Page 49 of Fixation

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ANDERSON

My alarm clock wakes me up thirty minutes after I’m done fixing the soup.

First things first—checking on my girl. I mean, my patient.

Her warm presence welcomes me as I take the last step down the stairs. Her body lies perfectly still beneath the blankets I drew over her.

An invitation.

No.

I sedated her, and she needs to be tended to.

That sounds better.

“Let’s have a look at you,” I address her in the same tone of voice I use at the hospital.

She doesn’t answer, which is fine by me.

I don’t need her consent to take care of her. She’s here, isn’t she?

Yes, she is.

Her fever keeps going down. Sweat beads line her forehead, wetting the roots of her hair. Her neck glistens.

Good sign. Real fucking good.

Same as before, I don’tneedto press my knuckles to her forehead and savor the warmth, but I do it anyway.

Dammit, she feels nice. Skin is mildly warm. Soft as well.

I crave more of it. So I take it.

Yes, like that. My fingers tracing hot paths over her cheek. Her delicate jaw. Those pouty lips and chin.

The longer I touch her, the more my control slips.

But her mouth, it’s fucking seductive. I take it too. I’m being unethical as fuck while I dip two fingers between her lips. Up to the first knuckle.

Her lips wrap around them. I want my cock there.

Can’t.

This isn’t a part of the checkup. Pushing the thermometer in her mouth is.

Nodding to myself, I go ahead and do that.

Any healthcare professional would.

Not with their dicks hard, but it doesn’t matter, but that’s a minor detail. The temptation to fuck her mouth, that’s my problem.

I’m stronger than that. I am.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Thank fuck, it’s done.

102.0

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