Page 134 of Rookie Recovery

“So fucking ready.” He turned to set the stack of Tupperwares into the fridge, and I slid in behind him. Wrapped my arms around his waist, pulled his back into my chest, laid my cheek on his hair. “You’re gonna do great, baby.”

I felt his smile in the way he relaxed into me. “Of course I will. I’m amazing.”

“Your ego never ceases, does it?”

“Nope. Are you going to thank me for dinner?” A devious note slid into his voice. “There was talk of blowing?”

I laughed, ruffling his tousled blond locks. “Aren’t we supposed to be meeting the team for some kind of non-alcohol-based outing? Bowling or something?”

“Yeah, but I’m needy.” He arched back into me so his ass ground against my cock, and what do you know—I was also unexpectedly needy. “I feel that, Kitty.”

I groaned into his hair. “I can’t help it if you’re sexy and I always want you.”

“Well, why not have me?”

“Because.” I curled a hand around his waist, letting my fingers flit under his shirt to trail the bare skin along the top of his jeans. He sucked in a breath, and that little gasp went right south. My plan was backfiring in the best way. “You are the one who has to go be a team player.”

I let my fingers traipse down the front of his pants, brush the hardening ridge of his cock. His breath turned to a groan. “What team?”

“You tell me.” I dropped my lips to nibble his ear and trail soft kisses down the line of his neck. Flattened my palm against him and pressed down. He was definitely hard now, and his hips rocked into my hand to steal friction from my fingers.

“Team can wait.” He turned in my arms, so he was facing me. Which meant his chest pressed against me, and his very hard cock rubbed my leg. “My super hot, super serious doctor boyfriend promised me a blow job, and I have come to collect.”

My cock ground into his hip, pulling a groan of need from my chest.

“Come is right.” I dipped my head to press my mouth against his. Flutter kisses down his pulse, along his collarbone and onto his chest. Flick the bud of his nipple with my tongue through the soft cloth of his shirt, drawing out another hiss from between his clenched teeth.

Heat swept through me in a torrent of desire and need. I wanted him—always. Wanted to unravel him piece by piece while he unraveled me whole.

My fingers were already tugging at the button of his jeans as I folded to my knees in front of him. To worship him the way he deserved to be worshiped. I was still incredulous that he was mine to touch and taste and please at will. Just the thought of it had my dick aching, begging for attention.

I slid his underwear down, trailing kisses down the sharp v-cut of his abs in the wake of the lowering cloth. Listening to his breathing turn ragged as I inhaled the soft scent of him. Fuck, everything about this moment was perfect—him and us, sex and desire and love.

I dragged my tongue down his shaft. Sucked him into my mouth, and the little oh fuck that followed had my palm pressing into the front of my jeans, fumbling with buttons in a sudden need to wrap my fingers around my swollen, aching dick. To get off because he was so fucking beautiful, and mine.

“Fuck, Jamie, I love it when you wank for me,” Bowie murmured, digging his hands into my hair. His hips rocked forward, driving his cock further into my mouth. “It’s so fucking hot.”

It really fucking was. Neither of us would last long. Not like this, me on my knees for him, him rocking into me as I jerked myself in frantic strokes, but I’d drag it out as long as possible. Tease him, tantalize him. Bring us both to the edge, drive us wild with want and need and heady heat. Once, maybe twice—before I’d let us plunge.

I was going to come on the kitchen floor again.

Oh, well. We couldn’t all be perfect.

We were over an hour late to the bowling alley.

Which, naturally, meant that when we walked through the door to find a handful of teammates gathered at the two lanes in the back corner of the otherwise empty building, everyone looked up.

Knew exactly what we’d been doing.

And cheered.

Bowie grinned like he’d just won the Tour de France or summited Everest—which I guess wasn’t that far from the truth. I blushed so hard I thought my skin might catch fire, even though I was also kind of grinning.

We’d gone public with our relationship, told all the necessary people, signed the right forms, et cetera; I was an uptight doctor with a stick up my ass and a need to be professional, after all. I wasn’t gonna do anything to jeopardize what we had. Not again.

Still, it was disconcerting as fuck to walk into a dim, sticky bowling alley—which probably hadn’t been redecorated or fully cleaned since the eighties—to half a pro hockey team smirking ear to ear like they’d personally seen your O-face.

I felt as bashful as the high school goth kids that frequented this joint.

---