“Becca. Look at me. You can do this. You’re going to be a doctor. This is nothing.”
I nodded so hard it felt like I was trying to convince myself he was right, rather than just agreeing with him.
With no more reason to delay, I steeled myself, gripping the threaded needle tightly in the pliers. Refusing to let my head swim, I pushed the needle through his skin as quickly as I dared, not wanting to draw the process out.
Ivan sucked in a wince over his teeth, and I did my best to filter the sounds he made.
His fist was tensed firmly, fingers digging into the arm of the couch and he fell silent as I pulled the needle through on the other side and tied the first stitch with clumsy fingers, doubling and tripling the knot to make sure it stayed secure.
Ivan nodded, letting his eyes sink closed, and I marvelled at how much trust he was putting in me. Maybe it was because he didn’t have a choice, but I liked to think he did. There had to be an alternative to trusting me to do this.
The rest of that bottle of vodka must have kicked in, because Ivan didn’t seem to react so much to the other stitches, and I was glad the world had muted for him. I couldn’t imagine being able to sit still and let someone do this. Getting my ears pierced had been bad enough.
When I finished tying the last stitch, Ivan cupped my jaw with his overly large hand again. His eyes were softly focused and I could smell the alcohol, thick on his breath as he drew my face in towards his. Most of the bottle was empty, but I wasn’t anywhere close to being afraid of how he’d treat me. Drunk or not, Ivan was a gentleman. I’d seen that so many times over the years.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, and I couldn’t help but smile at him, leaning in for the kiss I’d wanted all day. His accent seemed to have come through more, and I loved the slavic edge to his words.
He let out a hum against my lips and it went right through me, straight to my clit, despite the fact that he had to be struggling to stay conscious.
“You’re so drunk Ivan. You need to get some sleep.”
He scoffed a laugh. “Not drunk. You – you need to sleep with me, doctor.”
I was torn, because I knew he needed rest, but desperately wanted to see where this would take us, even if he wasn’t sober right now. I let out a breath.
“The patient needs to get some rest. Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”
Ivan’s eyes glinted. “I’ll get you into bed right now.”
In a single move, he pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him and I could feel his cock twitch and harden against my body.
His hands pulled my hips down towards him and I felt my panties go wet at the contact I’d been craving for nearly a decade.
He arched up with a growl, kissing me possessively and I could taste the vodka on his tongue as he plundered my mouth, leaving me breathless.
My heart was pounding in my chest, making my body shake with the force of it, and all I wanted was to give in.
My hands braced on his muscled arms, fingers squeezing around his solid biceps and I felt him flex them under my grip. Drunk or not, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Without another word passing between us, he pulled my hoodie up and I scrambled my arms out of the sleeves.
With him there, topless, I had far too many layers on, separating our skin. I didn’t want anything to come between us.
His gaze flickered down to the cartoon character emblazoned in the center of my chest on my nightshirt.
“This has to go.”
Without another pause, I hooked both my hands into the round collar of the t-shirt. With a fierce tug the worn cotton ripped and I pulled the edges apart right down the center, between her breasts, all the way to the hem.
Becca’s mouth hinged open on a gasp of surprise, but she didn’t make to cover herself. Instead she shrugged out of the ripped top, baring her perfect bosom and her perfect, smooth skin. I dipped my head, ducking down to press my face against her breasts, spilling kisses over the soft swells of flesh, my tongue teasing around the solid little buds of her nipples. She shuddered under the attention of my mouth, and her hands tangled in my short hair.
“No more cartoon characters.”
So what I was older than her? It meant I could protect her and provide for her. That damn cartoon mouse on her top wasn’t going to convince me this was wrong, but I could do without it smirking at me.