6. Rebecca
REBECCA
R ebecca sat at her desk, the faint glow of her computer screen illuminating the darkened office.
The hum of the hospital around her had become white noise, a constant backdrop to her meticulously controlled life.
She glanced at the time—past midnight—and sighed.
The surgery had gone long, as expected, but the real weight on her mind wasn’t the patient or the paperwork in front of her.
It was Lillian Harrington. Lillian’s beautiful green eyes looking adoringly at her.
Lillian’s head tipped back crying out as she came for Rebecca’s fingers or tongue.
Lillian’s lovely golden hair like silk in her fingers as she used it to hold Lillian steady while she fucked her.
Resisting Lillian, as hard as she had tried, had been futile.
Their late-night rendezvous had become routine.
After long surgeries, after the rest of the hospital had fallen into a quieter rhythm, they found each other in on-call rooms, empty scrub rooms, or anywhere they could steal a moment.
The attraction had always been undeniable, but now it was consuming them both, pulling them into something they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—stop.
Rebecca knew the risks, knew how dangerous this was for both of them, but every time Lillian pressed her lips to hers, every time their bodies collided in the dark, it was like a fuse that couldn’t be extinguished.
And yet, when the moment passed, Rebecca snapped the walls back into place.
Their affair was physical—nothing more, nothing less.
She wouldn’t allow it to be anything else.
She closed the file in front of her with a sharp click, her jaw tight.
The gala was this weekend, and her mother’s words from their phone call earlier still echoed in her mind.
"You will not embarrass me, Rebecca. Make sure you look the part.
" Vivian Lang’s voice had been cool, detached, as it always was.
The gala was a necessary evil, an event where the elite medical community gathered to display their accomplishments and accolades, and for someone like Rebecca, it was a reminder of the expectations placed on her from birth.
She hated it.
Not the success or the recognition—that part she excelled in—but the spectacle, the constant pressure to live up to an image that felt suffocating. Her mother’s demands, the need to be perfect, to be distant, to be...something more.
But even the impending gala wasn’t enough to distract her from what was happening between her and Lillian.
Despite how hard she tried to compartmentalize, Lillian had started to bleed into every part of her life.
That was a problem. A problem Rebecca had no intention of letting spiral out of control.
Later that night, after her paperwork was done and the hospital had settled into its quiet rhythm, Rebecca found herself walking down the familiar hallway toward the on-call room.
She didn’t have to check to know Lillian was already there; she always was.
They had developed a routine, a dangerous one, but one they both seemed drawn to with reckless abandon.
As Rebecca pushed open the door, her eyes immediately found Lillian, sitting on the edge of the bed, her green eyes tired but alert.
Strands of blonde hair framing her beautiful face.
There was something electric about these moments, the ones where words weren’t necessary, where the attraction between them spoke louder than anything either could say.
Rebecca crossed the room, her gaze locked on Lillian’s as she closed the distance between them.
She could feel the tension, the heat between them, but she wouldn’t let it be anything more than what it was.
Lillian stood, stepping into Rebecca’s space, her breath shallow, and before either of them could think twice, Rebecca’s lips were on hers.
The kiss was heated, intense, as it always was.
Rebecca’s hands gripped Lillian’s waist, pulling her close, feeling the press of their bodies as the rest of the world faded into the background.
She loved the way Lillian responded to her, the way she melted into her touch, the way their stolen moments felt like they existed outside of time.
But Rebecca kept her control, even now. She let Lillian have this—the intimacy, the heat—but she never let it go deeper. She couldn’t. Outside of these rooms, she was still Dr. Rebecca Lang, Lillian’s mentor, the renowned surgeon, the woman who couldn’t afford to lose control. And she wouldn’t.
Her fingers were quickly inside Lillian’s panties and dipping lower and pressing inside her pussy.
It felt just as exquisite as always, being inside her.
She loved the little moans Lillian made and the way her breathing quickened and her pupils dilated as she neared orgasm.
She was used to Lillian’s body now, how it responded to her, how much Lillian enjoyed being fucked deep and hard.
She knew Lillian’s orgasm was close as she thrust into her.
“Eyes on me,” she said and Lillian’s beautiful big green eyes opened obediently and looked at her. She loved seeing Lillian’s eyes as she came.
“Good girl. Now, come for me.”
She felt Lillian tightening around her fingers and her body begin to shudder. Her pupils were wide and glazed with lust. Lillian cried out loudly as her orgasm flooded her body and the palm of Rebecca’s hand.
“Oh my god….” Lillian’s voice was dry.
They pulled apart, both breathing heavily, and Rebecca took a step back, her hands falling away from Lillian’s body as if she had snapped back into reality.
Lillian’s eyes lingered on her, searching for something—maybe an acknowledgment of what they were doing, or maybe a deeper connection. But Rebecca didn’t give it to her. She never did.
“This is just what it is,” Rebecca said quietly, her voice firm, though not unkind. “You know that.”
Lillian nodded, though there was a flicker of something in her expression. Disappointment, maybe? Hurt? It didn’t matter. Rebecca wouldn’t let it matter.
“I know,” Lillian whispered, but the tension in the air didn’t dissipate.
Rebecca turned away, gathering her things. This was how it always ended—the passion, the heat, and then the sharp return to reality. It had to stay this way. It couldn’t become more than this.
Rebecca could taste sex in the air. She could feel the juice from Lillian’s orgasm drying on her hand.
“I have a big day tomorrow,” Rebecca added, her tone shifting back into the cool professionalism that was second nature to her. “We both do.”
Lillian didn’t say anything, but Rebecca could feel her watching, could feel the weight of the words left unsaid between them. She wanted to reach out and soften the moment, but she couldn’t afford to let herself slip. Not here. Not with Lillian Harrington.
The next morning, Rebecca was back in full work mode.
She was scrubbing in for another surgery, her mind clear and focused on the task at hand.
Lillian was there, too, assisting as usual, but outside the walls of those on-call rooms, their relationship remained strictly professional. Rebecca made sure of it.
Lillian moved with precision, her focus sharp as they worked side by side, but Rebecca could still feel the pull between them, that undercurrent of tension that never seemed to fully disappear.
She caught Lillian’s eye once, briefly, but quickly looked away.
There was no room for personal feelings here. Not in the OR, not in the hospital.
As the surgery continued, Rebecca found herself retreating back into her carefully crafted world of control and distance. This was where she excelled—cold, calculated, and detached. She couldn’t let Lillian break through that.
After the surgery, Rebecca barely acknowledged Lillian as they scrubbed out. There were always fleeting glances, lingering touches, but Rebecca kept herself firmly in check. Their relationship was purely physical, nothing more. And she had to keep it that way.
As the end of the week drew closer, Rebecca’s anxiety about the gala began to mount.
Her mother had sent another reminder earlier in the day, a curt message about appearances and expectations.
Rebecca hated these events. The pressure to be perfect, to maintain the pristine image her mother had so carefully cultivated was suffocating.
She didn’t belong in those rooms full of old money and academic elites who cared more about appearances than the actual work being done. But she would go, as she always did.
Lillian had brought it up in passing earlier that day—just a casual mention about the gala, probably because she’d heard about it through hospital gossip.
Rebecca had brushed it off, keeping her tone distant.
She didn’t want Lillian to ask too many questions or to see the cracks in her perfect exterior.
The gala represented everything Rebecca despised about the life she had been born into: the expectations, the superficiality, the constant pressure to succeed.
But as much as she hated it, she couldn’t let it show.
The late-night meetings with Lillian continued, their secret affair becoming more routine with each passing day. Stolen moments in on-call rooms, heated kisses in quiet hallways, hands slipping under scrubs when no one was watching—it had become their normal.
But outside of those stolen moments, Rebecca remained distant. Cold. She mentored Lillian with the same sharp professionalism she gave to all her interns, never letting the lines blur. She couldn’t afford to. Not when the stakes were this high.