I could have ever conjured. She tipped her head back, holding a cry in with only her bottom lip clasped between her teeth. She arched off the desk, and her walls clenched tightly around me, spasming as she worked through her high.
I wasn’t done with her though.
I still had a very pressing issue that was nudging at her thigh and begging me to enter her, so enter her I did. I didn’t bother starting slow this time. She was already worked up, overly sensitive, and I only served to make her more so when I slammed into her from behind. I knew she had expected me to fuck her, but I didn’t think she expected just how desperate I was. I pulled her hips toward me and set an erratic rhythm. I let my hand snake back to her clit so I could get her back to the edge faster, and she was more responsive than I could have ever dreamed. She became a mess around my cock, whimpering and moaning while still trying to be quiet. I felt like I was laying claim to her body, and I kept rubbing her as I pounded, letting her know that she was mine.
I felt her come again before I did, her breath leaving her body in a sigh that was more intense than the restricted moans of her first orgasm. Her walls pulsing around me was all it took to have my own body reacting, and I pumped her full, letting everything pour into her. It felt good, and when I pulled out of her, I wanted another picture of the wrecked girl in front of me. I wasn’t going to take unwarranted liberties though. Instead, I grabbed the tissues from my desk and cleaned her up as best I could.
Carefully, I helped her stand from the desk, and we dressed, half dazed. I turned to grab my phone from where I’d thrown it and found that she had sat down after dressing and proceeded to fall asleep, sitting up, on my couch. I had briefly forgotten about Jasmine’s surgery and was even more forgetful about how a long procedure like that could take its toll on a body that wasn’t used to it. Stevie was probably exhausted from it, and then I had proceeded to fuck her. If I was honest with myself, though, it was pretty satisfying to see her sleep. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I was worried. Interns were notorious for not looking after themselves, and if I could help it, she wasn’t going to fail because of something so simple as self-care. Smiling, I grabbed my phone and sat next to the girl on the sofa. I pulled her until she lay down, her head in my lap. I pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her. She didn’t fully wake up through the whole thing, only blinking fuzzy eyes open once to readjust her position into something more comfortable.
I stayed where I was and pulled up a news article on my phone.
I must have fallen asleep too because the next time I glanced at my phone, a couple of hours had passed.
I was briefly disoriented, but when I saw the sleeping girl in my lap, everything came flooding back, and I knew I wasn’t going to play any games anymore. I couldn’t walk around the hospital and pretend I didn’t care about her any more than any other intern, any other resident. I couldn’t wander the halls and worry if she was going to find a relationship—a more suitable relationship—among her peers. I knew what it could do, to both of us, but I wasn’t willing to let the girl go again. While she slept, I read through my contract, specifically focusing on the part regarding intra-work relationships. More than my own career, I was worried about hers. I didn’t want her cut off before even beginning to practice. In the OR, I had been impressed. She had held the cavity open consistently, despite the pressure on what appeared to be a fairly slight frame and had answered all my questions correctly as I worked. I had never seen or heard of her growing exasperated with a patient, no matter how exhaustive or inane their questions were. She picked up shifts in the ER and ignored the whispering and gossip that followed her every step in the hospital. I could see a future of innovation, of lives