Disclaimer: I own nothing. SM has it all.
Will update mid-week and on the weekend. This was my piece for the Meet your Mate contest - it has been expanded and is complete. Thank you for joining me!
Jessica stood up, her voice suddenly louder and upset. "What?" She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God, I'll be right there!"
Slamming down the phone, she looked at me, tears filling her eyes.
"What is it?" I asked, my hand covering hers in sympathy. Jess was always calm, always collected—it had to be something bad.
"Mike's been in an accident. They're bringing him to the ER."
Mike was her husband of two years; he owned his own delivery company and often pitched in and drove when volumes were high.
"But we have…" Her voice trailed off. As my supervisor, she took her job seriously. I was still fairly new and rather shy. She regularly handled the patients and I did all the paperwork, but I could do this for her.
"Jess, I can handle checking in one last patient. Besides, he's already late. Probably a no-show. I'll finish tidying up and leave. Go," I urged.
"Thanks, Bella." Grabbing her purse, she hurried out of the office.
"Let me know how he is!" I shouted after her.
"I will!" Her voice floated back down the hall as the door shut behind her.
With a sigh, I looked at the file of the patient we were waiting for: Edward Cullen. I glanced at the clock. He was fifteen minutes late, and we'd already made special provisions for him to come in after hours. I shook my head. Some people were simply rude not showing up for their appointments. I'd give him another fifteen minutes. Then when he phoned and complained, I could honestly say I'd waited over half an hour for him.
Really, was it that difficult to be on time for an appointment that you, yourself, made? It wasn't as though it was a big surprise on your calendar. I doubted he looked at the day and was shocked to see Sperm Donation jotted down on today's date.
With a guilty smile, I pulled the clip out of my hair, letting it fall to my shoulders in a dark wave. I hated having to wear it up all the time, but it was office protocol. However, I was alone, and pretty certain to remain so. Nobody would see.
I went through the office, making sure all the rooms were ready for the morning, shutting off lights as I went. A noise out front made me stop, and I walked out to the counter. Standing there in the shadows was, who I assumed to be, the last, very late, patient. I stifled a sigh, knowing my long day wasn't over. I forced a smile to my face.
"Hello, you must be Mr. Cullen." I couldn't stop myself. "I'd about given up on you."
He stepped forward, and I stifled a small gasp.
Young, my age or slightly older, he was extremely good-looking. Tall, broad-shouldered, and lanky, his fingers drummed restlessly on his leg. Thick, dark-rimmed glasses framed soft green eyes that stared at me nervously, and with a hint of surprise in his expression. His hair was crazy and all over the place, the red of his head reflected in the scruff that adorned his chin. Even as I noticed this, his hand shot up, tugging on the tufts that were already sticking everywhere. I had the strangest need to reach over and stop the torture on his innocent follicles, but I resisted. Then he spoke, his voice soft and low—his tone apologetic.
"I'm…I'm sorry for the delay. I, ah, got held up with an emergency. I wasn't even sure you'd still be here." He cleared his throat. "Thank you for waiting."
I blinked. Rarely a patient apologized. A small smile played on my lips and I nodded, holding out my hand for his medical card. "You work here? In the hospital?" I asked as I set down the card. I would enter the information to stay busy while he was…um…getting busy.
I glanced at him once more, taking a better look. He did look familiar, but I wasn't sure why. I must have seen him in the cafeteria or something. He was looking at me with anxiety written all over his handsome face and I smiled, trying to relieve both his and my own nerves.
"Okay. Mr. Cullen, let's get you, ah, settled."
"Edward. Call me Edward, please."
I nodded, extending my hand; he looked nervous as I was. "Bella."
His large palm wrapped around mine—it felt warm and strong. They fit together so well.
What a strange thought.
I stood up, hating the next part. Jess handled this so much better than I did. I indicated he should come with me, and he followed me silently down the hall. Ignoring the fact my cheeks were already burning, I flicked on the lights and walked into the room.
I pointed to the prepared tray. "Everything you need is there. There are, ah, magazines and DVD's for you…if needed. When you're done, leave everything and I'll take care of it. I assume the doctor has answered all your questions?"
God, I hoped he had.
"Yes." His voice was low and he sounded embarrassed.
Dammit, I was supposed to help the patient feel as relaxed as possible.
I tried to make my voice less strained. "You can adjust the lights here." I pointed out the dimmer. "There are scrubs you can borrow if you prefer to use them rather than, ah, your own clothes." He looked at me, his cheeks tinged with pink. "Some men like to be dressed still…or some like to be, um, naked—" I swallowed. "Whatever makes you comfortable. Can I get you anything before you, um…get going?"
Internally, I groaned. Before he gets going? Jess was going to kill herself laughing over this; maybe I wouldn't tell her.
Without thinking, my hand touched his shoulder. "Water? Juice?" I asked, trying to make up for my lack of professionalism.
I was shocked when his hand covered mine, squeezing it. I could feel the dampness of his palm touching mine. "No. Thank you. You're very kind."
"Okay. I'll, ah, leave you to it. I'll be down the hall. Take your time."
I scurried away, closing the door behind me.
Leave him to it? Take your time?
If I didn't die of embarrassment before he left, I was going to be surprised.
I finished straightening the magazines and the desk. I re-pinned my hair, trying to at least look professional, even if I failed to act the part. Since I had already shut off the computer, I jotted his down number, planning on entering it in the morning, and placed his card back on the counter. I made sure all the files were ready for tomorrow. Then I waited.
I glanced at my watch. He'd been in there for over thirty minutes. Usually, they were done in about twenty minutes or less.
What was taking so long?
I went down the hall, pausing outside the door. There were no noises coming from the room, the lights were on; no movie was playing. I knocked gently, waiting until I heard his quiet voice telling me to come in.
He was sitting on the edge of the table. He had changed into scrubs. His chest was bare, the light gleaming off his skin. A dusting of coppery-colored hair was scattered on his chest and arms; the color lighter than the bright bronzy-red on his head. A magazine was beside him, closed, his glasses sitting on the cover and his posture dejected. One hand was in his hair tugging away.
Two thoughts were in my mind.
One—he was tugging on the wrong head. We'd be here all night at this rate.
Two—I needed to comfort him.
I shut the door and moved over to him. "Edward," I began in a soft voice, pulling his hand from his poor hair. "Are you okay? Maybe you want to reschedule?"
His hand grasped mine like a lifeline. His eyes spoke volumes. Worry, sadness and pain-filled green met my gaze.
"Can I call someone for you?" I murmured, holding his hand tight.
He shook his head. "I have a lump," he whispered, looking down at his crotch. "They're going to remove it, and there might be, um, side effects." He drew in a deep breath and suddenly started speaking so fast I could barely keep up. "I want kids. I want a family. I want a wife and house and everything everyone else has. This might be my only chance if something happens, but I can't seem to do it. Nothing is working!" By the end of his little diatribe, he was almost shouting. "I can never do anything right!"
"Hey." I stepped forward, hating his distress. "It'll be fine. You're putting too much pressure on yourself. Reschedule and come back another time, before your operation. You can make the arrangements to do this is the privacy of your own home, as well." I smiled encouragingly at him. "Lots of men do that. This isn't the most, ah, stimulating environment."
His eyes were wide and panicked. I wanted to stop the panic and make him feel better. I buried my hand into his hair, caressing the tortured strands gently. Closing his eyes, he leaned into my touch with a soft sigh, and my heart contracted at his sudden vulnerability. He seemed so…lost.
I shook my head. I was acting even more unprofessionally than before. I began to withdraw my hand and step back when his eyes flew open. "No! Please!"
Suddenly, I was enveloped in his arms. His embrace was firm, and he held me tight. My arms wound around him, holding just as secure. Somehow, I sensed this was what he needed. For a minute, we were quiet as he stayed locked in my embrace, his head resting on my chest. I felt the dampness of tears against my skin and I drew back, lifting his head. His eyes stared at me, guileless and open.
"I'm scared, Bella," he confessed. "I'm sorry to do this. But I'm scared." He shuddered out a deep breath. "And I'm all alone."
My hands tightened on his shoulders, his skin bare and tense under my fingers. Our eyes held as the air around us changed. The clinical room melted away and all that remained was him. Me. His warm skin and my suddenly fast heartbeat.
"Edward," I breathed. "It will be okay. I promise."
With a tug, his arms pulled me closer, then his mouth was on mine.
All common sense left me when his tongue slipped inside my mouth—swirling, touching, licking. He tasted like mint, sweet and sharp. His hands traveled in circuits up and down my back, delving under the loose smock I wore, finding my bare skin, his fingers pressing and stroking. I gasped into his mouth and he pulled back. His eyes wide were and searching—asking.
"I can't," I pleaded in response to his silent question.
"Please," he whispered, and I was lost.
Desire for him overrode every other thought in my brain, and I nodded. My smock was lifted over my head and flung away. He reached over, dimming the lights and pulling me to him.
With a groan, his lips found mine again. My arms wound around him, caressing his skin. He lifted us both to the top of the table, his body covering mine.
Groans and whimpers filled the room. The sound of the paper on the table, crinkling and tearing as we moved and rocked, seemed so loud to my ears. His large hands were everywhere, touching, teasing. His mouth was wicked, his tongue possessive and strong. Any shyness or sense of nervousness was gone, and Edward was fully in charge.
I had no idea who was the girl pinned under him, or why I was allowing this to happen, but I didn't care. I didn't want him to stop.
Our lips never broke apart as we groped between us, pulling on scrub waist bands, tugging the cords and yanking on material until we were bare against each other. My back arched as his fingers found my slick center. I groaned deep in my throat as he stroked and fondled, his long fingers working me like a musical instrument. And he was a maestro.
His mouth trailed down my throat as he moved, pulling my legs up and around his hips. "Let me… please, Bella…God…" He moaned into my neck. "I want you so fucking badly."
I pulled him closer and we both stilled as he slowly slipped inside—his erection hot and thick, filling me entirely. We fit so perfectly and as he started moving, I felt complete. His noises were erotic as he moved and thrust deeply inside me; he groaned, grunted, hissed, and growled. He hummed and praised; whispered endearments and curses in my ears as his lips licked, sucked, nipped and caressed. His voice was deep and raspy, my name never sounding so sexy coming from the lips of a man.
Fuck...yes, Bella…like that. Just…like…that…
You feel so good…
Jesus, baby…so hot…so perfect…yes…
I want to feel you…come for me…
Yes…fuck, yes…I feel you…come, baby… now…now…NOW!
And I did. Hard, fast—screaming my orgasm into his mouth as he tangled his tongue with mine, still thrusting powerfully. His body pushed me deep into the narrow, hard, foam-stuffed, torn paper-covered vinyl table as he moaned my name.
We both stilled, our breaths coming out in deep gasps of much needed oxygen. Edward's body was a welcome weight, restraining me under him. His lips were still against my skin, humming with soft words of praise. Gradually, the haze that seemed to sink into my brain when he pulled me to him cleared, and I realized what I had done.
Fucked a stranger, a patient, on the examination table.
In the office.
Where he was supposed to leave a sperm donation.
Not inject me with it.
Reality set in, and I gasped. Edward pushed himself up off me, and our eyes met. For the first time our emotions matched.
He scrambled off the table, bending down to grab his pants as I bolted from the room and into the washroom down the hall. I stood gasping and shaking as the enormity of what happened between us hit me.
I looked in the mirror, shocked at my reflection.
My hair had come out of its clip and was tousled and messy from Edward's hands. My lips were swollen and red. I had whisker burns all over my chest and neck. There was even a love bite on my breast. I swallowed. I had a hickey. I was twenty-six years old, and I just received my first hickey. From a patient.
I looked like I'd had the wildest, most passionate sex of my life.
I couldn't help the smirk that crossed my face.
Knowing I couldn't hide forever, I cleaned up quickly and grabbed a fresh pair of scrubs from the shelf—I wasn't walking back in there naked.
Except, when I went back in the room, it was empty.
Edward was gone.
The only evidence he had even been there was the torn crinkled paper on the exam table and the magazine lying on the floor. Automatically, I straightened and cleaned the room, placing the magazine back on the pile, stopping when I saw the name of it.
Had I just fulfilled one for him?
Had he done the same thing for me?
What was I supposed to do now?
I sat down heavily, suddenly tired.
I had no idea.
And there you have it. See you in a few days. Thank you for reading!