Chapter Twenty-Five Jeremy
She licks her lips. My final leash of control is in shreds.
I move forward, but my stupid stomach prop is in the way.
Irritated and horny, I step aside, reach to the back of my shirt, and pull the whole thing off: shirt and the foam padding attached to it. The slight sheen of sweat chills me for a second, but my blood turns to fire when she places her hands on my bare chest.
Three things hit me all at once.
One. My cock is so hard, it hurts.
Two. Vanya’s features are relaxed in a way I’ve never seen before. I’ve stared at her at every chance. At the moment, her tranquil face is so unexpectedly vulnerable, it makes me ache. I want to deserve her vulnerability. I want to worship it.
Three. There is no point denying that I am headfirst—Santa costume and all—falling in love with my doctor.
“Can I touch you there?” she asks before lowering her eyes to indicate exactly where she wants to touch me. Vanya bites into her lower lip nervously. As if I am remotely capable of saying no.
By way of answer, I guide one of her hands past the adjustable cinched waist so she can feel how much I want her.
“Here?” I say with a smirk.
Her fingers clench and the sensation wipes that smirk off my face.
She nods and slips inside my boxers, skin to skin. Her grip tightens. She tries to wrap her hand around my dick. It feels so good, I need to lean on the lockers to keep myself up.
We both watch the lewd sight of her arm buried in my Santa trousers, pumping in steady, confident strokes. When she swipes the pre-cum leaking off my thick head, we both moan. The telltale sign of lava down my back warns me that I’m precariously teetering on the edge. I grab her hand to stall the movement.
“Kiss me,” I beg.
She grabs my shoulders and pulls me down. Our kiss is hot and ravenous. A supple breast fills my grip while I pinch the hard nipple. She sighs a muffled “yes.” My other hand kneads her backside.
“Been dreaming of grabbing this ass for a long time,” I mumble while greedily sucking her lower lip, her neck, her earlobe.
My doctor’s cold indifference is replaced by unleashed passion. She’s clinging, meowling, and grinding. I help lift her leg over my hip so she can grind her center against my thigh. She’s lucky we’re both wearing pants. It’s just enough fabric to buffer the intensity. Otherwise, these red Santa trousers would no longer be suitable for the public.
“Can’t stop thinking about eating your pussy, Vanya. I wake up hard at the memory, do you know that? Every fucking morning I jerk off remembering how goddamn wet and sweet you are.”
What I don’t say is how unusual that is. How I’ve never considered sex to be an essential part of my life until she came around.
I’m not a stranger to arousal, but sexual contact has always required intimacy beyond the physical. Gina, my girlfriend in high school, was my first. A long-distance relationship wasn’t in the cards for us when she accepted a scholarship in California. While at college, I met Megan. We dated for a year, but my schedule was intense, and her patience was thin. Those are the only two women I’ve ever cared for enough to be with intimately. But even with them, I never experienced mindless lust like I do with Vanya.
Chasing casual sex, like some of my teammates do as if it’s a second job, has always been a mystery to me. Until Vanya came around, I thought I was immune to this level of desperation.
Her fingers dig into my shoulder for leverage as she shifts to ride my thigh. “You fe-feel too good. I’m…I’m…”
I pinch her nipple and kiss her hard. Sucking her tongue while stimulating her breasts, I focus on her needs. Our mouths are moving to the same rhythm as her gyrating body. Her movements turn erratic. She stiffens and then gasps into my mouth. Vanya’s back racks and she shivers through an orgasm.
“Fuck that’s so hot,” I rasp in desperation.
“I can’t believe I’m in a locker room doing this,” she says incredulously while dropping her forehead on my shoulder.
I brace myself for regret or denial, but neither comes.
Instead, Vanya kisses my shoulder. She plants wet lips along my collarbone. My brain short-circuits when she grazes each of my nipples with her pillowy mouth. She licks down the center trench of my abdominals, goes down on her knees, and looks up with a sultry smile.
Our gazes stay locked while she pulls at the drawstring keeping the pants up. My dick is a rude, blunt rod peeking over the elastic of my underwear.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” she mumbles. “Is the door locked?”
“What? No. Fuck, what are you doing? Vanya. Dammit, yes. Yes .”
My words are incoherent and choppy because she’s wrapped her mouth around the crown and pumped with two hands from the base. It feels unbelievably sensual. Logic evacuates my brain. My hips jerk forward in reflex. I feel her moan as she takes me deeper.
“You need to stop, beautiful. Or you need to take it all.”
She nods and hums and quickens her pace, wet heat tightening around me. When I feel the back of her throat relax and pulse around the head of my cock, I’m lost. There’s no turning back.
“I’m gonna come so fucking hard in your mouth. Is that what you want?”
Suction hollows out her cheeks and eviscerates all semblance of restraint. I’ve never come this forcefully. The pulsing surges me forward. Vanya clings to my legs even as she struggles to take all of me. She’s on her knees, eyelids fluttering and cum leaking from the corners of her mouth. A caveman’s satisfaction crowds my civilized brain when I bend down to reach around her neck. The sensation against my palm as she swallows my seed is another level of sensuality. Fuck, this woman is everything. Gorgeous. Perfect. Fucking mine.
I want to scream to announce that we’re eloping tomorrow. OK, that’s an exaggeration. But is it? Fuck if I know. Unplanned, life-altering decisions are evidently the result of a Vanya Kapur blowjob. This woman should put a warning label on her lab coat.
I lift her up to wrap her in a hug. She’s still fully dressed. That fact creates a different chain of thinking: I want to see her skin, run my hands along her thighs, watch her come apart while I’m inside her. Why haven’t I seen her breasts by now? Feeling them was heaven. I can only imagine what it would be like to dive my face between them and drown in her herbal scent.
My fantasy erases all logic. “Let’s get out of here,” I state.
“What?” She pulls away abruptly. “Aren’t they expecting you outside?”
I chuckle darkly. “In front of a lot of people is the last place I want to be. Not when I’m obsessed with getting you on a bed.”
“No! I mean, yes, but…not now. People depend on you, and I haven’t even helped with the books.”
I hold her pretty face in the cradle of my hands and kiss her nose.
“You expect me to play Santa Claus after you sucked me off so good? I’m not that good of an actor, doc. I’m a little distracted about grabbing this ass with both hands while we’re naked.”
I move my palms along her side before kneading her ass possessively. It fills my hands like she’s made for me. I am obsessed. If Vanya’s curves end up killing me, it will have been a worthy death.
She extricates herself from my clutches and bends to get my discarded shirt. Giving it a shake and a brush of her hand to smooth out the wrinkles, she gently places it on a bench. She does the same thing with the large, fuzzy jacket. Then, she lifts my pants and tightens the waist fastener. My stupid dick misinterprets the meaning of her proximity and tingles with awareness. My stupid, optimistic cock is sorely disappointed when she steps back.
“I’m pretty sure your fifteen-minute break is up,” she says with a grin.
“Vanya, I’ll go out there to wrap this up, but we’re not done.”
I’m deadly serious. If she thinks this is a one-off like that night in the basement, she is sorely mistaken.
“I know, Jeremy,” she sighs tenderly. “Now be a good Santa and meet me at the books when you’re finished.”
She exits the locker room, leaving behind a lingering herbal aroma and the memory of her mouth around my cock. Fuck, that was incredible. The thought surges blood south because I want her again.
I have the genius idea that the sooner I get this done, the sooner I can be alone with her. The sooner I finish the shift, the sooner I can smell her hair and nap on her breasts and lick her skin.
Fixing, realigning, and smoothing down the costume takes me less than two minutes when I’m this motivated.
Once reestablished on my silly Santa throne, I try to focus on the kids and their posing families. Everyone is a little high on sugar, I think, so they’re as restless as I am.
But it isn’t holiday cookies that has my body buzzing. It’s the woman across the gym, organizing books and helping kids pick a few to bring home. Without her lab jacket and iPad, without the barrier of all the rules she’s scared of breaking, without the heavy mantle of responsibility, Vanya shows a new dimension of herself.
I love each version of her, but this one enchants me. She’s light on her feet and quick with her laughter. There’s not much interest in extending conversations with other adults, but the kids are a different story. Delight emanates from Vanya when a kid holds her hand or hugs a book. One of them must have asked her to read together because she pulls up two chairs and lowers her head so she can be heard despite the incessant buzz of people winding down the Christmas gathering.
“Are you trying to communicate telepathically or just admiring from afar?” Ursula quips. She’s the teenager who logs volunteer hours by playing an elf every Christmas.
“Huh?”
“The doctor who fixed the kid’s wrist. At this rate, you’re either going to end up with a date or a restraining order.”
If she only knew.
“Thanks, Ursula, for your stellar observations,” I utter sarcastically. “I’ll get out of this itchy costume then help clean up.”
When I’m finally changed, I don’t get the chance to help Ursula. Adults and kids swarm me for autographs and hockey talk. It’s only when the ushers start leading families out of the gym that I get a chance to find Vanya. I indulge in a glance at her pear-shaped hips and rounded backside. Grabbing her from behind in front of a gym full of people would be a terrible idea. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to, though.
She’s folding up boxes for recycling, because most of the books were claimed. Her smile, when I approach her, is pure sunshine.
“Are you ready to—”
“Vanya! Thank you so much!” my mother gushes. I love my mom to death, but she doesn’t always have the best timing. “Merry Christmas, dear. Did you have fun?”
“It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Vanya answers. Her sincerity is palpable, like it’s not a polite expression but a reluctant admission.
“Good! I’m going to Rose and Ken’s to relax and grab a drink. Do you want to join us?”
“We’ve got plans,” I state while leaning down to give my mom a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mom. Don’t wait up for me, OK?”
“Ha! I haven’t done that in years.” She pats my cheek affectionately. “Have fun. And Vanya?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for everything you’re doing to help diagnose and treat Jeremy’s condition. I thought Kyle was a blessing, and he is! But you, my dear, are a miracle.”
“Mom—”
“Let me finish. It’s important to give praise when it’s deserved.”
Vanya blanches but my mother doesn’t notice.
“As a woman in the field of medicine, you probably have to work ten times harder than most men. And heaven knows dealing with demanding hockey players can’t be easy.”
She pauses before saying the worst cock-blocking, buzz-killing sentence imaginable.
“Thank you, Vanya, for being the best doctor Jeremy could have.”