Chapter 21
The city went to sleep hours ago. And I’m late. Not disastrously late, but late enough that my internal clock cringes a little with every second it ticks past midnight.
This is what happens when I try to do something domestic.
It sounded simple enough in my head. A home-cooked meal for Blake.
Except, somewhere between the stove and reality, everything went sideways because I don’t cook.
At all. I can operate surveillance systems, make decisions under fire, and snipe a guy from five hundred yards practically in my sleep.
But put me in a kitchen, and suddenly, I’m incapable of working under pressure or reading instructions.
Cooking her dinner took longer than it should have.
Way longer. Apparently, you can’t just turn the heat up to make it go faster.
At least not unless you want charbroiled everything.
I learned that lesson the hard way. After watching me with the long-suffering patience of a man who was physically pained at the chaos I was creating, Damon stepped in.
The meal I was cooking was apparently no longer salvageable, and he had to start from scratch. I hovered uselessly, holding lids and stirring when instructed, as I checked the clock every few minutes, realizing there was no way I was going to make it to our date on time.
Parked in front of the hospital, my stride is a little too fast as I cut through the handful of vendors near the entrance who stay open late for the hospital staff.
The food in my bag is enough, but my feet stop anyway when I reach an elderly man at a corner stall, closing up for the night, buckets of flowers half-covered with canvas.
“You still open?” I ask, and he looks up at me with a tired squint.
“For you, I open again.”
I grin, pulling back the canvas and crouching to scan what’s left. I settle on a bundle of wildflowers bundled in twine, with the beautifully vivid colors bleeding together. “These.” I lift them from the bucket.
“Good choice.” He nods. “Those are resilient and stubborn.” I pay him more than he asks and jog the rest of the way to the hospital.
When I reach the entrance, I check my watch again.
Fuck… I’m really late. Inside, I head straight to the nurses’ station.
It’s controlled chaos—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, and tired voices laced with dark medical humor.
I spot Blake immediately. She is leaning against the counter, arms folded tight across her chest, talking to a nurse with dark curls and sharp eyes. “Hey.” I approach, lifting the flowers in a peace offering for my late arrival.
She looks up with a smile. But her smile looks different… muted. Like someone turned her dimmer switch down. “Hi,” she greets me, breathily like the word is caught in her throat.
“For you.” I hand over the bouquet, and her fingers brush mine as she takes them. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“These are beautiful. Thank you.”
The dark haired woman clears her throat and reaches for the gift. “I’m Zahra. And I’m going to put these in water, so I can be… literally anywhere else.”
Blake nods with a fake smile before looking at me. Her shoulders are tight with tension, and she keeps rubbing anxiously at her wrist. Keeping my voice light as I quickly study her. “You okay, Doc?”
“Yeah,” she answers quickly. Too quickly. “Just a rough shift.”
I dip my head, accepting her lie. “You hungry?”
“Starving.” She lets the charge nurse know that she is taking a dinner break. Lightly gripping the front of my shirt, she gives a gentle tug. “Come on.”
She leads me around the corner, past patient rooms, to the staff lounge.
When she pushes open the door, she freezes immediately at the nurses crowded around the table and an elderly doctor sprawled on the couch, his mouth open and snoring softly.
One of the nurses looks up and says, “We can make room.”
“That’s okay.” Blake steps backward, letting the door fall shut. Turning to look over her shoulder, she shares, “I know somewhere else we can go.”
I follow her without question, down a maze of unoccupied hallways.
Unlike the rest of the hospital, it’s so quiet here that our footsteps echo in the almost silence.
She leads us into a stairwell, the door swinging shut with a heavy thud, sealing us in the quiet space.
The air in here is dusty and stale, but it’s private.
“No one ever comes back here. We can eat uninterrupted.”
Sitting on the steps, we are close enough that our thighs brush.
The touch sends a jolt of excitement straight through me.
I set my bag down at our feet and unpack her dinner.
I pass her the Tupperware, a bottle of grape juice—in lieu of wine because she’s working—and silverware, before zipping up my bag.
She glances at it and then at me. “Where’s yours? ”
“I ate earlier with the guys.” I reach up, my thumb tracing her jaw and coaxing her gaze back to mine.
Leaning in, I press a soft, wet kiss against her lips, tasting the lingering taste of hospital coffee on them.
I tease the drawstring of her scrub bottoms when I pull back a hair.
“But trust me, I still have plenty of room for dessert.”
Her eyes darkening, she exhales my name. “Jagger…”
“Blake…” I teasingly mock her admonishing tone.
Taking the still-unopened container of food from her hands, I set it a couple of steps behind us before gripping her waist and lifting.
I stand her between my knees and gently pull at the string, loosening the bow further.
“You said no one comes back here, and that you’re having a rough day,” I murmur, my fingertips running along the elastic of her panties, the lilac fabric soft against my skin.
Her breath hitches as I continue to draw a line where the fabric rests against the skin.
My voice low and gravelly with want, I ask, “Can I make you feel better, Doc?”
Her head bobs in a quick, jerky motion as her eyes widen.
“I can’t hear you,” I softly growl, my thumb pressing into the hollow of her hip.
“Yes, Daddy.” The words are barely a whisper, but they cause my cock to jerk against my zipper.
After pulling off her sneakers, I work her pants down her legs—the fabric momentarily catching on her dainty feet—and hang them over the railing beside me.
I walk her backward until she is pressed against the metal door, the sudden chill making her gasp.
Her nipples tighten instantly against the thin fabric of her scrub top, little peaks practically begging for my attention.
I drop to my knees before her, the concrete rough even through my jeans. Her eyes widen as I position myself between her legs. Looking up at her from this angle, she looks like a goddess… Strong, capable, and so beautifully vulnerable with her thighs spread for me.
I pepper kisses across her hips, my stubble scraping against her sensitive skin. She shivers as her fingers tangle in my hair. “Jagger…”
When I lift her leg over my shoulder, her balance wavers for a moment before she steadies herself.
I kiss up her thigh, my tongue tracing patterns against her skin, tasting the slight saltiness of her sweat from a long shift.
With my free hand, I pull her panties aside, revealing the swollen lips of her pussy.
She’s already wet and glistening, causing my mouth to water.
“Look at you,” I breathe. “So ready for me.”
I press a soft kiss to her clit, and she jolts, a choked sound escaping her throat. “Please…”
“Please, what, Doc?” I ask, cupping her ass in my hand. Pulling her closer, my other hand guides her other leg over my shoulder, effectively balancing her on my face and spreading her pussy wide for me.
“Please touch me,” she breathlessly begs.
I lick a slow stripe from her entrance to her clit, savoring her slightly metallic and sweet taste. Her hips buck against my mouth, fingers tightening in my hair. “Daddy…”
A pleased groan rattles from me, vibrating against her as I pull her clit into my mouth.
I work her with my tongue, alternating between broad, flat strokes and quick, precise flicks.
Her breathing grows ragged, little pants and whimpers that echo in the concrete stairwell.
I suck and tease her clit as her hips begin to rock as she seeks more friction.
She’s so close. I can feel it in the taut muscles of her thighs and the way her breath hitches when she moans.
“Come for me,” I command, my voice muffled against her. “Come all over Daddy’s face.”
Her back arches, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she shatters, and a wave of pleasure washes through her.
I don’t stop, working her through it and extending her pleasure until she’s whimpering from oversensitivity.
When she starts to come down, I redouble my efforts.
“Not done yet,” I groan. “Daddy wants another.”
“Jagger, I can’t,” she pants, trying to pull away.
“Yes, you can,” I insist. “You’ll take what Daddy gives you, won’t you? Because you want to be a good girl for me.”
I rub the flat of my tongue against her clit, pressing hard as I ease a finger into her.
Pumping it in and out of her, the dual stimulation is too much, and she builds quickly toward another release.
Her moans and whimpers are continuous, a constant stream of pleasure that makes my cock ache with need.
“Yes, Daddy… There…” she babbles, lost in the euphoric sensation.
“That’s it. Show me how much you love my mouth on your pretty pussy.”
She comes with a scream that she quickly muffles with the back of her hand.
Her whole body convulses, her thighs squeezing my head so tight I can barely breathe.
I pepper soft kisses against her wet lips as she rides out her orgasm.
After slipping her legs from my shoulders, I gently lower her to the ground.
She’s trembling, barely able to support herself.
“Good girl,” I whisper, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss, letting her taste herself from my lips. She moans, pulling me closer as my cock throbs painfully hard, demanding attention.