Page 10 of Worth the Wait
“Delicious.”
“This city has a lot of perks. I could make a list for you.” He wiggles his brows.
“Would the first item be you?”
“The second and third as well.”
“Make it one through five.”
“Done and I’ll use a permanent marker to write them.”
“I like your style.”
Chapter Four
Peter
April 7th…
“I take it back,” Bellamy moans. “I love your style. Especially your tongue. Your fingers. Your dick. All of you.”
Does that mean she loves me? “I love your style,” I reciprocate as she flexes her muscles around where we’re connected.
After returning to her lodging, we quickly made our way to the bed. What began as an idea to relax while watching a movie didn’t remain that for long. I’m not even sure we made it past the opening scene.
Not that either of us seemed to care. We had other things in mind.
Things that lasted all through the night only to resume this morning after we’d both gotten a couple hours sleep. I’d never been happier my team is currently off rotation, having returned from an extended deployment a few days prior to meeting Bellamy.
Yes, I still need to report to base, take refresher courses in some training techniques that had been updated, and visit with the on staff psychiatrist that helps military personnel cope with what we see and do.
But that wasn’t until later.
Which allowed me the time to wake Bellamy up with my mouth at her core. Before her eyes had even opened, I’d given her the first climax. The second was a few minutes after that.
We’re currently heading toward the third.
“Peter!” And there’s the trifecta.
Mine hits, causing my voice to crack on her name. “Bel—lamy.”
Thankfully, her cell starts beeping after I’ve spilled into her and we’re recovering from the exertion.
Her breath hitches and I glance over her shoulder, trying to figure out what’s wrong. It’s an email and, just skimming it as I don’t want to completely invade her privacy, my eyes latch onto the first sentence.
Dear Ms. Sutherland,
We regret to inform you that your contract has been terminated effective immediately.
“What the hell?” She continues reading while I hunt for our clothes. “They said I broke the morality clause I agreed to.” With my job, though it’s not implicitly stated, it is heavily implied that we’re expected to hold ourselves accountable to higher standards.
I just never thought a medical program such as hers would have their own. “Can they do that?”
“I’ve had them in previous assignments. Certain places implement them due to their funding, religious beliefs, and so forth.”
“Could this hurt your chances to find another assignment?” Does this mean you won’t leave me? I don’t voice that question, though. Now is not the time. Bellamy is hurting and I hate that. How do I fix this? Can I?
“I don’t know.” She sounds so upset that I pick her up and put her on my lap. Bellamy sits there, unmoving, for so long that her screen times out and goes black. When another beep comes through, I know by how fast she reacts that she’s hoping it’s to say it was all mistake. But it’s not. It’s a current, I guess that’s former, message from a coworker. “That bitch.”