Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse (3 page)

‘Only if you can catch me.’ I darted into the autopsy room, dark except for a couple of low lights over a set of huge scales. The air was cool and laced with disinfectant.

I glanced around. There was a big, steel surgical table in the centre, a row of cupboards, several filing cabinets and a desk holding an ancient computer monitor.

‘Sharon,’ Tom called, the door shutting behind him with a soft whoosh. ‘You can’t escape.’

‘No, please, no,’ I said with a giggle and ran towards the far side of the room.

He chased but I dodged at the last minute, went to run for the door. He cut me off and I swivelled, found myself barging into the bolted-down table in the middle.

I gasped as the air flew from my lungs, but recovered quickly and, with my hands flat on the cool surface, scooted to the end.

Tom was facing me now, his face strewn with shadows, but I could see the thrill of the chase had flushed his cheeks and caused him to pant.

‘Come here,’ he said, edging closer.

‘No.’ I moved away from him in a circle around the table.

But it was futile; he was tall, fast and strong. Suddenly I was grabbed and tugged to the end, my body pulled up against his.

He pressed his lips down hard on mine and instantly the game was over. Now it was all about carnal satisfaction. With Tom, I was always guaranteed a spectacular orgasm and I couldn’t wait to start riding towards it.

‘Ah, yeah, baby, I’ve got you,’ he said, shoving my coat off and flicking it out of the way. ‘You gonna take it good again? Like you did last week?’

‘Yes,’ I panted, tearing at the buttons on his shirt. ‘Yes, that was so hot, I could hardly bloody walk the next day.’

He chuckled, low, deep and sexy, then kissed me again, the stubble on his chin scraping my skin and his breaths blowing hot and hard on my cheek.

He had my uniform up around my waist now and was forcing me to lie back on the ice-cold table. He stepped between my legs and leaned over me, pressing his groin into the gusset of my knickers.

‘Really, on here?’ I said, slotting my fingers into his hair and drawing my knees up so they pressed either side of his hips. ‘Where they chop up dead people? Isn’t that a bit freaky?’

‘The French for orgasm is
petite mort
so it’s kind of fitting.’ He was fiddling with the elastic of my underwear, at the juncture of my thighs.

‘Yeah, I suppose, but, oh –’ My words were cut off and turned into a delighted moan. He’d plunged two fingers high up inside me and found my clit with his thumb.

‘Oh, you’re such a dirty nurse,’ he murmured, kissing and licking over my cheek. ‘I bet you’ve been getting wetter and wetter ever since that poor old sod croaked, haven’t you?’

‘I –’ Words wouldn’t come. My brain could only concentrate on his touch.

He pulled out a little, shoved back in and set up a steady rhythm. Small squelching noises echoed around the room, mixing with my panting breaths and the sound of my pulse raging in my ears.

‘I love it when you get so wet for me,’ he said, gripping the back of my neck with his free hand and nibbling the side of my neck. ‘I’m going to really miss your cream, Sharon.’

‘Ah, yes, Tom, please, I want you in me.’

His hand was good, but a hand was a hand. Tom’s equipment was sensational, the sort of specimen that should be pickled in a jar when he died and saved in a museum as a perfect example of the human penis.

‘Coming right up, baby,’ he said, withdrawing and fumbling with his flies.

I shoved at my knickers, gasped briefly at the chill on my buttocks, then kicked the material away. I tried not to think of the bodies that had lain lifeless where I was about to be screwed senseless. Perhaps it would re-balance the karma for this table – if furniture held karma, that is.

Tom was rolling a condom on with astonishing efficiency. ‘You’re the only one that ever takes all of me,’ he said, looking me in the eye. ‘And it feels amazing.’

‘Tell me about it.’ I reached for him and kissed him hungrily as he pressed me back onto the hardness of the metal. He tasted of coffee, chocolate and perhaps a hint of tobacco. He tasted of Tom, which to me meant sex and pleasure and orgasms of the super-intense variety.

He was nudging into me. I locked my ankles in the small of his back and gripped the sleeves of his shirt. This part always required a good amount of concentration on my behalf if it was to be erotic pain and not ow-that-hurts pain.

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ he said into my mouth and gaining the first inch of entry.

I held my breath, waiting for more, desperate for more, all of it, all of him.

‘Damn, you feel so hot,’ he said, pressing his chin against my temple.

His stubble would leave a telltale red rash, but I didn’t care, to hell with any consequences. Right now I just wanted more of him inside me.

I rocked my hips up to meet him and he pushed in – much faster than usual.

‘Oh, yes,’ I cried out as red flashes filled my vision. ‘So good.’

‘Only good?’ He stilled.

‘Fantastic, and you know it.’ I half-heartedly thumped his arm. ‘Just give it to me.’

He hesitated for a second, then shunted in completely.

I cried out, so did he.

The brutal entry and the swirling pleasure-pain had my entire body tensing.

‘Ah, yeah,’ he groaned, lifting his head and staring at the wall behind me. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

I felt like I would burst. That at any moment the tip of his cock would come right out of my throat. How was it possible for my little body to take such a monster? I didn’t know, but it did, and it felt bloody incredible.

Tom began to move. Keeping himself lodged high, he churned his hips in a circular movement, catching my clit just right.

Groaning, I arched my back, lifted off the table and clung to him. Already the first blissful sparks of orgasm were there. It wouldn’t take long.

‘Ah, yeah, this isn’t going to be a marathon session like last week,’ he said. ‘You’ve got me too damn hot for you. I’m near already.’

‘Me too.’ I smoothed my hands over his shoulders. ‘Me too.’

He pulled halfway out, sliding easily, then rode back in. We both grunted and I harnessed the growing pressure.

‘Yeah,’ he said, repeating the process. ‘Oh, yeah.’

‘Faster, harder,’ I said, catching his fleshy earlobe in my mouth and sucking.

‘Your wish is my command.’

Suddenly our mating cranked up a notch. If it had been desperate before, now it was frantic, wild and utterly animalistic. Breathing no longer mattered, nor did the rest of the universe. Tom inside me and the explosion about to detonate was all that existed.

‘Ah, I’m coming,’ I shouted, biting down on his earlobe.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he groaned, shifting his head but not escaping my teeth.

He was rod-hard, as hard as he ever got. And I was being impaled; he was ramming me down as much as he was forging into me.

It was there. I was spinning through ecstasy, my body not my own for a few sweeter-than-sweet seconds, but belonging to a glorious state of heavenly pleasure.

And then came the best bit, my pussy contracting and spasming around Tom’s cock. My internal muscles rejoicing at the incredible length and girth they had to grip and shudder against.

Tom was coming too, at the perfect moment. He was groaning and moaning like a dying man. I released his ear, found his mouth and kissed him. He kissed back, hungrily.

‘Oh, yeah, that was so good,’ he said, breathless and finally slowing his thrusting hips.

‘Tell me about it.’ I was trembling, my flesh prickly and sweat-coated.

‘You’re incredible,’ he said.

‘Kind of you to say so.’ I brushed his hair back from his face where it was hanging like dark fingers around his forehead. ‘How are the wedding plans going?’

‘Not bad, Cheryl is stressed but her mum’s helping her.’

‘It must be a nightmare planning such a big event for so many people.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s what she wants.’

He touched his nose to mine, rubbed it in an Eskimo kiss. ‘Are you sure we can’t still do this once I’ve tied the knot?’

‘We’ve had this conversation before.’ I stroked his earlobe – it was wet and slightly swollen from my exuberant kisses and bites.

‘I know, but bloody hell, Sharon, we’re so damn good together.’ As if to prove the point he ground into me, extracting another delicious tremor. I couldn’t hold in a satisfied groan.

‘I have some morals, you know,’ I said when I’d recovered, ‘and screwing married men is definitely on my list of no-no’s.’

‘But how is this different? I’m engaged to be married right now.’

‘You haven’t promised to forsake all others yet, though, have you?’

‘No, I suppose not.’ He kissed me gently. ‘I will miss this, though. You. Us.’

‘Me too. But Cheryl makes you happy and will do for the rest of your life.’

‘Yep, she’s great.’ He pulled out and straightened.

I became aware of the cold, unyielding surface I was lying on and the dampness between my legs.

‘I’ve got cheese sandwiches and a pork pie in my tuck box if you want to share,’ he said, tugging off the condom and slipping his still semi-erect cock away.

‘Sounds great.’ I jumped off the slab of metal, pulled on my knickers and straightened my uniform.

I would miss my time with Tom and his talented dick, but that was just the way it was. Cheryl would have to learn to cope with him and I’d have to find myself another well-hung pastime.

Perhaps an Italian one was in order.

The plastic surgery department was set slightly apart from the general wards. It had its own gardens, a small canteen and several overnight rooms for visitors as it was a regional centre.

I was always happy to be sent there. The staff were hugely committed and experts in their field. The atmosphere was one of nurturing and support, not just for the patients but also for their families.

‘Hey,’ I said, strolling into the cluttered office. It was my second night on duty out of seven so I was still feeling pretty energetic. Plus last night with Tom had meant I’d had a lovely, deep, satisfying sleep all day.

‘Oh, good, it’s you, Sharon,’ Felicity said. She was the department’s head night nurse and I knew her well. We’d both been around since scalpels had been made of flint and bandages of mammoth hide.

I grinned. It was nice to be wanted. ‘You busy?’ I asked, grabbing a report card from the desk.

‘More than usual. There’s been a clinical inspection today and it knocked the late shift back several hours with everything.’

‘Bummer. You want me to get on with anything straight away?’

She glanced down her chart. ‘Yes, could you bedbath Ted Graham in room three? I promised I would, but I have to do the drug round first so it will be ages before I get to him.’

‘No problem at all.’ I glanced at his details on my sheet. Thirty-four-year-old with third degree burns to both hands. Ten days post second skin graft and reconstruction.

‘Great,’ Felicity said. ‘But don’t rush him, will you, if he wants to chat, let him. He’s one of us after all.’

‘He is?’

‘Yep, a fireman, flames got his hands when he was rescuing a pregnant woman from a house fire.’

‘Oh, damn.’

‘Indeed.’

After slipping a plastic apron over my dress, I knocked quietly on the door of room three and stepped in. I shut it tight behind myself.

Ted lay on the bed, a sheet up to his waist and his head sunk into a stack of pillows. He looked big and tough with a wide chest and thick biceps, but his hands were wrapped tight in bulky white bandages, rendering him practically helpless and creating quite a contrast to the burly masculinity of his body.

He smiled when he saw me; his jawline was a wide angular shape, his teeth neat and white. Everything about him was big. He was on a whole different size scale to me.

‘Hi,’ I said and turned down the volume on some chat show he was watching. ‘You must be Ted?’

‘That’s me.’ His voice was deep and rasping, almost smoky. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke.

‘I’m Sharon, would you like me to help you freshen up? Seems the day staff have been frantic.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘You can say that again, they’ve been buzzing around like a bunch of bees that’ve had their nest kicked.’ He laughed. ‘Quite funny to sit back and watch, and not have to do anything to help. I’m used to being in the middle of all the action.’

I liked Ted already. It was the twinkle in his eye, the buoyancy of his voice. He was having a rubbish time, but when people could still smile in that state I couldn’t help but admire them. I didn’t know if I would, given the same situation.

‘We’ll keep ourselves locked out of the way,’ I said, pulling a face. ‘Far from the madding crowd.’

‘Good plan.’ He tried to sit up but struggled when a pillow slipped and he couldn’t stop it falling to the floor.

I pulled his table away from the bed and adjusted his back support. Redoing his pillows.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘these damn hands are not up to much at the moment.’ He lifted his bandaged fists causing his pectoral muscles to flex and twitch.

I touched his warm, tendon-rich forearm and smiled gently. ‘That’s why I’m here, to help.’