Page 15 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

I could get lost in the sounds that she’s making. The look on her face. The way that her brows draw down or how her lips part. Her blush is heavy, all the way down, this deep dusky red tone that stains her skin.

I want more than just her blush to stain it.

My lips press to the side of her neck, tongue and tooth, worrying over the skin there, working a hickey. Amanda tilts her head to the side, offering up even more of her throat, and I work my way down the length of it, one nip and then another, little red marks blooming over her throat as I work her over.

Each press up into her gets me closer to the edge. Amanda drops a hand down, grabbing my ass like she’s trying to pull me even deeper. I grind into her, pressed as tightly as I can to her skin. I’m right there on the edge, just a little more and—and when I cum, it’s her name on my lips.

The shrill tone of the phone calling interrupts us before I’ve even had a chance to slide out of her and offer her a post fuck kiss. We both jump at the sound. Amanda starts laughing, and I slide sideways, laying on my back for a moment.

She stretches, all long bare legs, and folds an arm beneath her head. “You know, I really was planning on making you dinner.”

“And I really just invited you over for that,” I say, with a huff of laughter. The phone stops and I know there’s a message waiting for me in the answering machine. The problem is it’s hooked up in the living room, too far away to hear. Rolling onto one arm, I lean forward and press a kiss to the side of her temple. It’s a chaste brush of the lips, especially considering what we had just been doing.

Amanda smiles, tilting her head back, humming, and kissing me on the mouth instead. “I’m glad that we changed our mind.”

“So am I.” The phone starts ringing again. It could be important. Frowning, I pull away from her and head to fish the cellphone out of my scrub pocket, where they got tossed to the floor.

Amanda frowns too, sitting up so she’s propped onto her elbow. Most of her hair has come free from its knot while we were fucking, and it hangs in messy strands around her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“They called right back. That means it’s probably the hospital.” I pull the phone out, lifting up one finger toward her and answering the call. “What?”

Glenda's voice on the other end of the line, scolding, “You know, you need to work on your manners. I hope you don’t speak to the patients like that when they call for something at the hospital.”

“I don’t, because I’matthe hospital, and not at my house,” I say. “Glenda, don’t tell me—”

“They need you to come in and don’t even start getting pissy with me, because you know it’s not like I have any say in it. I just make the calls,” says Glenda, cutting me off before I can even start to complain about it.

She’s right, of course. It’s the director of the hospital that makes these calls, not Glenda. Still, it’s hard not to think bitterly toward the woman who always heralds bad news.

“Fine, fine,” I tell her, snappishly. “I’ll be in.”

Glenda says, “You better be in with an apology for that mouth,” and then hangs up on me.

Amanda is still laying on the bed, staring at me. She frowns and tosses some of the loose hair out of her face. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “You know how it is. They need someone to come in. They do this all the time, and usually don’t even say what’s going on until I get there. But— You can have the house while I’m gone. Bonnie shouldn't be home until tomorrow, sometime around noon. There’s food in the fridge. Samantha, my housecleaner, will come by later tonight to take care of a few things but she’s no problem.”

As I’m talking to her, I’m gathering my scrubs and pulling them back on. A part of me is angry and bitter, but I know that this is just what happens when you’re a senior member of the hospital staff. You get called in constantly, at the drop of a pin, and you don’t have any say in the matter.

Bonnie doesn’t always understand, but she’s only eight. A child. I don’t expect her to. It’s easier with Amanda. She’s a doctor—a resident, but still. She understands how things work.

So… why does she look so hurt when I turn back to her?

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to run off.”

Amanda snaps back into her usual self, shaking her head and waving a hand at me. “No, you’re fine. It’s fine. I wanted to go get a shower anyway. I’ll make dinner, and we can eat when you get back.” Amanda stands up, her legs slightly wobbly. “Or if you have to stay very late, I’ll put it in the fridge.”

I flash her a smile, hopeful that she isn’t just putting on a front. “Thank you.” I step over to her, catching both cheeks between my hands and pressing a kiss to her lips. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s fine. Go on, before Glenda beats you on arrival,” says Amanda, shooing me off.

Relief washes through me. I shove the phone into my back pocket and hurry out of the house, barely remembering to grab the keys on my way down. I always regret when I have to leave Bonnie home, especially like this, when I’ve already finished a shift.

But it’s been a long time since I’ve had a reason other than my daughter to regret rushing out of the house. From the car, I can see the light filtering out through the bedroom window, casting a bright glow over the ground outside, and the flower garden that Amanda had commented on.

A slow smile spreads over my face. There’s something else that I haven’t done in a while. Brought gifts to someone. If it’s a late shift, I decide, I’ll bring her back flowers.

She seemed to really like those.

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