Silent Passion
I hate this job.
Fifteen minutes into my shift, and I'm already juggling five patients. Days like this make me wonder why I decided to be a nurse.
Taking a swig of my coffee, I straighten out my scrubs and returned to the emergency area. I can't hide forever. Around me, doctors and nurses bustle about, each having an unseemly amount of energy for the hours we were obligated to work. Again, why did I want to do this? I feel someone behind me, snapping me out of my swirling inner thoughts.
"Room three," another nurse mutters, pushing a clipboard into my hands. I roll my eyes, reminding myself that it's only a matter of time before I'm head nurse.
I walk down the hallway, which is lined with beds, carts, and patients. We have no space to spare. God, this place is miserable. As I arrive at room three, I gently knock on the door to alert the occupants. Inside sits a senior woman, actively lecturing the person sitting in the bed.
"If you had listened to me -"
"Ma, I always listen to you."
"Gideon, you're always getting yourself hurt. Maybe if, for once, you had followed any sense of intelligence, we wouldn't be here."
Gideon. 21. Male. Large laceration on right shoulder from a motorcycle accident.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt. My name is Melonie. I'm going to help you out today."
Gideon turns to me, wincing in pain from his injury.
"I'm fine. Discharge me, and we will be on our way," he says, his tone laced with anger.
I set my clipboard down and walk over to him. His wound hadn't stopped bleeding. He clearly needs a round of stitches. How in the world does this man think he's fine?
Rolling up his sleeve, I take a closer look at his shoulder. Surrounding the laceration is a mosaic of tattoos, each creating more definition to his toned muscles. I can't help examining the dragon that curls up his shoulder blade until it reaches the back of his neck. My eyes follow the shape of his neck until they reach a sharp, stunning jawline.
God. This man is beautiful.
"Are you done? I have things to do." Gideon says, startling me out of my daze.
"Oh. You'll need stitches. I can't discharge you."
"Bullshit. Let me leave."
"Gideon, listen to the nurse," his mother sighs.
He nodds faintly, glaring at me. His mother stands up.
"You'll have to excuse me; I can't stand the sight of blood," she says as she smiles at me, walking out of the room. I closed the door behind her.
As I turn around, I find Gideon staring at me, a hint of anger in his eyes. He seems to be looking over every single inch of me, as if he was deciding my ability to give stitches.
I suddenly become all too aware of how tight my scrubs are today. I bought these in my first year of university, well before my figure filled out.
Snapping myself out of his intoxicating gaze, I prepare the suture tray and change my gloves. As I struggle to put on a new pair, my hands sweating, I can feel his gaze on me from behind.
Why is he looking at me like that?
"Why the hell are you working at this dump?" He says, his face expressionless.
"Excuse me?"
"Look in a damn mirror."
I stand there, unable to respond. I make a confused face. What the hell did that mean?
I shake my head, leaning over as I prepare the stitching thread and needle. Placing my hand on his upper back, I steady his shoulder and begin to close the wound. I can see his jaw clenching in pain.
"I didn't mean that you don't look like a nurse," he grunts, wincing. "I meant, you look like a nurse that people fantasize about."
I stopped. What?
He turns, confused by my silence. His face was now millimetres away from mine. I could feel the skin under my hand warm. I could feel my own skin warm. He turns away, shifting in his seat. I swallow hard and try to steady my hands as I continue the stitches.
As I close the last suture, he turns to look at me again. This time, I push myself a bit closer to him.
What is happening?
As we maintain eye contact, I cut off the remaining thread and place dressings on the wound.
"I -"
"Thanks." He interrupts, throwing on his shirt and marching out the door.
I remain in the room, confused.
"What did you think was going to happen?" I mutter to myself as I stand to begin organizing the room. Stopping at the sink, I steady myself on the counter, heat slowly forming between my legs.
Nope. Not happening, stop thinking abou-
I turn abruptly as I hear the door click. It was Gideon. Slowly approaching me, I could tell he was analyzing me again - his eyes roaming every inch of my body.
Suddenly, his hands are around my waist, and his lips are smash into mine.
"Gideon," I gasp.
"Melonie." He replies, his lips moving down my neck.
"What are we -"
"Hush Melonie," he interrupts.
The heat between my legs has returned, causing me to press my body into his. Now, I can feel his length hardening against my stomach. Shit, this man is blessed.
Slamming me against the wall, his pace increases, his kisses growing hungrier. I placed my leg above his hip, causing him to grab my thigh in response and press himself into me even more. My arms move to wrap around his neck, pulling myself in to deepen the kiss.
I reach down to unclasp his belt as he lets out a gasp. I unbutton his jeans, running my finger along the edge of his boxers. Teasing him. Grabbing my hand and pinning it above my head, he slides down my scrubs, pulling my panties down along with them. I try to use my free hand to provide myself with some kind of relief; this is going too slowly.
"Not yet," he hisses, capturing my other wrist and pinning them both above my head.
I can feel my own need dripping down my inner thighs, along with a pool of precum forming on my stomach from where he is pressed against me.
As he continues to tease me with kisses, I try and press my thighs together. I can't take this anymore. A whimper escapes my lips from the pressure. Pulling his face away, he flips me over while holding my wrists together. With my face pressed against the cold counter and my writs pinned above me, he is in control - and I love it.
He shifts behind me, reaching down to take his boxers off. My heart races with excitement, and more of my need drips down my legs, pooling into my bunched-up bottoms at my feet.
As his boxers finally fall, his length springs free. He moves forward, shoving his shaft between my thighs. He begins thrusting, rubbing his entire length across my clit.
This thing is massive.
"Please, I need -" he cuts me off by moving his free hand to cover my mouth.
"Stand on your tiptoes."
I do as he asks, exposing my pulsing warmth to him. I bite his finger, begging him to hurry up. In response, he grunts and aggressively thrusts his entire length inside me.
A searing pain bursts through my abdomen, followed by a gush of pleasure. I moan into his hand. The room fills with tension as he continues to slowly and deeply thrust into me, groaning as he does so.
His pace grows animalistic, his groans becoming more like growls. He begins to thrust deeper and harder, quickening his pace. I scream into his hand each time he comes slamming down into me.
"Hush Melonie," he says, pulling his hand away from my mouth and towards my bottom. A loud smack rings across the room as he spanks me. Hard. I moan in response. Instead of spanking me again, he returns his hand to my mouth and slams himself into me.
Suddenly, he pulls out, and I whimper in protest. He turns me around and lifts me up, wrapping my legs against my waist and pushing my back against the wall. He once again inserts himself, this time hitting my G spot. I bury my face into his neck and scream with pleasure.
Almost there.
My entire body fills with heat as my toes curl. "Gideon," I scream as a squirt around his length, spraying the both of us.
"Melonie," he whispers in response, his strokes becoming shorter and faster. Letting out an explosive moan, his pace slows as I feel my insides warm.
We stand there, catching our breaths, our bodies pressed together. He releases my legs, and I stand. Placing a kiss on my forehead, he pulls up his pants and walks out the door.
Pulling up my own pants, I grab the counter and catch my breath. Stumbling out of the room, my legs weak and trembling, I try to focus my mind on work.
It's time to fill out his discharge papers, I guess.
I reach to grab a pen from my pocket, finding a piece of paper instead.
Melonie, call me
He'd given me his phone number. I smiled, returning it to my pocket. Today might actually be a good day.
