Sam’s tongue ran from my lips, down to my chin, heading south to my neck, licking a path between my tits. He cupped one of my breasts in his mouth through my shirt, groaning as he pushed my pants down, swirling his tongue around my erect nipple.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, sucking my whole breast into his mouth.

I shuddered. Something about the fact there was fabric and a sports bra between us made the act so much dirtier and erotic. I threaded my fingers through his hair—his body, hard and imposing, pressing against mine everywhere—as he moved to my other breast, giving it the same treatment.

When my pants and underwear were gone, and I was sitting on the examination table naked from the waist down, Sam pushed me roughly to lie down, using one hand to pry my thighs open and spread them as wide as he could.

“I sincerely hope you don’t intend to ask me to stop.”

I shook my head. “No. Don’t stop.”

“You know, growing up, I never played kiddie games. I graduated from formula to guns without a pit stop at toy cars and puzzles.” His mouth was swollen from our filthy kisses, and he grinned at me, his fingers on my hipbones as he plastered me to the cold, metallic table.

“Want to play doctor and patient?” I quickly caught his drift.

I wouldn’t bet on it, but I swore his cheeks pinked slightly.

“All right. Open up for me, Nix.” His fingers skimmed their way from my inner thigh to my center. I clapped a hand over his wrist, shaking my head with a taunting smile.

“Glove up first, Doc. First drawer on your left.”

He paused, then his face broke into a terrible smile. Terrible because it was the first genuine, giddy, hopeful smile I’d seen on Sam’s face in the decade I’d known him—and how awful was that?

Sam returned in a pair of my latex gloves that were tight around his massive palms. I nodded, satisfied.

“I’m new at this,” he feigned an apology, his grin turning sinister again, “so you’ll have to excuse me in advance as I conduct this pap smear, Miss Fitzpatrick.”

“Please, call me Nix.”

“Sorry, I don’t treat Knicks fans,” he deadpanned.

I bit down on my lip, suppressing wild laughter. I didn’t know many men who knew about pap smears, let alone how to conduct one. I let the hair in my ponytail spill over the edge of the examining table, blinking at him innocently.

“My name has nothing to do with the basketball team. It’s after an enticing female monster. Does that put you at ease?”

“Definitely.”

To my surprise, Sam wasn’t completely off. He settled himself between my legs and pushed me open so wide I felt the delicious pain of being stretched to my limit.

“You might experience some discomfort here,” he groaned, pushing two fingers deep into my core. I clenched onto them immediately, letting out a soft moan, rolling my hips to meet more of his hand.

“Miss Fitzpatrick,” he tsked, “control yourself, please.”

“S-sorry,” I mumbled, half-opening my eyes to watch as he pulled his hand away, only to drive it in again, this time using three fingers, curling them upward until he hit my G-spot, his free hand still stretching me wide open.

“Oh!” I cried.

“Still can’t get to that right angle. Better try again.”

He thrust again, fucking me with his fingers—with his entire fist, almost—in and out, in and out. I lay there on my back and took it, wet and turned on like I had never been in my entire life, chanting his name under my breath, not caring if he knew how much of a goner I was for him.

“H-how did you learn how to do this?” I asked, bucking my hips upward. Every time I did, he pinned my waist down, his way of telling me to behave as he fingered me. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”

“Got accepted to premed after high school.”

I let out a piercing laugh at that, but when I looked up, he seemed completely sober.

“You’re serious.” My smile dropped, and I felt the cloying feeling of an orgasm tingling through me. He didn’t even touch my clit, and I always needed clitoral stimulation to come. Huh.

“Dead fucking serious.” He sent me a nonchalant smirk as he fucked me with one hand and spread me with the other.

“You thought about becoming a doctor?” I wheezed.

“Hell no. I made a bet with a friend I could get into premed. Didn’t study for it either. But I read a gynecology book on one of my train rides to New York City while attending an arms deal and got the gist of it.”

I had a million questions to ask him, but all of them had to wait as my climax washed over me, shaking me to the core and making me cry out, grasping onto the edges of the examination table.

“Always so dramatic,” Sam muttered. Instead of getting on top of me like I thought he would, he grabbed me by the ankles, tugging me until my ass perched on the edge of the table.

“Sorry, Miss Fitzpatrick, but I couldn’t find what I needed. This might be a little unorthodox, but I think I know how to finish this exam.”

I was all boneless desire and satisfaction. I couldn’t even lift my head to see what he was doing before he squatted down between my legs, his tongue finding my clit and swirling around it slowly, teasingly, putting delicious pressure on it. I grabbed his hair and groaned so loud I thanked my lucky stars Dr. Doyle wasn’t upstairs in his apartment because I could probably be heard in neighboring cities.

“Merde,” I panted.

“I fucking love it when you say that,” he murmured between my legs, and I felt the wetness of me coating my inner thighs and his face as he began to eat me out, literally.

Eat. Me. Out.

Nibbled and bit and licked me thoroughly. My eyes rolled back inside their sockets, the pleasure so poignant, so intense, the oxygen rattled in my lungs. I was close to a second, violent orgasm, I couldn’t help but buck my groin, thrusting it into his face.

“Please. Ohhhhh.”

I stopped breathing, every muscle in my body clenching as intense pleasure coursed over me. I reached the highest point of la petite mort—my own little death, as the French referred to an orgasm—just when I felt him plunging into me, heavy and thick and long, in one smooth movement.

I was drenched, hot and ready for him.

My eyes opened and I saw him leaning against the examination table, between my legs, while I was full to the hilt with his erection. He closed his eyes and hissed, the pleasure too much for both of us, as he began to move inside me.

“Found what you were looking for?” I croaked, referring to his so-called pap smear.

He thrust into me with a punishing rhythm. “And then some.”

Something about his movements, so sure, so nonchalantly punishing, told me that he was used to getting what he wanted not only outside of the bedroom but inside it, too.

“I can’t believe I’m fucking you again.” He shook his head, frowning at me.

“Believe it.” My heart pounded loud and wildly. “Because I doubt you can do this with anyone else at this point.”

“Shut up.”

“You know it’s true. That’s why you couldn’t have sex with that woman at the ball, who looked exactly like me. You know what you want, Sam? You just don’t want to take it because the consequences would mean you’d lose my daddy’s fat paycheck.”