Chapter Fourteen Vanya
Instead of answering, Jeremy undoes his shirt sleeves to roll them up. The ripple of his wide, muscular back under the white shirt is sexier than the last time I saw a shirtless man. That’s saying a lot, considering I was in a treatment room filled with stripped-down hockey players.
Dammit Vanya, what nonsense is this?
The basement is dank and dark with a faint smell of mildew. Stacks of old cardboard boxes line the walls. A shelf brims with obsolete electronics, plastic boxes, and old shoes. It’s even colder down here. Jeremy hits his head on the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, making it swing like we’re in a horror flick.
In one tight corner of the basement, metal pipes snake up the wall. There are a few units side by side, stacked against each other like a decrepit cityscape. Jeremy kneels beside a rusted thing with peeling paint and a squeaky access door.
“When did it stop working?” he asks.
“I’m not sure exactly when. I was at the clinic all day and only came home to change before the game.”
“But it worked yesterday?”
“Do you know what you’re doing? I should wait for a repair man.”
It’s a moot point, because Jeremy’s phone flashlight makes clear that he knows his way around furnaces and whatnot. Is there anything hotter than a guy who knows how to repair stuff?
Yes, Vanya. A guy who can repair stuff while wearing Armani pants over bulky, hockey-player thighs is way hotter.
“It’s the pilot light,” Jeremy declares. “Can you find me a lighter or matches?”
“Um, yeah, in the kitchen.” I hurry upstairs to grab the matches and another flashlight.
When I return, I find him rummaging through a toolbox. He pulls out a rag.
“The thermocouple is under a layer of soot. I’ll clean it with a degreaser tomorrow, but it won’t hurt to wipe it down.”
“How do you know all these things?”
“It’s simple maintenance. My mom and I couldn’t afford repair services, so I used YouTube to get the basics.” He crouches down with the matches. “Can you hold it right here?” he instructs, pointing at an angle so the flashlight I’m holding casts the least shadow.
With a practiced hand, he wipes some things down and then fiddles with valves and knobs. Jeremy strikes a match, the sulfuric scent briefly cutting through the basement’s musty odor. There’s a faint whoosh as a light flickers. He holds down a button for a few more seconds, both of us watching the steady blue flame, then releases it while turning the valve to an “on” position. The furnace roars to life. A reassuring hum fills the basement.
“You can turn the flashlight off now,” he instructs.
I hadn’t realized that I was still shining a light on his capable hands, clasped together while his elbows rest on his knees.
I turn it off. He stands. We hadn’t calculated our distance properly, so the movement puts us close. Too close.
Our breaths intermingle, warming my face. I want to lean closer for more warmth. Which is exactly why I do the opposite: step away till my back hits a wall.
Jeremy watches intently. My back is against a cold wall, but all I feel is the scorching current of barely restrained energy between us. My vocal cords clamor to express something, anything, that will snap the tension. But nothing comes out except heavy, labored breathing. I’m as enthralled as I am anxious, because one look at Jeremy reveals his desire to come closer. I want him to.
Without my brain’s permission, my hand reaches out to him. He doesn’t hesitate. Jeremy eliminates the distance between us. He doesn’t touch me, though. Simply stares and waits.
The dim lightbulb casts enough glow to reveal Jeremy’s lips at eye level. They’re lush and slightly parted. I get a hint of mint. Inhaling shakily, I relish his smell. Jeremy sways closer. I lean over slightly so I can get more of his delectable aroma: a contradictory combination of roughened leather and smooth honey.
“Fuck, Vanya. Don’t look at me like that unless you want me to kiss you.”
His Adam’s apple moves rapidly. I reach over to touch it, soothe it, feel it. The second I make contact, he presses against me. Jeremy’s arms weave around my waist.
“God, you feel incredible. And why do you smell so fucking good?” His voice is rough and severe, like he’s making an accusation instead of stating a compliment.
“You, um, you sh-shouldn’t have come here.” My stammering is caused by the shivers running up and down my spine. Shivers not from cold, but from need.
“I-it, it makes it hard to remember,” I ramble nonsense because it is a struggle to be coherent even to myself when his hands roam my back. Jeremy grips my hips and, in response to that possessive hold, my traitorous body yields.
“To remember what?”
“That you’re my…” The words come out strangled. I’ve never felt this intoxicated by air . The air between us is a potent mix of confusing desires and conflicting thoughts. And heat. So much heat within me and between us. “That…that you’re my patient.”
“I’m a guy helping out my neighbor,” he whispers into my ear and short-circuits my brain’s synapses. “And you’re the gorgeous woman across the street I can’t stop thinking about.”
A fraction of an inch. That’s all it takes for me to turn my head and our lips to meet. It’s a gentle press at first, a mere graze. I gasp at how delicious he tastes. He takes it as an invitation to tease my lower lip with his tongue. I’m too lost to stop him. Too lost to stop myself. Our tongues tangle in an earnest rhythm like neither can get enough.
No, Vanya! Nooooo!
Jeremy’s hand tangles into my hair when he tilts my head to deepen our kiss, wiping all objections clean from my brain. He confidently entangles his tongue with mine, sweeping in strokes so perfect, I let out a helpless whimper. He eats my sounds. Sucks them from me before grazing his teeth on my bottom lip. Then he goes back in with urgency, a man possessed.
I’ve never been kissed like this. I shouldn’t be kissed like this.
My hands push against him. Jeremy stops immediately but doesn’t pull away. With our foreheads leaning, we catch our breath.
“We can’t.”
“No, we can’t,” he agrees.
Still, we cling to each other.
“This is a mistake, Jeremy.”
“It doesn’t feel like a mistake,” he mutters into the skin on my jaw. Running kisses along my earlobe, down the side of my neck, his words are muffled by my hair. “It feels incredible.”
“You…you can’t say that. We have to stop.”
He inhales deeply, face still buried in my neck. When he speaks, it’s gravelly and low. “One more, Vanya. One more kiss, then I’ll go.”
My entire body screams yes , and he feels it. I close my eyes and nod. My mouth trembles with eager anticipation.
“Wha-what are you doing?” I ask in shock.
Jeremy has dropped to his knees. His strong hands cup my ass possessively while he looks up with crazed eyes.
“If I only get one more kiss, Vanya, I need more of you.”
He finds the edge of my leggings. Those capable fingers tease the skin around my bellybutton. Slowly, giving me plenty of time to resist, Jeremy pulls at my pants and underwear. In a daze, I watch him toss my clothes over his shoulder. He leans into my center and moans.
“You’re so wet. Open up so I can take all of you.”
I’m mesmerized by the sight of Jeremy panting heavily while he stares at my body. I should be ashamed, shouldn’t I? That I let him undress me. That I’m so damn wet.
“We can’t,” I mutter, voice weak and legs wobbly.
“Shhhh,” he says against my opening, sending blissful sensations through me. “I’ll make you feel so good, Vanya. Now spread those thighs like I know you want to.”
God, I want to. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything this much. The demanding attention. The sensual closeness. The torrid lust.
Jeremy kneeling and leaning into my most intimate parts looks like a man in the middle of worshipping the very thing he plans to ravish. I might be physically staring down at him, but Jeremy is the one holding me up.
Just once I want to shut my brain off and let someone else take over.
Just once I want to be held possessively and desired with abandon.
Just once I want to give in and feel everything.
I shift my balance and lean on the wall. Jeremy lifts one leg to rest over his mountainous shoulder. He begins to kiss me. He starts with gentle, teasing brushes of his lips over quivering folds. Then he flattens his tongue against my clitoris and swirls it till the ache morphs into pleasure. My hands grab his hair, his shoulders, anything I can cling to before the inevitable free fall because I know, I know he’s about to ruin me.
Jeremy abandons all restraint and delves with his tongue, stroking my depths one moment and French kissing my folds the next. He devours me as if he’s a man whose craving can never be satisfied. Humming and moaning, Jeremy is relentless. I am undone by erotic sensations I’ve never felt before. My entire body concentrates to a single, throbbing point. Then, Jeremy sucks my clit. My back racks. My hips thrust. My breathing stops. An orgasm as strong and electrifying as lightning sears my body. It goes on and on. I’m powerless to stop the current rushing through my veins.
When the climax abates and the pulsing turns to shivers, I hit the solid ground of reality. My feet settle back to the hard floor of a dank basement. I open my eyes. Consciousness returns, and with it, shock and shame.
Did I really let my patient eat me out as I grabbed his hair and rode his shoulders?
Yes, Vanya. That is exactly what you did.
Jeremy is still lowered, sitting on his heels. His mouth and chin are drenched, glistening with my cum. Eyes lowered and nostrils flared, Jeremy is the most gloriously decadent sight of male need. He needs me .
That thought pushes everything else away. The shock and shame dissipate like clearing fog. In its place is another reality that demands my attention. Jeremy’s desire is clear. Although he doesn’t speak, his longing keeps us both under a powerful spell. At the edges of my delirium, I cling to one fact: only I can take him where he’s aching to go. Only me.
That’s a dangerous thought, Vanya.
I shut out the warning, because nothing is more crucial than giving him pleasure, too. It makes me reckless.
“Take it out. I want to see you.” My every word is laced with desperation.
He chuckles darkly while tugging at his belt. The sound of his zipper is the sound of my undoing. When I see his thick cock, hard and insistent, something in me unfurls. A possessiveness so strong, it’s nearly painful. Jeremy Lopez is hard for me. Me. The realization is intoxicating.
“Is this what you want, Dr. Kapur? Me on my knees and desperate for you?”
My title on his lips should startle me. Instead, my core tightens. Most of his clothes are still in place, but Jeremy lets himself be as vulnerable as I feel. In this dark, underground space, both of us can explore what we know cannot be seen in the light of day. This cannot be happening.
This shouldn’t be happening.
He licks his lips. The pumps quicken. “You taste so good, Vanya. How am I supposed to last knowing how good my doctor’s pussy takes my tongue? Fuuuck, I can’t stop,” he pants.
It’s too much to witness something so sensual and vulnerable and gorgeous. My hand strays to where I felt his tongue. Arousal surges through me. I can’t help but press against the throbbing need that builds.
“That’s it. Get off on watching me fall apart for you.”
I stare in awe at the forbidden sight of Jeremy’s explosion. White ribbons shoot so high they hit my clothes and the bared skin of my upper thighs, marking me with their scorching heat. He does not look away while assaulting his dick with angry pumps. Longing floods his features even as he chases down a climax that goes far longer than I ever thought possible.
Drained and unraveled, he is nothing less than the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Bad doctor. Bad, bad, bad.