Page 71 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“That is the best waking up ever in my life.”

She giggles, then bites on her lower lip. “It’s about to get better. I’m not done yet.”

Her hand reaches down between us, and she positions my cock at her wet vagina lips, lifts her waist slightly, then impales herself on me.

“Oh, my fucking God.”

I’m buried deep inside her. She smiles at me once before wrapping her arms around my neck, rocking her hips in a circular motion that pushes me further inside. I close my eyes, feeling her nibble and kiss along my neck.

“You’re never going to wake up in this bed without remembering me…” Her words are punctuated with slow rotations of her hips that send me near the edge. “...being on top of you,” she moans. “And you deep inside me. Feel that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

I grit my teeth, trying to keep any sense of control that I can feel slipping out of my fingers. She’s got me. She’s got me bad. She’s in control, and she knows it. I’m absolutely lost in the sensations she’s making me feel, and I know I don’t even want to be found this time. Damn common sense Damn the whole wide world. All I want right now is right here—Emma Cole, doing crazy things to me.

She keeps circling her hips, her teeth nibbling pleasure bites up and down my neck. And then suddenly, she starts to go faster, murmuring words about how she loves me inside her, how I feel so great, and her need for me. She pumps fast, telling me about how hard and big I am and how wet she gets thinking about me.

I try to hold on, to manage the pleasure rippling under my skin, sparking every cell in my body toward exploding with pleasure. But then she shifts closer, bites my earlobe, and whispers, “I’m coming, Liam.”

That was the last straw. I grab one ass cheek with one hand, clenching so hard I know it might leave a bruise on her skin. My other hand pinches a nipple, then grabs her breast, squeezing hard to match each swivel of her hips.

I start to move, pushing my hips up hard and fast to thrust her again and again. She squirms, throws back her head, and calls my name so loudly it would wake my dad if he was home. I immediately follow up by thrusting deep into her again, and her inner walls spasm around me. Her orgasm is so hard and intense that it triggers mine. I bury my face in her neck and groan loudly as I come inside her. She collapses into my arms, sweating and panting and totally exhausted.

I hold her against my chest as she mumbles some words, but when I open my mouth to ask, her breath has evened out and she’s drifted off to sleep. I gently place her on the bed, her hair scattered across the pillow, her naked body eagle-spread as she sleeps. She looks so damn perfect. I plant a kiss on her forehead and gently slip out of bed. I might as well get coffee ready and some breakfast before she wakes up again.

I catch myself in the mirror as I walk across the room, and there’s a wide smile on my face. Something has shifted. I don’t fully know what yet or what would be the effect of this, but there’s no doubt that something has changed.

As I descend to the house’s first floor, I head straight for the kitchen. The morning light streams through the window, casting a warm glow on the countertop. I’m trying to decide what to make for Emma’s breakfast. Glancing around, I take stock of the meager supplies in the cabinets.

There’s not much. Dad must have forgotten to get groceries again. Scrambled eggs are tempting, but Emma deserves something a little more substantial after the emotional and physical rollercoaster she's been on since last night.

My hand lands on a box. Protein pancakes. Perfect. Easy enough, packed with nutritional punch, and most importantly, I won't leave the kitchen a greasy mess. As I start pulling out ingredients, a smile tugs at the corner of my lips. There's something strangely comforting about being here, in this familiar space, making breakfast for her. It feels…domestic.

Humming along to a tune playing in my head, I set out the ingredients, the rhythmic clinking of the bowls a calming counterpoint to the earlier chaos. Just as I'm about to pour the batter, I hear soft footsteps approaching.

Without turning around, I ask, “Is that you, Emma?”

A playful hiss followed by the sound of louder footsteps patterning across the floor confirms my suspicion. “It’s impossible to sneak up on you,” Emma says, wrapping her arms around me from behind. “You must have eyes in the back of your head or something.”

I chuckle, the warmth of her body pressing against mine sending a familiar tingle down my spine. “Nope, just super perceptive hearing…standard military requirement.”

Turning in her embrace, I look down at her. Her hair is a mess of loose curls, and she wears one of my old t-shirts, the oversized fabric hanging loosely on her frame. This is definitely not the Emma I met at her house weeks ago. This Emma is relaxed, funny, and utterly disarming.

“Making breakfast, are we?” she asks, peering over my shoulder at the jumbled mess of ingredients.

“Figured you might be a little ravenous after last night…and this morning,” I reply, a hint of amusement in my voice.

As if on cue, her stomach rumbles loudly, drawing a laugh from both of us. “There it is,” I tease, grabbing a mug and pouring her a cup of coffee.

She pulls out a chair and settles at the counter, the oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder momentarily, offering a glimpse of smooth, sun-kissed skin. I quickly look away, cursing myself for getting flustered. It’s becoming crystal clear to me that no matter how much of this woman I have, I will never have enough.

“Protein pancakes?” she asks, reading the label on the box mix.

“Guilty,” I admit. “They're one of the few things I know how to make quickly that doesn't involve burning something.” I flash her a mock-sheepish grin.

“Well, now I miss your dad. At least with him, I’m guaranteed a well-rounded diet,” she says with a playful jab.

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