CHAPTER 11 #2
She kissed me back with an unbridled enthusiasm, her tongue teasing mine for a brief, electric second before she playfully pulled away, her eyes bright with curiosity as she looked up at me.
“You know that woman?” she asked, gesturing toward the television screen with her chin. “The news anchor said she’s been missing for days. Some doctor's patient or something.”
My heart didn't skip a beat. My pulse remained perfectly steady, a calm, rhythmic seventy beats per minute.
I looked at the television, then back down at Ciara, letting a heavy, somber shadow fall over my features.
I kept my voice perfectly steady, laced with just the correct, professional amount of quiet concern and grief.
“Yes,” I murmured, letting my eyes drop for a brief second before looking back at her. “I know her. She’s my patient, actually.”
I forced a single, perfect tear to well up in the corner of my right eye, letting it glisten under the bright kitchen lights before it began its slow, dramatic descent down my cheek.
“Really?” Ciara’s voice softened instantly, her tough, Houston exterior melting away to reveal the deep, empathetic heart I had grown to adore. She set the spatula down and stepped closer, her face filled with genuine concern. “Oh, Joshua… I hope she’s not dead. I hope they find her soon.”
She reached up, her warm, soft fingers gently wiping the fake tear from my cheek. The touch was so tender, so entirely pure, that for a fraction of a second, I felt a strange, hollow ache in my chest.
“I hope so too,” I said, my voice cracking slightly with a perfectly executed sniff.
I cleared my throat, playing the part of the grieving, dedicated clinician to absolute perfection.
“She was one of my favorite patients, Ciara. She was showing such incredible progress, overcoming so much trauma. To hear that she’s just… gone? It’s devastating.”
“Don’t cry, Joshua,” Ciara said softly, her hand moving to my back, rubbing the hard muscles of my spine in a slow, soothing circle.
“I’m sure she’ll return soon. You know how people are when they get overwhelmed.
She’s probably just off with some guy in another state, enjoying herself, wanting to be left alone for a while to clear her head.
People do wild things when they’re stressed. ”
“I suppose you’re right, Ciara,” I said, letting out a soft, heavy sigh as I allowed myself to be "consoled" by her.
The performance was flawless—years of clinical practice, of mirroring human emotion to build rapport, had made me a master of the craft.
No one, not even a woman as intuitive as Ciara, could see the cold, calculating intelligence operating behind my eyes.
I stepped back slightly, offering her a small, grateful smile, effectively shifting the heavy mood of the room. “Mmm. Let’s not dwell on the darkness this morning. Something sure smells incredible in here.”
Ciara’s face lit up, a bright, triumphant smile spreading across her lips as she stepped back toward the stove.
“Thanks, baby. I woke up absolutely starving, and since you were sleeping like a giant baby, I decided I was going to whip up something proper for both of us to eat. We got thick-cut hickory bacon, farm-fresh scrambled eggs with a little heavy cream to make ’em fluffy, toasted sourdough, and I already got the French press coffee brewing. ”
She stepped aside, gesturing proudly to the culinary spread laid out on the black quartz countertops.
The bacon was sizzling perfectly in my cast-iron skillet, the edges curling into crispy, deep-red ribbons of fat.
The eggs were a beautiful, golden-yellow mound, perfectly set, and the rich, earthy, and robust aroma of freshly ground dark roast coffee filled the air, mixing with the smoky scent of the meat.
“I see you really know your way around a kitchen,” I laughed, genuinely impressed.
I reached over and picked up the remote control from the island, pointing it at the television.
With a quick press of the button, the CNN broadcast vanished, the anchor’s voice cut off mid-sentence.
I didn't need the distraction of Amanda’s ghost lingering in the room while I had a masterpiece of a woman standing in front of me.
“Of course I do,” Ciara said, her eyes trailing the movement of the remote before she looked back up at me, a playful, slightly sassy pout on her lips. “My momma taught me well, Joshua. I don’t just look good; I can actually take care of a man. But hey, I was actually watching that news, you know.”
“The news is entirely too negative for a beautiful morning like this,” I murmured, my voice dropping into a dark, purring register.
I tossed the remote onto the counter and stepped up behind her, my massive body completely enveloping her smaller, curved frame.
I pressed my chest firmly against her back, my hands sliding down to grip her hips.
The heat radiating off her backside was intense, the fabric of my white shirt doing nothing to hide the soft, heavy curve of her glutes pressing directly against my lower half.
I leaned down, my lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck, right below her ear, sending a violent shiver through her body. “Besides,” I whispered, my teeth gently grazing her lobe, “I’m the only thing you need to be watching right now.”
Ciara let out a soft, breathy laugh, her hands coming up to wrap around my neck as I hoisted her effortlessly onto the edge of the black quartz counter. She spread her thick, gorgeous thighs, allowing me to step directly between them, our bodies locking together like puzzle pieces.
“Oh, so we’re being bad this morning, Doc?” she teased, her dark eyes flashing with a wicked, heavy anticipation.
“I am merely conducting a follow-up assessment,” I murmured against her lips.
I captured her mouth before she could reply.
The kiss was deep, hungry, and instantly explosive.
Our tongues danced, wrestling in a slow, possessive rhythm that shattered whatever quiet remained in the kitchen.
Ciara let out a low, trembling moan, her fingers burying themselves in my tangled blonde hair, pulling me closer as if she wanted to pull me entirely inside her.
Without breaking the kiss, my hand slid down the smooth, warm skin of her thigh, pushing the oversized white shirt up to her waist. I found the thin, damp silk of her red panties and slid them to the side, my long, blunt fingers immediately finding the swollen, soaking-wet heat of her pussy.
Ciara’s eyes flew open, a sharp, ragged gasp escaping her lips as my fingers slipped easily into her tight, dripping depths.
“Joshua… fuck,” she whined, her head falling back against the cabinet doors behind her as I began to stroke her, my thumb sliding up to find the hard, sensitive bead of her clit.
I broke the kiss, dragging my lips down her jawline, down the column of her throat, before violently pulling the cotton shirt down, exposing her full, heavy breasts.
Her dark, prominent nipples were already stiff, pointing proudly toward me.
I took the left one into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the dark areola before I began to suck on it hard, drawing a sharp, high-pitched scream of pleasure from her throat.
I reached back with one hand, blindly turning the dial of the stove to shut off the burner, ensuring the breakfast wouldn't burn while we consumed something far more primal.
I slid off the counter, dropping to my knees on the cold marble floor. I gripped her thick, smooth thighs, pulling them wide apart, and buried my face directly between her legs.
The scent of her was overwhelming—pure, concentrated woman, mixed with the sharp, sweet tang of her intense arousal.
I pressed my mouth against her wet pussy, my tongue thrusting deep inside her, exploring her tight, hot depths with a clinical, relentless precision.
I used my thumb to rub her clit in firm, heavy circles, matching the fast, driving rhythm of my tongue.
Ciara shuddered violently, her fingers clawing at my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin as she thrashed against the counter.
“Yeah, ruin me right here on the counter, Doc. Drink every single drop of this wetness, strip me clean. Oh fuck, you know exactly where to bite, don't you?” she shrieked, her hips bucking up as her voice shattered the quiet of the high-ceilinged room.
She was incredibly sensitive, her body responding to my touch with a speed that was absolutely thrilling.
Within seconds, her pussy began to spasm, her muscles clamping down tightly around my tongue as a massive, electric wave of pleasure crashed through her.
A heavy flood of her sweet, hot juices poured over my mouth and chin.
I lapped up every single drop of her nectar, my tongue continuing to swirl around her clit until her shaking thighs finally went lax.
***
I stood up slowly, my chest heaving, my chin glistening with her moisture. I reached down and unzipped my lounge pants, freeing my massive, hard cock. It sprang free, thick, heavily veined, and dripping with pre-cum.
Ciara looked down at it, her eyes dark, wide, and heavy with a desperate, animalistic lust. She reached out, her wet fingers wrapping around the shaft, stroking it once, twice, before pulling me toward her.
In one smooth, powerful thrust, I drove myself deep inside her.
“Ahhh!” Ciara cried out, her head slamming back against the cabinets as her tight, soaking-wet walls stretched wide to accommodate my thick girth.
She wrapped her thick legs tightly around my waist, locking me in as I began to fuck her hard against the counter.
The wet, slapping sounds of our bodies meeting echoed loudly, the counter shaking slightly under the sheer force of our momentum.
I reached up, my large hand wrapping gently around the smooth column of her throat—not to hurt her, but to assert my dominance, to pin her to the spot.