Chapter Thirty-eight #2
“The things that happen shape you. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without everything that happened.” He held my gaze. “I wouldn’t have met you.” The heat in his eyes suggested doing something far more interesting than talking.
I shook my head. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re tired, injured, and you’ve had one hell of a night. Now is not the time to—”
“You could kiss me better.”
“Baxter.”
“Lake.” He grinned wickedly. “I have sore spots.”
“Of course you do. You nearly fell off a roof.”
“Those sore spots need attention.”
“I’ll call a doctor.”
“I want you to be the doctor.”
“Kinky. I didn’t know you were into medical role-play.” With every word I spoke, my voice grew huskier. I was fighting a battle I would never win.
“Come here.”
“I’m already here.”
Baxter rolled his eyes. “Here here.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“So be gentle.”
My restraint, already pulled taut, snapped.
I swung a leg over his hips and settled myself on his sheet-covered thighs.
Baxter watched me, his gaze both hungry and amused.
I pulled the sheet down to his waist, grimacing as I uncovered the bruising on his chest. He’d undressed himself, taking a pair of scissors to his T-shirt when it had proved easier than removing the sling, so it was the first time I’d seen it properly.
He still wore the sling, the white of it stark against his skin.
My scrutiny had Baxter looking down. “Not pretty,” he said.
“Very pretty,” I argued, already reaching out to touch. I ran gentle fingertips over his skin, tracing the worst of the bruising. “This is going to look even worse tomorrow.”
Baxter shrugged. “It’s just bruising. It’ll heal.
” I lowered my head to his chest and followed the path of my fingertips with my lips, Baxter giving a little laugh as it tickled.
When I sucked on his nipple, he stopped laughing.
I carefully extricated him from the sling—the doctor had said he didn’t need to wear it in bed—resting his injured arm on his stomach with infinite care.
I started at his injured wrist, kissing that before working my way up to his shoulder. “Sore parts covered,” I said.
“Not all of them.” Baxter turned his head to the side to display the graze on his cheek. I dutifully kissed it and then kissed his lips. They might not have been sore, but they were there. I paused for a moment with our lips barely inches apart. “I love you.”
“I know.”
I blinked. “Alright, Han Solo.”
Baxter smiled. “I would have thought he was a bit modern for you. And not French enough.”
This time, I kissed him to shut him up, careful to keep my weight off him.
“I have another sore spot,” Baxter announced.
“Where?” What if there was something he hadn’t told the hospital?
Internal bleeding? Something worse? Was there anything worse than internal bleeding?
Calisto’s car still sat five floors up in the multistory car park, so I’d need to call a cab to get us back to the hospital.
My mind raced as I examined Baxter, finding nothing on his chest besides the bruising.
I had zero medical qualifications, though.
“Lower,” Baxter urged when I reached his stomach.
I got it then, sitting back to stare daggers at him. “You had me freaking out, and you’re talking about your cock.”
“It’s sore.”
I pulled the covers back like a magician unveiling a magic trick. “It’s hard. Hard is not sore.”
“It’s swollen. I need you to reduce the swelling.”
“Cold compress,” I suggested.
“I was thinking more mouth and tongue.”
“I bet you were.” I rearranged myself so I had the space to lean forward. “I’ll do this,” I said with my lips inches away. “But I’m not fucking you.”
“I didn’t realize it was such a trial.”
“You know exactly why I’m saying that. You need to heal first.”
“Orgasms are good for healing.”
“Where did you hear that?”
Baxter smiled. “I don’t know, probably some magazine article. It’s something to do with endorphins and oxytocin acting as a natural painkiller. You should look it up, History Man, extend your horizons into the world of the living.”
I shook my head. “You and Verity are so going to get on once she realizes you’re here to stay.”
“I look forward to that day if I haven’t died of old age first.”
“How,” I said, only half joking, “did I end up with you?”
“You were due some luck.”
The conversation stopped after that while I got down to business. I watched Baxter’s face while I sucked his cock, drinking in every single gasp and moan that spilled from his lips as I used every ounce of skill I possessed.
I paused halfway through to pull my trousers down far enough that I could take my cock out, coordinating the bob of my head with the movement of my hand. If I didn’t make myself come, Baxter would feel obliged to rectify that, and I was deadly serious about him not doing anything but lie there.
“Close,” Baxter said after a short while, his good hand settling on top of my head. “Don’t stop.”
I slid my mouth off his cock to give his balls some attention, teasing his hole with a saliva-slicked finger at the same time.
I might have protested against fucking him, but there were other ways to stimulate his prostate.
He released a pent-up groan as I slid a digit inside him, curling it slightly to locate the nub of slightly raised flesh.
“Yes,” he panted. “Yes.”
I slid my mouth back over his cock and took him deeper into my throat, abandoning my cock to combine stimulation of his prostate with lengthy sucks that had him arching off the bed.
“Lake, I’m going to…” I ignored the warning and kept up both motions, way past the point where I might have pulled off and finished him with my hand. I wanted to swallow his cum. If he’d fallen off the roof today, I would never have gotten the chance, and that would have been a crime.
I took him even deeper, and he convulsed, shooting a load down the back of my throat.
I swallowed every drop and then licked him clean.
Only then did I sit up and resume stroking my cock.
Baxter watched me from beneath hooded eyelids, his cheeks flushed from the orgasm, and his chest still rising and falling rapidly.
“Are you going to come for me?” he asked.
“Yeah.” My hand moved faster, the orgasm so damn close.
“I love you, Lake Larson.”
That was it. I’d had dirty talk trigger an orgasm before, but never words of love.
Yet, it was ten times hotter than any dirty talk, sending me instantaneously past the point of no return.
The world receded, Baxter laughing softly when I finally came back to myself and opened my eyes to find his chest splattered with cum.
“That was hot,” he said.
A tear escaped, and I dashed it away.
Baxter pulled me on top of him, ignoring my protests about his bruising and insisting he wouldn’t break. I buried my face in his shoulder and gave in to the surge of emotion.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” I said after a while, when the tears kept coming and I couldn’t get them to stop.
Baxter stroked my hair. “Shit day. Stress. Peril. Relief. Orgasm. Love.”
Yeah, I guess that list summed it up. It would probably be weird if I hadn’t had an emotional reaction to it. “You’re not crying.”
“I’m drugged up to the eyeballs. You want some?”
I laughed, and that made me cry again.