Doctor's Delight (5 page)

He kissed her
almost senseless, plundering her mouth like a starving man at a
feast. He took her mouth while his hands moved over her body, and
she dimly felt the dress pushed off her shoulders, the coolness of
the room on her bare back, and then suddenly her bra was gone, the
lacy DD cups falling to the floor, her breasts against his chest,
skin to skin.

Naked skin to
skin. Hot skin to match the hot blood that was starting to rush
through her veins so much faster.

Hot lips were
on her throat, hard palms skimming over her back into the indent of
her waist to slide beneath the silk of her panties, knowing palms
cupping her derriere, squeezing the generous globes. He eased the
material over her hips and dropped them down her legs to pool
around her ankles.

One large palm
on her buttocks pressed her close, his mouth taking hers again and
again, slanting across her lips to take total control of the kiss,
just as he’d taken control of the situation since he’d entered the
room.

Cherry didn’t
know if this was how it was supposed to happen with an escort, but
she was happy to just go with it. It wasn’t like she had much
choice. Her thoughts were scattered, her heart pounding, and heat
was pooling between her thighs, not to mention the delicious
ache.

Twining her
arms around his neck, she pressed closer, giving him kiss for kiss,
hot and loving.

Everything was
hot - her blood, his hands, his skin, this moment. This time that
was hers. She stepped out of her high heeled pumps.

Turning her, he
crowded her backwards until her thighs hit the side of the bed.
Keeping her lips prisoner with his, he kept leaning down and down,
until she finally sat on the bed. Only then did he release her
lips, his eyes glittering in the dimness. “Lie down, Molly
Jones.”

If she’d been a
heroine from the Victorian times, she’d have swooned. Instead,
Cherry could only slide back on the bed and recline against the
pillows, watching avidly as Damien straightened, his hands sliding
the belt from his pants, his deft fingers unbuttoning and unzipping
with expert efficiency, and he pushed those slacks down those long,
muscular legs and off, taking his shoes and socks with them at the
same time. Taking a wallet from his pocket, he opened it up, took a
small packet from it, and placed the packet on the bedside table
before replacing the wallet in his pocket.

Thank God he’d
had the sense to remember condoms. She’d brought a medley of sizes
in her handbag just in case – how did one measure a non-existent
penis anyway? - but Damien obviously had everything worked out to
the letter T. A professional through and through, no doubt about
it.

When he
straightened she nearly swallowed her tongue. The light from the
bathroom not only picked out his tall, strong body with the hard
planes, but it glanced off the impressive erection that curved up
to lie against his stomach.

That erection
looked suddenly enormous. She’d seen the shrivelled insides of a
real woman’s vagina in a museum, and that suddenly appeared pretty
damned small and short in her mind. She wasn’t so sure this
erection was going to fit inside her. It gave the term
‘tonsil-tickler’ a whole new meaning. But women everywhere went
through this and weren’t torn apart. Hell, what was she, a
Victorian virgin? Scratch that, virgin yes, but not an innocent who
didn’t have a clue about the human anatomy. Woman was made for man…
it was just…damn, he was big.

Her gaze
flicked up to find him standing beside the bed gazing down at her.
She couldn’t see his expression as he studied her, but she felt his
gaze like a hot brand sweeping her overly-generous curves. It was
almost enough to dampen her ardour, and she immediately sought to
cover what she could, bending the leg closest to him instinctively,
her arm coming across to hide her ample breasts from view.

“No.” The word
was husky, a hint of a rasp in it. “Don’t cover yourself.”

Self-consciously she started to sit, but he planted his knee on the
bed and came up, crawling across it sinuously like a giant cat
stalking prey, his eyes feasting on her curves.

Unnerved, she
stilled, her heart thumping as he reached out to place one hand on
her knee, taking her wrist in his other hand to pull her arm away
from her breasts. Moving to kneel upright beside her, he placed her
wrist to the side, resting her hand palm-up on the bed.

And then he
just looked his fill of her. It was small comfort to know he
couldn’t see all her faults, but knowing he was looking at her
basic shape made Cherry cringed inwardly. To have a specimen such
as him look at someone like her before intimacy between them seemed
somehow wrong.

Glancing away,
she bit her lip, only to swing her disbelieving gaze back to his
face when he murmured throatily, “Beautiful.” That warm palm slid
down her thigh slowly. “Womanly. Soft. Rubenesque. The way a woman
should be.” His voice was husky, and she could swear desire smoked
through the deep tones.

There was no
doubting the heat that pooled so low inside her as his hand slid
further down her thigh. Bloody hell, Damien was one gifted lover,
making her feel special. Beautiful. This was a time she was going
to treasure forever.

Her heart
thudded harder, nipples peaking as his fingers trailed lazily down
the inside of her thigh while his gaze rose to her eyes. “How do
you like a man, Molly Jones?”

Suddenly she
wished he would call her Cherry, but it was too risky. Molly Jones
she was at this moment, beautiful and seductive, and about to be
filled with this specimen of hunk-hood. She swore she was going to
kiss Susie every day for a long time after this night.

“How do you
like to be loved?” he continued throatily. “Hard? Fast? Slow?” His
fingers brushed the curls protecting her secrets and her breath
caught. “Tell me how you like it, Molly Jones.”

That was the
million dollar question because she really had no freaking idea. He
was the expert here, not her. Maybe he thought she masturbated like
a demented bunny and had some idea from self satisfaction. Wrong,
or she wouldn’t be here.

Moistening her
lips, she met his gaze boldly. “I’m in your hands, remember?”

A smile curved
his lips. “Oh, love, that was just the right answer.”

She certainly
hoped so, because it was the only answer she had for him.

Leaning
forward, he braced his hand beside her shoulder and lowered his
head until his lips hovered just above her mouth. “Open up for me.”
His finger slid through the curls sheltering her mound to delve
between the moist flesh of her labia, just as his tongue slid along
the seam of her lips. “Both places, Molly Jones. Open to me.”

It was a
seductive order that had the smouldering fires inside her
leaping.

It was the
masterful way he took her mouth and plundered the depths that had
the fire flaring.

It was the sure
way his finger slid through her moist flesh to toy with the little
clitoris hiding high up that had the fire searing through her
veins.

Lightening
flared through her and her hips surged up of their own accord.
Damien chuckled into her mouth, licking deep with his tongue while
his finger found the opening to her body and slid inside.

Cherry couldn’t
think, she could barely breath as his finger invaded virginal
places that had never felt a man’s touch. The liquid heat washed
through her, making his invasion so easy, and when he pulled his
finger from her to slide the slickness against her perineum, she
could only grab his shoulders and squeeze tight.

“You’re hot,
baby.” His lips scorched a path across her mouth to her throat. “So
sweetly hot.” The heel of his palm ground lightly down upon her
mound, and she felt the splintering inside her.

Her breathing
was almost ragged, her nipples peaking, and when he dipped his head
and engulfed one hardened peak into his mouth, she thought she’d
die. He sucked strongly, each pull at her breast plucking strings
straight to her womb and beyond.

Chapter
Three

Mellow with
friendship, and more than a little foxed with whiskey, Rick hadn’t
expected the surprise Tim had mentioned to be a woman with curves
to make a man’s mouth water. Normally he wouldn’t bed a strange
woman, but there was something about her that appealed to him in
his slightly inebriated state.

Combine
loneliness, stress, a lot of whisky, and the gloom of a looming
date with The Barracuda, and it was not a good mix. So when he was
faced with this rather shy woman with the rubenesque figure and air
of mystery, he briefly wondered where his friend had found such a
surprise for him and threw caution to the wind. For this one night,
he was going to enjoy himself. A man who genuinely enjoyed the
company of the fairer sex, both in and out of bed, he’d been
without female company for a few months and this temptation in
front of him was most welcome.

She was a
delight, a mixture of seduction and shyness. Molly Jones, if that
was her real name, was an enigma to be savoured, and savour her he
would. If he’d had his pants on, his shaft would have been burning
a hole through it.

Within seconds
he had her creaming for him, her tight little vagina clamping down
on his fingers as she closed her eyes and arched under his expert
touch. Those bountiful breasts ached to be kissed, and he played
his tongue over the pink nipples, her every moan a balm to his ego,
heightening his own desire.

Every
undulation of her full figure beneath his hands had his shaft
hardening even more, his blood pooling achingly in the hard length
until it was almost painful. Rolling on the condom with unusual
speed just added to the whole carnal atmosphere. When he swung over
her and settled himself between her soft thighs, it felt like
heaven.

She opened her
eyes and he caught the glimpse of blue in them. The partially
opened bathroom door shed only enough light to make out dim
features, and it was titillating. Mysterious. It added eroticism to
the mystery of Molly Jones.

“Tell me your
real name.” He kissed along her jaw line.

“Not…in the
rules,” she panted.

“There are no
rules.”

“There is when
it comes to names.”

“Woman of
mystery.” He rasped his tongue along the pulse in her throat,
feeling her arch beneath him, her rounded belly pressing his
erection between them with a delicious pain that had him
groaning.

Tunnelling his
fingers in the thick wealth of hair that pooled on the pillow
beneath her head, he held her still while he kissed her, taking her
mouth almost brutally as he tasted her once more. Delicious. He
licked across her lips, evading her mouth when she arched for
another kiss, teasing them both by rocking his hips against her
softness.

He felt her
shudder and lifted his head. “Oh no, love, you don’t get off
without me.”

“I think I’m
going to die,” she moaned, her small foot running up the back of
his leg. “Please.”

How could a
decent bloke ignore a plea like that? Shifting his hips, he felt
his erection slide through those curls, the sensation of them
brushing the engorged head of his shaft making his throat arch
back. When that engorged head slid between those moist lips
sheltering her secrets to finally lodge at the entrance to her
body, he thought he might very well die with her. Gritting his
teeth, he held still for several seconds.

She didn’t help
when she writhed beneath him, her knees bending, her soft thighs
rubbing against his hips. “Please. Please.” She whispered something
else that sounded like ‘Damien’ or ‘David’ but in his slightly
inebriated state could well have been ‘damn’. He wasn’t sure and he
really didn’t care, because the fire roaring through his veins was
making his heart thunder and his shaft throb.

Everything he
wanted right then was beneath him – a soft, willing woman – and
everything his shaft wanted was right before it – the entrance to
her body that sheltered cavern that would clasp him so achingly,
sweetly, torturously, tight.

One thrust and
he breached her entrance, the engorged head forging inside followed
by the thick shaft that propelled it forward.

She was so
damned tight, so hot, and so moist with need that he pushed through
the clasping walls of her sheath easier than he otherwise would
have, forging onward and breaking through something so fragile he
almost didn’t notice it.

Beneath him,
Molly stiffened slightly, and thinking it was his size causing
discomfort, he shifted the angle, soothing her with hot kisses,
swallowing her soft cry and then her moans as he worked inside her,
thrusting easily, slowing his movements, enjoying the sensation of
her satiny tightness clasping his shaft so firmly.

She relaxed
slightly, her ardour burning again as he stroked it higher with
each slow, measured thrust of his shaft inside her, his hips
surging almost lazily but powerfully. He felt like he could do this
forever, that he’d explode in a second, that he didn’t want it to
end but if it didn’t soon, he’d surely die. It was a mixture of
emotions ands sensations that seared through him as surely as his
blood was searing through his veins.

Hot and
relentless, building more and more, higher and higher, his lust
seemed to know no bounds. It built feverishly, his hips thrusting
faster, his shaft invading her body relentlessly as he rutted with
almost helpless prurience.

He wanted her,
needed her, felt like he wanted to brand her inside and outside
with his seed, his taste, his touch. Dropping his head he kissed
her hard, eating at her mouth, and she met him eagerly, her fingers
twining in his hair.

Not wanting to
arch far from her body but needing the extra power for his thrusts,
he came up on his elbows, his forearms resting on the mattress as
his hips pounded against her, his shaft sinking deep, the seed
leaking from the tip.