“You’re gonna have to put me down,” Theo told him.
Theo’s fingers brushed over the head of the man’s cock as he was released, and a wicked grin settled across Theo’s features. This would be the first dick he’d ever had inside him that had a piercing, a rather thick band of metal through the head. Maybe not his first choice for a piercing on a guy, but hey, he was up for experimenting.
Taking the man in hand, Theo eagerly placed his lips around the head. The moan was as enticing to hear as the feel of the ring against his tongue. Theo had promised the man a good time but hadn’t promised how quickly he’d get there. He took his time, licking and sucking gently, feeling the strong thighs he gripped onto shiver and bow.
Theo pulled back, eager to hear the man pant and beg for him to continue. His tongue jerked, holding Theo in place. Above him, the man gave a faint moan of pleasure, eyes closed tight as Theo’s widened. He gave another yank, but his tongue didn’t move. Worse yet, he could hear the faint clink of metal against metal every time he tried to pull away.
“Oh thit,” he lisped.
Grant
Gentle beeping filled the dimly lit hospital room as Grant entered quietly. Covered in a soft sheet, the patient lay on her back, sleeping. He knew that had more to do with the medicine in her system than anything else. Still, a night’s worth of sleep was what she needed, even if it did come out of the IV bag hanging beside her.
Careful to wake neither her nor the hunched form of a man curled in a chair beside her hospital bed, Grant looked her over, mentally reciting what he knew. Emily Meithos, twenty-nine-year-old legal clerk. Married, two kids. Everyone but her, out for the evening visiting her in-laws when the apartment building she’d been sleeping in caught fire. Third-degree burns along one side of her body, smoke inhalation, and a broken ankle from jumping out of her window to the relative safety of a dumpster below.
She’d been lucky, unlike some of the patients who had been wheeled in from the same fire. Some would be lucky to see the end of the week, while others were immediately taken down to the morgue. She was still young and in good health before the fire. There would be a brutal recovery process, and probably a few skin grafts, but she would make it so long as a surprise infection didn’t drag her down.
Grant lay a gentle hand on hers, whispering softly. “You’ll be home with your family in no time.”
The sleeping form of her husband gave a grunt, rolling to face the bed. The man’s face pinched in his sleep, as though haunted by something in his dreams. Grant couldn’t blame him. Mr. Meithos had nearly lost his wife, the mother of his children. A faint pang twisted in Grant’s chest, his heart going out to both of them. They had a difficult road ahead, but from what he’d seen, they would both make it just fine. Their love for one another was strong, and while Grant envied them that, he didn’t envy what awaited them on her road to recovery.
“Dr. Andrews?” a soft voice whispered behind him.
Grant turned toward it, smiling at the young nurse in the doorway. “Lydia. Sorry, had to check on her one more time.”
The young woman smiled warmly. “I’d remind you that you would have been alerted if there was a change, but that never stops you, does it?”
Grant chuckled, stepping away from the bed and into the hallway. “You can never tell with burn victims. One minute they can be perfectly fine and then the next thing you know…”
Lydia shook her head. “And you just have to helicopter doctor her.”
“Just checking,” Grant assured her.
She looked over her shoulder. “Did you already check Mr. Wilson?”
Grant sighed, nodding his head. Mr. Wilson was a prime example of just how bad things could have been for the young woman sleeping a few yards from him. A sixty-seven-year-old retiree, he hadn’t been as quick or as resourceful in his escape from the building.
“Stable, just like I told his family,” Grant said.
Lydia nodded, chewing her bottom lip and saying nothing. They both knew that stable was just a word used to placate people, and when needed, feed to the press. All it meant was that there had been no change to their vitals. After that, it was in the hands of the patient, fate, or God himself, depending on who you asked. Grant couldn’t help but believe that Mr. Wilson would be one of those who might not see the end of the weekend.
“I really wish they’d figure out who’s starting all these fires,” Lydia said, rubbing her hands over her arms.
“It would certainly make our lives a little easier.” He gave it some thought and shook his head. “Well, it would spare more people pain anyway.”
Lydia cracked another smile at that. “True, our lives never get any easier around here.”
He began walking back to the nurse’s station to drop off the charts in his hand. “You on for the night?”
“Same as you. Seems like neither of us knows how to quit this place too well,” Lydia told him, taking the folders.
Well, that he couldn’t argue with. Grant had always been invested in his work. Growing up dirt poor with two working parents had instilled in him a drive to do something more with himself. While he’d inherited his father’s height and size, his parents had insisted he did more than burn his life away working manual labor.
It hadn’t been easy, and it hadn’t been quick, but Grant had given his parents their wish. Devotion to his grades had led to a scholarship. Coupled with a few loans, and Grant’s college years were laid out before him. College had been hard, medical school even harder, and his residency hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park. Yet, at the age of forty-four, he could look back on his life with pride.
“Don’t you have a husband to get home to?” he asked.
“Fiancé. Still a few months until the wedding. But he’s keeping himself pretty busy too, we’re trying to save for a nice, long, and happy honeymoon.”
Grant raised a brow. “Not the wedding?”
Lydia waved him off. “Eh, who needs a big fancy wedding? All that money for a dress I’ll wear once, and a bunch of flowers that’ll die in a day or two. Better to throw some of it at a reception where we can celebrate with the people we care about.”
“And even more, so that the two of you can shack up on some island for two weeks,” Grant finished with a chuckle.
“Oh, you’re damn right. I told Dom I don’t plan on wearing clothes the entire time, so it had better be nice and secluded,” Lydia said with a wiggle of her brow.
Grant shook his head. “Thank you for the visual.”
“Right. And when I get back, you and I are going to talk about finding you a man,” Lydia told him with a knowing look.
Grant suppressed the urge to groan. “Forget I said anything, you can go back to talking about being nude.”
“That’s more fun for Dom to talk about.”
“And your attempts at matchmaking don’t exactly titillate me.”
“Which is why I have to succeed, so you are titillated.”
Bless the woman, but Grant honestly wished she wouldn’t try so hard. Dating had never exactly been his forte, and his luck was even worse. It didn’t help that most of the years considered “prime” for dating had been spent neck-deep in his studies. By the time he was finally an MD, so many of his peers had already married and started a family. Even then, Grant had been focused on making a name for himself, focusing on the career, no, the calling, he had worked toward for so long.