Oh. Are we talking now?
“It was interesting,” I begin.
“Speaking of interesting,” Dr. Baumann interrupts. “Let me tell you about the patient we had in the operating room today.”
He proceeds to ramble on about something or someone. I don’t know. I stopped caringtwo glasses of wine ago. I mentally calculated how much more of this bullshit I would have to listen to before we got down to The Sex.
My bed had fresh sheets. There were a variety of different-sized condoms in the nightstand. And the cat was roaming around the neighborhood.
Motherfucker.I forgot about leaving Inigo Montoya outside. Not the Mandy Patinkin character fromThe Princess Bride. My cat.
I stand up, my napkin falling to the floor. “I need to go home.”
Dr. Baumann glares at me. How dare I interrupt his boring story?
“Why?” He sips his sucky pinot.
“I left Inigo outside,” I wave to the waiter. “It’s raining. I need to bring him in.”
Dr. Baumann rolls his eyes. “It’s a cat. I’m sure it will find shelter. If not - survival of the fittest.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “If he doesn’t find shelter, he’ll be looking for me to let him in. I have to go. I’d like it if you came with me, though.”
A light goes on in Dr. Baumann’s eyes when he realizes what I am saying. He pulls a stack of cash out of his wallet and throws it on the table.
I shake my head.
When you hear of rich men doing this, throwing down a stack of cash to pay the bill so they can ravish their lady loves that much quicker, it’s usually a stack of hundreds. And includes a hefty tip for the trouble.
Not Dr. Wendell Baumann. This stack of cash is primarily singles, some tens, and maybe a twenty. My extensive training with the U.S. Treasury tells me it’s not enough to cover the bill.
“Wendell,” I point to the money. “It’s going to be more than that.”
He waves me off and pulls me toward the door. I reach into my purse, pull out a hundred-dollar bill, and pass it to the waiter on the way out.
The Sex better be freaking amazing.
Chapter 4
“How many of those has she already eaten tonight?”
-Rand
The blonde with her hand on my cock licks my ear then blows right into it. Not a sexy breath of warm air that brushes over the outside of my ear. No, this lady puckers up and blows hurricane-force moist winds right at my eardrum. I cringe.
She laughs. “So jumpy! Don’t you want to have sex?”
Fuck knows I did want to have sex, but my dick wasn’t getting the message about this woman who was ready and willing. He only has an eye for a certain Saber sister.Traitor.
I clear my throat. “Um, sure.”
“Mmm-hmm. That’s what I thought,” Blondie slaps my shoulder, then grabs my bicep in her hand. “So many muscles.”
“Not too many. At least not more than the ordinary person. We all have more than 600 muscles in our bodies, and they make up nearly half of our body weight. The hardest-working muscle, though, is the heart. I mean, it’s responsible for keeping us alive, pumping blood throughout our bodies. It beats 115-thousand times a day. And that blood travels through sixty-thousand miles of blood vessels.”
Blondie’s hand travels back to my cock. “And I bet your blood vessels are working overtime in your pants.”
Nope. They weren’t. But maybe I could trick Dick into being in the fucking present with me.