Page 26 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
“No!” she’s quick to add. “I wasn’t watching him!”
“Sure you weren’t.”
“Noah, knock it off.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe you were watching neighbor porn.”
Just then, she slams on the brakes and the truck jolts to a stop and my hand hits my dick.
My scowl lifts to hers. “You did that on purpose.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yeah, sure she doesn’t.
It’s another hour of sitting next to a guy with back pain, and another one who stuck a cucumber up his ass and lost it. I’m not even joking. He tells me the entire story while Kelly fills out paperwork and texts Bonner every five minutes to check on the kids.
“Why are you covering your lap with a coat?” cucumber guy asks, like it’s any of his goddamn business.
I refuse to answer him and shift in my seat, facing Kelly. “If they don’t call me back soon, I’m going to cut my hand off and maybe it’ll get their attention.”
Kelly doesn’t even look at me as she chews on the end of her pen. At least, I hope it’s her pen and not one from this shithole because guaranteed she’s getting sick if that’s the case. “You’re being dramatic,” she has the nerve to tell me.
My jaw clenches and I bite the inside of my cheek. Never mind she’s completely disregarding the fact that I’m bleeding all over the place. I’ve soaked through the towel I have wrapped around it. I’m not concerned with that. Fuck my hand. What concerns me is that I still have a hard-on. I could whip it out and fuck anything at this point, and here my wife is sucking on the end of the pen like it’s a goddamn dick. Not only that, cucumber guy is watching this entire scene with rapt attention. I shoot him a glare but it does nothing to distract him, so I add, “Stop staring at my wife or you’re going to have more than a cucumber up your ass, ya sick fuck.”
I know, I’m being incredibly rude, but damn it, I’m in pain. Or maybe shock. I’m not entirely sure. When I glance over at Kel again, she’s still chewing on the pen. What do I do?
I rip the pen from her mouth and throw it across the waiting room.
Her narrowed eyes cut to mine. “Was that necessary?”
I roll my head against the wall to look over at her and scrunch my nose up like something smells. Something does smell. The dude next to me. “Yep.”
By the time I do get back to see a doctor, it’s four in the morning and I have to be to work by seven. I’m not in a good mood, my dick is still hard, and I’m beyond being civil.
“This is going to sting a little,” the nurse tells me when she sticks a needle in the wound to clean it.
“I don’t doubt it,” I snap back at her. “Can you hurry it up though and stop treating my hand like you’re looking for fucking gold? You know I can feel all that, right?”
“Noah!” Kelly gasps at me. “Stop being mean to her.”
I roll my eyes and slump back against the gurney they have me lying on, flopping my one good arm over my face. I had been holding a pillow over my dick to avoid that conversation, but when she notices, the nurse laughs. “Have you taken any drugs tonight?”
Fully prepared to defend myself, I sit up, rather quickly. In the process, I knock my head on that spotlight thing they’re using and the tray with needles and gauze pads. I’m about to say something mean, again, when Kelly slaps my shoulder and speaks for me. “He took a Viagra. Like a dumbass.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “You weren’t complaining when I fucked you up against the counter, now, were you?” Yeah, I said that. Out loud. To my wife.
Kelly grimaces, and then her lips turn upward into a vicious smile. It’s not one of amusement. It’s one of, dude, I’ll cut that rock-hard dick off if you say one more word.
The nurse’s cheeks turn pink. It’s then I take a look at her and realize she’s just a kid and probably a virgin and here I am with a raging fucking cock inches from her face. “Just stitch my hand up so I can leave,” I mumble, the need to yell at everyone deflating. If only something else would deflate. They certainly weren’t lying when they said four-hour erection, were they?
The nurse cleaning my hand refuses to make eye contact with me or Kelly, but adds, “I could give you something to help, you know, with your problem.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I grit, flopping back on the gurney as any upset man would. I’m not even trying to hide my erection any longer.
I’m stitched up, put in a splint and about four different nurses and doctors come in to check out the progress of the wound. Bullshit. They’re all checking out my erection. I should feel proud. I’m not. When I get embarrassed, I get angry.
The on-call orthopedic surgeon tells me I broke two bones in my hand. I might need surgery, but I ignore everything they’re saying. I do this because that’s when I notice a doctor in the hallway standing near the nurse’s station.
