Page 65 of Fixation

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From us.

The tidal wave that’s been crashing against my ribs is going to drown us both.

I’m going to let it.

Fuck.

I pull my sweet patient to me by her waist. She’s as close as I can have her.

Her lips are inches from my groin.

She hums in her sleep, and it’s sweet. Sheer innocence.

What a fucking angel she is.

I, on the other hand, am the devil who’s been resurrected from the depths of hell. Who’s been put on earth to debase her.

The covers have to go. I throw them on the floor and, yes, that’s better.

I shove her sweatshirt and shirt up her body. It heightens my incessant urge to sink my teeth into her breasts. Bite. Suck.

Mark her.

My cock jerks when I lean in to kiss one nipple, then the other. I’ve missed those.

I lick them, giving each of them the attention it deserves.

Yesterday, while she was passed out, and I wasn’t really her doctor, tasting them was enough.

Today is a whole other story.

I shove my scrubs down, freeing my cock. It’s heavy in my hand. Thick and pulsing.

While I rub myself and flick my tongue on one of Harper’s nipples, I look at her.

Sleeping. Deeply.

How deep exactly?

I’m curious. I want her. I bite her again.

The moment I do that, my hips thrust forward. The feral need to claim her is everywhere.

I have to take her.

I lace our fingers together. Hers are limp. Mine are full of intent. I pull on her hand, bringing it close to my cock.

There’s nothing, not a damn thing I want more than to push her pants and panties down her legs. Climb the bed, spit on my cock, make it wet for her.

Then slide into her.

As much as it turns me on, the first time I fuck her won’t be like this.

Her eyes will be open. Emerald greens will be staring at me. Either with adoration, lust, or hate.

Don’t give a fuck.

What’s important is that she’ll be present for it.

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