Page 20 of Lonely
She tasted tangy, but I kind of liked it.
Or did I?
It would’ve been nicer if I could’ve breathed instead of getting waterboarded by the newest recruit during working hours, but the Devil didn’t care about my comfort.
“Yes, God, yes!”
I gripped her hips . . . more to hold her still than to encourage her.
Anna didn’t need help in that department. Her hips had a life of their own as she grinded on me like she wouldn’t be satisfied until her juices were everywhere. Even my glasses were smeared.
“You’re so filthy, Doctor.” Her breath stuttered as one of her heels slid off the desk. She dug it into my shoulder and moaned so loudly I was sure Mildred at reception could hear.
I grunted as pain flared where her heel threatened to impale me, but I kept licking. I kind of liked it, but I was also terrified of what would happen if I stopped. Anna was scary.
“Oh, fuck,” she almost growled, clawing at my scalp with her sharp nails. “I’m close. Aah! Stick your tongue in me.”
I did as I was told. She threw her head back and clamped her thighs around my head, squeezing so hard I half-worried it might pop like a tomato.
At least I’d be red like one when she was done.
She made a keening noise and then gripped the edge of the desk. Her back arched as she cried out, quivering in my hands.
Her compressor thighs finally released me and I straightened, wiping the back of my hand across my cheeks and mouth.
When she sat up and saw me cleaning my glasses on my shirt, she grabbed my chin, pulled me in, and stuck her tongue in my mouth.
She was very forward.
Releasing me, she hopped off the desk, smoothed her skirt down, and fixed her bun before digging a tube of lipstick from inside her bra.
I watched her reapply it without a mirror and smack her lips.
What would happen now? I didn’t know if she expected me to hug her. Women liked hugs, didn’t they? Mother didn’t, but she wasn’t like most other women.
My eyes swept over the mess on the desk. I had a stack of paperwork and a lobotomy to perform that afternoon. Hugs could wait. Besides, they made my skin crawl.
Anna looked at me and my tented pants, and a coy smile spread across her face.
Before she could maul me like the wild coyotes in the woods, I unlocked the door and pulled her outside. She teetered in her tall heels, her thighs red from my stubble.
I should’ve told her that her skirt was too short, but Anna liked to break the rules, and she would’ve taken my reprimand as an invitation to rebel.
If her skirts got any shorter, Mr. McAllen—an ailing, elderly patient in room twelve—would suffer a cardiac arrest. We already had Mr. Carson’s body in the morgue. What a mess.
His family was supposed to collect him weeks ago, but never showed. According to the clucking nurses, his only child moved abroad a few months ago.
I didn’t know all the details, but there was no extradition agreement with that particular country.
“Can I see you later?” she asked, walking her scary nails up my chest and sliding my tie through her fingers. “I’ll let you strap me to the table in the basement and fuck me.” She whispered the last part, then grabbed me through my pants.
A teasing smile curved her mouth as she looked around before slipping her devious hand inside my pants and palming my cock in full view of anyone who might have walked by.
“Don’t look so scared, Doctor. There’s no one here.”
Her hand felt good on me, but it was wrong. She was wrong.
I pulled her wrist out and raised my hand to smack her, but it hovered midair, trembling.
