Page 34 of Rescuing Dr. Marian (Made Marian Legacy #1)

TOMMY

By the time I’d reached Hazel and Avery’s place a couple of hours ago, I’d nearly burst into tears.

Hazel was awake and cranky, complaining about all the fuss the family was making over her recovery.

Thankfully, she’d allowed me a few minutes to talk about the details of her medical situation and assure me she was following her discharge instructions.

Unthankfully, my mother had taken one look at me and insisted I either crawl into the nearest guest bed or make my way back to SERA in their rental car asap to get some real sleep.

While I knew she was right, I bristled at being babied while I was trying to assert my authority as a physician with real concerns over Hazel’s recovery.

But now that I was here, only moments away from seeing Foster, suddenly, I did want to be babied. I wanted someone—okay, fine, a specific someone—to take care of me. And if he wanted to brush my teeth and tuck me into bed, all the better.

As soon as the door opened, Chickie barreled into my legs, knocking me back until I nearly tripped down the single step to the dirt path beyond.

“Chickie, fuck!” Foster barked.

I gripped the doorknob for balance as several things hit me at once. First, the sheer comfort and familiarity of this man’s voice.

Second, the joy of causing someone mind-blowing happiness just by arriving—even if that someone was a canine.

And third, the utter relief of Foster stepping toward me, yanking me into his arms, and crushing his lips to mine in a blinding kiss.

I let out a breath of surprise through my nose and then lurched even closer to him, throwing my arms around his neck and sinking my fingers into his hair.

Thank fucking god.

This welcome was ten thousand times better than I’d expected and even more than I’d hoped. I’d worried he wanted to dial things back, put distance between us to keep us from getting too close. But this? This was the exact opposite of distance.

“Missed you,” he said, moving his lips down my jaw and sucking a spot on my neck. I closed my eyes and relished the attention, even though Chickie was doing her best to get my attention.

“You have no idea how happy I am to be back,” I confessed before dropping a kiss into his dark, wind-tossed hair.

He smelled like pine and mountain sunshine, masculine sweat, and faint hints of coffee. For some reason, the combination smelled like the best place on Earth.

“Chickie, dibs,” he growled without taking his lips off my neck. “You need to wait in the damned line.”

“I smell like ass,” I said. “Let me take a shower first.”

Foster pulled back and looked at me. His eyes were wild and weary, lips stained with abrasion from my stubble, hair even messier now from my fingers. “I like ass.”

I grinned. “Good to know. But I still need a shower.”

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight before morning, Dr. Marian, you’re very much mistaken.”

Within moments, I was naked and pressed up against the shower wall with a mountain of hard muscles against my back and his lips back on my neck. Foster’s hand pulled lazily on my wet cock with a soapy slickness that was more promise than satisfaction.

“Not enough,” I begged, reaching my hand down to clasp his. “Just do it already.”

He batted my hand away before grabbing it and placing it back on the wall. “Hold still.”

I leaned my ass back into his own hard cock, feeling the slight brush of his pubic hair against the tender skin of my ass.

The idea of him back there, cock pressing against my ass, made my stomach flip.

Nerves or excitement? Hard to tell, but at this point, I was turned on enough to try anything with Foster, as long as it would get me off.

“Touch me,” I begged, pressing back into him again before trying to thrust into his fist.

“Can’t decide if you want my hand or my dick, Dr. Marian,” he teased. The brush of his lips behind my ear prickled my skin and set all the tiny hairs on my arm standing at attention.

“Whatever it takes,” I said on a gasp as he moved his free hand to my ass and brushed a finger between my cheeks.

His low grunt, half acknowledgment and half pleasure, went straight to my cock just before his finger skimmed the rim of my hole.

“Oh fuck,” I breathed. “Please.”

Foster released my dick, pressed a large hand between my shoulders to bend me forward, and dropped to the floor of the tiny shower. Before I knew what he was doing, a warm, wet tongue began teasing my rim. I sucked in a breath and nearly choked on shower water.

I’d never felt anything like it. The intimacy, the vulnerability, the sheer pleasure of knowing this big, commanding man was on his knees for me, serving at the feet of my pleasure.

My face pressed against the molded plastic wall as I whimpered and begged, needing more, wanting him to stay there like that for hours, just so I could know what it was like to feel this new sensation.

His hands held my ass cheeks as his mouth devoured my ass. Once my sluggish brain finally got its shit together, I reached down to stroke my cock. It didn’t take long before I cried out my release, the broken sound deafening in the tiny space.

My knees were jelly as Foster stood and wrapped an arm around my front, pulling me back into his chest and pressing a musky kiss to my cheek. “You like that?” he asked on a low laugh.

“Fuck.”

His hard dick rocked gently against my ass cheek. I reached back to stroke it before suddenly wanting to make him feel even a fraction of how good he’d made me feel.

I turned in his arms and sank to my knees, surprising him.

Up till now, we’d mostly jerked each other or frotted until we came, like a pair of teenagers.

The time we’d had together had come in snatched moments after a long, exhausting day when neither of us wanted to take the time to do more than share a quick release.

I was also pretty sure Foster had been holding back, like he was worried about overwhelming me.

But then Foster had sucked me off for the first time the other day, and now I couldn’t stop fantasizing about reciprocating, imagining myself taking his big cock into my mouth and watching his eyes as he came apart.

“You going to kiss and make it better, Doc?” he asked, eyes bright and the edge of his lip curled up.

I rubbed my cheek against his thick, ruddy shaft, reveling in the sight and scent of him. The hair at the base of his cock sparkled with water droplets from the angled light over the vanity shining through the glass door.

“Want to make you feel good.” I ran my tongue along the shaft, from root to tip, imagining all the times I’d received the same kind of treatment, never in a million years imagining I’d be the one on my knees doing the same thing to another man.

I’d never felt so powerful and undone all at once. Knowing I was pulling those sounds from him, that I was the one making his fingers tighten in my hair and his quad muscles bunch.

I pulled his tip into my mouth and suckled it, toying with him but also exploring the feel of him on my tongue, testing the way certain moves made him react.

“Ah Jesus fuck , Tommy. Just like that. So good.”

I wanted to be good. Wanted to make him happy, make him feel a fraction of what he made me feel. I wanted to drive him to his knees with pleasure. And, yes, maybe there was a small part of me who wanted to show him what he’d miss when he walked away from me.

That thought was enough to spur me on, to double down on dragging my tongue along his shaft, sucking his balls into my mouth, and taking him as deep as I could, even when it caused me to gag.

The noise of my gagging echoed around us, but I didn’t let it stop me, especially when it seemed to make his dick even harder and his balls draw up.

“Coming, Tom. Fuck. Coming. Fuck !”

The salt hit my taste buds as the sting of his grip in my hair made my eyes smart. I realized belatedly he’d been trying to pull me off of him before his release hit.

Too late and too bad.

I wanted it. Wanted every ounce of this experience with him. I didn’t want to do a damned thing to take any of his pleasure away.

My mouth filled with his release, strange and tangy on my tongue.

I choked and sputtered, exposing myself as the neophyte I was.

My cheeks heated with embarrassment, but when I saw the look on his face—a mix of dazed bliss and something tender that made my chest ache—I realized I’d take any embarrassment again if it meant seeing that expression.

I wanted more than sex. I wanted permanence, even if I didn’t have the guts to say it out loud.

It took me a minute to realize the water had gone cold, but as soon as I did, the exhaustion and overwhelm from my trip and the events leading up to it hit me in full force.

“Hey, hey. Let’s get you dried off, okay?” Foster’s voice seemed to come through water. I stood up with his help, large hands under my arms. My eyes remained on his cock, enjoying the view of it still ruddy and fat against his damp thigh.

He was so fucking sexy, so powerful and attractive. I couldn’t imagine living my entire life without ever having had this experience and this feeling.

In a way, I felt… almost cheated. Like all of my gay and bi cousins, my uncles and friends, had been able to experience this sooner, know this part of themselves earlier.

But I was so fucking glad I knew it now.

“Tommy, look at me.”

I blinked up at Foster, who was somehow already wrapped in a towel and holding a toothbrush with toothpaste on it.

“My toothbrush,” I realized .

“Yes. Your toothbrush. Brush your teeth, baby. You’re wiped out. We never should have— ow !”

I yanked a hair on his chest. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare ruin my first blow job. My first rimming. My first…” I thought back to the sensation of his strong tongue on my ass, in my ass. “Lots of things,” I finished lamely. Because words would never do it justice.

Foster’s face softened. “Okay then. Brush your teeth, Cherry. We’ll have to finish your sexual awakening another time.”

I shoved the toothbrush into my mouth and began brushing. “Want to have anal sex,” I said through a mouthful of suds. “With you.”

His eyes darkened. “Better the fuck be with me. Unless you found some pretty boys in Stanford.”

I leaned against him as I brushed, grateful for his solid presence. “Lots of pretty boys.” When Foster’s mouth dropped into a frown, I leaned on him even more and added, “Don’t want pretty boys. Want my beefy sheriff.”

After finishing my teeth, I rinsed and spit into the sink, taking the hand towel Foster put in front of me. I dried my face, ruffled the towel over my wet hair, realizing it was somehow already towel-dried.

Foster finished his own teeth and herded me into the bedroom, yanking back the covers on my bed. “In.”

“You.”

The single word was all I had the energy for, but he understood it. He slipped between the sheets first and then yanked me in to lie half on top of him the only way we really fit in the bed together .

Pretty sure I was asleep before he even pulled the covers over us. The only thing I remembered was him saying something that sounded oddly like, “You’re as stubborn as your aunt Tilly.”

But that couldn’t have been right.