Page 16 of Desire

“God,Jussie, you feel so fucking good,” I groan out. I’m propped against the headboard while she rides me and feeling her pussy clenching against my dick has me trying to hold back from coming too soon. The view I have is phenomenal though; her blonde hair is flowing down her back, her head is back, and her luscious tits are bouncing in time to the rhythm she’s set. Not only that, but every time she comes down, she swivels her hips as she squeezes her inner pussy muscles.

“So do you,” she replies, her voice breathy. Reaching out, I stroke my thumbs across her distended nipples causing her to cry out. Deciding to add to it, I pull her close and lower my mouth to capture one between my lips while my other hand continues to pluck, plump and stroke. Her motions become erratic and I know she’s close, so I reach down with the hand not teasing her nipple and with my thumb, apply pressure to her clit. Her keening wail as she clamps down on my dick has me coming, filling her warm sheath with my release.

As she slumps against me, I gently thrust upward to allow her to ride out her orgasm until she shudders and attempts to pull away. Kissing her temple, I use my feet and then hands to pull the sheet up and over us as I slide down into a prone position. Somehow, despite my movements, I manage to keep us connected. “Love you, Jussie,” I whisper, my hands cradling her close. We may end up moving as the night goes on, but right now, this is perfect.

“I love you more,” she murmurs sleepily as she kisses my chin.

Chapter Eight

Justine

Despite my misgivings,the day for surgery has finally arrived. I’m not too concerned about missing music as we spent the last week laying down tracks so that they could record even if I wasn’t there. Granted, it hurt like hell, but I refuse to let my brother and sisters down. I hate that my body has failed me like it has even though the doctor and Sebastian have told me it’s relatively common for people who do things that are repetitive, like typing and such. I guess constantly playing my keyboards did it to me.

“Okay, Miss Wilde, we’re going to give you something in your IV that’s going to relax you a bit,” the surgical center nurse states. Thankfully, at least until they take me back, Sebastian can be with me. I was such a bundle of nerves that he practically had to dress me into the lovely hospital gown and crazy, brightly colored anti-slip socks.

“Great, just great. I bet I’ll be passed out,” I grumble, causing Sebastian to chuckle. “It’s not funny, honey,” I fuss as the nurse takes a syringe and injects it into the IV that they put in almost as soon as I got here.

“It shouldn’t do that,” the nurse says. “It’s more to keep you calm. You’re having a nerve block on both sides which will get done once you’re under general anesthesia.”

“I’m perfectly calm now,” I retort, rolling my eyes.

She grins at me but doesn’t reply and wisely, Sebastian keeps his mouth shut as well. I can’t help that when I’m nervous I babble incessantly. I’ve also counted all the tiles in the ceiling—there are sixty-five and a half—mentally rearranged the room the way I think it should be organized and told Sebastian everything I wanted him to know in case things went south.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says to the nurse. “Do you know how much longer before she’ll be taken back?”

“She’s next in line for the operating room and Dr. Albritton is finishing up one now. We’ll have to sanitize, disinfect and sterilize the room, but that team is ready to go as soon as the other patient is moved to recovery. So maybe another thirty to forty-five minutes.”

“Why did I have to come so early?” I ask. “I could’ve slept another hour at least.”

“Because they might have been able to get to you sooner, Jussie,” Sebastian replies. “Settle, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper once the nurse leaves. “I don’t mean to be a bitch.”

“You’re not being a bitch, honey. You’re nervous and scared, which I totally understand. However, you’ll be fine. Let me update your brother so he knows what’s happening.” I nod and watch as he sends a text.

As whatever the nurse gave me takes effect, I feel like the room is spinning around. “Sebastian? I don’t feel so well,” I whisper. He takes a look at where my IV is and I see alarm cross his face before it goes blank. He quickly leaves the room and before I know it, three nurses are coming in and various things are being injected into my IV. Before I can ask what’s happening, the room begins to fade, and it’s lights out for me.

* * *

“So,young lady, it appears you have an allergy to the antibiotic we were giving you,” Dr. Albritton says as I wake up. I glance down and see that both arms are mummified up with Ace bandages and gauze. The area is numb, and I presume that’s from the nerve blocks they used during the actual surgery. At least I’m not feeling any pain.

“Is that what happened?” I ask, my voice scratchy and raw. “I had no clue I was allergic to whatever you gave me.” He leans over with a cup and holds the straw to my lips.

“Yes, ma’am. They injected the stuff to reverse the reaction and we proceeded with your surgery. Now that you’re awake, we’ll get you moved into a regular room since I want to admit you for a day or two for observation.” Well, that’s just fantastic, that wasn’t in the plans initially, but I guess plans change.

“Thank you. Did the surgery go okay?” I try not to stammer, but that’s been my greatest fear.

“Practically a textbook case, Justine. You shouldn’t have any issues whatsoever,” he replies. “Now, there’s a man who’s been chomping at the bit to see you. We don’t normally allow folks in recovery, but because of the circumstances, I’m making an exception.” I nod, exhaustion taking over.

When Sebastian walks into the curtained area where I’m at, I see the relief on his face when he notices that I’m sitting up, both arms propped up on pillows to keep them elevated. “You scared the shit out of me, Jussie,” he says when he’s close enough to lean in and kiss my forehead.

“I’d say I was scared as well, but whatever they put into the IV knocked me out. All I remember is telling you I didn’t feel well and then seeing a bunch of nurses rush in behind you after you went to get some help.”

“Your arm around the IV was streaked with red. By the time I got back in with the nurses, it had gotten worse. They grabbed some stuff and there was quite the hullabaloo as they kept putting different things into your IV. The doctor came in and you mumbled something, and he decided to go ahead and get you into surgery.” I snicker at his use of the word ‘hullabaloo’ since I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone actually use it in a sentence. However, it does fit from the sound of things.

“I don’t remember saying anything,” I reply. A thought comes to me and I ask, “They’ve marked my charts or whatever it is they use these days, right?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ve already got a gorgeous necklace on the way that identifies you have an allergy. Not only that, but I think you might want to consider getting a tattoo on your left inner forearm just in case.”

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