Page 37 of The Doctor's Truth

I should know better. I’m an adult now. I can’t afford to be sneaking around with Jason goddamn King.

So why do I follow him around the side of the ferry, to the back, and through a green door marked “Staff”?

Immediately, we’re greeted with the loud grinding of the engine. It’s a beast—a copper metal thing that churns and hisses in the middle of the room. The wall is covered with levers and gages measuring…who knows?

Next to the instruments are large posters retelling the history of the ferry, with old black-and-white photos of it from way back when.

“Are we supposed to be in here?” I ask. I have to get close to him to raise my voice over the sound of the engine. The smell is rough, like fumes.

Jason crinkles his eyebrows at me. “Whoa. Trouble. Are you a rule follower now?”

“I’m a mom. A mom who doesn’t want to spent her night in the brig.”

“Relax. They give tours here all the time. No one cares.” His fingers link with mine again—his black gloves are soft, and he guides me further inside. We move around the copper monster, and Jason tucks me into a room that is barely the size of a phone booth—it looks like some sort of operations room, maybe, with a desk full of switches and levers. When he closes his lips over mine again, this time I find myself leaning in. I search his mouth with my tongue, tasting his heat, and I can feel the vibrations of his moans.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he murmurs against my mouth, and his words send a tingling straight between my legs.

“What have you been thinking about?”

“Kissing you. Touching you.” He bites the tip of his gloved finger and retracts his hand from the fabric. Then he pockets the glove, and I feel his bare hand draw up my thigh. It slides over my legging, then under my dress, until he touches the soft skin there.

His eyes hook me in. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Is this a prank? Am I going to end up walking home without my panties?”

A grin coasts his lips. “That would be sweet justice, wouldn’t it?”

“Or karma.”

“You have trouble trusting people, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Close your eyes.”

I do. I hear him rustle, and then I feel the softness of his scarf wrap around my eyes. He knots it tightly at the back of my head.

I do a bad job at biting back a smile. I feel his breath at my ear, and then I hear him murmur, “This is part one of a ten-part series called…How I Learned to Let Go and Enjoy Life. A meditation session by Jason King.”

I chuckle. “You’re such an idiot.”

But then he leaves me, and suddenly I feel his breath ghosting my legs. I sit back, leaning into the small covered stool here. His fingertips climb my thighs first, inching up the fabric of my dress, and then I feel his soft kisses on my skin.

My sex clenches with anticipation as his hot breath beats against my thighs. His fingers wrap around my panties and push them to the side. I feel him nuzzle, and then there’s that burn of his coarse beard against my sensitive skin. His tongue meets my slit, licking me with slow, languid strokes, as though he’s really savoring every bit of my taste.

I nearly hit the wall. I reach back and balance one hand against the desk, the other hand gripping his hair. My legs are wrapped around his shoulders, and I’m helpless here, helpless to do anything except spread my legs further and grind wantonly against each lash of his tongue. He crushes his face between my legs, and I feel a moan leave his lips and vibrate through me. His tongue curls inside of me, his strong nose nestled against my sensitive nub, and I thank God for that obnoxiously loud engine now because there’s no way I can stop the loud whimpers that fall from my lips. I’m gasping and panting, my heels digging into his back as he licks me deeply, drinking me in. The scratch of his beard mixed with the softness of his tongue sends strange pleasure-pain signals bouncing around in my brain, and before I know it, I’m tugging his hair at the roots.

“Oh God…” I gasp as I feel that low pinch in my sex. He lets out a low growl of encouragement and doesn’t slow down—I don’t know how he’s breathing, but I don’t care. All I can think about is reaching that pinnacle under his tongue.

I bite my lip until I taste copper to keep myself from screaming. My orgasm explodes from me, and Jason is relentless, coaxing throb after throb from me with the unending circular movements of his tongue. He licks, and sucks, and nibbles my sensitive skin until I’m trembling and can barely keep myself upright.

Slowly, he pulls away from between my legs and readjusts my panties. I feel him push the scarf up my face, away from my eyes. “Look at me,” he demands, and those blues are so bright, so intense, that I can barely catch my breath. His lips are red and wet, and he licks them as he scans my face. “Fuck,” he says, “I love the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“How am I looking at you?” I ask.

“Adoringly.” He pets his thumb over my cheek. “I want to make you cum a million times.”

I can’t help but grin at that. “You’ll have to carry me out of here.”

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