Chapter 27
The water is a warm, relentless cascade against my back, but all I can feel is the solid wall of Jagger’s chest and the strength in his arms holding me to him.
My soaked scrubs stick to me like a cold second skin.
A stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.
The fabric is heavy, saturated, and weighing me down, just like the memory of the operating room.
The sterile smell of antiseptic still clings to me, mixing with the steam and the clean scent of Jagger’s skin.
My face is buried in the crook of his neck, and my tears fall hot and endless against his skin.
They’re not quiet tears anymore. They are ragged, tearing sobs that rip from my chest with a violence that scares me.
Each cry is a replay of the moment the monitors faltered, the moment my hands—steady for a decade—trembled inside my friend’s abdomen.
I saved Zahra. I know I did. I brought her back.
But the cost… the guilt of seeing the light go out of her eyes because of a decision I made…
feeling that stillness beneath my fingers…
It has left me feeling so empty it hurts.
He just holds me tight, one hand a firm anchor on the small of my back and the other stroking my wet hair, his fingers tenderly tracing the shape of my skull.
The water cascades over us as my limbs tremble with an uncontrollable shivering that has nothing to do with being cold.
It’s a shock reaction. My body is trying to process what my mind refuses to accept.
I close my eyes, but all I see is the gleam of steel under the surgical lights, the crimson stark against white drapes, the faces of the nurses, masked and impassive, as I scream internally.
“Please. Let me help you.” His voice is a low rumble, vibrating through his chest and into mine.
It’s not a demand, but an offering. I want to take it, desperately, but I can’t form the words.
Instead, I sob harder, a fresh wave of agony breaking over me.
I let it all go, the fear, the anger at myself, the bone-deep exhaustion of keeping this secret.
I sob until my lungs burn, my throat is raw, and my heaving shudders subside into small shrugs.
There’s nothing left. I’m completely spent, a rag doll in Jagger’s arms, limp and broken.
Rogue tears track paths down my cheeks, mixing with the shower spray. I’m so tired of this feeling. This hollow, aching void where my heart used to be. I’m tired of the pain. I need… I don’t know what I need. Something else. Anything else.
Slowly, I raise my head. The movement feels immense, as if I’m lifting a lead weight.
My face is inches from his. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, are fixed on mine and full of a concern so deep it’s almost painful to witness.
He sees everything. He always does. He sees the broken pieces of me, scattered on the tiled floor of this shower.
Without thinking, I lean in and press my lips to his.
It’s not a kiss of passion or desire. It’s a kiss of desperation. My lips are soft, trembling, and salty with my tears. He’s still, his mouth hesitant against mine before he pulls back just enough to break the connection. He cups the back of my head a little more firmly to keep us apart.
“Blake, no.” His voice is rough and strained. Jagger thinks he’s protecting me. He thinks I’m not in my right mind, and that I’m acting out of grief. He’s right. But he’s also wrong.
“Please…” I whisper the broken plea. I hold his stare, letting him see the raw need in my eyes.
“I need to feel something else. Not this. I can’t feel this anymore.
This hurts too much.” The words are a confession.
I can’t bear the weight of my own sorrow for another second.
I need him to replace it. I need him to make me forget.
His expression softens, the concern melting into a profound, aching tenderness. His thumb brushes a stray tear from my cheekbone. “Oh, Doc…”
“Please, Daddy…” That lone word changes everything. I see it in his eyes, the shift from concerned lover to something more. A deep, primal need to take care of me.
He searches my face, looking for any hesitation or flicker of uncertainty. “Are you sure?”
I don’t have the words. I can only manage a nod. A single, sharp dip of my chin.
Carefully, he lowers my feet to the floor.
My legs are shaky, and I lean against him for support.
His hands move to the hem of my scrub top, the fabric heavily clinging to me.
He peels it over my head in one slow, deliberate motion.
After dropping the soaked top into a wet heap in the corner of the shower, kneels before me, a powerful man made subservient in his need to care for me.
He unties the drawstring of my pants and slides them, along with my underwear, down my legs.
When they reach my ankles, he removes my sodden sneakers and socks.
Every piece of my uniform—a physical reminder of Zahra’s surgery—is stripped away and discarded in that wet pile.
When he stands, he lifts me into his arms as if I weigh nothing.
My bare skin presses against his, slick and warm.
He holds me tightly, one arm around my waist and the other cupping the back of my head to guide my lips to his.
This time, when our lips touch, I’m not met with rejection.
It’s acceptance. It’s a slow, silent promise that he’s going to take care of me.
As he kisses me, he aligns the thick head of his cock against my entrance.
He eases himself inside, filling the emptiness I’ve been drowning in.
The stretch is overwhelming, crowding out every other thought.
“I’d do anything for you, Doc.” He kisses the words against my lips in a low, possessive growl.
He kisses me thoroughly as he lowers me over his length, letting my body adjust, burying himself until I’m completely impaled. Completely his. I can feel every inch of him, a hot, hard presence anchoring me to him and keeping me safe from the horrors of the past couple of hours.
When he begins to move, his thrusts are tender and deliberate, a gentle rocking that is more about connection than climax.
His lips trail from my mouth and over my jawline, leaving a path of fire in their wake.
He presses them to my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through me when he whispers, “Anything… and everything for you.”
He pulls back slightly, then pushes in again.
It’s a slow, deep glide that causes my breath to catch and my toes to curl.
“I’d walk through fire for you. I’d take on a dozen men to protect you.
I’ll burn this whole fucking city to the ground if I have to.
” His promises come with tender thrusts, each building the pleasure deep in my stomach.
Jagger isn’t fucking me. He’s rewriting me.
Erasing my pain with his touch, his voice, and his unwavering devotion.
“No one will ever hurt you like this again,” he continues, his rhythm never faltering.
“No one. I won’t let them. I’ll be your shield.
I’ll be your safe place.” His hand moves from the back of my head, sliding around to cup my breast. His thumb circles my nipple, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core.
“You’re too precious. Too good. This world doesn’t deserve you, Doc, but you have me. You’ll always have me.”
The pressure inside me builds, a tight coil of heat and emotion winding tighter with every gentle thrust and whispered promise.
It’s not just physical pleasure. It’s emotional catharsis.
His words are a balm, soothing the raw, gaping wound of my soul.
He’s not just filling my body. He’s filling the hollow spaces, driving out the ghosts with his sheer, overwhelming presence.
The water beats down on us, a warm, cleansing rain, and I can finally feel it: The heat of his possessive love all around me. I don’t have to be empty.
“You’re mine, Blake,” he grunts softly, his voice thick with emotion as he pushes deeper, a little harder this time, testing my limits.
His hand on my breast tightens possessively, and the slight edge of ownership in his voice sends a jolt of need coursing through me.
I want to be his. I want to belong to him so completely that nothing can ever touch me again. “Do you hear me, Doc? Mine.”
I can only moan in response, a high-pitched, needy sound that’s swallowed by the steam and the sounds of the shower. My hands clutch onto his shoulders, my nails digging into his wet skin, holding on for dear life. He’s the only solid thing in a world that has been spinning out of control.
He shifts his stance slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and his cock brushes against that tender spot deep inside me.
A gasp tears from my throat. He does it again, a teasing, deliberate drag against that sensitive bundle of nerves.
“That’s it, Doc,” he coaxes, his lips still against my ear.
“Let go. Let me have it. Let Daddy take all that pain and turn it into something beautiful.” His hips begin to circle, a slow, grinding motion that’s absolutely devastating.
“I’ll protect you. Just like I’ll protect all the babies you’re going to grow for me. ”
The words hit me like a wave of pure, unadulterated emotion.
They aren’t filthy talk while he fucks me.
They’re a promise. A vow. A possessive glimpse into a future I haven’t even dared to think about.
Actually carrying his child—having a piece of him inside me—is the ultimate claim.
Realizing he wants to tie himself to me forever is my undoing.
A wave of pleasure so intense it’s almost painful crashes over me, starting in my core and radiating outwards until my entire body is convulsing with it.
“Jagger.” His name sounds strangled as I cry it out.
This isn’t just an orgasm. This is an exorcism, my walls crumbling in the flood of my release.
It’s a mixture of pure, physical ecstasy and the profound, soul-deep relief of being seen, held, and completely and utterly cherished.
I come for him again and again, my body clenching around his like I’m trying to fuse us into one being.
His arms are like bands of steel around me, and his thrusts never cease.
He holds me tight as I completely let go until fresh tears cascade down my cheeks.
These aren’t born of pain. These are tears of gratitude and overwhelming love.
He leans in and kisses them away, his lips soft against my skin.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, his voice thick with satisfaction and awe as he works his hips, drawing out every last spasm of my climax.
“So fucking beautiful when you come for Daddy.”
Limp and boneless in his arms, I feel his control begin to fray.
His rhythm becomes less tender and more urgent as his breathing grows ragged.
He’s been holding back, waiting for me to get what I needed.
“I’m going to fill you up, Doc,” he groans, his voice laced with possession.
“I’m going to make sure you’re dripping with me.
I’m going to breed this perfect little body until you’re round and full and everyone knows you’re mine. I’m going to put my baby in you.”
His words are filthy, but they’re the most loving thing anyone has ever said to me. They’re a promise of a future, family, and a life beyond this godforsaken place. They’re a promise of belonging.
With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and stills.
A low groan tears from his chest as he finds his release.
I feel the hot, powerful pulse of his climax as he pours himself deep inside me.
It’s a moment of absolute possession, being marked and claimed in the most elemental of ways.
He holds me tightly, his face buried in my hair, and his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.
I feel a sense of peace settle over me. The storm outside is still raging, but right now, there’s only the two of us, wrapped together under the warm spray, our hearts beating in tandem.
He doesn’t pull out right away. He just holds me tightly, his weight pinning me to the tiled wall as we catch our breaths, and his cock slowly grows soft inside me.
After a long moment, he lifts his head, and his eyes search mine.
They’re soft now, the stormy gray replaced by a deep, calm blue.
He raises a hand, his thumb gently stroking along my cheek.
“I’m here, Blake.” His voice is a low, gentle rumble. “I will protect you.”