Page 4 of Taking Her Medicine

Grumbling, but secretly aroused, I shifted onto my stomach and arranged my clothes to give him the access he demanded, making a show of tugging down my pajama bottoms followed by my barely there hipster panties. “I probably don’t even have a fever.”

“It doesn’t hurt to check.” He spread my cheeks, exposing my most private hole. Aaron inserted the cold glass instrument and I squirmed from the intrusion. “Relax. It’ll only be a minute.”

Except it would take closer to three minutes for my temperature to register. I had no doubt he would leave it in for the full amount of time. “People don’t have these sorts of fantasies anyhow.”

“Some people do.”

“Do you?”

“Nah. I’d rather be the one wielding the instrument.”

“Oh.” I ground my hips into the cushions, trying to find a position where I couldn’t feel the instrument inside of me. He tightened his grip on the stem of the intruding rod.

“Stop wiggling, Zoelle, or I’ll hold you across my lap to ensure you don’t move.”

“Makes me want to wiggle more.”

“I’ve told you how I’ll respond.”

Crap.

Something about his tone pushed me to stay still, though my thoughts drifted to the possibility of his finger stroking my heated pussy, even though I knew he wouldn’t. “Can you please take it out?”

“Not yet.”

“Why did you almost kiss me on New Year’s Eve and then never bring it up again?”

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“Uh, seriously?” I glanced over my shoulder. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“No, but I’ve been so busy at work, and it made it easier to avoid the topic. I should have checked in with you sooner. Will you please forgive me for misreading your reaction?”

“Of course.” I faced forward. “Can you remove the thermometer now?”

“I will after it registers.”

I stayed quiet, wanting the whole ordeal to be done with. Bringing up the topic that had been on my mind for weeks embarrassed me almost as much as him seeing my private places. I wanted him to leave to stop the sudden arousal burning through my body. After what felt like longer than the required time, Aaron removed the slim rod and I shuddered. “Do I have a fever?”

“Yup. All the way up to one-hundred three point four. No wonder you feel so awful.”

I fixed my pants into place and rolled onto my back. “Makes sense,” I agreed. He set the glass object on the coffee table.

“Let’s go into the kitchen, sweetheart. There’s more light in there.”

I reluctantly followed him, and he lifted me onto the counter. Aaron listened to my lungs, my heart, and ran his hands over my neck.

“Do you have popsicle sticks?”

“Nope.”

“How about actual popsicles?”

“No,” I said, giggling.

“Let’s see what else I can find.” Aaron poked through my kitchen cabinets and drawers and returned to my side with a very small spatula. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

I quirked an eyebrow but did as he requested. He was so smart; the plastic tip of the spatula pressed against my tongue, and he shined a penlight into my mouth. After a few seconds of looking down my throat, he placed the penlight into his pocket and moved to my sink. “Anything interesting?”

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