Page 81 of Doctor One Night

“It’s okay,” she whispers against my lips. “I want this. I want you.”

I respond by kissing her again, this time with more intent, more purpose. I let my hands roam, tracing the curves of her body, the warmth of her skin. She responds in kind, her hands sliding up my chest, around my neck, pulling me closer.

And then, as if by unspoken agreement, we both stand, our hands never leaving each other. We move together, towards her bedroom, the air between us charged with anticipation, with need. But it’s not just about the physical—it’s about everything we’ve both been through, everything we’ve shared.

When we reach her bed, I stop, taking a moment to look at her, to really see her. She’s beautiful, inside and out, and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have her in my life, whatever that means for the future.

I glance down at Frankie, her eyes a vivid, shimmering green in the soft light of her bedroom. There's a vulnerability in her gaze that tugs at something deep within me.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I need to hear her say it, to affirm that this is what she wants, what we both need.

She nods, her fingers tracing the contours of my face. “I've never been more sure,” she replies, her voice steady and sure.

I lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that's tender and full of promise. Our clothes seem to melt away, each piece discarded with a reverence that speaks to the sacredness of the moment. I take a moment to drink in the sight of her, the soft swell of her breasts, the gentle curve of her hips—she's a masterpiece, and I'm humbled by the trust she's placing in me.

As we lower ourselves onto the bed, our limbs entwine, fitting together as if we were made for each other. My hands explore her body with a gentle touch, mapping out every inch of her skin, every dip and curve. She sighs softly beneath me, her body arching to meet mine.

I enter her slowly, conscious of every sensation, every nuance of her response. The connection between us is electric, a current that hums through our veins, binding us together in this singular moment of vulnerability and trust.

Our movements are slow, deliberate, as if we're moving to the rhythm of our own heartbeats. I watch her face, her expressions guiding me, telling me what she needs. When her eyes meet mine, there's a silent exchange of emotions, a wordless dialogue that speaks volumes.

I gently, softly unbutton her shirt, removing it one arm at a time. She lays there, still, peaceful. I watch her as I rub my hand down her chest, resting on the middle clasp of her bra. I unclip it with one hand, quite proud of my skills.

As I remove her bra, she arches her back ever so slightly, letting me know she is completely in tune with the slow, sensual tenor of the moment.

I shimmy my pants down, never taking my eyes off of her and then position myself over her. She closes her eyes and slowly runs her tongue over her beautiful, full lips.

With my hand, I lightly brush the head of my cock over her wet opening. The sensation of her on the one million sensitive receptors almost makes me come right there, but I hold it back. I want to drive her absolutely fucking crazy before she explodes.

I enter her slowly, watching her back arch and her head fall back. She never opens her eyes, only moans quietly. I’ve never taken the time to go so slowly and purposefully and realize I have been missing out. The act itself is orgasmic, never mind the intense sensation of her clenched tightly around my shaft as she swallows me whole.

Her muscles narrow around me as her entire body responds to mine. There's no rush, no urgency—just the two of us, lost in each other, lost in a moment that is both timeless and fleeting.

“Hunter,” she whispers, her voice laced with emotion as she finally speaks. It's a plea, a benediction, and I respond by increasing the tempo ever so slightly, my body moving in sync with hers.

We climb higher, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating in unison. And when we finally reach the precipice, we leap together, our cries of release echoing through the room.

After the zealous orgasm, we both fall limp. It was more intense than anything I ever remember experiencing before. I am closer to her now than ever.

I lie in Frankie's bed, her warm body curled against mine, our limbs intertwined. The bedside lamp casts a gentle light across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the slope of her nose. I trace my fingers along her arm, marveling at how right this is, how natural.

“You okay?” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

She nods, her hand resting on my chest. “Yeah. I am okay. I’ve never felt so safe and I’m so grateful that we’ve forged this, whatever it is, so that I’m not alone right now.”

I feel the same way. It’s almost as if we came into each other’s life right at the right time, to be there for each other while we each go through some shitty, heavy stuff.

Frankie shifts, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of life, are tinged with sadness, but there's a warmth there too, a depth of emotion that takes my breath away.

“It's strange,” she says softly. “I barely knew my father, and yet he was a part of me. It….”

“It still hurts,” I finish for her. She nods, and I pull her closer, savoring the steady, light thump of her heartbeat against my chest. “Loss is loss. It doesn't matter how well you knew someone. The potential of what could have been... that's what hurts.”

She's quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin. “Tell me more about your mom,” she says finally.

I take a deep breath, surprised by how easy it is to talk about her. “She was... complicated. Pushy, sometimes overbearing, but she loved fiercely. She wanted the best for me, even if she didn't always know how to show it.”

Frankie listens intently, her presence a balm to the raw edges of my grief. As I talk, I realize how much I needed this—not just to be held, but to be truly seen and understood. Almost to know how to process grief for someone I wasn’t particularly close to but who I loved regardless.

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