Page 30 of Doctor’s Surprise Twins

I scream-growled and stomped away, shutting myself into my walk-in closet and away from his prying eyes as I blinked back the tears. I was so stupid for having kept that resignation letter stored on my computer instead of sending it. I had a plan—a good one. I was offered a job in nearby Evansville, working for a small GP. It was far enough away to keep Derek out of my business but close enough that I could visit Dad when I missed home.

I peeled the dress off my body, leaving it lying on the floor in a heap, and rifled through the closet for something to wear. My sweats and T-shirts were in the dresser, in the room where I knew Derek was standing. He was relentless. I knew he wouldn’t leave until I satisfied his questions.

Furious that I had to do the walk of shame to my dresser in front of him, I peeked out the door. He was sitting on the end of my bed leaning forward, elbows on knees, face in hands. He looked defeated, as if somehow, my anger toward him had wounded his ego. I soaked in the enjoyment for a short minute, reveling in the fact that he did have emotions and that I was affecting him.

Then I felt guilty. The way he was slumped forward, looking all dejected, I knew it was my fault. And for the number of times we’d had sex—fuck’s sake, I was carrying his child—I had nothing to hide. So I pushed the door open and walked out, heading straight to my dresser to find my sweats. He was right. We had to put this damn argument to bed or I’d never move on.

As I walked past him, he snatched my wrist, forcing me to stop. “Maggie, we can’t keep this up.”

“What? The charade that nothing is going on between us? Or the sex and friendship?” My words stung. I released them in frustration, but they poisoned us both. I watched his dejection morph back to anger as he stood. He was so close to me I could feel the heat of his breath flutter across my chest.

“That’s not fair.” His chest heaved, and his hand did not release my wrist.

“Not fair is thinking you own me, telling me I can’t quit your practice because you need me but claiming no responsibility toward commitment even though you want sex with me.” I tried to turn, but this time it wasn’t he who kept me there. In a way, it was—his nearness, his scent, the way his Adam’s apple protruded the tiniest bit farther when he was upset.

“Mags, I—”

I kissed him. Something took over, as if I were being moved by forces outside my will, and I kissed him. I forced back the tears that wanted to escape, silenced the cry inside my chest that wanted to beg him to love me. Throwing myself entirely into the physical and trying to keep my emotions out of it, I kissed him like it was the last time I would ever see him.

Derek responded immediately. The warmth of his hands on my back comforted me, but not as much as the way he kissed me. It felt different, like the way I was kissing him. It was a good different, more passion, less lust. And I drank it in. His stubble scraped my jaw. His hands searched my skin. When he played at the waistband of my panties, I encouraged him, pushing him back until I forced him to sit back down on the foot of the bed.

“Mags, I—”

“Just kiss me, fool.” I straddled him, causing him to lie back. The room warmed ten degrees as I draped myself across him. The buttons on his tux shirt were tiny, difficult to manage with manicured fingernails. I needed to feel his skin against me, and he seemed to understand.

In one fluid movement, he rolled, pinning me down and hovering over me. He greedily bit my lower lip, letting out a growl from his chest. His body ground against mine as he coiled his fingers in my dark tresses and deepened the kiss. His cock was hardening with each of his movements against me. I struggled to undo even one of his buttons and whimpered in annoyance and reached for his belt instead, which was much easier to undo.

The button on his slacks was much easier to release, and in seconds his cock was resting in my hand, rigid and hungry. He grunted in pleasure as I began stroking him. With my other hand, I attempted to lift his shirt, but he pushed my hands away as he straightened and almost tore the shirt from his body, along with the black bowtie he had worn.

I reached for him, but he stood to remove his pants, so I took advantage of the short separation of our bodies to slide my panties down, and before they were at my knees, he was undressed and yanking them away from me. I scooted up the bed to the headboard, and he crawled across the comforter like a hungry beast, eyes near glowing with lust.

Derek slowed his pursuit long enough to let his tongue graze across my clit, consuming the moisture between my legs in a very pleasing manner before he advanced on me again. His rapacious touch stole away to my breasts where he made quick work of my bra, stealing it away and exposing my hardened nipples. His grip was firm again, savagely groping my breasts until I almost pushed his hands away, but the way his tongue flicked over my nipples fueled the ache in my groin.

“God, can you please fuck me now? I need you inside me.” I gripped his sides and pulled at him. His dick nestled between my legs, the tip of it tormenting me.

“Say you need me.” His kisses across my jawline were exquisite, or maybe it was the fact that he had released my tits and I wasn’t cringing anymore. The way his stubble tingled my neck made my pussy weep. “Tell me you need me, Mags.”

He’d never said my name like that during sex before. And his tone was different, more like a desperate soul cry than a lust-fueled craving. I sensed his need in the way his eyes searched my face, his body arching toward me but pulling back the second his head pushed in. “Say you need me, Magnolia.”

“I need you.” The words came out almost a whisper, and the emotion behind them had tears pooling in my eyes. I needed him in every way, every second of every day, and when he sank into me and our bodies met in a gratifying rhythm, I knew I never wanted to live without him. “I need you so bad, Derek. Fuck, do I need you.”

The way he fit me, his cock filling me and soothing the ache inside, I didn’t ever want anyone else. He brought me right to the edge and held me there, teasing my pussy with gentle thrusts, followed by eager plunges into my depth. My hands raked across his back, my body arching up to meet him as he thrust in. The bed shook, our limbs tangling together as the serpentine motion of his body created a smacking sound of our skin colliding. I didn’t even care if he made me come. More than anything in the world, my heart wanted him to say he loved me in return.

“Derek...” I panted, and I intended to tell him I loved him, but the way his body moved against mine lit a fuse I couldn’t stop. My body tensed, clenching around him, and the spring snapped, unwinding like a cheap slinky. I sank my nails into his ass, coaxing him to go deeper, and he did. “Fuck, it’s... oh, shit.” I couldn’t catch my breath. All I could do was ride the wave.

His body was incredible, the way he moved in and against me. He didn’t even have to say a word, and I started to tear up, the emotion of it too much. And when he released, I felt his heat spew into me and he whispered, “Mags...” into my ear. I had to clench my eyes shut and let the giddiness of post-orgasm relaxation melt me into a puddle beneath him.

Until my stomach roiled.

Derek had no more than rolled back to the bed beside me than I was charging for the bathroom. Dinner came up just as I dropped to my knees and prayed to the porcelain goddess. I heaved, gripping the toilet seat, unable to hold my hair back. The tears that flowed had preceded the vomit, but when Derek appeared next to me, pulling my hair back as I threw up, I blamed them on being sick.

“I told you not to eat that shrimp,” he said, offering me a wad of toilet paper to blow my nose and wipe my mouth. I wanted to protest and tell him I had been doing this for weeks now, but I held my tongue. He helped me to my feet and offered me another wad of toilet paper to dry the cum from my inner thigh where it had almost dried.

“I told you I like shrimp,” I protested as I wiped myself clean and tossed the tissue into the toilet. “I’m going to brush my teeth.” I gestured at the toothbrush, and he nodded, leaving me to myself. The mood was broken. I’d never be able to tell him how I felt.

After I brushed my teeth, I skulked back to the bedroom, where I found Derek half-dressed and putting his shoes back on. His shirt hung open, his tie hanging around his neck. I wondered for a minute where his jacket was until I remembered he’d left it in the limo—which was probably still waiting out front.

I folded back the covers and crawled into bed, my stomach still raw. I could tell by the way he was dressing that he had no intention of staying, but I didn’t want him to leave. I watched as he silently worked each button until he got to the tie, which he left hanging. When he stood and tucked his shirt in, I mustered enough bravery to reach out for him.

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