Hot Bodies Boxed Set: The Complete Vital Signs Erotic Romance Trilogy (4 page)

Joanna’s lady parts had discovered a set of gentleman parts that made them feel good—better than they ever had in her life, in fact.

And those lady parts weren’t about to go quietly into the night, either. They demanded satisfaction. And they would get it any way they could.

Joanna’s right hand floated down to the waist of her scrubs as if propelled by invisible machinery. She tried again to stop herself, but couldn’t. Her body had taken on a will of its own.

With two quick flicks of her wrist and fingers, her scrub bottoms puddled around her ankles. She made a move to pull the crotch of her panties to the side, but Harlan had already beat her to it. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a condom, which he whisked onto his gigantic member in a blink of an eye. Before she could even realize what was happening, Joanna was flipped over facedown onto the hood of her Honda with Harlan’s huge cock inside her.

Joanna had never been fucked from behind before—let alone doggy-style across the hood of a car in a parking garage. She’d always been a strait-laced, demure, missionary-position-in-bed-under-the-covers kind of girl. And it wasn’t as if her impotent ex-husband had been capable of introducing her to much else. He’d been lucky just to get it up at all, and had thought any variation on meat-and-potatoes lovemaking would put his erection at risk.

Harlan’s erection sure as hell wasn’t at risk, however. He was so huge and was thrusting so deep, Joanna honestly thought his cock might thrust itself all the way through her body and end up coming out her mouth.

And Joanna didn’t think that would be a bad thing, either. She wanted to know what Harlan’s cock would feel like inside her mouth very much.

But first, she needed to get used to how his cock felt inside her cunt.

And what a feeling it was. The sweating walls of Joanna’s vagina were stretched even further than they had back in the elevator. The angle of thrust created by her prone position across the Honda was so sharp and deep that her cervix almost seemed to explode every time the tip of Harlan’s cock hit up against it. Another advantage of being fucked on the hood of the car was the easy access it gave Harlan to her buttocks and labia. He had no problem whatsoever splaying Joanna’s buttocks wide with one hand as he held her body steady to meet his gargantuan thrusts, all the while rubbing and caressing her clit with his right. The result was an almost immediate—and seemingly neverending—vaginal orgasm.

Joanna bit into the flesh of her left arm to keep from screaming. She couldn’t risk anyone inside the hospital building hearing her cry out in ecstasy. She’d lose her job. She’d be humiliated, the laughingstock scarlet woman of the whole town. But even so, the knowledge that she was fucking a man in public—that she could get caught at any time—was more thrilling than anything she’d ever experienced.

Anything but the wild ride Harlan was giving her right now, anyway.

She’d never been fucked like this. Hell, with the exception of the elevator tryst earlier that evening, she’d never really been fucked at all. Compared to this, the fumbling, dull attempts of her ex-husband Bob hardly even counted as sex.

Joanna had been desperate for some real sex for her entire life. And now, she was finally having some. The fact that she was having some with her arrogant SOB of a new boss in a public parking garage was merely a minor inconvenience.

Joanna lifted her chest up off the hood of her Honda and braced herself on her forearms. She wanted the last few moments of this fuck to be the deepest, hardest, most intense of all—and she could tell from the sound of Harlan’s breathing that his orgasm was close. She raised her rump up off the hood and into the air at the steepest angle she could muster just as Harlan thrust into her for the final time. This time, Harlan hit Joanna’s G-spot at the exact moment he exploded—sending her over the edge one final time in an interstellar leap of her own.

Harlan collapsed on top of Joanna, pressing her into the dirty, dingy hood of her rattling old Honda. Hardly a romantic afterglow, but that didn’t matter. This coupling was never about romance in the first place. It was just about getting laid, pure and simple.

Harland withdrew and rearranged his pants. “Thanks, Watson,” he said, all business again. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow.”

Joanna was stunned. “But—“

Harlan tipped an imaginary hat at her, a poor Yankee attempt at being a Southern gentleman. “What happens here, stays here,” he said. “Good night.” Then he turned on his heel and headed for his car. He was gone before she could get dressed.

Joanna got dressed and sighed. She was mortified—again. Was this really what casual sex was supposed to be like? She had no experience in such matters. She didn’t know what to think, how to react. No proper Southern lady lets strangers fuck her over the hoods of cars—let alone enjoys it as much as she just had.

At one level, she was hurt that Harlan had done a classic “wham-bam, thank you ma’am” and hightailed it out of there as fast as she could. But at another level, it seemed like a perfectly natural way for him to end things. Did she really expect Harlan to cuddle her and stay the night on the hood of her car? That would have been ridiculous.

The question remained—how was a formerly proper, demure Southern lady supposed to act now that she’d fucked her boss twice in one workday, and
liked
it? How did former Southern belles blend back into polite society once they’d had wild sex on the hoods of their late-model cars?

They didn’t have a chapter on that back at charm school, that was for sure.

Shirley Daniels had never understood what made Joanna Watson tick. And she didn’t expect to start now.

Shirley was still in the locker room, too stunned at Joanna’s sudden exit to finish getting dressed. What had she said to make the woman so mad? All Shirley did was comment on Dr. Harlan Wilkinson’s hot bod—which the man had in spades, asshole or not—and Joanna Watson had acted as if Shirley had punched her in the face.

What the hell was up that woman’s butt, anyway?

What, indeed. Shirley figured it probably had to do with Dr. Harlan Wilkinson. The man certainly seemed to have an effect on people. On women, especially.

And Shirley figured if the man could turn her—a cold, frigid fish if there ever was one—into a buzzling bundle of orgasmic nerves, she could hardly imagine the effect the Yankee surgeon was having on the beautiful, sensual—and freshly divorced—Joanna Watson.

Hell, for all she knew, the two of them were probably off fucking over the hood of a car somewhere.

But Shirley wasn’t going to let that bother her. She wasn’t the jealous type. And she had business of her own to take care of.

Shirley headed out of the locker room to check the OR duty roster. She silently thanked God when she saw there were no more operations scheduled for the day. And she wasn’t needed at her parents’ nursing home tonight, either—for once. Finally, after weeks of double shifts and long nights caring for her decrepit parents, she could go home at a decent hour and give her tired feet and back a rest.

But going home for a rest was the last thing on her mind.

For once in a very long while, Shirley Daniels had a free evening to spend however she liked. She’d been looking forward to this free time all week—even if she’d had absolutely no idea what to do with it.

Until now.

The melty buzz that was fast growing in Shirley’s crotch as she skipped up and down Covington Community Hospital’s twisting, dingy hallways towards the parking garage told her exactly what she would be doing with her free evening. When she finally made it to her car and slid her key into the ignition, she knew there was no arguing with the impending news flashes rising up from her cunt.

Tonight, Shirley Daniels would get laid.

The only problem was, she had no idea how to go about making that happen.

It had been so long since Shirley had gone out on a date—or even cruised for good-looking guys at a local bar—that she was totally clueless about how to attract a man, let alone find one willing to fuck her. And it wasn’t as if Statesville, North Carolina had a swinging singles scene. There were only two options for meeting single men in this godforsaken town: at the Dew Drop Bar on Main Street (which wasn’t much of an option, unless she was desperate enough to go home with toothless old men with faded Navy tattoos and tobacco juice in their beards); or at the First Pentecostal Church of the Nazarene’s weekly Singles Supper (not an option either, since Shirley was an atheist who abhorred church folk).

It looked like Shirley would have to get the hell out of Statesville if she wanted to get laid tonight. Either that, or she’d have to hire a professional.

She checked her watch. Eleven-thirty. The night was still young. And she wasn’t due back at the hospital until eleven a.m. the next morning. Plenty of time for her to make an overnight trip to partake of a little big-city action in Raleigh. Or maybe some tight college-boy action in Chapel Hill. Both options sounded equally tempting.

She was freshly showered and wearing her tightest pair of Levi’s and a new halter top. She always kept a makeup kit in her glove box, she could be glammed up in no time. She has a brand-new pack of Trojans in her purse, so she was ready for action. And if she wore her hair down, she could easily pass for ten years younger. Plenty young enough to attract some hot college-boy ass.

Shirley started the car and checked her roadway map for the quickest route to Chapel Hill. As an alumna of the university there, she knew where to find the frat houses and college bars that were sure to be chock-full of horny, redblooded American boy-toys that would be all too eager to bed an older woman, even on a school night.

Shirley’s body was a live wire for the entire ninety-minute drive to Chapel Hill. By the time she rolled into the center of the college town, it was almost one in the morning, and the houses on Fraternity Row were mostly dark. But there was still one fraternity house lit up with the bright lights of a weeknight college party left on the block—the Sigma Nu house, all the way at the end of the campus’ main drag.

A slow smile spread across Shirley’s face. She remembered the Sigma Nu house. She remembered it well.

Because believe it or not, there was a very brief time in Shirley Daniels’ life when she was not the cold frigid fish with no social life that she was today. Fifteen-odd years ago, when she was a coed on the University of North Carolina’s campus, she was a bright young freshman pledge at the UNC Chi Omega chapter looking for a fratboy to accompany her to her sorority’s Enchanted Spring social. She’d found her date (and so much more) within the walls of the Sigma Nu house—and that date had been the boy she’d given her precious virginity to. They dated for three years, breaking up just before Shirley graduated nursing school. But they’d parted on good terms, and Shirley had always thought fondly of the handsome young fellow who’d been the vehicle for her sexual awakening.

And now, at age thirty-four, Shirley Daniels was undergoing a second sexual awakening of sorts. Why not go full-circle and pick up her boy-toy in the very same frathouse where she’d been deflowered up against a wall more than fifteen years ago? For old times’ sake.

She had plenty of years of fruitless, frustrating celibacy to make up for, after all.

Shirley parked the car, checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, and took a deep breath for courage.

She needed plenty of courage for what she was about to do.

Shirley marched up to the frathouse’s front door and banged the heavy brass knocker. She had to bang it several times to be heard over the thumping bass and loud voices of the party within, but she finally got an answer.

The most beautiful twenty-year-old she’d ever seen opened the front door. He had a pair of stunning ice-blue eyes, which looked her up and down, then twinkled. Obviously he liked what he saw.

“Hey, what’s up?” the boy-toy asked in a deep, gravelly voice that sounded much older than its owner’s tender years. “Wanna party?”

“You know I do,” Shirley chirped.

She swept past him into the swooping front foyer she remembered so well from all the visits she’d made to the Sigma Nu house in college. A quick glance around showed her that even after fifteen years, almost nothing in this testosterone-soaked house of hedonism had changed. She recognized the beat-up, duct-taped brown leather couch as the very same one where she’d shared late-night drunken trysts with her very own Sigma Nu pledge so many years ago, along with the grimy, scuffed walls and the piles of empty beer bottles and pizza boxes that were the signature décor of fratboys the world over. In a way, she almost felt as if she’d come home from a long, hard journey.

And in a way, she had.

The blue-eyed boy-toy who’d let her in handed her an ice-cold beer. “So what’s your name?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’m Shirley,” she replied, extended her hand, which the blue-eyed boy-toy bent over and kissed like a true Southern gentleman. “And I’m a graduate of this fine university. I was just passing through Chapel Hill and thought I’d drop in and see some friends of mine here at Sigma Nu. I’m ahhh—an old friend of the chapter.”

Never mind how old
, Shirley thought to herself.

The boy-toy’s blue eyes sparkled. “Really? I’ll have to ask some of my senior frat brothers if they know you, then. I’m Jason. I’m a sophomore. I just pledged this spring, so I’m still getting to know everybody around here.”

Ah, a
sophomore
. Young and fresh, but not a mere child, either. And a new pledge that she could ply with stories of her long-ago escapades in this very frathouse.

This one’s ripe for the picking
, Shirley thought, her cunt tingling as she mentally planned out what exactly she’d like to do with Jason’s lithe young body. For a brief moment, she even fantasized about taking Jason along with six or seven of his frat brothers in a gangbang to end all gangbangs.

But this was her first night out in so long—years, actually—so she figured she should take things a little slower. It had been so long since Shirley’s cunt had met a dick of any age, it paid to be very cautious. She didn’t want to get torn up down there.

The party was breaking up. The drunken fratboys that hadn’t already passed out on couches or the floor started pairing up with drunken sorority girls and disappearing into their rooms. Jason cast a sidelong glance at Shirley, then teetered nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Well, um, it’s getting kind of late,” he said. “The party’s starting to wind down already. Normally we’d party a lot later, but the chapter got into trouble with the dean last semester for making too much noise on weeknights, so we’re trying to chill out and quiet down a little. Sorry you’re missing all the fun.”

Shirley downed her beer in one gulp. “Oh Jason, honey,” she cooed. “The fun’s just getting started.”

With that, she grabbed Jason by the collar and led him up Sigma Nu’s huge, creaking wooden staircase. When they reached the first landing she turned to face him. “Now if memory serves me correctly, the sophomore pledges stay on the third floor in the group dorm. Is that still true?”

Jason nodded, gape-mouthed. “How do you know so much about my frat?”

Shirley smiled and batted her eyelashes. “Let’s just say I’m an old, old friend of Sigma Nu and leave it at that.”

Jason polished his own beer off and shrugged. He’d obviously figured out that he was about to get laid, and that was all that mattered to him.

And getting laid was all that mattered to Shirley, too. “Do you have any roommates up there?” she asked. “Because if you do, they’re going to get an eyeful.” She dragged him up the second flight of stairs and into the large dorm room filled with bunk beds she remembered so well from her own sophomore year so long ago. Shirley and her old Sigma Nu boyfriend Ted had done the nasty seven ways to Sunday on those rickety old metal bunks back in the early 90s, and now she had a chance to make those very same bunks sing a new song with a boy-toy almost half her age.

It was enough to make a girl all hot and bothered.

They made it to the third floor. The dorm was empty. “I’ve only got three roommates this semester, and all three of them are downstairs passed out drunk,” Jason said. “Looks like we’ll have this place to ourselves ‘til morning.”

“Excellent.” Without another word, Shirley clamped her mouth over Jason’s and sucked his bottom lip hard enough to draw it all the way into her mouth. Then she gave each and every one of his teeth a full dental exam with the tip of her tongue, followed by an archeological dig of his throat. By the time they both finally came up for air, the twenty-year-old fratboy was shaking at the knees.

“W-Wow,” he whispered, breathless. “You are one awesome kisser. What’d you say your name was again?”

“Never mind,” Shirley replied, and shoved him backwards onto a cot. “Just take your pants off.”

“O—okay,” Jason stammered, and fumbled with his fly. Now he was out-and-out trembling, so much so that he couldn’t even work his own zipper.

Well, Shirley would just have to take care of that herself.

Surprised at her own dexterity, Shirley had Jason’s pants and boxers off with just a few flicks of her wrist, and was awestruck at the sight of Jason’s huge, throbbing cock pointing straight up at the heavens. Uncircumcised, too—the sight of his glans popping through his foreskin was like the split-open skin of a ripe plum.

Before she could even realize what was happening, Shirley’s mouth closed itself over Jason’s cock, taking in the leathery, salty taste of sweat, skin and happy juice like a happy greeting. And almost without even being aware of it, Shirley’s head began to bob up and down, up and down on Jason’s shaft, deep-throating him almost to the point of gagging—in a good way. She found herself tonguing the sensitive ridge just underneath his glans as instinctively as if she gave head for a living. She even anticipated his pelvic thrusts, moving her head up and down in perfect counterpoint.

It had been years since Shirley gave anyone a blowjob.
Years.
And yet, here in this familiar place, Shirley felt transported back to the glorious, carefree days of her youth. She felt almost as if her body had been hijacked by strange, unseen forces that were guiding her every move, helping to make up for the fact that she’d gotten so rusty in the sex department after so many years of doing nothing but work double shifts and care for her aging parents. Giving this trembling, naïve fratboy the best blowjob of his short life was liberating for Shirley in more ways than one.

Shirley could tell that her boy-toy was on the verge of coming. She teased him a bit, pulling her mouth off his cock and only tongued his glans for a bit, hoping to delay the inevitable just enough to hold him completely in her power. But she also knew that a mere boy of twenty could fuck and come all night long, so there was no reason for her to deny him busting a nut to spare her own pleasure. Jason had a young, ripped body that was ready for action anywhere, anytime—even for the next eight hours straight, if that’s what she wanted.