British Bedmate (A Series of Standalone Novels) Page 9

  I couldn’t believe I was even considering going to watch. I’d never even watched Ben masturbate. But the thought of getting to witness Simon pleasure himself live, in the flesh, was way too erotic to not give it serious consideration. Maybe I can just sneak a peek, and he wouldn’t even know it?

  Shocking even myself, at 10:59 I left my room. I listened at Brendan’s door to make sure he was sleeping and then headed to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I looked around and then pretended I’d been searching for a bottle of water. Who was I even trying to kid? The door leading to the converted garage was open, and I could see light streaming down the hall from where Simon’s room was illuminated.

  My heart was hammering inside the wall of my chest as I creaked the door open and stepped into the hall. It was probably only ten feet to Simon’s room. Panicking, I realized I might be throwing off a shadow that he could see, so I leaned my back against the wall in a stealth move to conceal I was there. Blood whished around in my ears from my accelerated heartbeat, making it difficult to hear. I held my breath to listen for any sounds of life coming from Simon’s room and then shimmied along the wall to get closer.

  The sound of deep, heavy breaths made me freeze.

  Oh my God.

  Simon was really doing this.

  Only a couple of feet separated me from watching Simon masturbate.

  And he wanted me to watch him.

  He’d invited me to come.

  His panting was getting louder and louder and making me lose my mind. Which would explain how I summoned the courage to go closer—I’d most definitely lost my mind.

  Just as Simon had said in his note, the door was left open a crack—enough for me to look through. So, I did. Disregarding all of the warning bells that were going off in my head that this wasn’t a good idea, I tip-toed to his door and peeked inside.

  My knees nearly buckled at the sight. Simon was completely naked, lying back on his bed. His right hand was wrapped around his ridiculously thick cock, and he was slowly stroking himself up and down.

  Jesus.

  I thought I might come before he did. Thank God fear had frozen me in place, or I might have done something even crazier like walk in and climb on top of him. The urge to do that was stronger than any urge I’d ever had in my entire life. I wanted to ride him more than I wanted to take my next breath. And this was coming from a woman who’d always preferred the missionary position.

  The speed of his pumping increased, and I wondered if he knew I was watching. I couldn’t actually know, because I was completely unable to take my eyes off his hand. As the intensity of his strokes increased, his grip around the long shaft seemed to tighten. His breathing became louder and he let out a few groans, which forced my eyes to dislodge from his hand and finally look at Simon’s face. God, he’s beautiful. His eyes were closed, and his lips were parted letting in and out deep breaths as his chest heaved in unison. Then he spoke. His words were hoarse gasps of air, but I heard every one of them.

  “Bridget. Fuck. Bridget.”

  The hand that wasn’t furiously fisting his cock, reached down and cupped his balls. Everything else in the world seemed to fade away as I watched the most amazingly erotic thing I’d ever witnessed in my life. My eyes were darting back and forth between watching his face and watching his hands. I felt the wetness between my own legs, and for a second, I thought I might be able to come without ever even touching myself.

  The sound of his breathing became even more jagged as he pumped faster and faster. I was captivated when spurts of cum shot from his cock while he murmured my name over and over again. It was the most spectacular thing, and I was literally on the edge of my own orgasm. I knew that if I’d just reached down and touched my own clit, it would set me off. My body was literally vibrating—the human equivalent of a hum.

  I had no idea how long I stood there and watched. The world around me ceased to exist. I was quite literally in a fog. It wasn’t until I heard the sound of Simon’s gravelly voice that I finally snapped out of it.

  “Hello, luv.”

  You’ve heard the term, “You had me at hello?” Well, I lost her at hello.

  I was finding that what happens in my bedroom definitely stays in my bedroom. Bridget was making that quite clear as she attempted to go about the following week pretending that our little peep show never happened.

  Every time I thought back to that night, it left me absolutely gobsmacked. Only a small part of me really expected her to actually take me up on the offer to watch me masturbate.

  I didn’t think she’d go through with it, but you bet your bottom dollar, I left that door open anyway. And apparently, it was a darn good thing I did.

  As soon as I’d heard her at the doorway, I knew that was my cue, whether I was ready or not. I just started to stroke myself, trying to seem calm and collected when the truth was I had never wanked in front of a woman before. Simon Hogue had done a lot of things—but never that.

  It was easier than I imagined, because once I could see how into watching me she was, that was all the motivation I needed to continue.

  As I shot my load while calling out her name, it was probably one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had in my life. She’d watched every last bit of it as I came. And then I said, ‘hello’ and she freaked out. Just like that, as if my cock was going to turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight, Bridget disappeared.

  I wasn’t going to follow her back to her room, because if she’d wanted to join in, she would have. I knew I needed to be careful with her, and to be honest, I was certain that her trepidation about being with me was founded.

  That letter had floored me, though. Once I got a look at what was inside, I figured out that there was no way she could’ve meant for me to see it. It was too raw. And her words continued to haunt me every day.

  When Brendan handed the envelope to me—thankfully, still sealed—I’d asked where he’d gotten it. He told me he found it on the floor next to where Bridget was sleeping.

  After he left my room, I read the entire thing with my mouth hanging open and my cock painfully hard. Bridget had a dirty, little mind and knowing her innermost desires made my predicament ten times worse.

  Now that we’d crossed the line a bit, I really didn’t know where to go next. Bridget seemed to be dipping her toes into the water, but I really didn’t think she ever intended to go for a full swim. She admitted it herself; she was too scared.

  So, now…she was avoiding me again.

  The hospital, however, was the only place where she couldn’t pretend I didn’t exist.

  And being the dick that I am, I really couldn’t help playing around with Bridget at work. If I couldn’t get off on her in other ways, I was certainly getting off on making her blush. I quite liked it. It was the only attention she would grant me, and I would take what I could get.

  One afternoon, a little autistic boy with suspected strep throat had been admitted. He was terrified to let me merely touch him, let alone examine his throat so that I could properly swab him for diagnosis.

  As I held the long swab in my hand, he kept squirming under me, refusing to sit still. He even kicked me in the nuts pretty badly.

  I turned to his mother. “Does he ever cooperate for rewards?”

  “Sometimes. But in this case, he thinks you’re going to hurt him, so it’s going to be a tough sell to try to get him to go along with it. He doesn’t understand.”

  “There really is no other way to test him for strep. I’m wondering if there’s a way that we could show him there’s really no harm to it.”

  Knowing Bridget was just outside the examination room, I had a bright idea.

  I stuck my head outside the curtain. “Nurse Valentine, I need your assistance.”

  “Yes, Dr. Hogue?”

  I loved when Bridget called me Doctor, because her exaggeratedly submissive tone was always contradicted by the fuck you look in her eyes.

  My mouth curved into a smile. “Are you availa
ble?”

  “Yes. What do you need?”

  I walked a bit closer to her and spoke low, “I need you to open wide while I stick something down your throat.”

  Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  I smirked. “I need to conduct a strep test for a little boy who won’t let me near him. I’d like to demonstrate it on you first so that he knows it’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Bridget nodded in understanding. “Okay…I guess there’s no harm in that.”

  Lifting my brow, I said, “I’ll try not to make you gag.”

  Oh, yes. Watching Bridget Valentine lighting up red was perhaps my favorite pastime.

  “Meet me in there,” I said. “I have to grab something.”

  I made my way over to a desk drawer where I kept my stash of extra special reinforcements for particularly resistant patients of the younger variety.

  Returning to the room, I noticed that Bridget was working to calm the boy’s nerves.

  His mother looked skeptical as I held up the swab. “There is no way he’s going to let you near him with that thing,” his mother said.

  Bridget bit her lip. Perhaps she could relate to that scenario when it came to me in a different sense.

  “Okay, Chaz…I see you’ve already met my friend, Bridget. I’m gonna show you how this works. She’s gonna open her mouth and say ‘Ah’ and then afterwards, she’s gonna get a big, swirly rainbow lollipop to suck on. I happen to have one for you, too.”

  Stifling my laughter, I turned to her. “Okay, Bridget…open wide and say ‘Ah’.”

  She did as I said, sticking her tongue way out. “Ahhh.”

  I stuck the swab deep in her mouth, without actually culturing her throat, although for a split second I was tempted to catch her off guard and do it just so I could see her gag.

  Turning to Chaz, I said, “See? That wasn’t bad at all. Now, Bridget gets her lollipop.” I took the plastic wrapper off and handed it to her.

  Bridget took an exaggerated lick. “Mmm.”

  My cock twitched.

  Fuck. Quick. Think about Nana.

  Opening a new swab, I turned to the boy. “Alright, Chaz, your turn for a lollipop.”

  With tears in his eyes, he reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed me to swab him. I handed him the lollipop along with a pat on the head.

  His mother was amazed that he’d cooperated. “Wow. Props to you, Doc.”

  “Well, I couldn’t have done it without Nurse Valentine.” I winked at Bridget.

  “Anytime, Dr. Hogue.”

  Translation: “Fuck you, Dr. Hogue.”

  “Someone will be back with the results in about fifteen minutes. Hang tight,” I said to them before exiting the room.

  Bridget followed behind me.

  I turned around and walked backwards, smiling. “I’ll let you know if we find any streptococcus in your sample.”

  Of course, I put the emphasis on cock.

  A few days later, it was early evening at Bridget’s house. I was minding my business when I heard screaming coming from the kitchen. Soon after, the smoke detectors started to go off.

  What the fuck?

  Bridget was running frantically around the stove while flames shot out around the pan she’d been frying something in.

  “Run outside, Brendan!” she screamed.

  Having to think fast, I reached past the flames and turned off the heat, which she hadn’t done.

  “Do you have baking soda?” I yelled through the chaos.

  She pointed to the refrigerator in a panic.

  I found it in the back of the first shelf. Dumping the entire box over the flames, I was able to douse them.

  She was shaking uncontrollably.

  Instinctively grabbing her and pulling her close, I rubbed her hair and tried to calm her down. “It’s okay. Everything is fine. You’re fine. It’s out.”

  Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she looked up at me. “Oh my God. I didn’t know what to do. I seemed to remember that I wasn’t supposed to use water but I just…froze.”

  “It’s alright, Bridget. It was a small grease fire.”

  “What if you weren’t here?”

  “Then you would’ve run out and called the fire department.”

  “While my house burned to the ground? That’s all we need.”

  “It’s okay. That didn’t happen.”

  We went outside to check on Brendan who was patiently waiting on the front lawn with the neighbor.

  “Are you okay, Mommy?”

  “Thank you for listening to me and running outside,” she said.

  “I ran over to Mrs. Savage’s house. She called the firemen.”

  “Thank you, my big boy. You did the right thing, but everything’s under control because Simon acted really fast.”

  Sirens were blaring in the distance.

  I turned to Bridget. “Why don’t you take Brendan out of the house for a bit. I’ll talk to the fire department. Then, I’ll air everything out and clean up in there.”

  “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s fine. He shouldn’t be breathing in the smoke. Neither should you. I’ll text you when it’s okay to come back.”

  Even with all of the windows open in the house, it still reeked of smoke.

  Bridget and Brendan never ended up coming home that night. I reserved them a hotel room at the local Hampton Inn, since the house was in no shape for them.

  It was a longer night than I ever could have imagined. For a quickie fire, it sure wreaked a fuck ton of havoc.

  Everything in the kitchen was covered in soot residue. I ran to the local home improvement store in town just before they were closing to purchase rubber gloves, chemicals, and other supplies that I’d read about on the Internet for remedying this sort of situation.

  Using a mixture of trisodium phosphate and water, I cleaned all of the surfaces. The cabinets had to be emptied completely. After I fully cleaned the shelves, I inspected everything in the kitchen for damage. It didn’t end there. After I removed all of the soot, I used a special citrus cleaner to go over everything all over again.

  I’d also read online that leaving open bowls of vinegar throughout the house would help absorb the smell, along with sprinkling baking soda on the carpets in the adjacent room before vacuuming.

  Even though it was quite cold, I kept all of the windows open in the house. It was going to be a long night.

  When Bridget returned the next afternoon, I’d just finished getting the place looking presentable again. She was likely going to need to repaint in some areas, but at least a good majority of the mess from the fire was eliminated.

  Brendan was ecstatic to get back to his room after being away.

  Bridget looked around in amazement.

  “I can’t believe this. It looks almost normal in here. Did you even sleep?”

  My hair was disheveled, and I must have looked like death warmed over.

  “I managed a couple of hours.”

  She looked flabbergasted. “Simon, I don’t know what to say. This is beyond what I would ever expect…”

  “It’s fine. It had to be done.”

  “Yeah, but I could’ve hired someone.”

  “You were freaked out. I didn’t want you to have to wait and worry about it.”

  She was starting to get teary-eyed as she approached me and did something she’d never done before. Bridget rarely touched me; she avoided it at all costs. But she gently brushed my hair to the side with her fingers.

  It felt so fucking good.

  “Jesus, have you even eaten anything?” she asked.

  “I need sleep more than food right now. I’ll grab a bite after I wake up before my shift tonight.”

  “After all that work…you have a shift tonight? Simon, I can’t thank you enough for this.”

  “Anything for you, luv.”

  “I’ve heard you say that to an old lady before, but honestly I do believe you mean it. You’re a good
guy, Simon.”

  If this were a movie, she might’ve leaned in and kissed me at that moment. But when Bridget Valentine was the star of the show, things were never that simple.

  I’d decided to do something I’d been putting off for a very long time.

  Dr. Laura Englender came highly recommended. It was my third appointment, and I’d filled her in on pretty much everything that happened with me since Ben’s death.

  Her office was conveniently located in Providence. A nice view of the river could be found just outside her window, so I liked to gaze at the water as I poured my soul out to her.

  We’d spent a good portion of the first two visits discussing lingering issues having to do with my late husband. The most recent visit, however, was exclusively focused on my situation with Simon. It wasn’t easy, but I opened up to her about the sexual stuff that had been going on without getting too graphic.

  “So…you can see why I’m so conflicted,” I said.

  Dr. Englender straightened in her seat. “Sure, I mean, a hot, kind-hearted doctor who’s great with your son moves in with you, wants to give you intense orgasms while talking dirty to you in a British accent…it’s really a difficult decision.”

  My mouth dropped. “Are you mocking me?”

  “Even therapists can joke a bit, can’t we?”

  “Oh, I guess. Okay.”

  She scribbled something in her notebook—probably “can’t take a joke”—then looked up at me. “So, let me ask you something, Bridget…what is the worst that could happen if you gave into your physical attraction to him?”

  Blowing out a breath, I really tried to think on that.

  “The worst is that I could become even more attached to him than I already am.”

  She tapped her pen. “Listen to your words—more attached than you already are. On a scale of one to ten, rate your current obsession with this man. How often do you think of him on a daily basis, ten being the most.”

  “Nine.”

  She adjusted her glasses. “Nine…”