Page 12 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

“Come on, Jackson,” she says, still goading me on. “I’m all yours.”

“You will be,” I tell her, voice dark and rough. My hands reach to untie my scrubs, they drop down to the floor with a push. “You can count on that.”

Chapter six

Amanda

Jackson’shandrubsovermy ass and I shift, pressing my forehead down onto the thin, uncomfortable mattress. I’ve spent more nights sleeping on this bed than I want to admit, and it looks like something else entirely is going to happen tonight. My legs are spread wide, lewd, and I can feel the heat of Jackson’s cock resting against the curve of my ass. He feels big.

My eyes flutter shut. I know that we don't have much time. The fact that we’re working a night shift means most of the patients are sleeping, but we’ll need to finish rounds shortly, and we must be able to rush off if someone flatlines.

“Jackson,” I goad again, “Come on!”

“Hold on.”

Groaning, I press my forehead against the mattress but then he slides a finger into me. It vanishes completely.

Jackson is quick about it. Maybe one day we’ll have the time for him to take me apart with those smart, slender fingers of his. Right now though, I can’t complain about the way that he works me open with precise flicks of his fingers. It has my toes curling in my Crocs.

And then his hand is gone, and the head of his cock is there instead. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this for weeks,” admits Jackson. “You look better than I imagined.”

“You’ve thought about it?” I ask, unable to keep the note of giddiness out of my voice.

“You’re always on my mind,” Jackson says, voice almost tender, and then he’s lining himself up, and he’s pressing inside. It’s a smooth slick slide, and the kind of stretching burn that leaves me breathless. My fingers twist into the bed sheets as he bottoms out, his hands on my hips, holding me steady.

He doesn’t move, not right away. Gives me a chance to adjust. It’s not until I’m rocking backward that he slides out of me and presses back in, steady, rolling his hips in the kind of cadence that has our skin slapping audibly together.

Maybe it’s just because I know that we shouldn’t be doing this in here. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But the sound is loud, and it feels as though we fit together, like we’re meant to be here. His cock inside of me, fucking me. His hands touching me.

It’s every dirty fantasy that I’ve ever had come to life.

Jackson curls forward, over me, his fingers wrapped around, squeezing at my waist have gone bruising tight. The way that he grunts goes straight to the pit of my belly, rising heat and twisting pleasure flares and feathers out through me. I’m whining, biting my lower lip to try and muffle the sound.

Close, too.

I manage to pant out, “Jackson— Jackson!”

And he just fucks me harder, his legs framing my own. One hand drops down to finger at my clit and with every slide, it brushes against his own cock and the stretched entrance of my pussy. The pleasure twists so tightly inside of me that it threatens to snap—and then it does, and I have to muffle my scream into the top of the mattress, my whole body trembling with the quake of my orgasm.

He goes to pull out, but I manage to hook him around the leg with one of my own. The change in position has him sliding in deep again. “Don’t stop,” I pant. “Don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t.

He fucks me harder, instead, chasing after his own release. Each thrust has me sliding slightly forward on the mattress, the grip on my hips pulls me back against him. And then—then he’s spilling his load, hot cum flooding me, dripping out of my entrance when he pulls away. It splatters onto the bed sheets and the floor, but my sweat has already left damp marks, so it doesn’t matter.

We’re going to need to change the sheets no matter what.

But for a moment, I just lay there. Jackson leans over me and presses a kiss on my shoulder blade, and then to the center of my spine.

Breathless, I ask, “Was it everything you’d imagined?”

It’s meant to be a joke, but there’s something almost serious about the tone of Jackson’s voice when he says, “Everything and more.”

I want to lay there and just bask in the sentiment, but I can’t. We have to actually get our act in gear. He manages to get dressed first, vanishing out of the room long enough to locate a bottle of water and a few sanitary napkins.

When he gets back, I clean myself up and pull my panties and scrubs back into place. My cheeks are hot. It’s only now that the moment is over and done with that I actually feel embarrassed about it.

I stand off in the corner of the room nursing my bottle of water while he takes care of pulling the sheets, wiping up the floor, and remaking the bed. I watch him and marvel at his stature. He's about six feet four inches and chiseled in every sense of the word. It's definitely not just his jawline that's strong. With his tan skin and thick dark hair he looks like a Greek god.

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