Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(81)
As she works, her heavy lips slip out of her mouth and there’s an audible pop in the room. Damn, I’ve never seen lips like hers on an actual human before. They look like those wax lips we used to get as kids from the old-fashioned sweet shop in Manchester. Except those lips were just something my brothers and I wanted to be perverted with. Hers…Oh, who am I kidding? I just want to be perverted with hers as well.
Fuck. Me.
Now all I can picture are those large lips wrapped tightly around my cock. So tightly I have to wrap that wild, red, curly hair around my fist and control every part of her over-eager movements. God, I bet she’d be so eager—
“No signs of internal bleeding,” she states as she pulls my wet jersey back down.
“Good to hear,” I reply, grateful for a second of reprieve to collect myself. “So now that you felt me up, do I get to know your name?” I ask.
She looks adorably confused. “I told you. It’s Dr. Porter.”
“I know you’re a doctor with a fancy title. But you’re also a woman with your hands on a man. A man named Camden. You can call me Cam if you’d like.” I wink again. “Now, why don’t you give me your first name. I don’t mind at all.”
She shakes her head. “I mind, actually. Dr. Porter is all you need to know. We’ll need to get you changed into a gown for your MRI,” she says, interrupting my hot-as-fuck fantasy of playing doctor with the naughty redhead. She strides over and pulls the pale green curtain around to sheath us in complete privacy from the mania I’ve been oblivious to outside of my room. She looks down at my shin pads nervously. “Do you need help changing?”
The side of my mouth tilts up. “Is helping me change all that you’re offering?”
Her eyes slant. “Are all footballers like this?” she asks as she strides back over and unfastens the blood pressure cuff from my arm.
“Like what?” I reply innocently, enjoying the tone of her candour.
“So assuming.” She adjusts her cheetah-print glasses and furrows her brow. “You just assume that I’d be willing to drop to my knees and suck you off right now, don’t you? Gosh, the cheek of you!”
All air is sucked from my lungs and my brows shoot through the ceiling. She stated that phrase like she was reading a fact from a textbook, not saying a sexual comment that’s turning my semi into a fully.
I let out a throaty laugh, and her fiery gaze doesn’t seem nearly as amused as she continues to pierce me with a blatant challenge. She’s waiting for an answer. More importantly, she’s surprising the fuck out of me. I’ve always loved surprises.
“Hoped is more like it,” I reply, noting her rigid posture. “Especially now after hearing those dirty words tumble out of those pretty lips. But it’s not all about me. What about your needs, baby? I’m dying to know.” I pull on my jock briefs that are about to cut off circulation.
Her eyes follow my hand and flare anxiously. “This is not the time nor the place for this kind of talk.” Her voice is flustered and high-pitched, but I see a struggle in the deep depths of her eyes. “Mr. Harris, I’m your doctor.”
“That sounds like an excuse, not a rejection.” My adrenaline spikes with an aching need. “Name it, Dr. Porter,” I add quickly, hoping to not lose momentum.
Heat flushes her cheeks again. “Name what?”
“The time and place. I’m all fucking ears, baby.”
“Baby? Seriously?” She rolls her eyes and grips the stethoscope around her neck, clearly affected by the excitement vibrating in the air around us. “You can’t come up with anything more original? The dictionary has lots of choices. It’s even sorted alphabetically for your convenience.”
“Give it time. We’ve just met. And you still haven’t told me your first name so I’m improvising.” My eyes drift up to her hair barely contained on top of her head. I’d kill to see it down around her shoulders. Or better yet, spread across my pillow as I take her from behind. I bet she has the pinkest fucking nipples—
“You do realise you have a serious injury, don’t you?” She shakes her head and begins typing something into the iPad chart alongside the monitor.
I’m completely flabbergasted. Upon first glance, this Dr. Porter looks meek and unassuming, nerdy and maybe even passive. She looks like the kind of bird that when she gets the wrong meal delivered to her at a restaurant, she doesn’t have the courage to tell the waiter. So she sits there and eats whatever they’ve dropped in front of her. Typically, my eyes would roll right past someone like her in a club. You can usually pick them out of a crowd because of how they carry themselves and how they’re dressed. The types that dress for attention are generally a sure thing. But there’s something about this one that makes me need to know more. She might even be a rarity. And, well, she did say “cock” after all.
She chooses that second to lean over top of me and stuff the blood pressure cuff into a metal basket above my bed. She loses her footing slightly and, well, never one to waste an opportunity, my hands reach up to grip her lower back and pull her down on top of me. Her chest hits mine, and I’m assaulted with an orgasmic scent that must be distinctly of the Dr. Porter variety.
I’m not sure what I had planned. Truth be told, I didn’t completely think it through. Most likely I was just going to say something smart and see what else I could get to come out of her gorgeous mouth. But a flurry of excitement rips through me when her eyes flash to my lips and, in that instant, I know what I have to do.