Zenith Rising (18 page)

She asked herself once more why she chose to
dedicate her entire life to a profession that so often dealt with
heartbreak.

“Doc?”

Erica jerked her head up at hearing Spencer’s
voice. It was spoken very quietly and so kind. The tone was
different from any he used before with her. She wiped her eyes with
both hands, and sniffed. He was standing right there before her.
How did he get into her locked office? And how did she not hear
him?

“What is it, Spencer?”

“You didn’t hear the knocking? Or your name?
Or the phone? Everyone’s concerned about you. They had me pry the
door open, because only you have a key, it seems. You didn’t hear
any of that?”

She actually hadn’t heard any of the
commotion. “No.”

“They were worried something must’ve happened
to you. You missed one of your appointments already. You never do
that. Not even after you were attacked. What’s going on?”

“Just leave me alone.”

Her head dropped back onto her knees. She
felt too exhausted to keep up the façade, and too tired to pretend
she was okay. He stood over her and she sensed the tension in his
body. He didn’t know what to do with her. She was never like this.
So naturally, she didn’t know what to do either.

Finally, she looked up, anger simmering in
her eyes. “Look, I get what you meant about me not leaving you
alone about your choices in life. You don’t have to reciprocate. I
get it now. Please, just leave.”

“Seems to me that being alone won’t help you
now.”

“It’s exactly what will help me now. There’s
nothing you can do. Or say. Not that you would anyway. You don’t
have the first idea of how to be sympathetic or show compassion.
So, please, get out.”

Erica got up and stomped towards the door to
open it.

He followed her and stared at her hard. His
gaze started at her forehead and traveled down her entire body,
with no detail overlooked. She turned away and her shoulders
dropped in defeat. She finally whispered, “Please, just leave.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I don’t have a clue
of what to say to make you feel better.”

He stepped nearer her, and she turned towards
him. She glanced up, feeling tired, heartsick, and rather surprised
when she found him so close to her. Suddenly, Spencer was all
around her, as he shut the office door with one hand, pushing her
against it. His body blocked her. Then his hand touched her
shoulder and brushed her hair back.

“Lock the door, Doc,” he said softly. His
voice was in her ear, and his tone very low and gentle as he
whispered. She could have done anything she wanted. She could open
the door and order him to leave; but instead, she swallowed, and
held his gaze. He pinned her with his dark, insolent stare.
Fumbling her fingers as she groped for the doorknob behind her
back, she did lock it. The click of the lock seemed to echo through
the room, lingering in her brain, and moving through her entire
body.

He ran his hand down her arm, gripping hers
and pushing it against the door. His other hand ran up her torso,
slowly and with surprising warmth. She could feel the heat of his
hand radiating through the silk of her blouse. He found the hem of
her mint green blouse and slid the button out slowly, then the
next, and so on, until he finally placed his hand through the open
gap of her blouse and cupped her breast. His callused hand caught
on the synthetic fabric of her bra and grazed her erect nipple. The
effect was shocking and the electric jolts suddenly shot down into
her stomach. His large, warm hand was surprisingly gentle. His
fingertips tenderly tugged on her hard nipple again. Back and
forth, he rubbed and tugged. His gentle caress seemed tentative, as
if he were waiting to see her reaction. She froze and her breath
soon became short, hot, pants for air. He moved his fingers harder
and faster in response and her breath caught. Then her legs shifted
and her whole body became alive.

Releasing her hand, his fingers descended her
body to the hemline of her skirt. Of all days, she chose a skirt to
wear today. Who knew? Certainly not she. Never. Not like this. Not
in her office. But God help her, she was powerless to stop him. She
couldn’t imagine wanting to stop him.

His hand was on the outside of her bare
thigh, slowly sliding toward her inner thigh. His fingers traveled
up one side and down the next. He was exciting her skin’s cells,
bringing a flurry of pleasurable sensations. She was blushing and
tingling everywhere. Even aching in some places. Suddenly, his hand
moved upwards, nestling between her thighs, and stopping at her
panties. He rubbed his fingers against them and the heat he kindled
inside her moistened his fingertips. He rubbed back and forth
faster, with feather-light pressure, driving her crazy with
anticipation. His fingers made her even hotter, and she felt a
hardness pressing into her gut.

His other hand circled her waist, and turned
her around, pulling her backwards until she was flush to his body.
Her back against his front, her butt resting between his muscular
thighs. She could feel him getting longer and hotter as he pressed
himself against her.

His hand returned to her other breast, and he
pushed her bra out of the way, suddenly touching her bare skin. Her
nerve endings went wild and exploded as he pulled and pushed
against her. His other hand returned to the edge of her panties,
before he
finally
dipped two fingers inside her. She was
burning hot and slick with wetness. Practically pulsating. Never
having felt so hot, or turned on, in her entire life, she could
hardly stand it.

Then, both of his fingers plunged fully
inside her. He felt her swollen walls, as his fingers explored and
probed, while she nearly collapsed with desire. Her entire body
became engorged with hot, throbbing necessity. The pressure inside
her continued growing until she thought she might burst right then
and there. Nothing had ever felt so good. Or happened so quickly to
her. She vibrated with explosive thoughts.

Her legs turned to jelly when Spencer moved,
and began walking backwards, pulling her body with him, his hand
still lodged inside her. He hit the couch and sat down, pulling her
between his knees, resting her back on his chest. He moved his
fingers deeper inside her, touching every unexplored spot she
wanted touched. He rubbed and massaged her until she moaned, and
her breathing turned to hot, brief gasps. A rainbow of colors shot
like sparklers behind her closed eyelids as she lay atop his chest,
on her back, her body feeling heavy, and immovable as if she were
intoxicated or drugged by him. Where did this come from? When did
they agree to do this?

“Shh, Doc, shh… Thin walls,” he whispered
into her ear after her cries and moans of ecstasy. She couldn’t
help it. Nothing ever felt so good, and he kept doing more. She
couldn’t contain her exclamations and could
not
be quiet.
She was losing control, but vaguely aware of the tinge of humor in
his tone. At seeing her this way: in her prone position against
him, and sensing her undeniable need for him.

“Stop,” she panted, “before…”

“Don’t stop before. Just be quiet.” She
assumed he knew what she meant. She was so close to coming, she
could hardly hear anything beyond the roar in her head, and the
rush in her body. Finally, she came and had to clamp her teeth shut
to avoid making too much noise. Still, she moaned, squirmed, and
gasped at the sensations now drowning her. She was powerless and it
never felt so good.

Spencer sat her up, and turned her around,
before opening her blouse and removing her bra. His mouth
alternated sucking on her breasts, with a warm, wet, sensuous
tugging. Her body still shuddered from her orgasm, but she
perceived new sensations, as well as responses where his lips
latched onto her.

She was still wearing her lab coat and he dug
his hands into her deep pockets. What was he doing? He withdrew a
condom, which she usually carried and provided for her younger
patients whose mothers had no idea what their little girls were
really up to. But how did he know they were there in her pocket?
She’d never, during her entire career, used one of them for
herself.

He shifted her off him, and fumbled with his
jeans, as well as the condom. Only seconds later, he lifted her up
by the waist, and easily positioned her back onto his lap. His
large hands were on her open thighs, sliding seductively and making
her wet again. He pushed her skirt up, moving it higher, then
pulled her onto him, gently sliding into her. Slowly. Long. Hard.
As deeply into her as he could get and she moaned. She couldn’t
help it. He didn’t make a sound, and hardly seemed to breathe, or
so it seemed.

His mouth returned to her nipple. He pulled
on it with his teeth as she bounced her hips slowly over him. With
her hands on his shoulders, she held on, and used his body for
support while she slid up and down on him. Slower. Longer. Harder.
It felt so good, that she did it again and again.

Looking down at his face, she saw his profile
against her breast. His eyes were closed and his long lashes seemed
blacker and thicker to her. His dark, silky hair dropped over his
eyebrows as he sucked on her nipple. God, he was beautiful.

A strange wave of tenderness swept over her,
at seeing him on her breast. The darkness of his skin against her
whiteness as she watched his mouth on her breast, made her think
they were too large, and much too saggy to be considered sexy,
although he seemed to think so. His mouth came off her, and his
hands went up, cupping her, and squeezing her sensuously. She’d
never been caressed like that before. She got turned on from merely
watching him suckle her.

The passion she now felt was like she’d never
experienced. She never expected it could be so different, an act
she based her career on and studied, while clinically analyzing it
for her profession. But she never knew passion, and passion made
all the difference. There was nothing clinical, or clever, or even
accountable this time. She, who was always in control, completely
abandoned it, and without regret. This was about her, and her need
for it now.

When he thrust into her one last time, her
body clenched around him, and nearly vacuumed him inside her. She
came instantly, and he too, finally came inside her, but without a
word. Or a moan. Or an “Oh!” or an “Erica” or even a “Doc!”
Nothing, but closed eyes. Closing her off. He shut himself off to
her now as he had previously. In every way, that is, but their
bodies.

Then it was over.

There was no post-coital conversation or
affectionate caresses. No sounds were uttered in the room. Spencer
sat up and she found herself completely pressed against him. Her
body seemed to sprawl around his, with her legs apart and her knees
still bent, and her calves behind her. She felt like she could’ve
died, she was so spent and exhausted, but never more satisfied
physically. She’d gone from such an emotional low to this! She felt
high as a kite.

Spencer started to move and she wrapped her
arms around his neck, trying to hold him tighter. She was not ready
to move. Or even think. Much less, be pushed away from him yet. She
felt too vulnerable with him and even shocked by his actions. But
mostly by her own reaction. But… there was no denying she felt glad
just to be there with him, especially like this.

A knock pounded at her office door and the
knob turned. Another knock. “Dr. Heathersby? What’s going on?”

It was Marge, her receptionist. Marge’s voice
sounded nearly hysterical with worry and frustration. Erica jerked
up.

“I’ll be right there, Marge.” Erica managed
to finally reply after she found her voice again. It sounded weird
even to her own ears.

“Is everything all right, Dr. Heathersby? You
missed Misty Galina’s prenatal exam, and Tilly Peterson has been
waiting for half an hour. What should I do?”

“Just reschedule, Marge. I just... I need a
moment or two.”

“With the door locked?”

“Yes, with the door locked!” Erica snapped
back. She was much too aware of Spencer now watching her, listening
to her, and most likely, judging her.

Spencer stared at her profile, and his breath
rustled through her hair. She still hadn’t made any eye contact
with him after entering the next level of their relationship.
Finally, she lifted her head up.

Spencer’s silence bothered her. His face was
intentionally blank, as his arms fell loosely around her. He could
retreat to his former self faster than anyone she’d ever met. He
acted as if they’d merely shaken hands.

She licked her lips. “What is this? I mean,
what was that? My God, Spencer…”

“My God is right.”

“But I thought that... you didn’t even like
me.”

“I never said that. You did.”

“But…”

Spencer shifted her until her skirt covered
them. Thank God for Erica’s way of thinking. She wasn’t the ideal
specimen of youth and physical perfection that he was. Placing her
arms back around his neck, she knew she was not ready for him to
get up and ignore her. There was no doubt in her mind that he would
casually lift her off him, get up and leave. She felt sure of it,
so she rested her chin against his chest. Spencer stopped moving
and froze at her touch. It was almost offensive. Then, he finally
put his hands on her back, and through her coat and blouse, she
felt the warmth radiating.

“How did you know what was in my pocket?”

“You hand them out like some doctors do
candy.”

“I do not. You must have seen me do it before
to know that.”

“So I guess I noticed.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you notice things like that about
me?”

“I don’t know.”

She was surprised at his answer. She expected
some rude, flippant reply, but not honesty. Especially from a man
she’d known a while, but still didn’t really know. She most
definitely was at a loss for words now in this most intimate of
moments.