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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ally

The clock on my desk ticks louder than usual today, or maybe it just feels that way because the day is dragging. My calendar is empty, no appointments, no evaluations, not even a surprise walk-in.

The stillness of the office makes me question why I’m even here.

I tap my pen against the edge of my notebook, the repetitive click-click-click filling the silence as I glance at the computer screen in front of me. The medical records I was reviewing are a blur now, the words swimming together as my mind wanders.

I resist the urge to reach for my phone, which sits face down on the desk like a forbidden fruit. Dr. Martin’s gruff warnings echo in my head. “This isn’t social hour, Perry. You’re here to work.”

The thought of him catching me scrolling through my messages or zoning out on social media makes me cringe. The man has a sixth sense for slacking, and I’m not about to test it.

Still, the boredom gnaws at me.

I glance out the small window of my office, watching as a gust of wind stirs the branches of a nearby tree.

It’s gray and overcast, the kind of day that makes you want to curl up with a book and pretend the world doesn’t exist.

Instead, I’m stuck here, hoping something, anything, will happen to break the monotony.

The sound of Dr. Martin’s chair scraping against the floor pulls me from my daze. I sit up straighter as he walks over to my desk, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his white coat.

He looms over me, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth, but the sharp glint in his eyes makes it anything but friendly. “Listen,” he says, his tone oozing condescension. “You’ve more than proven yourself here with your experience and knowledge. Like I said, I was planning to retire until I was reminded that I’d signed up to be your mentor last year.”

I swallow hard, unsure of where this is going, but I nod anyway.

He leans down slightly, his voice dropping. “Either way, let’s just say that, as your superior, I trust your instincts. Let’s also say you might not see me as much. You might not see me every week, even.” He pauses for effect, his smile widening. “Your paperwork will say you saw me, but you might not have. Your paperwork will say, above all, that I saw you here every day . Are we clear?”

The weight of his words sinks in, and my eyes widen slightly.

“Yes,” I manage, nodding quickly.

It dawns on me what Dr. Martin is really saying.

He’s done watching me like a hawk.

He’s ready to check out, retire, and coast until my fellowship ends.

If I’m okay with it, he’ll sign off on my fellowship as though I’d been under his constant supervision the entire time.

“Yes, yes, absolutely, Dr. Martin,” I say, my voice enthusiastic.

He watches me for a beat, the smile never quite reaching his eyes.

“You’re the superior,” I add quickly, trying to match his energy. “Whatever you say goes.”

His smile tightens, and he nods. “Good. I thought we’d be on the same page.”

I force myself to smile back, my heart racing in my chest.

This is the break I didn’t know I needed. No more hovering, no more constant critiques. It’s like the world has shifted slightly, and for once, the weight on my shoulders feels a little lighter

“Good! Good,” Dr. Martin says, straightening up and brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Glad we have an understanding.”

He pauses, fixing me with a sharp look.

“Now, don’t take advantage of this. You’re still supposed to be here for all your regular hours. I won’t sign off if I find out you’ve been skipping work because I wasn’t here. Understand?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Martin,” I reply, nodding earnestly.

He watches me for another long moment, then turns and strides toward the door. “Good,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ll see you…when I see you.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

I sit there for a moment, the silence of the office almost deafening.

The door clicking shut behind him feels like the sound of chains breaking.

A grin spreads across my face as I lean back in my chair, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The weight of his constant supervision is gone, and for the first time, I feel like I can actually breathe in this office.

I glance around the empty space, the stillness no longer suffocating. It feels like freedom. Pure, unadulterated freedom.

I decide I’ve had enough of sitting in this office doing nothing.

If Dr. Martin isn’t here to micromanage me, there’s no reason I can’t make better use of my time. Slipping on my coat, I pull a pair of gloves and a knit hat from the pocket.

The chill of the Minnesota winter is creeping in earlier than expected, and even the thought of the cold rink air makes me shiver.

The hallways feel warm by comparison to the rink, the quiet hum of the building and the muffled sound of skates on ice creating a soothing backdrop.

I make my way through the maze of corridors, my pace quickening slightly as I near the rink doors.

When I push them open, the sharp, icy air hits me like a slap. I pull my hat down over my ears and tuck my hands into my pockets, stepping into the cavernous rink. The sound of blades slicing through ice and the occasional shout from the players echoes through the space, bouncing off the high ceilings.

The chill seeps into my cheeks and nose as I walk toward the edge of the rink, leaning on the railing and peering through the plexiglass.

The players dart across the ice, their movements quick and precise, the sound of their skates carving into the frozen surface like music to my ears. I catch myself smiling as I watch, the sheer athleticism on display never failing to impress me.

Across the empty stands, I spot Nick sitting on the bench, his bandaged hand resting on his knee. His gaze catches mine, and he raises his good hand in a wave.

I wave back, feeling a small smile tug at my lips. The players move between us, the blur of jerseys and sticks creating a fleeting barrier, but Nick waves again, more animated this time. He gestures for me to come over, his expression playful.

I hesitate, glancing around the stands. The place is empty except for the team, and after a moment’s deliberation, I decide to go. Hugging my coat tighter, I make my way around the rink, stepping carefully over the slick floor near the ice.

Reaching the bench, I climb in from the side, the metal frame cold under my gloves as I steady myself. Nick shifts over slightly to give me room, his grin easy and disarming.

“Where’s your boss?” Nick asks, tilting his head.

I settle into the spot next to him, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “Gone for the day. Actually, gone for good, more or less.”

Nick’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?”

I laugh softly, shrugging. “Dr. Martin basically told me he’s checking out early but still signing off on my fellowship. He said he trusts me.”

Nick looks flabbergasted, his mouth opening slightly before he shakes his head. “How’d you pull that off?”

“I have no idea,” I admit, laughing again. “I guess I impressed him?”

Nick raises his bandaged hand, a smirk playing over his lips. “Well, you impressed me, too.”

The sincerity in his tone catches me off guard, and I feel my cheeks warm despite the cold air. “Thanks,” I mumble, glancing down at my gloves.

His grin widens, and for a moment, it’s just the two of us, the sound of the players on the ice fading into the background.

Nick leans back against the bench, his good hand resting casually on his knee as he glances at me. “You know,” he says, his tone light but teasing, “this means I get to drop in on you whenever I want while you’re watching practice.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to mask the smile threatening to creep across my face. “Oh, does it now?”

He nods, the smirk turning into a full grin. “Absolutely. Can’t let you get too bored in that office of yours.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t deny the warmth in my chest.

There’s something about Nick’s charm that’s hard to ignore, even when I know I should avoid getting caught up in it.

The thought sobers me quickly.

Just last night, I gave my virginity to Brooks, and now here I am, sitting next to Nick, blushing at his compliments and fantasizing about things I have no business imagining.

I try to focus on the game, letting my gaze follow the players as they weave across the ice. But it’s a struggle.

The way Nick’s presence pulls at me, the way his playful tone keeps replaying in my head, it’s almost too much.

“Keep your head in the game, Ally,” I mutter under my breath, trying to shake off the distraction.

But as Nick leans in closer to ask me something, his voice low and smooth, I know it’s going to be harder than I thought.

Nick leans forward slightly, his gaze fixed on me with that same playful intensity he always seems to carry. “So, what are you doing tonight?”

I blink, caught off guard by the question. “Uh…tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “Tyler and I are heading out to check out this new club downtown. Thought maybe you’d want to come with us. Grab dinner, have a drink, see the place. It’ll be fun.”

For a moment, I hesitate.

The offer is tempting, but my plans for the evening are already set, and they have nothing to do with Nick or Tyler.

My heart skips a beat as I think of Brooks, the warmth of his touch, the way he made me feel last night.

“I can’t,” I say quickly, forcing a polite smile. “I have plans with my dad tonight.”

Nick’s expression falters for a moment, the hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he recovers. “Your dad, huh? All right, family time’s important.”

“Yeah,” I say, guilt bubbling up in my chest. “He’s been wanting to catch up, and with work, it’s been hard to find the time.”

Nick nods, his disappointment obvious, but he doesn’t press further.

“Well,” Nick says, leaning back against the bench, “Tyler and I will give you a review of the club, and then maybe we can all go again sometime.”

I smile wide, though it’s not for the reasons Nick might think. “That sounds awesome! I hope you guys have a great time.”

“Thanks,” he says, his grin returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Inside, I’m relieved. If Nick and Tyler are going to be out all night, that means no interruptions, no unexpected surprises during my time with Brooks.

Brooks and I will have the evening completely to ourselves.

The thought sends a small thrill through me, but I push it down, forcing myself to focus on the present. “You’ll have to tell me how it goes tomorrow,” I add, standing up and brushing off my coat.

Nick nods, waving as I head back toward the main hallway.

Returning to my office, the day stretches on in slow motion.

With Dr. Martin gone and no appointments on the schedule, I spend most of the afternoon aimlessly scrolling through my phone, occasionally glancing at the clock.

Each minute feels like an hour as my mind wanders to the evening ahead. I think about Brooks during practice, the way his presence commands attention on the ice. The memory of his laugh, his smirk, the way he looked at me last night, it’s enough to make my cheeks warm just sitting here.

Finally, the clock ticks over to the end of my shift. I grab my coat and bag, practically bouncing as I head out the door. The empty parking lot greets me with a chilly breeze, but even the cold can’t dampen my mood.

Sliding into my car, I start the engine and pull out of the lot, my thoughts already racing ahead to tonight.

When I get home, I’m greeted by the sound of my cat, Poppy, meowing loudly from the living room. The fluffy gray ball of energy bounds toward me, her soft chirpy noises filling the quiet space as I set my bag down and kick off my shoes.

“Hey, Poppy,” I say, scooping her up into my arms. “You’re not going to believe the day I had.”

She purrs, her little body vibrating as I carry her into the kitchen. Setting her down, I open the fridge and start pulling out ingredients for dinner, pasta, fresh vegetables, and a bottle of wine.

As I chop vegetables, Poppy weaves between my legs, her tail brushing against my calves. “Dr. Martin basically put me in charge today,” I tell her, my voice light with excitement. “He said he trusts me to handle things. Can you believe that?”

Poppy responds with a series of chirps and meows, rolling onto her back and batting at the hem of my pants.

“And tonight,” I continue, smiling as I sprinkle seasoning into the pan, “I’m going to see Brooks again. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Poppy stretches, her paws batting at the air, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in weeks.

I finish cooking the veggie stir-fry, the aroma of garlic and ginger wafting through the kitchen as I set the plate on the small dining table. I grab a fork and sit down, ready to take my first bite, when my phone buzzes on the counter.

The screen lights up with Dad in bold letters, and my heart skips. I quickly wipe my hands on a napkin and pick up.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, trying to keep my tone light and casual despite the nervous energy bubbling inside me.

“Hi, sweetheart,” his familiar voice comes through, warm and steady. “How’s work going?”

“Good,” I reply, glancing toward the clock. Brooks will be here soon, and I feel a flicker of guilt. “It’s busy, but I’m keeping up.”

We chat for a few minutes, his voice calming me like it always does. He talks about his garden and a new recipe he’s trying, and I smile, grateful for the normalcy of the conversation.

“I’ll come by in a couple of days,” I promise him.

“Looking forward to it,” he says warmly. “Love you, Ally.”

“Love you too, Dad.” I hang up, feeling relieved. He sounds good, happy even, and that eases some of the guilt I’ve been carrying around.

I think about using him as my alibi earlier today when I was talking to Nick. Who am I becoming? I feel like I skipped my wild teenager phase and now I’m indulging in it as an adult, complete with fibbing about my whereabouts and using my dad as my excuse.

I return to my dinner, twirling a forkful of stir-fry and taking a bite. The mix of fresh vegetables and tangy sauce is comforting, but my mind starts to wander after the bite.

I glance at Poppy, who’s lounging on the floor near the table, her gray fur catching the soft glow of the kitchen lights. “You know, Pops,” I say between bites, “Dad and Mom had the kind of love that people write books about. I want that someday. I really do.”

Poppy chirps in response, her tail flicking lazily.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “I just hope I’m not screwing everything up by…well, by doing what I’m doing.”

The sound of the doorbell cuts through my thoughts, and I jump slightly, my heart racing. Brooks.

I walk to the door, my stomach flipping with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, I open it, and there he is, tall, rugged, and every bit as magnetic as I remember.

“Hey, I–”

Before I can finish my sentence, Brooks steps inside, his hands on my waist as he pulls me into a kiss.

His lips are warm and insistent, and I barely manage to swing the door shut behind us as we stumble slightly, pressed together.

His jacket brushes against my arms and his hands slide up my back. My fingers tangle in his hair, and I lose myself in the way he kisses me, intense, consuming, like he can’t get enough.

I let out a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to catch my breath. “I was going to say I made dinner…”

“Later,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, before leaning in again. “I want to eat you first.”

“What?” I ask, but no sooner do the words leave my mouth, he’s lifting me in the air, setting me down on the couch, and working my pants off.

I don’t know how he does that so fast, whether it’s just experience, or I’m just in shock, but it feels like suddenly I’m naked with no recollection of how it happened.

Then I feel it—Brooks’ tongue against my clit, flicking it gently, sending rebounding waves of pleasure coursing through me with each stroke of his body. I feel his tongue replaced by his finger, shaking and sliding across my pussy, and I whimper and moan, feeling myself shudder and squeeze at his touch.

Brooks makes me feel things I’ve never been able to achieve on my own. He plays my body like an instrument and he’s already a master.

“Please,” I beg. “I want to suck your cock. Please.”

“Oh, do you now?” Brooks chuckles, and pulls his pants down, his big dick flopping straight out at me.

I smile at him, looking up as I take it into my hand, opening my mouth to swallow him for a few passes. I feel his hand gather my hair, holding it up in a high ponytail as I bob back and forth on him, gagging slightly on the thick head as it touches the back of my throat.

My hands fall to his hips, I pull him forward. “Oh, you want me to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours?”

I feel him start to thrust into my mouth, slowly at first, then quicker and more rhythmically. His grip tightens, and I feel my pussy gush, ready for him to be inside of me.

Still, he makes me wait, taking advantage in the best ways possible.

He pulls his cock away from me, sitting down on the couch and inviting me next to him. “I want you on all-fours, your face in my cock and your legs open so I can play with your pussy while you suck me off.”

Just the thought has me twitching from the inside out, and I happily oblige, kneeling on the couch and dipping my face down to take his dick into my mouth again.

As I suck and slide my mouth around him, I feel his fingers, strong and sure, thrusting deep inside of me, and I moan on his cock, sighing with each movement.

Back and forth, back and forth, I feel him explore my pussy, adding fingers slowly until I’m full and backing myself up on his hand as much as I can.

With a groan he stands up, pulling my hips towards him and letting me hang over the couch.

“Come here, I want to fuck you, hard,” he sighs.

“Hard?” I ask, a slight tinge of fear in my voice.

“Don’t worry,” he sighs, and I gasp, feeling him thrust deep inside of me. “You’re ready for it, I can tell.”

And fuck me hard he does. Grabbing my hips from behind, he pounds into me over and over, the feeling of his thick, throbbing cock sliding against the inside of me making me gush against him repeatedly.

With each gush of fluid, I feel him thrust harder and faster, slamming himself into me. The melodic thrumming from deep inside me starts, a pulling, building tension, like someone tightening the string on a guitar too much.

One more thrust, and I’m going to snap.

And then I do, all over him, shuddering against him. The sensation proves too much for him too, and I feel him finish, his cock throbbing and jerking inside of me, and sending shuddering waves through my body.

He shouts my name as he comes, folding over me slightly, his cock slipping firmly home as he gives in to his pleasure. I enjoy one last jolt of pleasure as he finishes, panting and swimming in a sea of delicious repletion.

We collapse on the couch, sweating in each other’s arms.

“Okay, fine,” Brooks says, his voice lighter now. “Let’s eat. But only because I’m starving.”

I laugh, leading him into the kitchen, where I make him a plate of food.

We sit down together at the table naked, the air between us still charged but now softened by the warmth of shared laughter and clinking forks.

The food disappears quickly, the conversation easy and relaxed despite the lingering heat in his gaze every time he looks at me.

When the plates are empty, I stack them in the sink, turning back to find Brooks standing there, his eyes dark with intent. I shiver a little. I’ve been cold for a bit already, but it was fun and silly to eat together naked.

No one can judge us except for Poppy, and she made herself scarce as soon as activities got too rowdy in the living room.

Brooks steps closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “Round two?” he asks, his tone teasing but full of promise.

I bite my lip, nodding as my heart races.

This time, when our lips meet, it’s even more electric. The warmth of his hands, the press of his body against mine, it all feels like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.

His hands caress my body with the same familiar adept touch. I feel as if each time we meld our bodies together I feel closer to him, but I don’t know what that means for us.

Still, I can’t ruin this moment for myself with questions like that. I don’t care what it means for us , I want to know what it means right now . I want to know how much higher we can go, how much more Brooks has to teach me, and how I can liberate myself further.

He barely breaks the kiss to lift me onto the counter, slotting himself between my hips. I wrap my legs around him instinctively, the warmth of his large body making my skin prickle with sweat despite the chill in the room.

He drops kisses along my neck, then sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. I cry out and arch my back, this new source of pleasure unexpectedly wonderful.

“Oh, you like that,” he comments, switching his attention to my other breast. “I’ll remember that,” he promises me, reaching up to squeeze and massage my breasts.

“I didn’t know I liked that,” I whisper, pressing into his hands, feeling myself sticky and wet already against the counter surface beneath me.

“We’re discovering things together, baby,” he says to me, and the casual endearment makes something warm and sweet flood through me. No one I’ve ever dated has gotten close enough to me to give me pet names.

“I think I might like…”I hesitate, suddenly unsure of myself.

“Might like what?” he asks me, lifting his head and meeting my gaze. The lust and the gentleness in his eyes tugs at my heart, and I reach up to comb my fingers through his hair.

“It might be stupid…I read it in a book,” I say quietly, biting my lip.

“If it’s half as good as you biting your lip in that sexy way, I’m down to try it,” he says back immediately, his eyes trained on my face.

My mouth pops open in surprise, and I giggle. “I didn’t think about the lip-biting thing as something sexy…” I start to say.

“Well, it is,” he interrupts me, planting a hard kiss on my lips. “Now, tell me your idea.”

“Well,” I start, looking to the side of us, “I read this book where the guy…fucked the girl against a wall, and I just wondered?—”

Brooks is lifting me off the counter before I can even finish the thought. My back hits the kitchen wall with enough force to drag a startled squeak past my lips, and I wrap my legs around his narrow waist to balance myself.

I feel the head of his cock against me for just a moment as he adjusts us, and then he’s inside of me and moving already before I can even draw in a breath.

“Oh, fuck, oh, Brooks,” I gasp out, the angle delicious and pleasure already throbbing through me.

“As good as you hoped?” he asks me, his voice rough as he thrusts into me harder.

“Better,” I manage to say between moans.

“I like your books,” he says in my ear, then he moans as I clench around him.

“We might need to look at them…together,” I say back, pressing toward him and arching my back to allow him more access.

“Oh, fuck, Ally….I’m going to come,” he gasps out.

My back hits the wall with each hard thrust, and my head is tilted back, my hair tickling my shoulders.

“Me too,” I gasp out just as Brooks growls and stiffens over me, his dick pulsing within me as he spills himself inside my pussy.

I cry out his name as I fly apart, my hands gripping his shoulders as I snap and twist with pleasure. I hear someone screaming over and over, and realize belatedly that it’s me, shouting out my pleasure so loudly that the neighbors must be ready to come knocking on the door to tell me to shut up.

I laugh a little as I realize that I don’t care. Let them be jealous , I think.

I feel myself burning like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of my self-doubt and insecurity.

Brooks unleashed this side of me, and I can’t ever repay him for that.

I’m loving being a good little student for him.

For his cock, I’d learn all the moves. For his touch, I’d do nearly anything.

Brooks makes me want to try things I never thought I’d ever desire, and the thought is far more exciting than I expected it to be.