//in a world without STDs. That's what fantasy is for, right? Part 1 & 2 is floating around//
As I finish typing my last medical note for the evening, I hear a knock on the door.
I glance at the corner of my laptop before closing it shut, Privacy and all that. It's late, who the fuck is here now? My last appointment was over half an hour ago, and all of my colleagues are usually gone by now.
I begrudgingly slide my bare feet into my heels, in case it's someone worthy of my professionalism.
As I open the door, I register the familiarity of his arrogance before anything else.
I bark out a laugh, unable to stop myself, at the audacity and absurdity of this moment.
"Dr. Baqir, this is... unexpected."
"Dr. M" he says teasingly, as he turns on the charm with his eyes crinkling. Even in casual jeans, he is stunning, his broad shoulders and light brown eyes doing all the talking for him.
"We do different kind of work," I say, allowing my lips to smile a little. I rest my head against the doorframe, blocking his entry. I look him up and down, noticing the muscles of his forearms and the high end wine store bag in his grip, remembering that same grip on my hips.
Fuck.
"Yes, I can see that," he says, as he points to the empty waiting room with plush chairs and calming generic artwork (not my choice). "Your work is... messier."
I roll my eyes and nod at the gift in his hand - "I don't like wine."
Al looks unperturbed, the excessive confidence reminding me of how much I had wanted to take him down a peg the first time we had a drink together. And also how much I wanted to fuck him.
He leans just a little closer into me, and his cologne hits me, bringing back vivid memories of his hand grazing my collarbone, of being fucked from behind on his kitchen island.
Fuck him. And his random fucking visit.
"Do you usually show up without calling?," I ask, not quite willing to let him in just yet.
"You did ask about house calls, and I'm in your town. It's not wine, by the way - it's an 18 year single malt from Japan."
"Why are you in my town?"
"I'm speaking at a conference - about ER protocol and procedure."
I lean close and I feel the desire radiating off of him.
"And you said my work is messier?" I ask, eyebrows raised.
As Al grins, I re-realize how much I wouldn't date him, hell, I wouldn't usually fuck someone like him but the chemistry, in all of its mutually aggressive cockiness, is primal. And stupid. Doing things I usually never do, saying snarky things that I usually don't say.
"Are you going to let me in?" He asks, breath minty, brown eyes mischievous.
Both of us can sense my inner conflict as I contemplate letting him into my office. He's so close, I see the evening stubble on his jaw. His jaw that was very good with rimming my asshole. He senses me melt and just when he leans in to close the gap between us, to kiss me, I pull away, expressionless.
He's thrown off for half a second before I stop my teasing.
"Come in," I say with a grin.
"You're such an asshole," he mutters jokingly, as he drops his backpack on the floor and puts the booze on my work desk. Very close to my laptop.
"You care about where things are placed too?" Al teases, watching my expression before moving the bottle to the floor.
"I guess we're all control freaks in our own way," I say with a laugh.
"Are you calling me a control freak?," he asks with a smile.
"Of course I am," I say snottily, as I turn away from him to shut the door.
Guess we're doing this?
As my fingers touch the cold of the door handle, my gaze rests on the latch wondering if I give in to my desire to lock it or be a grown up and suggest we go for a drink in an appropriate place.
His hands circle my waist, making the hair raises on my arms, and my hormones make my decision for me.
As soon at the latch clicks, all feigned restraint is gone. Al's hands run over me and his teeth graze against my neck, while he pulls me close against him.
I shudder, grabbing his hands and placing them on my tits as I grind onto him, feeling his cock start to harden.
I spin around and drop to my knees, grabbing at the cold metal button on his jeans, yanking them and his briefs down his muscular quads.
His cock is beautiful, semi-hard, and I smile when I notice some stubble. Guess even he can have some stubble between waxes.
I take his cock in my hands. I look up at him and slowly lick the tip. With each lick, my tongue covers more of his shaft, and I watch him look mesmerized.
Spit dribbles out of my mouth and I let it, knowing the impact it was having on him,feeling his hardening cock twitch at the sign of my arousal.
Who ever said you lose power when giving blow jobs?
Midway, I stop to smile at him, and he grins back, placing a hand on my head, fingers weaving through, touching my scalp.
"Take your shirt off," I say, before tilting my head and licking up his shaft.
He lets go off my hair and pulls his shirt off.
