Bad Medicine (Wolf Love Book 4)

by Red L. Jameson

  “You want to give me tips?”

  He swallows, the bobbing of his laryngeal prominence, his Adam’s apple, distracting me. This is also very male. Everything about Ian that would usually make me at least apprehensive in another man is just…I don’t feel any apprehension right now. No fear. No worry. Nothing. I don’t even feel embarrassed that I have to ask how to perform oral sex. He doesn’t make me feel…inexperienced, even though I am. He makes me feel like he’s enjoying everything. That I can do no wrong, even if I have no clue what I’m doing. It’s like he’s on this adventure with me, not on the sidelines because he’s more experienced than I am. He’s with me.

  God, I love this.

  He tries to talk, but his voice is a growl mixed with strained, garbled sounds. He clears his throat. “You can start with your hands.”

  I grab his cock, making him hiss but smile.

  “I like how you’re not scared you’re going to hurt me.”

  I ease up the tension of my grip, but, oh, I love touching the hardness of him, yet his skin is so smooth, like velvet. “Sorry. Too rough?”

  “No, baby. I was being serious. I’m not—that part of me isn’t going to break off. I like it rough. At first.”

  I nod and glance down, beginning to stroke up his member. My other hand is on his leg and he moves it, widening his stance even more, moaning.

  “This is good?”

  “Fucking great.”

  I remember something he’d done this morning and rub around the head of his penis. He throws his head back.

  “You like that?”

  He nods, but his head is still angled back. He’s making these wonderful male noises that let me know I’m doing pretty good for my first time.

  I slide my hand up his thigh. “What do I do with your testicles? Anything?”

  “You can—” he moans, “—you can—can—fuck—you can cup them, caress them, maybe pull a little.”

  I try cupping them. They’re a little squashed on the chair, and I free them. Ian makes a really happy noise about that. Then I have his balls in my hand, squeezing them, looking up as I caress. His head is still tilted back, as if he’s praying. I can’t tell if what I’m doing is working for him, so I ask.

  “This is good?”

  “Baby, it’s all so good.” He finally looks down and smiles. “So fucking good.”

  I keep stroking him, sometimes circling around his head. But then I find that I’m too curious. I stop and place both my hands on his thighs. His cock is wavering, twitching. I lean forward and decide to lick the very center of him, right over his slit.

  His moan is louder than usual.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “So good.”

  I do it again, lick him. Then I have to hold him still by wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock and lick him all the way around his head. He tastes salty and slightly tangy, but not bad. In fact, the way he tastes…it does something to me. My breasts feel even fuller, even more desire pouring into my sex, right to my clit.

  “Ian, this is good.”

  He moans. “Yes, it is.”

  “I mean, it feels good for me too.”

  He glances down, smiling yet again. “I’m glad, because it feels fucking fantastic for me.”

  And then, with him watching me, I have more courage than I’ve ever had and open my mouth to put the very tip of him in. He’s making a gasping sound and I stop and look up.

  “You okay?”

  “Just surprised me. It was a great surprise, by the way.”

  I smile. “Did you like it?”

  “I fucking loved it.”

  Again, I make sure he’s watching and pop him in my mouth. His hips rock forward, but he stops himself. He’s trying so hard to give me all the control. And I reward him by sucking in more.

  I’m not completely daft about sex. Not only am I a doctor but I’ve also read a lot and watched my fair share of free porn gifs. And on occasion, I’ve read a few articles that explain in detail what to do. I suck hard as I slide down his shaft, but I can take him only so far before my gag reflex kicks in, which is kind of embarrassing. I’ve read how a person can, with time and patience, stop that certain reflex and do deep-throat oral sex.

  I pull him out of me and look up. “Would you like me to learn how to do deep throat? I can’t right now. I doubt I could any time soon, but is that something that would interest you?”

  He’s panting. “Yeah, I think I would like that.” His voice is the most strained I’ve ever heard it, and there are veins standing at attention all over his body. His muscles seem even larger too.

  I nod. “I think I would too.”

  “Great,” he grunts.

  I smile, loving his expression, his cock in my hands, his dark male scent, this whole first experience. But because I’m me and this is a first experience, I have to ask again, “Am I still doing okay?”

  “So fucking good.”

  “Do you think I could make you come?”

  “Fuck, yes.” He licks his lips. “But, ah, can you do something for me?”

  I nod. “Tell me what you want me to do. Faster? Slower?”

  “You’re perfect, baby. But can you…touch yourself while you’re—while I’m inside your mouth?”

  “You’d like that?”

  “I’d love it.”

  I lift to my knees and shimmy free from my panties. Simultaneously, I reach for his cock and then stroke my clit.

  “I’m wet.”

  He really smiles at that. “Good.”

  I hadn’t noticed how turned on I was until I’m circling around the little tight nub. I moan and feel clumsy while I try to stroke Ian again. My own desire fuels what I’m doing to him. I suck and stroke at a faster pace. I kiss and caress even faster, knowing I’m climbing higher and higher, my own orgasm just on the horizon.

  I’m sucking him so much my jaw hurts, but I don’t want to stop. Circling around my clit, I keep going, getting more and more turned on as I keep bobbing up and down on his lap. He’s making these wonderful male noises, sounding more and more tense, needing more of me.

  I need more, I realize. I think I could orgasm this way, but I don’t want to. I want to kiss him and be close as I come, and I want to feel him come against me.

  The sounds coming from deep in his chest are the same kinds of noises he made moments before he orgasmed this morning.

  “Are you close?” I huff for air, still circling around my clit.

  “Yes, baby. So close.”

  I stand and straddle him.

  “What are you—”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I just need to touch you like this.” When I sit on him, I slide my clit against his rock-hard length. We both moan.

  I rock and grind against him. It takes a little bit to realize the best position is for his cock to lay as flat as it can under my pussy, while I keep touching my clit.

  “You’re so wet,” he whispers and kisses my cheek and neck.

  “Is this good for you?”

  “Perfect. You?”

  “You’re going to make me come, Ian. Your huge cock against me is going to make me come.”

  “Yes, baby. Yes.”

  “Are you going to come with me?”

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  We kiss and kiss and kiss as I grind and move until my orgasm washes over me. With him against me, I actually feel myself coming, my labia clenching onto part of his erection.

  “Yes, baby. Oh.” Ian’s kisses are getting clumsy and he starts to rock his hips, meeting mine thrust for thrust. Somehow, I’m moved a little, and I feel the head of him catch on my opening. It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts, but he’s maybe just a tiny bit inside me.

  “Baby, move me. I can’t wait any more. I’m going to blow. I gotta—move me.”

  I lift and he’s moaning and coming. I watch him as he rocks his hips and comes on my ass and the chair. Something snaps and his arms are around me, holding me close, kissing me ac
ross my face.

  His breathing is as frantic as mine. “Sorry. I just—I had to kiss you.”

  I kiss him in return. “It’s okay. I like this. I love being held by you.”

  Our breath is slowing.

  I swallow. “I think you were a little inside me.”

  He shakes his head. “Not quite, but it was a bad angle. We should get smarter about this, make sure we have condoms close by.”

  “I’m on the pill. To regulate my periods.”

  His breathing isn’t slowing now. “So—so I don’t have to wear a condom? When we—when—”

  I shrug. “I’m thinking…we don’t have to. I mean, I’m clean.”

  “I’m clean too. Been tested. Recently too.” He sighs and puts his forehead against mine. “Jesus, just talking about it is making me hard again.”

  I smile. “I can feel that.”

  “Asha?”

  “Yes?”

  “I might clean up the chair and put it on a shelf or something. I fucking love it now.”

  I smile. “I do too.”

  I can’t help but think about the possibility that I kind of had sex for the first time on it. Yes, I fucking love the chair as well. Megan would be so proud of me.

  That was amazing. But he said he wasn’t quite inside me. So, yeah, it wasn’t quite sex but wonderfully close. It got that close because of me and my impulse to sit on him. I was just riding my instincts. And it makes me wonder if I’m maybe not quite so fucked up as I once thought.

  Chapter Twenty - Ryder

  Only three more days that Asha and I can spend every waking moment together. And our sleeping ones too. Afterwards, we won’t get to see each other this regularly for weeks, we discovered when checking our schedules. And for her, she’s probably thinking only three more days to work up her nerve to have sex. While I’m thinking of three more days to make her fall in love with me.

  We’ll be working together after these three days. But I don’t know what that means. What if I can’t win her over? What if she rejects me and this notion that she’s mine?

  So I wake early, planning the remaining days, trying to think of ways to avoid what almost happened last night. Jesus, that was close. My cock knew exactly where her opening was and had been doing everything to get inside, even though I thought Bone Ranger and I agreed not to do that sort of thing. Or maybe it was Steve who was being the dick last night. God, my puns are terrible.

  Getting out of bed is difficult because Asha is tangled around me. I love sleeping now. Because I’m sleeping with her. Since I’ve been discharged, sleeping hasn’t been easy, but it is with her. It also helps that last night I had one of the best orgasms of my life, and I hadn’t even been inside her.

  Showering, I’m trying to be super quiet. Dressing, the same. I scramble some eggs for her and make toast. I’m making her breakfast in bed because I’m going to pamper the hell out of her. I’ve been texting my sister, asking for suggestions to win Asha’s heart. It was because I added the heart part that Zoe said she’d actually help. She also texted something about it being time I settled down, which, oddly, didn’t freak me the fuck out. So thanks to my sister, I have a huge list of PG-rated things to do that might woo Asha. And I know the X-rated things too. I just…I don’t know if that will convince her that she’s mine. All mine.

  I don’t have a tray, so I use a flat box to carry her plate and coffee, just the way she likes it, and orange juice. And I’m not going to let her touch me. I hope. I’ve got only three days to make her love me, and, yeah, I’m thinking of love because I’m damn near close already. How could I not? She’s hilarious. She’s patient. With me, especially. And she’s so smart and pretty and…her list is incredibly long. While my list isn’t.

  I’ve got a lot of work to do in these next three days.

  She’s stirring and mumbling something when I walk into the bedroom.

  “What’s that, baby?”

  “Why aren’t you here?” She sits up, looking adorably grumpy. “I don’t like waking up without you. Oh, but you made food.”

  “Yeah. Do you like scrambled eggs with cheese? And unlike you, little practical joker, I’m not asking that to get hot sauce all over your plate. I’m really asking.”

  Her mouth falls open a little, her brows do this thing where they arch up only at the center. “I love scrambled eggs with cheese.”

  “Scoot over so I can sit with you.”

  She does, propping pillows not behind herself but where I’m going to sit. She’s so fucking considerate. I sit on the covers, placing the box tray on her legs as she’s getting comfortable on her pillow and my headboard.

  “This is a lot of scrambled eggs.”

  “I’m eating too.” I scoot a little closer to her. She smells good in the morning. She smells like her—that floral sweet scent that makes Steve pay a little too much attention to her.

  I clear my throat and take one of the forks. “I have the day all planned out.”

  “Oh? Thank you for breakfast, by the way. This is so sweet of you.”

  “Sure. With me, you’ll get breakfast in bed all the time.” I’m trying to sweeten the pot and it might be annoyingly obvious.

  She slowly chews, looking at me as if I’m all new to her.

  “What? The eggs bad?”

  “They’re great! I just…can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Yeah, you know you can.”

  She blinks, like she doesn’t know that she can ask me for a kidney and I’d figure out a way to give it to her. I’d give her anything, and for some reason she doesn’t know it yet.

  I’m not sure how to tell her all that without, you know, freaking her out, especially if she’s not ready to hear that sort of thing.

  She sniffs and asks, “You—you—I pegged you as the kind of man who—how can I say it?”

  My heart slams against my ribs. “Just say it.” I don’t know what she’s going to ask me, but it doesn’t sound good.

  “Do you see yourself in the future?” She rolls her eyes. “Of course, you do. What I mean is…okay, I didn’t think you were the kind of man who would ever want to get married, settle down, things like that.”

  That’s twice someone has mentioned settling down and, again, I’m not freaking the fuck out.

  “I mean,” she’s stammering. “God, I’m shouldn’t have said that so bluntly, but I just—”

  I take in a deep breath. Zoe said something about the way to a woman’s heart is through authenticity and honesty. Be vulnerable. God, if Zoe knew the things I already do for this woman in front of me. But I’m going to keep doing it because Asha will be mine.

  She’s still struggling and apologizing but I stop her by saying, “You know, for a long time I never thought I’d marry. When I was a kid, even when I was first in the Army, I didn’t want to get married.”

  “Were you—and you don’t have to answer this—were you with a lot of women? You know what? On second thought, I don’t want to know. I do, but—”

  “Asha, let me just say that I didn’t take myself very seriously so I didn’t take anything else, including women. Now, with you, I’m ashamed of my past.”

  She pushes the box tray to the side so she can turn to me and put her hands on mine. “No, I don’t want you to be. Never be ashamed of your past. That feels really shitty.”

  I smile. “I like it when you swear.”

  She shrugs. “Seemed like the most applicable word.”

  I nod. “I didn’t think about marriage. And when Zoe got pregnant, that really freaked me out, I hate to admit. I put even more distance between myself and any woman, any kind of committed relationship.”

  She nods and looks like I’ve confirmed something for her. But I’m not fucking done. That’s not the end of my story. So, I’m going to tell her something that might make me vulnerable enough to get choked up, which will fucking kill me to have her see me like that, but so be it.

  “But then I became friends with Adam. Adam Bernstein,
a kid from Boston. A really nice guy who wanted to be my friend. With him, everything changed. I started to think that I could get married. I could be…normal.”

  Something about what I said seems to have shocked her. Her eyes are huge and round, and her lips are a little lax, making me want to kiss them. But I have to steer clear of them while she’s on my bed. No more fooling around and almost having sex. Not without her heart involved.

  “I figured,” I continue, “if a normal guy like Adam could be my friend, me, the kid from Indiana who stole shit, who kind of loathed his own grandmother and who the fuck does that?”

  “A kid who had a good reason to, Ian. There’s nothing wrong with your feelings. What your grandmother did—excuse me if this sounds disrespectful—is fucked up.”

  I smile. God, she’s fierce. Love that about her.

  “Anyway, Adam was—”

  “Was?”

  “Adam died. Afghanistan. Died in my arms.”

  She had the sheet covering her nude little body—we slept naked last night, and I’m surprised I didn’t try to have sex with her. But I’m also really proud that I didn’t. Now, though, she’s lunging for me, flinging her arms around my neck, sitting on my lap and holding me close.

  “I’m so, so sorry, Ian.”

  I’m still holding my fork, but I embrace her, feeling her silky skin against my hands that makes me itch to touch more and more of her. If Adam knew telling his story would get her to react like this—embracing me without a thought about her naked body, he’d be real happy for me. I wish he was here so I could tell him I’m, as of a couple months ago, no longer a male slut as he called me. And I’m falling in love. For the first time. Hell, probably the only time in my life, I’m falling.

  So hard.

  She pulls away enough to look up at me, but all I see are her breasts, her little belly, and dark pubic hair. With a strength I never knew before, I lift her off me, settle her under the covers, where the sheet can cover her gorgeous breasts and everything else, and put the box tray back on her.

  She probably thinks I’m being stoic, but I’m trying to control my raging hard on. I’m trying to think. What was I talking about?