Page 58 of The Doctor's Truth

I can’t hold back; I gasp loudly. My cunt clenches, and my nipples ache as hot bursts of pleasure rocket through me. I’m getting tighter, closer, and I close my eyes tightly, back on that dark dance floor, and I see—

Donovan. The smoldering look in Donovan’s deep eyes. Donovan, who takes my face in his hands. Who brushes his painted thumb against my bottom lip. Who whispers darkly in my ear, Cum for me, Kenzi.

My legs quiver as I brace my heels against the sides of the tub. I’m thrashing, water splashing, as I torture my clit with powerfully delicious vibrations, drowning in the waves of my own pleasure. I’m there, I’m right there, and I grind against the edge. My want tastes like metal, and I choke on my breath.

“Kenzi.”

“Donovan…” I moan.

“Kenzi!”

No—wait—that voice isn’t coming from my fantasies. It’s coming from outside. And it sounds like…

“Jason?”

I quickly turn off the vibrator—or try to; I’m still getting used to it, and it takes a couple of clicks of the button to get it to stop its delicious humming.

My cunt is fluttering on the screaming edge, pulsing weakly, painfully. So close to the mind-blowing orgasm it wanted, I could cry.

But this is…weird.

I get out of the tub and wrap my robe around my wet body. I unlock the bathroom door and glance around, trying to find the source of…

“Kenzi! Over here!”

I snap my gaze to the source of the noise and…you’ve got to be kidding me.

There’s Jason. And his stupid smile. In the flesh.

Crouching on a tree branch outside my bedroom window.

Immediately, I fly to the window, unlock it, and shove it open. “What the hell are you doing?” I hiss.

“So, it turns out, this is harder when you’re not a teenager,” Jason says. The tree is half-white with snow, and he does look a little unsteady, clutching the thick branch with red, cold-bruised fingers.

“Are you insane?”

He falls to the side a little, and my heart lurches as his grip on the branch wavers. “Whoa!” Then he grins. “Just kidding.”

I nearly shut the window in his face, when he adds, “But really. It is pretty slippery.”

“Get inside. Now.”

Mom voice. I reach out a hand, and he manages to shimmy over the branch. He grips the window frame and pulls himself the rest of the way, ungracefully half falling, half climbing inside. He’s a bull in a china shop, and his tall frame bounces against my dresser, making the whole thing shudder.

“Sorry,” he says and then gets to his feet. He shivers dramatically, shoving his hands under his armpits. “It’s cold out there, did you notice?”

“You’re a child.” I’m spitting mad. “An actual child.”

His eyes flicker over me. “I hope I didn’t…uh. Interrupt anything.”

He’s staring at my hand, which is when I realize…dear God. I’m still holding it.

In my rush to save the Jason-cat from the tree, I completely forgot to put away the vibrator.

I go to shove it in my robe pocket, but my thumb accidentally bumps the button. It jumps to life in my hand, and I swear, my face getting hotter as I have to cycle through every goddamn setting—which two seconds ago I loved and now I loathe—in order to get the thing to stop again.

“Looks like fun,” Jason says, and I hate that he approves of it.

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