Page 61 of Desperate Desires

I could see need dancing in his eyes like a madness and I knew he felt just as crazy as I felt. I had no experience with passion like this, but I couldn’t deny it.

“Bellezza,” he said, jostling me from my reverie.

“What? Oh, Ono, yes! I’m so close.”

“Tell me this is my pussy. I need it, Doc. Want it so bad.”

“It’s yours, Ono. All yours, Baby. Please let me come,” I said, moaning at the gush of wetness that flooded my core.

Whether it was my admitting my pussy belonged to him or my begging him to grant me bliss that made me so hot and needy for him didn’t matter.

All I knew was the second I said those words it felt like I unleashed something inside myself I never knew I needed.

Like allowing this man's claim over me had freed me somehow and my body started to sing. And by sing I didn’t mean nursery rhymes.

Nope.

I meant he made it sing glass-shattering operatic notes that made angels weep.

Maybe it was because Ono had followed me into that pleasure that made it so good. He bit my shoulder and pumped three more times, emptying his balls inside my willing body.

Or maybe it was because he really did want me as much as he said.

This feeling of rightness was just so strong. The orgasm he gave me, simply unparalleled. Nothing compared to him.

It felt like I’d been launched from a cannon straight into the stratosphere, gravity forgotten as I hurtled through the endless expanse of our shared pleasure.

The force of it ripped me from reality, sending me spiraling into the vast unknown, weightless and untethered.

Like I was on the brink of the cosmos with nothing to hold on to but the overwhelming pull of that singular, irresistible force that was Ono.

Eons later, I came back to myself and found Ono cleaning up what he could of the mess we’d made between my legs.

“Put this on,” he said, removing his jacket, pausing when his gaze met my shoes.

“What are those?”

“They’re Crocs.”

“Crocs?”

“Yes. Look, they are ugly but comfortable as fuck and you can throw them in the washer machine to get clean.”

“They’re cute,” he said, perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled and rolled my eyes.

I had extra scrubs in my locker, but it would be uncomfortable to walk through the hospital in my present state, so I did not argue. I just took his jacket and put it on, grinning at the length of the sleeves which he helped roll up.

“We gotta go,” he said.

“What do you mean we? I have surgical rounds to finish?—”

“You’re done for the day. In fact, you’re done for a few weeks. They need the time for construction, anyway.”

Ono pulled me with him, opening the door where I found his driver, or bodyguard, or whatever he was, waiting for us.

“Car’s ready, Boss,” the man, Gio, said and walked ahead of us.

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