Chapter 6- Celestial Skies
2399 Words
XANDER
I can't stand the sunlight in the morning, especially the way it glares down at me through the f*****g blinds in the window. I force my eyes open and squint, feeling like my eyelids are on fire.
Taking a moment to gather myself, I feel the throbbing pain on the sides of my forehead from last night's hangover. I can taste the cotton in my mouth, and my throat stings as I swallow. Reluctantly, I coax my limbs to move.
I drag my lazy gaze to the wall clock facing the bed. It's already eleven in the morning. I have six appointments in the afternoon, with the first one in exactly two hours at one.
Slowly, I turn around and realize there's someone next to me, in my bed, in my space. My arm brushes against soft, warm skin.
I look at her, taking in the breathtaking view, trying to piece together the memories and details from last night. I love how the white blanket clings to her curves, the delicate arch of her back begging for my soft kisses.
I want to trace my fingers along her waist, turn her to face me, and kiss my way down from her neck to her breasts. And well, indulge in a little breakfast between her legs.
Women are truly a work of art. They captivate me. Each one has a unique body, and every detail tells a story. I want to know every curve, every innocent attribute. Those stretch marks, moles, the way melanin is distributed, those attention-seeking freckles, and curves that rival the beauty of the night sky... They make me feel alive and ignite a fire within me.
I wish I could capture those details, somehow, on something that I can stare at whenever I please.
But then, there's the flip side. I hate women. Yeah, I said it. But I also love them. I love the fact that I hate them, and I find passion in that confusion.
All that female bullshit and drama can drive you insane. They can go from hot to crazy in the blink of an eye, sometimes both at the same damn time.
I like being in control. I crave freedom. But women have this knack for messing things up in my life. Yet, damn it, I want to f**k them all, every type, and I think I'm obsessed with that particular... hobby.
My thoughts are interrupted as her arm shifts. She's awake. She must have sensed me drifting away from dreamland. She turns to me and smiles, her long blonde hair tousled from our escapades.
"Last night was amazing," she says in a husky voice, her hand reaching out to caress my face. Those words play on repeat in my mind like a catchy song.
Her eyes meet mine, half-open and filled with a certain depth.
"Yes, indeed," I admit, she's one of the best lays I've had in a while. But as much as I'd love to spend the whole day plowing her, she needs to leave. Now.
"So..." Her eyes are wide open now, and the fire from last night is reigniting. She runs her fingers along my arm, clearly trying to get me in the mood. "What's the plan for today?"
My plan? Get you out of my place ASAP and hope to never lay eyes on you again...
"Like I mentioned last night, I'm traveling. And I only have two hours to catch my flight," I give her my usual excuse as I rise from the bed and pick up my black shirt that was carelessly discarded on the floor hours ago. "I wasn't supposed to be out last night, but you were so damn irresistible, I lost my mind."
Rule #1 in one-night stands: Make her believe you've sacrificed your time for her, so all your morning excuses will hold up.
"I don't remember," she furrows her brow, trying to recall.
"That vodka must have been lethal," I smirk at her.
"Where are you going?" Her perfectly arched eyebrow raises.
And that's when my annoyance kicks in. The dreaded question-and-answer session. I grab my phone, go to the settings, swipe down the ringtones, click Play, and pretend someone is calling me. She jumps at the sudden ringing.
"Excuse me," I glance at her. She's now sitting on the bed, blue eyes fixated on my every move, purposely not covering her nakedness with the sheets. The way the sunlight gleams on the curve of her breasts is a tad distracting, but hey, I'm the master of self-control.
"Yes, Parker. Uhh..." I glance at the wall clock to make my act seem legit. "I'll meet you at the airport in an hour. Yes, yes, just bring those documents. Alright. Bye."
Parker is the pet fish of the 80-year-old tenant next door. I have no idea why I used poor Parker's name, probably just to amuse myself. I turn to her after ending "the call."
"I'll call you a cab now. I suggest you start getting dressed," I inform her as I stumble towards the bathroom, my feet still trying to regain their energy.
"Can I join you?" she purrs, attempting her best seduction. I turn, and she's biting her lower lip.
Ah, women.
After a split second of contemplating the consequences, I nod in approval. Well, one last quick round won't hurt.
I'm balls-deep with her in the shower when my phone starts ringing. For real. I pull the sliding glass door of the bathroom just slightly to check where my phone is, with my c**k still in her mouth. It's on the bedside table.
I look down at this chick, who’s gagging herself with my d**k.
Ooh! It rhymes, Man!
I haven't f*****g come yet, and if I don't soon, I'll be late for my first appointment. I grip her head with both hands and guide her mouth along my full length, her teeth occasionally grazing me and giving me a mix of pleasure and pain. With the sound of my phone ringing, I focus on f*****g her mouth at a faster pace.
It's probably, our medical secretary Ellie, calling to ask if it's cool to squeeze in one more appointment this afternoon.
My blood vessels start constricting, sending a rush of blood down to my crotch.
Finally, I reached my peak. I shudder as she strokes me with her skilled hand and swallows my load like a pro.
"Fuck..." I throw my head back and groan as she takes the last drop. She stands up and wipes the c*m from around her mouth.
"Who's calling?" she asks, her eyes filled with curiosity as she peeks outside the bathroom, searching for my phone.
"None of your business," I fail to conceal my irritation. I turn on the shower and rinse myself before stepping out. I call a cab while drying off. She steps out and dries her hair, intentionally flaunting her naked body.
"Get dressed; the cab is on its way," urgency seeps into my voice.
"Well, I was wondering when you'll be back here in Evanston, so..." I toss her slutty clothes at her. The items slip from her hand.
"Olivia, please. Put some clothes on," I plead as I pull on my jeans, not bothering to zip them up.
"It's Natalie..." she corrects, giving me a wounded puppy look.
"Sorry, must be the alcohol."
Damn, Olivia was the girl from yesterday. The one with the sexy mole beneath her left breast, who blew me like my d**k was a goddamn lollipop. I smirk at the memory.
"Who's Olivia?"
Thank goodness my phone saves me; it rings again just in time to rescue me from coming up with some lame excuse. I check the screen as I pull on my slick blue collared long-sleeved shirt. It's Jun, the Filipino cab driver who's always on speed dial to send the ladies home.
I turn to... Natalie, who's sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling with the endless strap of her heels. Her face is all twisted up like she's trying to solve a freakin' Rubik's Cube. I don't have time for this. My time is more valuable than Bitcoin. I grab her arm and yank her out of my place.
"Wait, my shoe isn't on yet..." she hops around on one foot.
"You need to go... Natalie, I'm sorry. I'm already late."
"Call me, okay?" She gives me that desperate puppy-eyed look before I slam the door shut. Phew! Finally, some peace and quiet.
It's almost one o'clock when I finally arrive at Women's Royal Hospital, about a thirty-minute drive from my crib. The sky is as gloomy as Monday mornings get, with gray clouds hanging over the city like a bad hangover.
On one hand, I'm sipping on my go-to hot white chocolate mocha from Starbucks. It's like liquid ecstasy sliding down my throat, waking up all my senses and helping me recover from last night's wild party. The espresso shot gives me the kick I need to start my day.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Greene," Nina, my flirtatious nurse manager, greets me with her usual seductive smile as soon as I approach her station. She offers me my coat, holding it out like she's presenting a prize.
"Is the first patient ready?" I ask, sliding my arms into the coat and shrugging it on. I remember this was supposed to be Dr. Jacobs' patient, but she had some emergency.
"Yes, she's already in the room." She hands me the clipboard with the patient's records. I quickly scan through the forms as I make my way to my office.
Emily Maxwell. 20-year-old WF. Chief complaints: recurrent menstrual cramps, absence of period for almost three months.
Hmm. This girl is probably knocked up. I skim through the rest of Emily's records—zero s****l history.
Virgin... I grin.
This could be a case of PCOS or some ovarian cysts, but she's too young for that. Let's see.
I rarely see patients with serious gynecological problems. Most of the time, it's a never-ending line of women who just want a pap smear, complain about irregular periods, or even sweet old grandmas who still want to get their freak on. And let's not forget the occasional STD that can be cleared up with some antibiotics and fluids. Hell, I even have one woman who's been visiting my office every time she gets cramps. Yeah, just freaking menstrual cramps. Monthly.
I smirk as I remember another patient who came to me because of decreased libido… Good times.
I reach my office just as I finish scanning the last page. I open the door and there she is, sitting nervously on the examination table.
Her long, dark, silky hair is thrown up into a messy bun, with a few strands escaping to frame her forehead. Her long, milky-white shapely legs dangle off the edge of the bed, swinging nervously as she looks at them. When she lifts her head and sees me, her eyes widen.
Damn, she looks like one of those porcelain dolls with huge eyes.
Wait a minute, I think I've seen those eyes before... but I push the thought aside for now. I'm sure I'll remember where I've seen her soon enough.
From the way she was staring at me like I was some kind of surprise guest, I could tell she wasn't expecting me.
"D-Dr. Greene?" She stammers.
"Hello, Emily. How are you?" I try to keep her at ease. The way she's looking at me is strange as if I'm the last person she expected to walk through that door. I may not be Dr. Jacobs, but I'm still a damn doctor.
I must have met her before...
"You'll be examining my v****a?" she blurts out.
What the actual f**k? I can't help but stifle a laugh.
"Well, apparently, yes. That's my job. I'm a gynecologist," I reply, trying my best not to let the suppressed laughter creep into my tone.
I still have at least five patients after her, so I need to hurry this along. But she seems really nervous, her hands visibly shaking.
I try my best to hide my annoyance when she reveals that she wasn't informed about Dr. Jacobs being away and that I, a guy, will examine her. This is the first time I've sensed a woman actually being scared of me. Usually, women willingly spread their legs without hesitation. I'm starting to lose my patience with this girl. Once she's done with her little drama, I move on to the breast exam.
Now, let me tell you, I've seen more than my fair share of breasts in my time. But damn, when I lay my eyes on hers, I can't help but gulp. They're beautifully formed, perky with pinkish tips that blend perfectly with the milky rounds of her globes. Her eyes are shut so tight it probably hurts.
This girl is starting to turn me on.
She lets out a soft gasp the moment I start kneading her left breast. Sweet f**k, they feel so soft and warm against my hand…
They're probably 34B, firm and round, not too big, not too small, and definitely real. Her pink n****e hardens and pokes out even more when my finger touches it. It looks so sweet, sitting there on her areola, which is colored in an enticing shade of pink. My pants are getting tighter just thinking about it.
She's clearly trying her best not to moan. Her lips are pressed together tightly, and her eyes are fluttering. She's cute, adorable even, and I suddenly feel the urge to squeeze her face. I wonder how she'd react if I cupped her full breasts in my hands and sucked on her n*****s.
"Your breasts are in perfect condition, Emily," I say casually after finishing with the other equally magnificent one. "You can tie up your top now."
Her eyes flew open as if she didn't see the end coming. I can see a mixture of relief and frustration in those beautiful crystal blue eyes…
Her hands quickly reach for the strings of her paper gown and tie them back together.
Her breasts are normal, but I need to figure out what's causing her other problems. I hope her pelvic exam is just as normal.
And now, we get to my favorite part of the gynecological exam…
- Writer
