I didn’t even have to tell her to turn around. “Such a good girl.”
“You earned a few minutes of sass-free compliance, thanks to your stellar performance.”
Even when attempting to reduce her snark, she still manages to be a brat. Just a little. That’s impressive. And hot.
After freeing my cock from my boxer briefs, I drag it along the swell of her ass.
“Want my panties off?” she asks, voice still trembling.
Instead of answering right away, I bunch them to one side and press the head of my cock at her entrance. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Suit yourself. Better not rip them, though.”
Before I start easing inside her body, I give her ass a smack. “What’s with the snark? I thought I earned your obedience.”
She growls. “You know I hate that word.”
I do. Which is why I used it.
“Oh, you know you like it, Kri. Don’t bullshit the bullshitter.”
Bracing herself on the door with both palms, she does a mini push-up and slings her head around to face me. “Are you mad at me?”
Her eyes widen, and her brows furrow. All her other features remain soft.
The abrupt downshift from sassy badass to tentative and fearful has me doing a double take. “Huh?”
“You called me Kri.”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?
“You don’t usually call me that when we’re fooling around. You sure you aren’t mad?”
Oh, I see.
And yeah, she makes a good point. I don’t usually use her name. Not since she admitted how much she loves it when I call her baby girl.
My conscience clears his throat.Shepherd, the pet name is the only victory I’ll ever let you have. You were indubitably right about that.
I wink at my sweet and salty love, reassuring her with my expression before my words.“Baby girl, my dick is rock hard and about to pummel the ever-loving shit out of your dripping pussy. I assure you, I amnotmad.”
To prove my point, my hips drive forward an inch, and her body softens to accommodate me.
Every inch of her beautiful face relaxes. “Can I have a kiss then?”
“You can have anything you want.”
Anything.
Several minutes and two orgasms later—one for each of us—we’ve cleaned up and tucked our respective body parts back into our costumes.
As we pop out of the on call room, a doctor stands less than a foot in front of us. Her hand is poised to grasp the door handle, making it look like she’s about to grab my junk.
Guess we finished in the nick of time.Or the Saint Nick of time.Heh.
The woman’s concerned gaze roves over us before ultimately landing on my head. Her brows leap toward the ceiling.
Oh yeah. The stupid costume. This hat isn’t Florida weather-appropriate, and the robe isn’t hospital issue.