Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(45)

Their mouths clashed wildly, their tongues thrusting, mimicking the movements denied the rest of their bodies until Willa couldn’t be still any longer. Without intending it, without thinking about why she shouldn’t, simply following a silent command from deep inside her, she began to rock on Rad’s lap, keeping tempo with the strokes of their tongues together.

Rad groaned but didn’t stop her, not right away. He clutched her head hard to him, dug his fingers into her scalp, pulled her hair. His mouth dominated hers, his tongue claimed hers, his teeth and beard left their marks.

Suddenly, he tore his mouth away. “Okay, okay.”

She knew what he meant, but she didn’t want to stop. She was close, and reason had let recklessness take over. She wanted to come.

“Willa…”

“Don’t come,” she whispered, then tucked her head against his throat and sucked, drawing his pulse point to her tongue. Her hips picked up a faster beat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and his hands dropped to grasp her hips. “Fuck.”

“Don’t come.”

“Sweet f*ck.”

“Don’t…” God, she was close. That beautiful, loose heat washed through her blood. “Don’t…come. Oh shit, oh shit.”

“Jesus f*ck, Willa!” But his hands had dug into her hips and were moving her even faster than she had been moving herself. “Go, baby. Come on me. Do it, do it!”

She did. She knotted her arms around his neck and came with abandon, throwing her head back and letting ferocious bliss pour down over her.

While her throes were just subsiding, Rad heaved her off his cock. His face was dark red, and thick cords of tendon had risen up in bold relief against his throat. Willa moved from his lap and dropped to her knees between his legs.

The moment she sucked him deep, he came explosively, his body jerking up from the chair in an awkward backbend. Willa swallowed him down, sucking all she could, until his twitching hips settled, and he lifted her mouth off of him.

Willa kissed the tip of Rad’s softening cock. Smiling up at him, she wiped the corners of her mouth and then licked her fingers. “I’d love company for lunch.”

He grinned back, that cocksure smirk she knew so well now. “You’re a bad damn influence, baby.”



oOo



The woman on the bed moaned, “Ow, ow, ow!”

“I know, Helen, I know.” Willa soothed. “I’m sorry. All done.” She pulled her hand back and patted the woman’s knee. “You’re six centimeters. This would be the time to get an epidural. Any later, and things might be moving too fast.”

She snapped the gloves off and tossed them in the waste container.

Helen shook her head. “Not yet. I want to keep trying to do this myself.” Another contraction began, and she clutched her belly. “Ooooowwww! Where’s Fred?”

“Breathe, honey. Remember the classes.” Willa bent close and began the breathing for her. Helen tried to focus and, just at the peak of the pain, the rhythm took over and gave her some calm.

Helen blew out the end of the contraction. “Where’s Fred?”

Her husband, who remained AWOL. Helen had arrived alone at the ER in the middle of third shift, her membranes already ruptured. Willa had inherited her active labor. That was, in her opinion, the worst way to come into a laboring mother’s life: when she was already deeply involved in bringing her child into the world. There was little chance to form a bond, and many women felt guarded and even betrayed by a shift change, when a new set of strangers arrived to get all up in their private parts.

“Is there a number you’d like me to call to track him down?” As she asked, Willa checked the tape on the fetal monitor. Baby’s heartbeat was strong. Helen’s contractions were speeding up markedly, each one closer than the next. This was Helen’s first birth, which usually meant a slow and steady progress to full dilation, but looking at the tape, Willa thought those last four centimeters could happen pretty soon.

While the tape was still in her hands, the needle began to move upward, and Helen whimpered. “Oh shit, not already!”

Willa dropped the tape and went to her patient. She took her hand, and Helen clamped down. “Ow, oh ow!”

Willa breathed, and Helen followed, and she got through it.

“I need Fred,” she wept when it was over.

There had to be phone numbers in her chart. Willa brushed the sweaty bangs from Helen’s forehead. “I’m gonna try to find Fred. And I’m calling Dr. Ingersoll. You’re doing great, Helen.”

“Don’t leave me!”

“I’ll be right back, okay? Let me try to track your husband down.”

She had two other patients, but one was in recovery and the other was barely dilated. She had time to make sure Helen didn’t go through this alone.



oOo



Sixty-one minutes later, Helen gave birth to a little boy. They had located Fred, an independent long-haul trucker, in Nebraska. He’d been trying to squeeze in one more run before the baby. He hadn’t quite managed it.

Willa served as Helen’s birth coach. After a quick, textbook vaginal delivery—with no epidural—mother and child were happy and resting. When a set of grandparents showed up to coo and cuddle, Willa left the family alone.