And even more shocking… that she was pretending to be asleep afterward.
Was my cum leaking out of her all day?
Was her panic attack because of what happened, or because she realized that two could play at this game?
Or perhaps she’d finally figured out that I was utterly, irrevocablyobsessedwith every single inch of her?
I inhale her scent again, and even though I want to wrap the silky panties around my aching cock and leave her a little present inside, I don’t.
Over the years, I’ve found that jacking off before bed means I’m less likely to experience my parasomnia.
No, I would hold off, but only so that I could wake up to my cum leaking out of her perfect fucking cunt again.
I might not remember it, but I’d be damned if I could stop myself.
Plus, I want to experienceherwhile cognizant and awake.
Now that I’d actually been inside of her, there was no way in hell that I would let her go.
Devil’s Advocate
Frankie
The three ofus make our way to the BART station while discussing pleasantries like the weather and the conference. By the time we get off the train a few stops later at 24th Street Mission, Dr. Kincaid has interrogated Grant to within an inch of his life. The poor guy is sweating, and he looks at me every few seconds with what seems like a panicked expression. I’m both intrigued and infuriated, of course—Doctor Devil has no right to be such an ass to Grant.
Flashbacks of Mexico dance through my mind. I remember Grant kissing me on the beach and then immediately getting an emergency via email on my phone. I remember sitting on the beach and typing up patient reports for Dr. Kincaid instead of cuddling with Grant. Ari introduced me to him, and though we only dated for a couple of weeks, we never slept together.
He broke it off because he told me I was a workaholic and he wanted someone more carefree.
I wrote over fifty hate emails to Dr. Kincaid after that, blaming him for everything, but I never sent them.
I didn’t quit. I should have, but I didn’t. Instead, I just deleted the emails and moved on.
Seeing Grant at the hotel tonight reminded me of how much chemistry we once had. I know it won’t go anywhere. I’m still a workaholic. But to remember a sliver of time where I felt free and not tied down by my past… it’s nice. So I indulged Grant and invited him to dinner.
It’s not like I had any reason not to.
We all walk up to a Mexican restaurant called El Farolito, and Dr. Kincaid ushers for Grant to go first. He holds the door for me to go next, and I make sure to brush against him as much as I can, and I swear I feel his body stiffen against mine. Grant offers to pay for dinner, but since the restaurant only takes cash, Dr. Kincaid pulls out his wallet and smirks as he walks up to the counter, pays for our meals, and leaves another one-hundred-dollar bill in the tip jar.
I barely conceal my rolled eyes, and my boss glares at me before turning away and securing a table for us.
“He’s fun,” Grant says through his teeth.
I bark a laugh but it doesn’t feel genuine. Instead, I knit my brows together as Dr. Kincaid sits down and gestures for us to follow. Hewasfun that first night—and I’ve seen bits and pieces of his more carefree personality here and there over the last three days.
“He’s had a long day,” I say automatically.Defensively.
“Yeah, sure,” Grant mumbles.
Our order arrives quickly, and Dr. Kincaid continues his interrogation of Grant. He asks about his family, his college degree, his job, and then he gets to the question I’ve been dreading.
“How do you and Francesca know each other?”
Grant laughs and places an arm around my shoulders, and I swear I see flames in Dr. Kincaid’s eyes. It spurs me on, and I lean ever so slightly into Grant’s arms.
“I only know her as Frankie, not Francesca. Sorry. It surprises me every time.”
Dr. Kincaid’s nostrils flare slightly as his eyes flick between us, waiting for an answer.
