I had taken my duchess out of the club.
She was restless in the bed next to me, a low moan escaping her lips as she shifted, a giddy expression on her face. Her eyes, half-closed, suggested a deep pleasure, and I felt myself nearing my limit. "I'm close, honey," I whispered, "Do you want me to use the protection, or should we have it raw?"
She hesitated, catching her breath. "Protection," she managed to say, her eyes still heavy-lidded. She squeezed my hand, a silent urging. It was intense, and I wanted to close my eyes and just feel it, but I didn't want to miss a single moment of her experience.
Just before I lost control, I saw her other hand, previously resting at her side, move under the blanket and shift the medical gown.
The simple act of her touching herself in that moment, while I was helping her, sent me over the edge. I gently guided her head to rest against the pillow as I helped her through it. I felt her muscles tense, and she took a deep, shuddering breath as she relaxed again.
I watched her hand quicken its movement under the blanket, and her body tensed at the same time as mine.
Incredible – she had just found relief while I was assisting her. God, I wished I could truly understand that sensation. I wanted to help her get comfortable and simply be there for her.
If she could find such release with just my help, what would it be like if we were truly together?
After the intensity of the orgasm was over, I gently adjusted her pillow and smoothed her hair. I felt a surge of protectiveness, an overwhelming urge to carefully lift her and take her away from this sterile environment, back to a place of comfort and security.
Our eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between us. It was as if she was reading my thoughts, silently pleading with me to take her home.
I opened my mouth to suggest she come with me. I imagined taking her home, ensuring her comfort and safety, making her truly mine.
But then, a sudden, loud crash echoed from the hallway outside the room.
The moment between us was shattered, and she was instantly alert, sitting up in a flash. I quickly adjusted my own uniform and turned, pulling the door open.
"There you are!" Joey exclaimed, her voice cutting through the hospital silence. Dr. Dan was behind her, looking apologetic. "I've been looking everywhere for you. We need to go. One of your patients – the one in room 302, or maybe 304, I can't remember the exact room. Anyway, she had a sudden fever spike, and we need to check on her. The shift change is about to happen.
" Goodbye, Sheryl. Always good to see you... helping out." Joey reached out and took my patient's wrist, gently pulling her away from me.
Before I could reach out and pull her back, she was through the door. I took a step forward, and she turned back, speaking over the commotion in the hall.
"My full name is Sheryl White. I was trying to tell you my full name."
Dr. Dan...
"Sheryl White," I murmured to myself, taking another sip from my lukewarm coffee.
"If you say that name one more time, I'm going to spill this entire cup on your lap," Joey my colleague said, setting her empty medication cup on the counter.
It seemed I wasn't the only one trying to process the night's events, though I was struggling, this being only my second coffee.
Perhaps I should switch to something stronger, like Joey; she seemed well on her way to forgetting the chaos of the last few hours.
I couldn't believe I had let her leave.
She was probably going back to her family. I should have made it clear that her current situation with Dr. Davies was temporary.
She might have been under their medical care yesterday, but tonight, she was under his friend's sheets. I had provided comfort and relief, marking her in my mind as someone I needed to protect. She didn't know it, but now she was my responsibility because she was a close friend to my sister.
The sooner she accepted that, the better.
Damn, I didn't even know her last name. Everyone I asked on the floor had no idea who she was beyond her room number. Crap. I ran a hand through my messy hair, trying to alleviate some of the tension. I hadn't even known this patient for ten hours, and I was completely fixated. She had me completely off-kilter, and it had happened so quickly I couldn't stop it.
"I messed up," I told Joey, watching her absentmindedly peel the label off her coffee cup and stick it back on.
"Yeah, you did. You got too attached to someone you can't have, and shouldn't want," she said, her dark green eyes meeting mine. A flicker of understanding passed between us. I wondered if she was referring more to her own experiences than to mine. I didn't mean I messed up by connecting with my little Duchess; I meant I messed up by letting her leave without getting her full name. I didn't like the feeling of not knowing where she was, or how to find her again. It felt wrong.
"Evening, Dr. Davies. What brings you to the nurses' station tonight?" the charge nurse said. My eyes were drawn to the reflection in the glass partition behind the counter, and I saw Dr. Davies standing a few feet behind Joey and me. Joey flinched, and I saw her grip the empty medication cup tightly in her hand.
Well, that was interesting.
I hoped it wasn't what I suspected.
I was still unsure how I felt about Miller Davies. The Chief of Medicine had named him Miller, almost as if he knew he'd one day control him, which was what worried me about him. Anyone under the Chief of Medicine's influence was someone to watch.
I'd heard he used to be a brilliant surgeon in a major city hospital until his father made him come home.
And he had himself a department head position almost immediately.
Miller wasn't the type I thought Joey would be interested in, or vice versa.
Joey had jet-black hair, so dark it was almost blue. Sometimes she'd add vibrant streaks that matched the intricate tattoos on her arms and shoulders.
She was always in simple scrubs and comfortable shoes, never a trace of makeup or anything overtly feminine. I always thought she'd go for some rugged paramedic or perhaps a similarly tattooed fellow nurse. I didn't ask her many personal questions. But I never thought she'd go for the polished,
"good ol' boy" type like Dr. Davies.