so I’m really worried.
“He’s obviously not improving while working with you,” Dr. Davis says, with a frown.
“I’m sorry. He’s… what?”
“Not improving. Your message and your charts and notes are quite clear. We need to step up Harlow’s training. Have him work with someone more experienced, who can hopefully get better results out of him.”
“Not improving? Dr. Davis, I don’t think you heard my voicemail correctly…”
“Of course I did. But I’m beginning to think you’re the one who isn’t hearing me.”
He leans back in his chair— my chair— and crosses his arms across his chest. I’m beginning to realize that the situation is worse than I could have possibly thought.
“Dr. Davis,” I say, trying to sound firm and bold, as I pick up Harlow’s file that he had left in front of him on my desk, “My notes have well documented that…”
“…that Harlow is behind in many areas.” Dr. Davis finishes the sentence I had started—but he finishes it incorrectly. “And that he needs a lot of extra therapy.”
I flip frantically through the pages, until I find some of my notes. Except, they’re not my notes. They have my signature attached to them, but they are not what I put into the system.
I had printed out my notes to go over them with Lance and Dr. Davis. So at least I know I have the originals, but these are not them. Where I had given Harlow glowing reviews on his assessments, this imposter’s copy shows that he is lacking in many areas.
“I… I don’t understand…” I falter, at the same time that I’m beginning to realize that I do understand.
At first, I think that someone must have mistakenly switched my notes in Harlow’s file with those of a different patient. Then, broaching the possibility in my mind that it was something more nefarious, I begin to think that someone purposefully changed them.
But then I realize that that “someone” was Dr. Davis. And the light must dawn in my eyes, because he nods his head at me knowingly.
“Of course you understand,” he says. “You know exactly where Harlow stands. Even though you may have wanted to exaggerate how well he’s doing since you have a romantic interest in him. You know that’s not what’s best for the patient. You have to be truthful even when you wish the patients were doing better than they are.”
“Dr. Davis, these are not my notes,” I begin to say, feeling my face redden with heat and anger.
I was right about him all along, and I should have trusted my initial instincts. I’m determined to stand up to him.
At first, I thought he was lying about how far Harlow had come in his recovery but now I realize that for some reason he’s lying about how little progress Harlow has made. It makes no sense, but I’m certain I can get to the bottom of it.
“Yes, they are your notes,” he says, leaning forward to glare at me. “And we can work this one of two ways. A way that’s good for you, or a way that’s bad for you.”
He cocks his head to the side, to make sure I’m listening.
“I got a little call from someone who reported seeing you on a date with your patient, Ms. Reid,” he says, shaking his head and adding, tsk, tsk tsk. “You know that’s against company policy.”
“What…?” I ask. “Who would…?”
I stop, because I’ve already figured it out. Angela must have told Tony that she saw Harlow and me and Apothecary, and then Tony must have called and ratted me out to Dr. Davis. That asshole. He can’t just leave in peace; he has to kick up drama as he goes.
“Exactly,” Dr. Davis says, as he realizes that I know who reported me. “I recall a very public and unprofessional fight with that love interest recently here at the office. You obviously can’t be trusted to keep your personal and professional lives separate, and you’re dating a patient.”
He says tsk, tsk, tsk but I protest.
“Dr. Davis, Harlow and I are not… ummm….”
I falter, not knowing the appropriate way to say “having sex” in this context.
“It doesn’t matter,” Dr. Davis says. “That’s only one of many issues you’ll have to face should you not do what I want. And even if the caller hadn’t reported it, I’d have my ways of finding out. I know everything that goes on here.”
“What exactly are you saying?” I ask him, wondering if he hired Tony or his cohorts to spy on me.
I wouldn’t put it past him to do that, or past Tony to agree. I did think it was strange that Angela would be at Apothecary, which isn’t normally her type of scene, but I thought maybe she was there for a special occasion.
“I’m sure you know that I have everyone in this place in my back pocket,” Dr. Davis continues. “They listen to anything and everything I say. So, it all depends on how you want me to spin this. I can go out there and tell your boss that we had a nice chat and I appreciate the work you’ve done with Harlow but that you and I have decided he needs a higher level of treatment. I will give a glowing performance review and recommend that they keep you around here, for your ability to help Harlow as much as you could and to recognize when he needs very experienced care.”
Dr. Davis clears hi
s throat, and then continues.
“Or I can go tell them that you don’t know what you’re doing, that you slowed down Harlow’s progress even more, due to a relationship you’re involved in with him, which I have documented proof of a phone call informing me about, and that you should be terminated immediately,” Dr. Davis threatens. “And just what do you think they will do if I tell them that?”
I look at him, but don’t say anything.
I know they would terminate me. He’s right. He’s like a God around here and I’m a brand new intern.
Now it makes sense as to why he chose me to work with Harlow. He thought he could intimidate me into doing whatever he wants. He’s since realized I won’t, but he doesn’t care because he knows they’ll never believe me over him. So, he just threatens to get me fired if I dare challenge him.
“Whitney? Are you alright? Or did our friendly little chat scare you?”
I just sit here, not saying anything. I don’t know what there is to say at this point, as he’s clearly got me right where he wants me.
“There, there,” he says, getting up from my desk and walking around to pat me on my shoulders. “I knew you’d see it my way. Everyone always does. I’ll just go out there and let them know that we had this nice little talk. You do know, that if you wish to continue working here, you shouldn’t contact Harlow at all. He needs to focus on getting better, not on relationship drama.”
“I— Dr. Davis,”
I gulp, truly not knowing what to say. My internship and career are clearly on the line, but so is this budding… whatever it is… that I have with Harlow. I know I’d be stupid to choose a guy I just met over my future.
But I can’t help but wonder if I should. It bothers me that this doctor is blackmailing me like this, but I can’t see any way out of it right now. I need time to think and plan.
“Which option will it be, Whitney?”
When I still don’t answer, because I figure it best to say nothing than to get myself into more hot water with whatever might come out of my mouth, Dr. Davis says, “I’ll go with Option A for the time being, but if I hear one little protesting squeak out of you, or any reason to think you’re still carrying on this ridiculous, torrid affair with Harlow, I’ll be sure to have Plan B as a backup.”