Desiree
Junior’s on edge as I pull out onto the street. One hand clutches the car door handle, one is balled in a fist on his lap. I gun it, to test how fast it takes off and we sail into traffic.
I drive like I’m in a car race-because when else will I get to drive a car like this?
It takes a few minutes, but Junior starts to relax. His fist unclenches and he stops watching the road like something terrible is about to happen.
“Nice driving, doll.” He sounds surprised. Impressed, even.
I grin at him. “What? You didn’t think a woman could handle a car like this?”
His lips quirk. “You don’t get to drive my car and bust my balls, sugar.”
I love when he gets bossy with me. It does something hot and tingly to my whole body.
“I told you I don’t let anyone drive this car. Ever. Consider yourself privileged.”
That news shouldn’t make me so happy. It’s not like he just swore his undying love to me, but it’s nice to know I’m special. I like thinking he makes special concessions just for me.
I take a turn way too fast, letting the tires squeal. My nipples are hard, the speed and danger turning me on.
“I’m going to give you the best blowjob, Junior,” I promise.
He groans and leans back in his seat, rearranging his junk.
“Where do you want it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Where do you want the blowjob? In this car? Or is too precious for you to have sex in.”
Junior growls, squeezing his dick through his pants with what looks like brutal force. “Oh, you’re going to blow me in this car. But I’m gonna be in that driver’s seat.”
I laugh. “Of course you are.”
“What’d I say about busting my balls?”
“I don’t know, I kinda consider it my job. I’m not sure you get nearly enough ballbusting in your life.”
Junior’s heavy-lidded gaze rests on my face and I swear I detect nothing but fondness in it. Fondness and heat.
Which works for me, because driving Junior’s car is total foreplay for me. I’m so turned on by the time I pull into his garage, I’m ready to strip my clothes off and throw myself at him. But I promised a blowjob, and I intend to make it good.
I turn off the motor and climb over the center console, onto Junior’s lap.
His hands grip my hips. “What are you doing, doll?”
I put my tits in his face. “Changing places,” I say with mock innocence. “Didn’t you want to be in the driver’s seat?”
His cock lengthens under my lap.
“Not sure I can walk at the moment,” he admits, lifting my hips and grinding me down over his erection.
My panties are wet, nipples harder than diamonds. I grab the door handle and open the door. I climb out and lean over him, hands on his thighs. “Maybe you’d better stay where you are, then.”
Junior tilts the seat back and shifts his knees toward me. “Maybe I’d better.” His voice is gravelly and low.
I unbutton his pants and free his erection. Junior fists the base of it, holding his full length out to me.
I reach for the tin of mints in his center console and pop one in my mouth. “Tell me if you like the tingle.” I open my lips to take him in.
His cock jerks and grows even fatter as I slide my lips over it. “Oh fuck.” Junior lifts his hips to shove deeper into my throat. “I really fucking like the tingle.”
I hum softly as I move my mouth up and down his length, relaxing my throat and taking him deeper each time.
“Oh my God. You’re killing me,” he growls when I get faster.
I pop off and pay some attention to his balls, licking and sucking them while I let his cock cool in the air. When I put my mouth back over it and take him deep, he shouts.
“That’s right. Cristo. You keep working that hot little mouth, doll. Gonna make me come so hard.”
I suck as hard as I can, ignoring the ache in my jaw as I give it all I have. I want to make this good for Junior. It turns me on to witness the effect I have on him. I cup his balls, massage behind them over his prostate as I bob my head faster and faster.
“Don’t stop. Oh God, don’t stop,” he groans. His cock lurches, balls draw up. “I’m gonna come.”
Hot streams of his salty essence hit the back of my throat and I swallow it down, like I promised. I lick him clean and then smile wide, pleased with myself.
“Desiree, doll, you can drive my car anytime,” he says and we both laugh.
Desiree
On the sixth day of Gio’s recovery, he spikes a fever. I check his temperature with the thermometer from my med kit, then his blood pressure.
Temperature of one hundred three and elevated blood pressure.
Crap.
I don’t know if it was the fall out of bed, or ripping the stitches, or what, but I don’t like it. In fact, it worries the hell out of me.
I’m not a doctor. I have no idea what that bullet hit inside Gio. And if something’s infected, all the progress he made this week will be lost. He could easily still die.
“Junior,” I call from Gio’s room.
He must hear the fear in my voice because he shows up immediately. “What is it?”
“Gio spiked a fever. I’m going to need a new antibiotic-see if you can get Keflex. Or clindamycin, but that’s going to give him the shits. And salty soup.”
He studies my face, and must read how serious this is because he’s all business. “I’ll go now. Anything else?”
I shake my head, going to the bathroom to get warm wash clothes to try to cool Gio down.
Junior leaves. It occurs to me that it’s the first time he’s left me alone, but that’s so irrelevant right now. Either he trusts me, or he figures this is an emergency and he has no other choice. It doesn’t matter-I have bigger things to worry about.
I give Gio a sponge bath with warm water, then sit beside him. I’ve lost patients before. There are times it breaks my heart, no matter how hard you try to remove yourself from it.
But losing Gio is not an option.
There’s no way I could watch that happen. No way I could witness Junior’s pain.
I get Gio to swallow a little Tylenol and run the possibilities in my head. The fact that his body was healing and took a turn for the worse concerns me. It will be at least twenty-four hours before I know if a new antibiotic works. In that time, he could go septic.
Shit.
Maybe I should talk Junior into taking him to a hospital. Although they would probably do the same thing I’m doing here.
I pick up my phone. There’s one person I ask for help in cases where it seems like patients need something beyond medicine.
My mom.
And she doesn’t go into work until this afternoon.
I call her up and speak to her in Spanish. “Mamá, I need some help. My patient had a fall yesterday that reversed his recovery. Do you think you could come and do some of your Reiki magic on him?”
“Of course, mija.” That’s the amazing thing about my mom. If someone calls for her services, she never refuses. She believes it’s a gift from God that she’s obligated to share wherever it’s needed.
“I’m at a house in Oak Park. Can you come this morning before your shift?”
“Yes,” my mother says slowly. “Yes, I can come. What’s the address?”
“I’ll text it to you. Can you come right now?”