More Than Words: More Than, Book 3 (12 page)

Yeah, fuck warmth. That was heat searing his insides. Raging fire.

It’s only fair to warn you I may be affected. I believe I have picked up the virus. Fact, I believe I picked it up a while ago. Admin sent out a list of symptoms, and I’m suffering from a whole host of them, including, but not limited to:

Chills

Fever

Shivers

Difficulty concentrating

Fluctuating emotions

Uncontrollable bouts of crying

Flushed skin

Inability to catch breath

Pressure on the chest

Lightheadedness

Insatiable appetite for cupcakes

A deep ache in the belly

A mysterious attraction to the boss

Desperate urges to be kissed

Uncanny inability to keep clothes on

Disappearing underwear

It’s weird, Sam. When I came in this morning, I know I had on my panties and bra. But now, it doesn’t matter how hard I search, I can’t find them. I wonder if the virus affects memory as well?

I’m not at all well. What I need now is a doctor who can help analyze my symptoms and come up with an adequate course of treatment.

Do you know anyone I could contact?

I’ll wait right here, searching for that missing underwear, until I hear back from you. Hmmm, now that I think about it, I may have accidentally left my panties in the top drawer of your desk while you were talking to Nina and her mum at reception.

Silly me.

Oh, Jesus.

There it was again. The heart attack threatening to happen.

Sam tugged on the drawer, and there, nestled beside a pile of patient folders was a neatly folded, white lace and silk g-string.

Now I have to remember where I put my bra…

Much love always,

A feverish and flushed Molly

Sam had no idea how he managed to stand and walk out of his office. The massive erection that had sprung to life made every step an exercise in agony.

Clutched in his hand, burning a hole through his palm, was that wisp of lace and silk Molly had mislaid.

He barely made it a meter out of his door when he was forced to lean over and pick up a second wisp of lace and silk. Molly’s bra. Sam couldn’t help himself. He brought the lingerie to his face and rubbed it against his cheek.

The lace rasped over his skin, and a hint of Molly’s perfume hit his nose, citrus and sunshine boggling his brain. The woman had him so tied up in knots he couldn’t even think straight. So he followed his instinct and walked to the reception area.

Molly wasn’t looking for her bra. She was sitting at her desk, her blouse buttoned, eyes closed, vanilla cupcake in hand. She swiped a finger through the thick icing on top, scooped up a generous dollop, and proceeded to pop that finger in her mouth and lick it clean.

Her soft moan echoed through the waiting room and her face creased in pleasure.

The sound hit Sam in the gut. It was exactly how he’d imagined her moaning in his fantasies. Only it wasn’t her finger she was licking in his fantasy. And it wasn’t icing that clung to her lip.

Sam cleared his throat. “Good news, Miss Molly.”

She blinked her eyes open.

“I found your missing underwear.” He let her bra dangle from his finger.

“Oh, thank heavens. I had no idea where that darn thing had gotten to.” Her tone was pure innocence, her gaze carnal sin. She placed the cupcake on her desk, stood and walked over to him, holding out her hand.

Reluctantly, he returned the bra to its rightful owner.

“By any chance, did you find my panties too?”

Sam scanned his gaze over his receptionist. Indeed, several of the symptoms she’d mentioned appeared evident. Her skin was flushed, her cupcake half eaten, and she seemed to have difficulty breathing. Her chest heaved unevenly, pushing her breasts against the sheer fabric of her blouse. At this distance it was clear she wore no bra. Her nipples were outlined by the clingy fabric.

“I did.” Sam opened his palm, revealing her g-string.

“Brilliant. Thank you.” She reached for them, but Sam curled his fingers and refused to hand them over.

“It seems I may be suffering from your mysterious virus as well,” he told her. “Although my symptoms are a little different from yours. Instead of losing your underwear, I’m having difficulty parting with it.”

To prove his point, he slipped her panties in the pocket of his slacks. Yeah, his beautiful, plucky receptionist was never getting those back.

“Sam,” Molly gasped, staring not at her disappearing panties but at his face. “You’re affected too?”

“It appears so. See, I have this deep ache in my stomach, chills racing up my spine and I can’t seem to catch my breath.”

Molly sucked on her lower lip. “It’s lucky the door’s locked then, isn’t it? At least no one else can get in. No one else can catch what we have.”

Sam looked at her gravely. “Look, Molly, you mentioned needing a doctor to assess your symptoms?”

“I did. I do.”

“I’m a doctor,” Sam informed her.

“Y-you are?”

“I am.” He nodded. “And from the sound of your symptoms, I’m going to have to do a full-body assessment. Which means…”

“Which means?” She was all innocence.

“Which means you’re going to have to remove the rest of your clothes if I’m to do my job properly.”

“But, Doc.” Her jaw dropped. “How can I remove my clothes? First of all, with this virus, I’m scared they’ll vanish, and second of all…” She dropped her voice conspiratorially. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Sam couldn’t stop the groan that built in his throat. “It’s like I said, Molly. I’m a doctor, so I’m used to seeing patients without their underwear. There’s no need to worry.”

Molly looked at him, complete trust in her eyes. And perhaps a hint of the devil as well. “Well, okay then. I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

And as Sam watched, she undid every button on her blouse and pushed it over her shoulders, so it landed in a heap on the floor. Her braless breasts held him rapt, the firm, creamy swells contrasting with the beaded pink nipples pointing in his direction. Before he could fully appreciate the way her slim shoulders and tapering waist framed those perfect breasts, her hands were busy on her zip, tugging it down, pushing the fitted black pants over her curved hips.

Sam couldn’t look away as she kicked them off, leaving her perfectly naked before him.

He tried to play her game. Tried to stay in character. God help him, he tried. But the woman he loved stood bare before him, her body more lush, more appealing than he could ever have imagined.

Every fantasy he’d forced himself not to have about her clambered in his brain, making him sweat.

“Christ, Molly,” he murmured as he looked his fill. “You’re beautiful. Perfect.”

“Sam…” Molly cleared her throat as the flush spread over her chest and breasts, making them all the more delectable. “You’re not exactly looking at me like a doctor looks at a patient.”

He freaking loved the way she said his name. “Fuck that, Molly. You’re not a patient. Never have been, never will be.”

“B-but what about all my symptoms?”

“You still suffering from them?” He couldn’t look away, couldn’t think straight.

“I am. Especially one.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“I have this uncontrollable need to be kissed.”

“You do?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“I do.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

That was all it took. Sam couldn’t hold back another second. Didn’t try. He simply grabbed his receptionist’s hand and pulled her naked body into his. Wrapped his arms around her, pressed her close, and with her bare breasts poking his chest and her nude pussy cupping his erection, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

He kissed her for a very, very long time, savoring the feel of her lips against his, the taste of her tongue in her mouth, the willingness with which she kissed him back.

He gave her a soft, sweet kiss, filled with tenderness and love. And then a long, deep kiss that left a throbbing pain in his groin. And a million other kisses, just as tender, just as arousing and just as hot.

Her mouth, sweet from the cupcake, tasted like a little slice of heaven. Felt like one too.

He let Molly take over. Let her place tender, delicious kisses all over his mouth and lips, let her nibble her way down his neck and up again, let her commandeer control of his world.

All the while he ran his hands over her back, her ass and her sides, filling his hands with the feel of her, learning the shape of her body, finding the spots that made her moan when touched or shiver when caressed.

And when, eons later, she drew away, her eyes closed, her lips swollen and a sated smile on her mouth, he picked her up and settled her down on the counter between her desk and the waiting room.

“I can’t do it anymore, Mol,” he warned.

“Do what?” She stared at him through passion-glazed eyes, her heaving chest making her breasts wobble enticingly.

“I can’t pretend this is about words on a screen. About letters we send each other so we don’t have to face our real feelings. This, you, us…means more to me than words can ever say.”

Relief was evident in the crease of her lips as she smiled, in the soft breath she exhaled seconds before she said, “For me too, Sam. You mean everything to me. Don’t you know that by now?”

“It would have been good if we’d discussed this yesterday, after Ruth’s visit.”

“I was too hurt yesterday. Too astounded by what Ruth said. I wouldn’t have listened to you.”

“Well, then listen good now, Miss Molly. I love you.”

And then he kissed her again, kissed her for a very long time. First on the mouth, and then down her neck, over her shoulders until finally his mouth found those very pert breasts of hers.

Seated on the countertop, she was at perfect height for him to place soft, gentle kisses on her firm, round flesh, to sample her beaded nipples, lick them, nip them, suck them until she squirmed.

When she began to pant and goose bumps covered her flesh, he abandoned her breasts in favor of greener pastures.

“More than words,” Sam whispered. “So very much more than words.” Then he leaned over, spread her thighs wide, placed a leg over either shoulder and kissed her pussy.

Liquid heat met his tongue and she emitted a strangled groan. The taste of her cream made him want to groan as well. And he would have, if he could have spared the energy. But everything was focused on the woman before him, the woman who’d used her words to confess she’d dreamed about him kissing her pussy.

And now he was.

He had no idea about Molly, but the reality of kissing her there, of running his tongue over her swollen cunt, was better than any dream, any fantasy could ever be.

She emitted soft moans and breathless gasps, but it was the sound of his name echoing through the room that almost undid him. The name she’d refused to address him by while in the office now slipped from her lips with ease. With passion. With hunger.

He feasted on her. Slid his tongue over her clit, starting slow then increasing his pace as her cries grew more fervent. He paused mid-lick to fasten his mouth to her pussy lips and kiss her there as deeply as he could, then he returned his attention to her clit, lapping at it until her hips began to shake, her heels dug into his back and the soft flesh of her inner thighs tensed against his cheeks.

Molly came on his tongue, crying his name.

Sam had never tasted—or felt—anything as good. He kept right on licking her as she convulsed around him, captured the liquid that spilled from her cunt onto his tongue, relishing its taste.

He licked her until the last shudder passed through her body, her legs went lax around him and she pressed a shaky hand to his forehead, stopping him.

It was only when he raised his face to look at her that he realized her labored breath came not only as a result of her orgasm, but of the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

Chapter Nine

“Molly.” His concern was instant, the worry in his eyes heartwarming. “God, you’re crying.”

She nodded as another small tremor quivered through her pussy. “’Course I am.”

He stood straight. “Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?” His hands were on her cheeks, his gaze searching hers.

“No, Sam. You did everything right.”

His shoulders sagged in obvious relief. “Then why are you crying?”

Molly placed a hand on his cheek and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He tasted…tangy. He tasted of her. “Didn’t I warn you I’d cry if you ever kissed me?”