Page 11 of Rust the Rejected
Large hands with tapered fingers. Skillful hands. Hands I can imagine on more than just my arm.
The television screen fades as I focus on a revised version of Rust driving me home from the hospital.
His eyes flick between me and the road ahead as he weaves through traffic. I squirm in the seat to ease the carnal ache in my core. The lustful glint in his amber eyes shines in the light from intermittent streetlamps through the windshield. The corner of his full lips quirks up at my breathy moan.
A hand lowers to my thigh. Naughty fingers slip beneath my robe. The tips seek my swollen clit nestled within my folds, already slick with arousal. On a needy moan, my legs spread, giving them better access.
The thumb pad circles the sensitive nubbin, applying more pressure with each pass. My hips rotate in sync with its erotic rhythm. Moans and musk fill the interior of the SUV. Long fingers breech my folds. My pussy walls clench around them, drawing them deeper into my greedy channel. I drop my head against the headrest and arch my back as the orgasm dances closer.
A sharp pinch to my clit, and my thighs slam together, trapping his skillful hand as I buck against it. It’s so intense, I damn near levitate. Stars flash behind my closed eyelids while my mouth opens in a silent scream.
As the ripples dwindle, I sag limp against the seat, thigh muscles slack, heart pounding. My breath comes out in warm pants. A cloud of condensation ebbs and recedes on the window. Eyes flutter closed.
“Such a good girl,” Rust croons as he pats my pussy, then licks my juices from his fingers.
The television reappears as the fantasy fades. I blink, disoriented. Reality returns.
I growl and take a forceful bite of food.
Donotgo there, Nat!
To open myself up to dating leads to love, then either or both parties wanting a committed relationship. One that leads to marriage, then to the male making demands of the female. He controls what she does with her life and her body. Forces the female to put her desires aside for his wants, including children, whether or not she wants them. Her health matters little as long as she produces.
Sam and Amanda—along with other mates in my former pack—are prime examples of that destructive relationship. The anguish he forced my sister to deal with breaks my heart. Her death and her pup’s stillbirth finish any relationship I could ever want, even before it starts.
Sure, our father wasn’t as extreme as Sam and his cohorts. But Dad persuaded Mom to mate with him despite them not being a fated pair. He was older and—as I learned later—didn’t want to endure the madness unmated males experience after a certain time without a mate. He also wanted an heir to replace him as Alpha. They tried many times for male pups, resulting in my Mom’s decline in health. A situation exacerbated by the unexpected affliction years later. So, once again, his needs supplanted my Mom’s life.
I swipe tears from my eyes and reaffirm I want no parts of a male in my life, being pregnant, or having pups.
Not happening! Not now, not ever. And most especially not withRustDr. McDreamy Ingolf!
CHAPTER5
Natalie
“I havea date with a guy my sister’s husband knows. They work together at the firm. She swears the guy’s cute and nice. Not at all like the one she hooked me up with the last time…”
“This had to be the longest day ever! I cannot wait to get out of this waist trainer. Hourglass figure be damned!”
“Yes, sweetheart, Mommy will be home soon… No, you can’t eat cookies before dinner…”
“Let’s grab a drink after work…”
My palms press against my ears to lessen the banter from everyone around me. All. The. Way. In. My. Office. With. The. Door. Shut.
Gah!
Another day ushers in the return or improvement of a wolf sense. Some good, some not so great. Less pain in my arm and more shoulder mobility allows me to cover my ears. The healing process speeds up—though not quite as fast as during my full shifter days.
Two days ago, my wolf hearing restored. Also, not fully. I picked up the comments about Dr. Ingolf in the corridor easily—the level low. But now, the conservations around my office bombard my brain. A constant buzz I can’t avoid. Not to mention the everyday sounds of doors closing, the clicks of high heels on the tile floor, papers rustling. They’re all amplified, especially since it’s been years since I had powerful hearing. It’ll take a period of adjustment to reacclimate. In the meantime, I’ll pick up ear plugs…
A less invasive buzzing in my white coat pocket draws my attention from completing notes in the day’s patient files. I’m surprised Paloma Sabela didn’t ring my office landline instead of paging me. But the message isn’t from the department secretary. I grab my mobile and dial the number quickly.
“Hello, this is Dr. Moore. What’s going on?”
“Dr. Moore, are you still at the hospital?” The ER nurse asks, then continues when I confirm. “Thank goodness! We need you in the ER STAT. A pregnant woman arrived with a knife wound to her abdomen…”
I fling the door open and race down the corridor as I listen to the details. Thandie steps from an exam room, and I yell I’m needed in the ER. She nods and rushes to the OB-GYN reception area to alert the staff. I end the call before stepping onto the elevator. My eyes close as I gather myself to prepare for a delicate case. Those around me disappear as I turn inwards and focus on my breathing.
