I lead him to the shower and let him adjust the water temperature to his liking. “This okay?” he asks. It’s a little on the hot side for me, but I don’t mind it much.
His skin reddens a bit with the heat as the water glides down his body. I bite my lip.
“Again?” he rolls his eyes. “Fine. But you’re really taking advantage of my body, miss Almonte.” He grabs a handful of my ass and squeezes.
I laugh. “No. Let’s clean up a bit. I really need the shower.”
“Okay.” He grabs my loofah and the washcloth I brought for him, and I pour body wash liberally on both. We soap up and giggle as we get clean. I feel naughty, like a little kid who ate too many sweets before dinner. I wash my hair and am surprised when he shampoos his beard.
He chuckles at my expression. “It takes a lot of work to keep this beard.”
“I like it,” I say.
“Oh?”
“It’s a great feeling when it tickles my inner thighs.”
“Only for you, Valentina, I promise never to shave it off.”
We are both rinsed off, and he grabs me by the waist, so my body is flush with his. His lips crush mine as he plays with his tongue on mine. He cups the back of my head as the water falls down both our faces, keeping my eyes shut tight. As we devour the others’ mouths, his erection hardens against my abdomen. The water rolling down my body, his tight grip on me, and the erection twitching between us are all too much. When the hell did I become so damn insatiable that I want him again?
I break away from him and kneel on the shower floor much too quickly to give him a chance to protest. Wrapping my hand around his shaft, I pump once, then twice, while I squeeze gently. Rory groans, and his hands fist at his sides. He leans his head back on the tile, and the water now hits his chest and six-pack. I look up at his body and lick my lips. His gaze is glued to my face with hooded eyes.
Bringing my grip to the base of his shaft, I lick the head of his cock.
“Fuck, Valentina,” he groans. His breathing quickens, and I take the head into my mouth, sucking on it gently before letting him out of my mouth again.
I look up. The water bounces off those six-pack muscles, making me squint. “Is this okay?” I ask as I pump with my hand once again.
“Fuck, yes,” he all but screams, and I take him into my mouth again.
This time I take him deeper into my throat as I continue to stroke his base with my hand. He grips my hair in his fist and starts guiding me to the rhythm he wants, and I let him. Rory tastes divine, and seeing his body wet like this has my own wetness gliding down my thighs all over again. My pussy clenches at the sight of him with his eyes shut tight and the veins in his neck straining with the pleasure of my mouth.
“Stop,” he growls and pulls me away by my hair.
“No,” I whine. “More. Please.”
“Fuck. It’s hard to deny you, but I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
“I want you to come in my mouth.” I reach for him with my tongue, but his grip on my hair is too tight.
“No,” he shakes his head, though I know his resolve wavers. “I’m not wasting this on your mouth. Not today.” He bends and places his hands under my armpits so he can lift me to my feet. He lands a wet kiss on my lips and pants when he breaks away.
“I’m about to impress the hell out of you,” I tell him, and his eyebrow arches. I’m leaning against the cool tile of the shower wall, and I bring my right leg all the way up to rest against his shoulder, effectively doing the splits while standing.
“You are going to be the end of me,” he groans. He presses his erection to my entrance, and I grind my clit up and down the shaft. I could come from just this friction alone.
I hear a wrapper, and my eyes fling open. “When did you get a condom?”
Rory chuckles. “I have many talents, Valentina.”
He withdraws his hips away from me so he can roll on the condom, but I keep my leg over his shoulder as he does this. Taking his cock in hand, he positions it at my entrance, parting me slowly. I wince a bit, and he stills. “Are you okay?” he says. I nod. “We can stop if it’s painful.”
“No!” I all but scream out. “It hurts so good,” I say.
With a sexy smile, he gives me another inch of him slowly, so slowly, my head leans back. In this stretched position, my tightening around him is extreme.
“Fuuuck,” Rory draws out. “You feel so tight like this.”
I can tell he is holding himself back with the slow, lazy strokes by the strained muscles of his arms encasing me. He keeps one hand on the wall behind me and takes the other away from the wall to cup my chin, and brings his lips to mine. I plunge my tongue into his mouth, and his pace quickens a bit.
He releases my mouth and leans back to bring his free hand between us and presses his thumb to my overly-sensitive and swollen clit.
I scream, and my leg muscles tighten over his shoulder as I come yet again for the who-the-fuck-knows-how-many times today. He drives into me so forcefully now, he is almost lifting me off the ground by his cock until he stills, effectively impaling me. His eyes tighten, and he groans out his release. I’m so glad we are facing each other now so I can see his face when he climaxes.
We both pant, and he presses his forehead to mine. “Thank you,” he says.
“Are you thanking me for making you come?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. Guess I am.” He leaves me, and I unwrap my leg from him, bringing it down to the ground. We rinse again, then dry off.
Rory is drying out his hair with a towel when he looks at me with a devilish grin. “Only three more to go.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “You really don’t have to deliver on that. You’ve more than proved your sex-god status.”
“Oh, but I want to deliver,” he says with a teasing smile.
“Can I at least have a break?”
“Of course. So long as you remain naked the rest of the morning.”
“Fine, but I’m wearing underwear at least. It’s more comfortable.”
“Agreed.”
We both put on underwear before going to lounge on the sofa. Rory sits, and I lay my head on his lap. “What a fucking glorious morning,” I say.
Rory pinches my nipple playfully. “You got that right.”
I giggle.
Rory’s head rests back as he looks at the ceiling and I look at him. We are both basking in the luxury of this lazy morning where all we’ve done is fuck and eat. A lump lodges in my throat because I want more of this. Preferably with Rory if he is up to it, but the bottom line is, I want more of life. I’ve hardly lived, and now I have found someone who has given me so many firsts that I’m thinking there are a hell of a lot more firsts I haven’t even begun to imagine. My eyes prickle with tears. I need to live. I need to survive.
I want more time.
Suddenly I’m reminded that I’m Valentina Fucking Almonte. A new fan-favorite MMA fighter in Mexico and shortlisted for the UFC. I have never backed down from a fight; why the hell was I about to start now? I sought Dr. Carolina Ramirez like I sought Chema—I wanted the best on my team, and I got her. Like there was never an option to lose a fight, there isn’t an option to die. Not yet. Not for a long time.
“Are you okay?” Rory asks, his brows creased together.
Fuck. He’s looking at me with puppy eyes. “Yeah. Just a little homesick. Wish I could show you around Mexico City.”
“You mean like I showed you around Kansas City?”
I laugh. “Yeah. Exactly like that. Except for the falling asleep at the park bit.”
“Let me make up for that. Saturday. I’ll really show you around a few more places.”
I shake my head. “Rory,” I choke on my words. “I haven’t changed my mind. This is a one-night-stand, or rather, a one-day-stand, but we aren’t seeing each other again.”
“I thought we agreed we would spend together whatever time we do have?”
Dammit. “Yeah. Okay, but let’s not
put pressure on this, okay? I can’t really handle serious right now.”
“Okay. We can take it slow.”
“Thank you. I can’t promise we can hang out Saturday, but if you like, you can stay over tonight.” It’s my last night to have him, I think.
“I can’t,” he says. “I have a shift at the hospital tonight. I start at four.”
My eyes widen with horror, and I spring up to a sitting position like a Jack-In-The-Box toy. “What did you say?”
“I work tonight.” His head cocks to the side as he tries to figure out what’s wrong.
“Yeah, but you said ‘at the hospital.’”
“That’s right. Where we met.” He smiles. “I’m a doctor.”
No. No. No. This can’t be happening. Then all the pieces fall into place. How could I have been so stupid? It was so obvious. I met him in the waiting area at Heartland Metro Hospital, never thinking he could be a doctor. I just assumed he was a student. He knew that Doctor Keach from the bar, which is why he backed off so easily. He was at the bar across the street from the hospital. I clear my throat. “So you work at Heartland Metro?”
“Now you want to get to know me?” He is teasing me, and I try to smile. I don’t want him to know, so I have to play this off even though I already acted like a freak.
I shrug. “Just curious.”
Crap.
“Why do you look like that?” he asks.
“Like what?”
“All green, like you are going to vomit.”
“Just a little hot in here, don’t you think?”
“I’m fine, but if you want to kick up your AC, go for it.”
I walk to the hallway with the thermostat pretending to adjust it and use the time to take a deep breath and calm my racing heart. Let’s think about this logically. Heartland Metro is almost a small city with lots of buildings. It would be improbable for us to bump into each other again. The likelihood of him being in the oncology department is slim. I mean, what would be the chances? And what’s the worst that could happen if he finds out I am a patient there? It’s not like we are a couple; it shouldn’t be a big deal. He couldn’t get mad because why would I tell a one-night-stand my medical history? It’s not like he told me about his scar. Calmer, I walk back to the couch and lie down again.
“Better?” He asks.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I want to change the subject, so I think. I look down his slim but muscular legs. “Are you a runner?” I ask.
“Yeah. Don’t usually skip a morning run, but I figure you have provided me with quite a bit of cardio for today.” He smirks, and I laugh. “Why do you ask?”
“Your legs. Well, really, your build. You have a deceivingly muscular body.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I like your athletic build, but you don’t really show it off much with your loose clothes.”
“Some things are best left to the imagination.”
I doze off after a short while and awaken at a sensation between my legs. I have no clue how long Rory has been fingering me, but his gaze is locked on my face like he is studying.
“Mmmm,” I moan. “That feels good.”
My head is on his lap, but he is leaning slightly so he can reach my center. He works me until I come again, and within the next twenty minutes, he delivers on his promise with the remaining two orgasms.
We lay in my bed for a few hours, Rory asking me how to say different words in Spanish. We keep the conversation light, and I’m grateful he can read my mood so well.
“I have to go,” Rory says, and I look at the clock on my nightstand. It’s noon, and our morning is officially over.
He smiles. “Sex and eggs,” he says.
“What?”
“Sex and eggs. I could get used to this.” I smack him playfully on the arm, and he gets up to start dressing. “I hope we can do this again soon,” he says.
“We’ll see.”
“Can I get your number?” When he sees my hesitation, he adds, “I know where you live. Would you rather I stop by?”
“Fine.” I enter my number in his phone. He calls it like he is not sure I gave him the right number, but it rings in my room, and he gives me one last kiss before he leaves.
Chema used to tell me I should promise myself rewards to keep up with my training and stay motivated, so I follow his advice now. I’m going to beat this thing, so I can have Rory once more before I go home, I promise myself.
Because I haven’t had nearly enough of him yet.
Chapter 6
With Rory gone, there is nothing else to do in the apartment except eat. I didn’t want to go explore because somehow, that is something I now want to do with him. I heavily smother my fourth piece of toast with butter as I think of what to do with my time.
In another first in my week of ‘firsts,’ as I now fondly think of it, I have free time. I would have to thank Mandy for prescribing the sex-athon because it had been a while, and it will be longer after treatment.
Going back to the bar to pick out another hookup doesn’t appeal. Plus, I doubt anyone would measure up to Rory and his enthusiastic fucking. And if that wasn’t enough of a deterrent, I couldn’t go to the same bar without risking bringing home another doctor from the hospital where my treatment will take place.
Mandy calls at three in the afternoon, and I am glad for the distraction from my boredom.
“I’m having drinks at a friend’s tonight, and you are coming with,” she says before so much as a ‘hello.’
“Hi Mandy, I’m fine, thanks for asking. Sure, thanks for inviting me.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t look as good on you as it does on me,” she says dryly.
“What time? And where do I meet you?”
Mandy sighs into the phone. “Do you even have a car?”
“I didn’t really have to drive in the City, so . . .”
“Oh, my, god. Don’t tell me you don’t know how to drive!”
I laugh. “I’m joking. I have a car.”
“Forget it. I’ll pick you up at seven,” she says and hangs up.
I’m ready by seven, but Mandy doesn’t show up until seven forty-five. I’m sitting on the stoop in front of my building when she shows up in an old, beat-up clunker of a car. When she rolls down her window, a litany of apologies trail out.
“It’s really okay,” I tell her once I’m in the passenger side. “Honestly, I wanted to enjoy the nice night out.”
“Okay,” she bites her lip, looking guilty as she drives. “I have a hard time getting to places on time.”
“No worries. So? We’re going to a friend’s house?”
“Yeah. They work at the hospital with me, but don’t worry, they’re discreet, and you don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to. I know I could use a girls’ night, and I figured you might as well.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t really have any girlfriends,” I admit, and I’m not sure why that makes me feel embarrassed.
“Not even one?”
“Does my sister count?”
Mandy shakes her head, and her laughter fills the car. “No. Your sister definitely doesn’t count.”
I shrug, unsure what else to say to that.
“Don’t tell me you are one of those girls who is too cool for other girls? You only hang out with men because you ‘identify’ better with them?”
I laugh. “No. When you’re trying to be a pro athlete, it’s hard to have time for friends at all. I didn’t really go anywhere, so it was hard to meet people, and yeah, fighting gyms are filled ninety-nine percent with men. I mostly have male friends because of convenience, not because I think I’m superior to other women or anything.”
“Okay, girl. I get you. I get you.”
“Also, my resting bitch face doesn’t help.”
Mandy laughs again. “Yeah, you do have one of those, though I would never have pointed it out.”
“It’s helpful in
the fighting cage, but I think people find it hard to approach me in everyday life. Except for you. You are kind of fearless, aren’t you?”
Mandy shrugs. “I don’t know. I think I pick people. I find someone who I think, ‘this person is worth my time,’ and it’s not always the obvious choice, but I always have my reasons.”
My cheeks raise a few degrees when she mentions picking me to be in her life. It seems like an intimate statement I’m not used to having in friendships. “What was your reason for picking me?” I ask.
Mandy thinks for a moment, then says softly, “You’re like the calm in the eye of the storm. You’ll learn this about me, but I’m a fucking mess. It’s all chaos when it comes to Amanda Gomez. I’m guessing opposites attracted when it came to you. I was impressed at how you have kept your shit together through the clinical trial process. Usually, it’s a lot of crying and emotion. I’m not saying you are emotionless; I know inside shit is going on in your head, but you keep your cool. I’m guessing it’s the fighter in you.”
“Huh,” I take in her assessment and examine it in my mind. “I think, for the most part, people think I’m hard to get to know, that I don’t let anyone in, and maybe that’s partially true, but I’d like to change that.”
Mandy smiles at me with encouragement, and I get the feeling this woman is going to be an important part of my life—because she has already declared me a part of hers.
A young woman who has to be much younger than Mandy or me opens the door. Mandy introduces her as Izel. She takes me by surprise with a hug and steps aside to let us in. Izel’s face is round, and she has short, light-brown hair with curtain bangs. She is wearing yoga pants and a slouchy sweater that falls off one shoulder. Her body is on the plumper side, but those curves could kill.
“Wine?” Izel offers.
“Sure,” Mandy and I both say.
“Take a seat, estás en tu casa,” she yells from the kitchen as she gets our drinks. When she comes back, Izel is clumsily clutching three wine glasses much too full with red wine. “How was that?” she asks, looking at Mandy.
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