Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
So very, very bad.
This wasn’t me.
I wasn’t impulsive or reckless.
In my right mind, I would never jeopardise everything I’d worked so hard to achieve. Never put my patients on the line. Never risk my ability to help others all because I couldn’t help myself.
You know you can’t see her again, right?
Throwing myself back down, I swallowed a snarl.
Her taste coated my tongue. Her sweet scent was thick in my nose.
Rationality told me to snap out of it but the monster inside me roared to be selfish for a change. I’d felt like a fucking hero last night as she’d shattered around my fingers. I’d been the best doctor in the world, curing her through pleasure and trust.
Trust?
Ha!
I’d destroyed any chance of her trusting me the moment I created a false persona and spied on her.
“Christ, what have I done?”
All my life, I’d grown up with the girl next door, been told by our grandmothers that our marriage was already destined, and been too pig-headed and focused on work to see what was staring me right in the fucking face.
They were right.
Sailor was mine.
She’d always been mine.
And now I’d royally fucked up because she’d never accept me after this. Never forgive me. Never trust me.
I might as well move to Australia because what was the point in staying?
I’ve already lost her.
Cursing every idiotic move I’d ever made, I threw myself out of bed and staggered into my bathroom.
A cloud of her sweet arousal intoxicated me. She covered every inch of my fingers and jaw. I swallowed my groan as my mouth watered. The pain between my legs grew feverish.
I needed to come so fucking badly.
My erection hadn’t gone down, the ache only getting worse the longer I tortured myself with memories.
Sailor’s smell sucker-punched me all over again, and I reached my limit. Tearing my clothes off, I tripped into the shower and wrenched the water on.
It wasn’t even hot before I gripped my cock and squeezed.
Fantasy-Sailor’s fingers replaced my own.
I pictured her before me, licking her lips before dropping to her knees and sucking me.
My left hand slapped against the tiles.
My heart exploded.
I pumped with ruthless, punishing jerks.
It only took five.
Five painful pulls before I cried out as the hottest, sharpest release blew apart my body, splattering white all over my black tiles. My knees almost gave way as I sucked in a tattered breath and quaked through the final shudders.
Trembling, I tipped my face into the falling spray.
I might not be haunted by an orgasm anymore, but she definitely haunted me.
I couldn’t get her out of my damn mind or my stupid heart.
* * * * *
“I did something most likely illegal last night,” I hissed quietly into my phone.
“Let me guess. You performed coitus on your neighbour, all while wearing a mask,” Colin snickered. “I hope you used protection, Superman.”
I bared my teeth and rubbed harder at the chrome of my motorbike.
Luckily, I had a day off today and just like I’d reached my limit and needed an orgasm to think straight, I needed to go for a highly ill-advised, stupidly reckless drive on my most prized death machine.
Falling for Sailor was not good for my physical or mental health. I’d taken care of the physical pain this morning and now I was going to flush my mind and try to figure out how to free myself from the web of crime I’d found myself in.
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
“But you did something to her.”
Flicking a look at Sailor’s place, I whispered, “I made her come.”
“With your cock?”
“With my fingers.” I cleared my throat. “And tongue.”
“Well, well…who knew you could perform cunnilingus with a mask on.”
“Can you stop using the correct terminology for everything? This is serious.”
“And that’s why I’m using the proper descriptions. I’m taking this very seriously.” His laughter switched to his doctor tone. “Tell me, Dr North. Seeing as you’re using me as your unofficial therapist, what do you think I should do with this information? Or better yet, what sort of prescription would you like me to administer now that you’re fucked?”
Throwing the buffing cloth onto the black leather seat of my bike, I clenched my jaw. “I don’t know why I bothered calling you.”
“Oh, I know. I know.” He chuckled. “It’s because you have no one else, and the mess of this arrangement is doing your head in. Your OCD at fixing things and being the good guy is now knotted with messy things and being the bad guy.”
Leaning against the bike, grateful I’d splashed out for a heavy-duty kickstand, I sighed and rubbed the indents on my nose from my glasses. “I should tell her, right? I mean…she’ll probably be able to guess. Surely, there’s some sort of sixth sense that kicks in that knows which people you’ve been intimate with.”
“I keep telling you, man, that Clark Kent effect is real. I reckon she wouldn’t even know it was you if you took your mask off. With the dark hair, brown eyes, and no glasses…you’re incognito.”