Page 35

Yes… I fucking was.

And how fucked up was that… how fucked up did that make me?

Before I could delve too deeply into my own psyche, he wrapped one thick, muscular arm around me and pulled me flush against him, letting me feel the thick, long length of his cock against my stomach. Then using his thumb in my mouth, he angled my head back so I was looking up at him as he pushed it further in one last time, making me gag once more. This shamefully caused drool to drip down the corner of my mouth. Something he watched with interest as it began to fall. He then pulled his thumb out and gathered up my spit, before shocking me further. As he lifted it to his own lips and sucked it clean, moaning at the taste of me.

“Mm… you sucked me down beautifully, little nurse.” My mouth dropped open in shock as he grinned down at me.

“You want more?” He asked arrogantly and my mouth snapped shut making him chuckle before dipping his head and rumbling,

“There’s that spark I like so much.” This made me fight to get free of him again, but he just laughed. Then he placed both hands on my shoulders to put me back where I had been held prisoner against the wall.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he warned, leaning closer into my face to tell me,

“Not before I have taken a souvenir.” My blood ran cold at this.

“W-what?” I stammered, praying he didn’t mean a literal piece of me, as I suddenly expected a scalpel to appear in his hand.

But thankfully, it wasn’t my blood he wanted. I knew this when he took the front of my scrubs in both fists and tore the top down the center.

There was no effort in it whatsoever. It came apart like wet paper, one long rip from the collar down until it was hanging open. Then he pulled it off my arms and kept it tight in his fist. Which meant that I was suddenly standing in a locked infirmary with far too much on show in a thin white cotton tank top. One I wore under everything, and instantly my arms came up on their own to cover me.

He caught my wrists, almost gently this time, before forcefully lowering them to my sides. Then he looked down at me, a slow journey that first stayed locked to my heaving breasts, as if I wasn’t wearing anything at all. I had been looked at before, every woman has, but this wasn’t that. This was a man taking inventory of something he had already decided belonged to him, and the heat in it moved over my skin like a firm hand.

“Ah,” he said softly. “So, this is what you have been hiding from me.”

Then the backs of his knuckles came down between my collarbones, down the center of my chest and over the cotton down to my stomach. And every inch of the way I held my breath.

Then he stopped.

His hand went sideways and turned my left arm outward. It didn’t take long to know what he was looking at before he touched it. The little white disc on the back of my arm. He put a fingertip on the very edge of it but he didn’t push at it or pull it. Because of course, he already knew what it was. He had heard it three times in that room and he had fed me for it. Now he simply wanted to see the thing itself.

“And how long have you had this?” he asked, surprising me. Because his voice had changed. That was the only way I could describe it. It had gone quiet, but there was something underneath it that I couldn’t name and didn’t want to. Because it sounded like concern, and concern had no business in that room. Not from a man who had just torn my shirt off me with his bare hands.

I stared up at him, riddled with questions and the only thing that made it past my lips was a breathy,

“What?”

However, he didn’t repeat it. He looked at the disc a moment longer, and whatever went through him then, he shut it down before I could read it. Then he leaned in close to my ear.

“Breathe for me,” he whispered almost seductively and I hadn’t realized I had stopped. So, I took in a ragged breath, and he caught my earlobe between his teeth and bit down softly.

“There’s my good girl.”

Then with my ruined scrubs still in hand, he did the single strangest thing I have ever watched another human do.

He gathered the fabric in his hands and started to run it all over me.

Slowly… carefully.

Over my shoulders and around the back of my neck. Under my arms. Down my sides. Pressing it into my skin the way you would towel down something you had just brought in out of the rain. All the while he was breathing steadily in through his nose with his eyes half shut.

“What… what are you doing?” I stammered.

“Getting as much of you as I can.” He didn’t even look up. “So that I can take a piece of you back with me.”

“You’re… what?” To say I was stunned was an understatement.

“It will keep me warm at night,” he said, this time looking at me, and the corner of his mouth lifted.