Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse (21 page)

An image of myself, what I must have looked like on that rug sprang to mind. I’d been boneless with grief. Michael leaving had been the most awful thing to ever happen to me. If he’d died in an accident it would have been easier. I wouldn’t have had the questions, the uncertainties, the damn hang-ups I was now making every nice, innocent guy I met cope with. Talk about baggage, I had a bloody ten ton truck trailing along behind me.

‘I don’t want to think of you like that,’ Carl said, turning me to face him and running his hands over my shoulders and down my arms. ‘Perhaps we should make new memories for that rug.’

‘New memories?’

‘Yes.’ He brushed his lips over mine. ‘Perhaps I should make love to you there – sweetly, gently, right now.’

That sounded like a damn good idea to my body, but my emotions stuttered.

He knew me too well, already. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘You’ve changed your mind?’

I looked away. Damn, I was such a tease. I did want to, really I did. But …

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It’s OK, whatever you want is fine.’ He paused. ‘I don’t really know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, but if it helps, I promise, absolutely promise, on my grandparents’ graves that I will never ever just leave, walk away, or disappear. Ever.’

‘You promise?’ I looked up into his face. It was full of earnest, his jaw set, his eyes solemn.

‘I promise, with all my heart. I would never do that to you, or anyone. It’s just cruel. Unbelievably cruel.’

‘It is.’ I nodded. ‘It was.’

He gathered me close, tucking my head beneath his chin and stroking my hair. I leaned into him, let him hold me up. I was knackered, emotionally and physically, almost to the point where Carl was keeping me together.

I slid my hands down his back, to just below the waistband of the smart trousers he wore for work. The rise of his buttocks was a gentle slope and like the rest of him, slender but strong.

Letting my palms absorb the heat of his skin through the material, in this slightly too familiar pose for a couple yet to make love, I allowed the first stirrings of desire to build within me. It was new, this desire. It wasn’t lust or a craving for physical satisfaction, which were the sexual emotions that had been with me for so long. It was something more brilliant, brighter, deeper. It came from within, an urge to connect in every sense, not just our bodies but as two souls. Not since Michael left had I felt that, not since Michael had I allowed myself to.

But maybe those years banging around weren’t wasted ones though. Perhaps they’d been necessary. Kind of like an Elastoplast around my heart. Yes, I’d shagged any willing guy, been more than happy to reap the benefits of Raif’s multi-talented tongue and ridden Tom’s mammoth appendage until I could barely walk, but I’d never been truly satisfied. Hadn’t come away feeling as though my heart had been nourished by the joining, no matter how spectacular the orgasm or how many I’d been treated to.

However, now, just holding Carl, and feeling him cuddle me was more nurturing than any fleeting rendezvous. He knew me. Had seen me up and down. He understood that I was a sucker for patients who needed a night out and thought it enormous fun to watch senior colleagues up to no good in theatre. He also grasped, though many men wouldn’t, that I’d had a sudden change of heart when just about to get up close and personal with Javier. Yes, he knew me, and now I wanted to learn everything about him too.

‘You OK?’ he whispered.

I nodded, inhaled his cologne. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ I looked up at him. ‘The rug is a little uncomfortable. How about the bed?’

He grinned. ‘Sounds good to me.’

With a sudden flourish he swooped me up against his chest. One arm behind my knees the other around my back. I laughed, a bubbling rush of a sound, and looped my arms around his neck.

‘I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,’ he said with a smile. ‘Sometimes I’ve looked at you on a ward, busy organising meds or helping someone out of bed, and I’ve wondered what you’d say if I just strode over, picked you up and marched out of the place.’

‘You have?’

‘Yes.’ He walked into the hall, turning sideways to fit us both through the doorway. ‘I always liked that film
An Officer and a Gentleman
; thought they should remake it though,
The Doctor and the Nurse
.’

‘I think they have, and you can find it on the top shelf of sleazy, over-eighteen-only shops.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, you’re probably right.’ He paused. ‘Which one?’

‘Door on the left, the other one is the bathroom.’

‘OK, I’ll remember that for later.’

He shoved at my bedroom door with his foot, and I was relieved that I’d left the room relatively tidy. It was quite a decent size, with one purple wall behind the bed and the others silvery grey. The bedspread was also purple and held a stack of fluffy, decorative cushions.

He laid me down, carefully, then flicked on the bedside lamp. A warm, amber glow filtered over the bed and cast shadows around the chunky pine furniture.

‘Much as I like these sexy pyjamas of yours,’ he said, stooping and talking against my lips, ‘they’re going to have to come off.’

‘That can be arranged, doctor, but I think you might have to lose your clothes first.’

He straightened. ‘Ah, it’s like that, is it?’ He dragged his shirt over his head and I got my first look at his bare chest.

And a fine chest it was too – creamy skin, unblemished; dark, hard nipples; a whirl of black hair in the centre of his sternum; and subtly defined, squarish pectoral muscles. His body was long, his chest hair forming a neat, tantalising, lickable line right down to his navel before fanning out, over his taut belly and disappearing into his trousers.

It was the length of his body and limbs that so appealed to me. He wasn’t all beefed-up muscle, bulging biceps and stacked six-pack. He was lean, strong, tall, perfectly formed and all male. He was Carl.

Without tearing my attention from him, I flicked the cushions to the floor and tossed back the duvet. After toeing off my slippers, I poked my feet beneath the cover. ‘Coming in?’ I asked with a grin.

He didn’t return my smile. He’d pressed his lips together and hovered his fingers over his belt buckle.

‘What?’ I asked. A shard of fear sliced through my chest. Please don’t run out on me. Not now. Not when I’ve just let you in.

‘It’s just …’ he said quietly.

‘What?’ OK, now I was worried.

‘It’s just …’ He twisted his mouth into a half smile. ‘I just hope you like it, that’s all.’

I frowned. ‘Like what?’

‘I’ve been told it’s a bit of an acquired taste.’

‘Acquired taste.’ I was really confused. ‘Carl, what are you talking about?’

‘This.’ He undid his buckle, slowly slipped it free, then undid his trouser button and zipper.

Bloody hell. What was going on? Was he of mammoth proportions like Tom? Perhaps he had a wiener and I’d have to find inventive ways to get off with him. No, I’d felt the damn thing in the cupboard after the Hartley and Emily show. It’d seemed of perfectly acceptable proportions then.

He shoved his trousers down to his ankles then kicked them and his socks away.

OK, judging by the tenting in his tight, black boxer briefs, he definitely wasn’t on the wiener end of the scale. That looked just as I remembered it to feel. A healthy, aroused specimen waiting for fun.

But this just made me even more puzzled. ‘Carl,’ I whispered. ‘What –?’

‘This.’ He hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and moved them down to his thighs. His cock sprang free from a nest of black pubic hair. He was a very pleasing length, decent girth and nicely engorged.

But as all of this registered, one thing overrode everything else.

‘Bloody hell,’ I gasped. ‘Is that real?’

He gave a strained laugh. ‘Yes.’

‘What the … why?’

‘Why not?’ He fingered the silver ring that emerged from his slit and then pierced the underside of his dick, just beneath the flared glans.

‘I’ve never seen a Prince Albert,’ I said, sitting forward. It looked amazing, the metal thick and shiny and kind of pretty too. ‘And I thought I’d just about seen everything.’

‘Does it freak you out? I can remove it if you want.’

‘No, no, not at all.’ I glanced up at his worried face. ‘I think it’s bloody amazing.’

He widened his eyes. ‘You do?’

‘Yes, how long have you had it?’

‘About seven years. Had it done in Australia when a mate dared me to. Hurt like bollocks for a while but then I got used to it, fond of it. Now it’s part of me.’

‘Remind me never to dare you to do anything.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, I’m not good at turning a dare down. You’d do well to remember that.’

I grinned. ‘I will.’ Damn, I’d always suspected Carl was a dark horse beneath his white coat, square glasses and easygoing ways. I’d been right, and it seemed my luck just kept going up now that it had changed its course. ‘Can I touch it?’

He released the ring and the small ball-bearing hung towards the floor, though his cock stayed proudly upright, pointing at my face. ‘That’s kind of the idea,’ he said in a low, sexy voice.

‘It is?’

He cupped my cheek in his palm. ‘Yes. And when it touches you, inside – trust me, it will feel incredible. It’ll hit just the right place.’

‘How do you know?’ I asked a little cheekily.

He licked his lips, grinned. ‘Because I passed my female anatomy class with flying colours. I know exactly which hot spots will make you feel great.’

I glanced up at him and saw desire, anticipation and affection in his expression. I was aware of an expansion in my chest, like a balloon growing. It was desire, too, but a desire to satisfy him not myself. For too long I’d been taking what I could from sex and not reciprocating.

I juddered in a breath. I’d been a bit of a cow, probably. Using men for one thing only. But I’d always been honest about it. Never offered, promised or suggested more.

But this was different. I wanted to make Carl feel good – more than good. I wanted to hear him call out in ecstasy. Writhe with pleasure on the bed. Struggle to catch his breath because I’d taken him to such a soul-twistingly erotic place. And I wanted to see his face, with his eyes screwed tight, his nose wrinkled and his teeth gritted, battling not to give into his orgasm until he was ready to.

Carefully I placed my hands on his hips, leaned to the edge of the bed and swiped my tongue over the ring. Very gently, just enough to shift it slightly.

‘Fuck,’ he gasped, squeezing my shoulders.

I drew my tongue in, tasted sporty shower gel along with a musky metallic flavour.

‘Is it OK to do that?’ I asked, adoring the way the ring circled into his dark-pink slit.

‘Yes, that’s fine.’ He sounded a little strained. His throat tight.

I repeated the action, then swirled my tongue under the rim of his glans. Exploring every smooth, stretched section of flesh and the small, tight dart of flesh a fraction above where the ring entered beneath the crown.

He groaned, a long, low rumbling sound.

Cupping his soft sacs, I took him completely into my mouth, letting the smooth, cool metal of the ring slide on my tongue as I went deep, then deeper still.

‘Sharon, please …’ He stepped back and I was forced to release him.

‘What.’ My breaths were coming quickly, my heart rate picking up. I was just about to get into a rhythm.

‘I’ve been thinking about this moment with you for too long. Any more of that and I won’t have an ounce of stamina left.’

‘So just go with it,’ I said, reaching for him again.

He moved to the left. ‘I at least want to make it into the damn bed.’

I grinned. ‘Yes, good idea.’

I flicked back the duvet and he slipped in next to me.

‘So how come you’re still wearing this?’ he asked, curling his fingers beneath my fluffy top.

‘I think you’re very capable of treating that symptom, doctor.’

‘Yes, I also happened to come top of the class in removing girly pink pyjamas.’

I giggled. ‘That’s good to hear.’

He tugged my top and I raised my arms, allowing it to slide over my head. Two seconds later it landed on the pile of cushions.

‘Sharon,’ he said, gazing at my breasts. ‘You’re beautiful.’

He’d said the words, but there was something in his face that told me he meant it, truly meant it. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, his mouth soft, and there was a rise of colour on his cheeks.

I rested back on the pillow, as though offering myself up for him. He took the invitation, palming my right breast and leaning forward to kiss my nipple.

I slotted my hands into his hair, sighed and luxuriated in the feel of him suckling gently, stroking the nub with his tongue and massaging my flesh, testing out the weight and feel of me in his hand.

The need to have him inside me was there, definitely, but oh, it was lovely not to be rushing. To have the time and privacy to just sprawl out on the big soft bed, in the warm, and enjoy Carl enjoying me. There was nothing and no one else to worry about. It was as though there was just us in the world, in the universe.

He moved over me, his face hovering above mine and his hands on the pillow either side of my head. His glasses were much more than off a squint now, they were at a forty-five degree angle to his eyes and looked quite comical.

I reached for their thin black arms and slid them off. Carefully folded and set them on the bedside locker. I looked back up at him. It was the first time I’d ever seen him without his glasses. I liked it, a lot. He really was very handsome; proud, straight nose, angled jaw and cobalt-blue eyes that were all the more vivid against his spiky black lashes and dense eyebrows.

‘Can you see me?’ I asked, pushing his mussed up hair from his brow.

‘You’re a little bit soft-focused.’

‘Just as well you said I was beautiful with your glasses on then.’

‘It would still be true,’ he said, touching his lips to mine. ‘Because I meant inside and out.’

‘You’re such a softie.’ I smiled against his mouth.

‘Actually feeling quite hard right now.’