Page 14 of Healed By Doc
I can’t hold back the smile this time and lean up, brushing my lips over his throat, pushing up to kiss his jaw before pressing my lips over his. Light as a feather as I finish opening his shirt. He sucks in a sharp breath when my fingers touch his bare skin, and it’s nothing and everything I imagined.
His skin is warm against my cool fingertips, his muscles firm and tense. My eyes shift down to look at the ridges of muscle covered with tattoos all over his torso. I trail my hands up his shoulders to see more of him, pushing back the shirt and reveling in the perfection his body has been curved into. I don’t remember much of the man from the past, but I don’t imagine he looked anything like the man standing shirtless before me now.
“I know what sex is,” I murmur, kissing his jaw and down his throat, intent on testing his control. My hands travel from his shoulders to his pecs, to his firm stomach, gasping when his muscles ripple under my fingertips with every curious touch. “I’ve heard enough about it from the women around here to understand how it happens.” Not all of what I was told was good, and I’ll admit some of the stories scared the daylights out of me while others sent a longing blooming in my chest. Done right, I heard, and with the right person, sex can be magical. “We can do that. You want that, right? We can…um, have sex.”
“Cara,” he sighs, his voice tight. His muscles are tense, and I can tell he’s still holding himself back. He doesn’t trust that I can handle it, so I set out to convince him that he’s wrong.
My hands drop to his jeans, and something burns in those brown eyes when I tug at the button, but I only get as far as unzipping his jeans before his hand clamps down over mine, stopping me. “Wait, Cara,” he rasps, voice thick with desire. “You’re not ready for what you asking yet, and quite honestly, neither am I.” I start to protest, but he simply places a finger on my lips. “I don’t trust myself to not take you fast and hard. Not when my control is practically in shreds right now. You deserve more for your first time, but if you want to touch me…there are other things we can do.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll show you.”
“James—”
I find myself backed to the wall seconds before his mouth slams down on mine in a kiss that sends my toes curling with pleasure. I whimper against his lips, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pushing forward to rub my aching nipples against his chest for relief. It doesn’t work. All it does is intensify the feelings. My head is swimming when he pulls back, those dark eyes so heated, they send a shiver down my back.
“On your knees, angel.” I don’t protest his order, thankful for the reprieve for my weak knees. The move finds me face to face with the massive bulge pushing against the open zipper. My stomach flutters with nerves and excitement as he pushes down his jeans and boxer briefs, and I gasp when his erection bobs out.
Despite all my bravado earlier, I find myself wavering at the sight of his dick. He’s huge, intimidatingly so, and for a moment, I question all the stories I’ve heard from the women in the shelter.
It’s nothing to be worried about, they told me. Imagine a banana, another woman assured me. I’ve felt him against me, soof course I doubted the banana analogy, but I wasn’t prepared for this. He’s thick, long, and heavy.
“James.” His name stutters out as I look up at his eyes, and what I see there settles some of the nerves fluttering in my stomach, but not entirely. He looks seconds away from losing control completely, with his jaw clenched and those dark eyes flooded with heat. His chest is heaving with ragged breaths that go to show how far he’s gone. “I can do it,” I whisper, swallowing down my own fears. “Show me how you like it, Daddy.”
“Fuck!” he growls, his hand plowing into my hair and grabbing a fistful. I gasp at the sting, but it fades as quickly as it comes. “I want you too much. Tap my thigh if you want me to stop.”
“Okay.” I nod, locking my eyes with his dark ones as I lean in and swipe my tongue over the leaking tip, tasting the salty tang of his precum.
I catch his growls seconds before he pistons forward, stretching my lips with his massive girth. He hisses as my teeth graze his cock, and by the heated look in his eyes, I can’t tell if he likes it or not. I hold my breath as he stills, my eyes watering at the lack of air before he pulls back out. I cough, fighting to fill my lungs with air. “Slowly,” he says, more to himself than to me as he guides his manhood between my lips once more. I’m more prepared now and cover my teeth with my lips. I hold my breath a bit longer this time as his eyes bore into mine.
Something about being naked and on my knees before a half-dressed man as he works himself in and out of mouth turns me on. There has to be something twisted in my mind for my body to thrum needily as his grip in my hair tightens. First the spanking and now this? I’m terrified to even touch on the daddything and why calling him that sends my blood boiling with need.
“You’re perfect, angel,” he rasps, the grip in my hair guiding me to bob my mouth back and forth on his shaft. “Fuck, you have no idea how gorgeous you look taking Daddy’s cock into your little mouth. You like that, don’t you, angel?” he growls. “Want me to come all over your tits?”
I moan in response, and he groans, so I do it again. I fight the urge to reach down and touch the spot between my legs, if only to ease the ache building there. No, I need to focus on him. Only him. Even so, I find myself writhing helplessly, my thighs clenching tight for some kind of relief but find none. “Get Daddy off, and I’ll take care of you.”
As if I needed any more encouragement, I press closer and bring my hands to his hips to take more of him, gasping and coughing before pulling back, but the effort doesn’t go unrewarded. His hips jerk, and he growls, his grip tightening and bordering on pain as he slides in and out of my mouth, each time going deeper until I feel him hit the back of my throat and a shudder rolls through him.
“Fuuuck!” he growls, pulling out and grasping his cock with his free hand. His head is thrown back as he strokes his cock, the veins in his arms threatening to pop as he jerks himself faster. His muscles, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, tense visibly, and I watch in fascination as he comes apart. His eyes find mine again as a stream of white spurts out of his massive cock over my chest, some of it landing on my lips. Curiously, my tongue peeks out to catch some of it, which only seems to send him further over the edge as he paints me with his seed.
He’s magnificent.
Watching this strong man shudder and come apart because of me sends me preening with feminine pride. This is what I was missing. Hell, he robbed me of this every time he left after touching me, and Christ, a part of me wants to see it again.
I’m still recovering from what just happened when James grabs my hand and jerks me to my feet. My face is once again pressed to the wall as he crowds against my back. “It turned you on, didn’t it?” he asks, running a hand over my aching tits, and I whimper at the sensation. My head falls back against his shoulder as he pinches my nipples between his knuckles, tugging once before his hands move lower. “You did so well, angel,” he rasps into my ear, nipping at my earlobe as he runs his middle finger over the valley of my sex. “I promised to take care of you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whimper, trembling in his arms. It won’t take long. I can tell I’m right on the edge, so I let myself be driven to madness by his fingers, and when I fall, it’s his arms that catch me.
He doesn’t leave.
Several moments later, when I step into the shower with him, I acknowledge how foolish it is that I’ve allowed myself to get to a point where I need this man. This man has the power to hurt me, to break me in a way no one ever has before. And yet, as his hands trace the lines of my body in the shower, not in desire this time but in comfort, I allow myself to be foolish just a while longer.
Chapter Six
Doc
Sometimes I imagine flashes of metal. The glint of a shiv, hidden and deadly. The cold steel of a cell door slamming shut and echoing through the silence. A spoon sharpened to a razor’s edge, a makeshift weapon hidden under the mattress to be used on someone later. The metallic tang of blood after violence. The glint of handcuffs.
