“Like a game winning save, baby.”
Small giggles escaping me are smothered out by his mouth lovingly landing on mine. Both of his hands possessively cup my face, letting just the tips of his fingers dig into the edges of my neck, anchoring me to him.
This moment.
This monumental decision there’s no coming back from.
Light whimpers grow in intensity each time his tongue laps mine yet increase in quantity when he accelerates the speed.
Gently guides me back until my ass bumps against the seat.
Swipes left and right, left and right, harder and harder as though convincing my scrub covered thighs to part wide.
Or simply wide enough to accommodate his large frame that’s now wedging itself between them.
Okay, banging at the officeprobablyisn’t the right example to be setting for the teen we’re about to have completeresponsibility for, but I feel we could toothpaste lid twist it into a life lesson.
Maybe one about spontaneous hookups being something special for your special person?
All of a sudden, a throat clearing sound convinces us to split apart, prompting me to give a loving, scolding speech about the importance of closed doors and knocking, when the sight of the individual responsible for the noise stuns me silent.
Shit.
“Hm,” Dad cheekily chuckles to himself, “is that a new technique for cleaning teeth?”
“Ohmyg-”
“I don’t think the human tongue is sterile enough for that,” teasingly adds my mom.
“Wh-”
“That’d be a dog,” Thayne needlessly joins in the conversation.
“No!” Both hands scramble to push my boyfriend off of me at the same time I squeak, “That’s a myth!” Tugging my hot pink scrubs back into the correct position is accompanied by me huffing, “A huge,disgusting, misleading myth!”
“Uh-huh and your tongue in his mouth is…?” Dad playfully pokes alongside the whirling around of his almond brown skinned finger.
“Not something you were supposed to see,” escapes in a flustered mumble and nose scrunch.
“But not something we canunsee,” Mom sassily shoots back, deep cognac shaded hands planting themselves on her black slacks bearing hips.
“You aren’t supposed to be back here when I’m with a patient-”
“You’re apatient?” Dad inquires without hesitation.
“No, I’m the patient,” Bronny unexpectedly chimes in from the space behind them, momentarily refocusing our attention on him. “And now…kinda like her side son.”
“What?!” squeaks the woman who gave birth to me as horror pierces my entire expression.
“No…” my head mindlessly shakes in continued disbelief. “Not…No.”
“No?” Sadness yet again shifts back into his stare. “You changed your mind already?”
“No.”
“No, you didn’t change your mind?!” anxiously investigates the teen.
“I…” the bobbing of my mouth can’t be stopped or helped or avoided.
