And she is. So good. She’s the gift-wrapped wet dream I never even knew I needed. My hands actually shake with the knowledge that I get to touch her. That she wants me to.
The chair is low enough that I can straddle the seat of it, even if my stance feels too wide, but if I raise a knee to let it rest by one of hers, I can almost comfortably curl my body into hers. I smooth my hands down either side of her hips, bending until I can press soft kisses along her throat. She presses back against me when my thumbs tuck into the waistband of her scrub bottoms, making a needy little sound that has my cock growing impossibly harder.
I swipe my tongue along the fevered gland nestled in the bend of her shoulder, nipping it with my teeth as I tug down her clothes. “You seem a little feverish, Ms. Carter.”
“Do I?”
“Mm.” My palm glides over hips and down, fingers teasing where her scrubs are scrunched above her knees and quietly urging her to adjust so I can ease them off her. When she’s naked from the waist down, I continue my lazy exploration, gliding my fingers over the inside of her thigh until it reaches the hottest part of her. “Especially here.” She sucks in a breath when I press my thumb against her entrance, already slick for me. “Does it hurt here?”
“So bad,” she gasps.
I press deeper, teasing her with my thumb. “Maybe I can help with that.”
“Can you?”
Her fucking scent. It makes my eyes roll back with how thick it is, and somewhere in the clearer parts of my lust-addled mind, I know there is no way no one will realize how I’ve touched her if she walks out of here smelling like this. The thought should have me wary, but all it does it make me burn hotter. I realize I want them to know I’ve touched her. I want everyone in the goddamn hospital to know that she’s mine.
I go still, trying to get a handle on my racing thoughts. My breath huffs against her skin, and as if she senses my momentary episode, I feel her hand reach behind her until her fingers push into my hair. “You okay?”
Am I?
The thought is still there—some primal urge to mark her, claim her—to ensure that there is never a doubt that she belongs to me, and that I belong to her.
And in this moment . . . it’s terrifying thinking that I might be alone in that feeling.
“I just . . . Are you sure this is a good idea?”
She turns her face to let her lips graze my jaw, and my eyes drift closed as I relish the sensation. “I’ve been thinking about you being inside me all day. Do you really want to wait until we’re not on opposite shifts again to touch me?”
She has a point. She’ll be on the night shift for another five days while I work the opposite—meaning that there will only be a small window where our schedules overlap and I can see her at work. The thought of not being inside her for five days feels like absolute torture.
“No,” I admit roughly. “I don’t.”
“Stop worrying, Dr. Taylor,” she says soothingly, her nails scratching lightly at my scalp as she presses back against me. “Just don’t knot me, and we’re golden.”
“Fuck,” I groan. Just the word knot on her lips is enough to make my cock ache. I push my thumb deeper inside her, enjoying the little mewl that escapes her. “You want my cock? Right here?”
“Fuck, yes,” she sighs, wiggling against me. “Come on, Doctor. Gimme a shot.”
A different kind of groan escapes me. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it,” she laughs.
I might love you.
It punches through me, threatening to swallow me as if the ground has opened beneath me, but I shake it away. It’s too soon—both the feeling and the time to even remotely begin to entertain the possibility of sharing it—so I focus instead on the way her skin tastes. I home in on the feel of her hot and wet in my hands, practically begging for me to fill her. It’s the distraction I need to keep the other worrying thoughts at bay.
I watch her skin pebble with goose bumps as the stark sound of my zipper sliding down fills the space, rubbing my palm over my heated length through my underwear to seek some momentary bout of relief. Relief I know I won’t find until I’m buried inside her. Nothing else can ever compare to her. Mackenzie Carter has unknowingly ruined me, and I’m not even upset about it.
It takes a moment for me to get rid of my pants and coat—I know that making a mess of either will be a dead giveaway to what we’ve done here—but I’m rewarded with a quiet, breathy moan falling out of her when I finally let my cock slide along the crease of her ass. My pre-cum smears against her skin, marking her just like I wanted. A less civilized part of my brain hopes that it dries there. That any other shifter she meets today will smell it on her.
It takes some situating to notch against her; Mackenzie slides down a little further while I dip my hips, and I’m still wholly aware that this is the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t bring myself to care in the slightest when the slick heat of her envelops me. I close my eyes as I push inside, focusing only on the sensation of her around me, of the easy glide as her body opens up for me, like it was made for me. Like she was made just for me. Part of me wonders if maybe she was. I can’t decide if that’s my brain or my instincts pondering the idea.
Like this, I can see the way she stretches to take me; I can see myself disappear as I sink further and further inside. I grab her hips to pull her back in a sudden move that forces me all the way inside, and the startled yelp she makes morphs into a low moan that I can feel under my skin.
“You’re so good,” I half slur, feeling that increasingly familiar fog that comes from being deep inside her while surrounded by her scent that drives me mad. “So good for me.” I pull out slowly just to roll back inside. “Always take my cock so well.”
“Noah,” she whimpers, reaching behind to scrape her nails against my thigh in a silent plea.
I know what she wants; she wants me to stop teasing her, to take what she’s offering, but I’ve never been quite myself with Mackenzie. Not like this. This Noah enjoys her begging. This Noah wants to take her apart and put her back together.
“You want more?” I curve my body so that my teeth can nibble at her earlobe. “You called me here, Mackenzie. I want to hear you tell me what you wanted when you did. Tell me how much you wanted my cock.”
“Needed it,” she gasps. “Needed you.”
“You needed me to fuck you? Here? You needed my cock so badly that you couldn’t wait for it?”
“Noah . . .”
I keep rocking in and out of her at a steady pace that I know will offer neither of us any relief, but I’m too far gone to stop. Whatever it is inside me that Mackenzie triggers . . . it’s running the show right now.
“Say it, Mackenzie,” I rasp against her ear. “Tell me you want my cum.”
“Fuck. I want it.”
“What do you want? I need to hear it.”
“I want—ah. I want your cum. Please, Noah.”