With my purse over my shoulder and my jacket on, I make my way through the main floor of the hospital looking for Jackson. When I finally see him, he's scolding a group of interns for who-knows-what with a cross look on his face.
I saunter up to him after they disperse, and he massages his temples. "Hey, boss," I say, holding one of his biceps with both hands.
"I swear I've never met stupider people," he complains.
I plant a kiss on his cheek. "Don't let them get under your skin," I say. "Watching you as the big, bad boss is kinda sexy."
He can't help but smile at that. "Oh, yeah?" he says, winding an arm around my waist. "You like that?"
I giggle, taking a bit of my lower lip into my mouth. "I do," I say. "Wanna go home?"
"Let me get changed," he says. "Meet you in the lobby."
I nod and make my way there, taking my time as I meander through the halls. As I'm crossing through to the main entrance, two familiar voices sound from an elevator opening its doors. When I look over, I see Callie and Arizona in the middle of a hushed argument.
"I'm just saying, it's not a crime to want to spice things up," Callie says. I can tell she's trying to keep her voice down, but it isn't working that well. "It might seem weird outside of the bedroom, but in? You never know what it might do to you."
"Yes, I do," Arizona insists. "I know myself."
"It's just a suggestion," the brunette continues, then she spots me. "Hey, Kepner! Over here. I have a question for you."
I walk over, folding my hands at my waist. "What's up?" I ask.
"Without getting completely TMI-" Callie begins.
"Callie," Arizona scolds. "Don't ask her. April doesn't like to talk about sex."
"She's a damn doctor," Callie says. "Anyway, how kinky do you and Avery get in the bedroom?"
I blink, surprised. "I… uh," I stammer. "I'm not sure what you mean."
Callie sighs exasperatedly. "What are you guys into?" she asks.
"Into?" I repeat. My cheeks get hot, which means a blush is imminent. "I… I still don't know what you're asking."
"I knew it," she grumbles. "Of course, look who I'm asking. You guys probably have the most vanilla sex known to man. I need to ask someone else, maybe Alex?"
"Hey!" I say, defensively. "Our… our sex is not vanilla."
She quirks an eyebrow. "No?"
"No," I say.
"April, you don't have to prove anything to her," Arizona says, obviously at wit's end with her wife.
"I'm not," I say. "I just want you to know, we… we get experimental. We have before."
"Oh, yeah?" Callie says, egging me on. "Like how?"
I clear my throat. Jackson and I haven't been married for all that long, but we do have a lot of sex. And to me, sex in general is exciting enough. It hadn't ever crossed my mind that it could be more so. So, I've gotten myself into a bit of a foot-in-the-mouth situation here.
We have a lot of missionary-style sex, it's true. But there's nothing wrong with that. Jackson is very good with his hands and his mouth, and when we're ready to explore, we will
But I just told her we already have, and I don't know enough about this exploratory type of sex to pull a lie out of thin air.
"Bondage?" Callie hisses. "Avery seems like the type who'd tie you up and dominate you. The whole tortured, pretty little rich boy thing he has going for him must come out in crazy ways in the bedroom."
My eyes widen and I gulp.
"Yeah," I say, anything to fill in the soon-to-be awkward silence. "Bondage."
"Please tell me you've tied him up at least once," Arizona says, getting in on the conversation.
My face must be scarlet at this point. I don't know what to say. I let the silence last for too long, and Callie sees right through me.
"She's never tied the man up," Callie says. "Kepner, don't feel like you have to make stuff up. If you guys have vanilla sex and you enjoy it, more power to you."
"It-it's not always like that," I say, wringing my hands. "We… we spice it up, too."
"Honey, it's fine," Arizona says. "You don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. We know you, and we love you just the way you are."
"Not saying I don't agree, but what're we talking about?" I hear Jackson's voice, and soon feel his arm wind around my shoulders. I look up at him and he strokes my cheek with the back of his pointer finger. "You're blushin', babe."
"I…" I blink hard. "Girl talk." Laughing awkwardly, I take his arm and wave to the couple before us. "See you guys tomorrow," I say.
They both give me a knowing, yet skeptical, look as I leave the hospital with my husband.
"What was that all about back there with Callie and Arizona?" Jackson asks, hands on the wheel as we drive down our street.
"Nothing," I say, crossing one leg over the other.
He shoots me a sly look. "The fact that your face is still pink tells me it was far from nothing," he says. "Spit it out."
"It's really not important," I say. I flick a piece of hair out of my eyes and watch the garage door come open, yellow light spilling into the driveway. Once we park, I grab my purse and hop out of the car. "They were just being a little crude. You know how I get with stuff like that. All blushy. Embarrassing."
He laces an arm around my waist as I unlock the back door. "You must have been blushy about something…" he says, voice lilting. "Tell me."
"No," I say, swatting him as we walk inside. "You're nosy. I can keep some things to myself around here."
"Not true," he says. "I know everything about you."
"Everything?" I ask, sounding curious. "What're my favorite kind of underwear?"
"Hipster," he says. "Preferably with patterns. Your favorites are the navy ones with the white stars."
I pretend to scowl at him. "Lucky guess."
"I should know," he says. "I fold them half the time."
"Oh!" I say. "Speaking of which, there's a load of laundry I need to put in. Be right back."
"Baby…" he whines, following me. "Does that have happen right now? I know you're stalling to get out of this conversation."
"No, I'm not," I say, walking into the laundry room. "I left this basket here so I could put it in when we got home. And I'm thanking my past self right now."
As I throw the clothes into the washer, Jackson leans on the doorjamb and watches me.
"Can I help you?" I ask.
"I still haven't given up on finding out what got you so flustered earlier," he says.
I huff loudly and toss in the last of the clothes, then slide the empty basket off to the side. "Fine," I say, then clear my throat. "Do you think our sex life is boring?"
His eyebrows rocket to the ceiling. "What?"
"You heard me," I say, turning the knob on the washer to the correct setting. "Do I bore you? Jackson, your first time was a freakin' threesome."
He makes a smug face and I kick his shin. "Babe," he says, coming closer to hold my upper arms. "There's nothing I love more than sex with you. Know why?"
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. "Because you're my only one and even though you won't admit it, you're weirdly possessive and proud of that fact?"
He holds in a smile. "Um… no," he says.
"Technically, yes," I say.
He chuckles darkly. "That's supposed to stay unspoken," he says. "But I was gonna say, I love it because I love you. Before you, I never had sex with someone who I was in love with. And I love every damn thing about you. From the freckle behind your ear to the one on the inside of your-"
"Jackson."
"You get my point," he says, sliding his hands around my waist to slip them inside the back pockets of my jeans.
"We do it in bed, missionary, a lot," I say, trailing my fingers down his chest.
"Well, you're on top sometimes," he says. "Don't give me all the credit."
I giggle but it turns into a pout. "But you know what I mean," I say.
"Wait," he says. "Does this have something to do with what Robbins and Torres were saying?"
My breath hitches in my throat. "Maybe," I say.
"Were they making you feel self-conscious?"
"No," I ask. "Well, a little. But not in a bad way, necessarily. They kinda… they kinda made me curious."
"Curious?"
I nod, my lower lip between my teeth. With the way he's looking at me, I can already feel the heat pooling between my thighs. It's making me feel bold, and I can't ignore the question pressing at the forefront of my mind.
"Do you have a fantasy, baby?" I ask him, leaning back on the vibrating washer.
He closes his eyes for a moment to center himself.
"Because if you want, I can buy an outfit. I've heard of people doing that, I'd be willing to. You know, sexy teacher or-"
"No," he says. "I like you the way you are. You're perfect."
"Okay…" I say, trailing my fingers down the buttons on his chest. "Then what? You don't have one?"
He chews on the inside of his cheek, and his expression is easy enough to read. He doesn't think it's going to fly, whatever it is.
"Anything," I say, blinking slowly. "The last thing I want is for our sex life to be boring." I start undoing the first couple buttons. "I want to do this."
"Anything?" he says.
"Mm-hmm," I say.
He lifts me up onto the washing machine, and I straighten my spine in response to how it feels pulsating beneath me.
"It's something I've never told anyone else I've been with," he says, standing between my parted knees to run his hands up my thighs.
"Okay," I say.
He locks his arms around my waist and presses his face into my neck, opening his mouth hot against my skin. I drag my fingers over his shoulder blades as low as I can reach, shoving my hips forward in search of friction.
"I like being the boss," he says.
I purr, pressing my body closer. "Okay," I murmur, lifting my head so he can kiss my throat.
"Not hardcore BDSM and shit, not like the punishment room on whatever that fucked-up movie is," he says, lips on my collarbone. "But I do like being the boss."
"I like when you're the boss, too," I whisper, running my fingers down the front of his shirt before pulling it off his arms. Once it's off, I trail my fingers down his chest, over the pricks of his nipples, and lower to his defined abdomen.
"Yeah?" he rasps, nipping at my jaw. "I'm not done."
I nod him along, eyelashes fluttering as he works on giving me a hickey. For once, I don't tell him to stop, not to mark me. I want it.
"I wanna spank you," he says. "If you'd be into that."
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, feeling uncertainty and arousal course through my body and settle in my core. I nod shakily, tracing the shells of his ears.
"Yeah?" he says.
"I wanna try it," I say. "Anything else?"
"One more thing," he says, getting me out of my pants quickly and setting me back on the washer.
"What's that?" I ask, batting my eyelashes.
"Call me daddy," he says, his tone huskier than I've ever heard it.
It takes a moment for me to wrap my head around what he's asking. My thoughts take me to someplace totally wrong at first, but then I realize. This isn't an incest-kink thing. This is a form of submission, which has gotten me hot up until this point.
I don't think I could go for 'sir' or 'master,' but 'daddy' might work.
"Does that work?" he asks, hands sneaking up my torso to take two rough handfuls of my breasts.
I shudder slightly, feeling my heartbeat migrate south. "Yes," I say.
His eyebrow twitches expectantly.
I smirk. "Yes, daddy," I say.
He kisses me harder than he's ever kissed me before, stealing all the breath away as he pulls my underwear off so fast that they rip. I had no idea that a simple word could turn him on so much, but I decide not to overthink it. This is too delicious to overthink.
He slips his hand between my legs and rubs me, pressing the heel of his palm hard against the part of me that won't stop throbbing. My mouth falls open against his and he kisses my chin, urging my head back so my neck is exposed. With much more given leeway, he sucks on my neck fluidly while still working his hand.
He unclasps my bra and squeezes my breasts tight in his hands, digging the pads of his fingers in as he presses himself close to my body. I moan and arch my back, inhaling sharply as he pinches my nipples and makes them harden to two painful, desperate peaks.
"Oh, god," I moan, somewhat soothed when he covers one with his mouth. He moves lower, dragging his tongue over my stomach until he gets to the apex of my thighs, where he presses a slow, lasting kiss.
"You're wet, kitten," he says.
I like this more than I thought I would. I don't know how to say it, though, so I just nod with my lip between my teeth.
He's not gentle when he sinks inside me. He snaps his hips forward and our bodies collide, so I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.
He moves at a rapid pace, faster than he's ever gone on me before, and I can barely keep up with all the sensations flowing through my body. He kisses me and creates a whole new fire inside me, using heavy teeth and tongue as I do my best to kiss him back. He's almost rendered me completely incapable; I can't concentrate on anything but the way he's turning me inside out.
As he gets closer to climax, he lays me back on the washer and my breasts bounce from the continual impact. I moan, long and drawn-out, as he holds tight to my hip bones and makes sure I know who's boss.
"Do you wanna come?" he asks, jaw set tight.
I nod, unsure if I'm able to form words. It's a miracle I can even move my head.
"How bad?" he asks, slowing down the rate he's pumping and switching his pace to deliberate and thorough.
"Please, daddy," I moan, sneaking one of my hands from where it was thrown above my head between my legs, but he forces it away and holds it down by the wrist.
He grunts, his face shining with sweat, as he gives it to me with a few rough, final thrusts. I can't help but scream with my orgasm, breaking the sound into disjointed sobs as my entire body trembles and pulls apart.
I've never had an orgasm like that before. I swear I can feel it in every nerve ending. He must come, too - I can hear the sounds he makes - but I don't feel him. I'm too lost in my own body.
We kiss all the way to the bedroom, stumbling as we make our way inside, and his hands find purchase on my ass. He squeezes the cheeks tight in his fingers and my core lights up again, remembering what he said earlier.
And now, instead of being cautious, I want it.
"You… you wanted to spank me," I say, pulling my head away from his as his hands stay gripping my ass.
"Are you okay with it?" he mutters, smoothing his hands over my skin.
I nod.
"You sure?"
I nod again, letting out a slow exhale.
"Okay," he says, unraveling his arms from me as he sits down on the edge of the bed. "Come here. Lay across my lap."
My body tingles as I obey him. I rest my weight forward on my elbows with my ass in the air, unsure of what to expect.
"If you want me to stop, just tell me," I say. "And I'll stop."
"Okay," I whisper, letting my head fall forward.
When his hand meets my flesh for the first time, there's a resounding silence that follows. I bite my lip and clench my thighs, totally unaware that it would make me feel like this. I arch my back, in turn lifting my behind closer to him, and he smacks me again.
My skin stings, and I've never felt pain so pleasurable. I can feel his erection under my body, so it's obvious I'm not the only one who's enjoying this.
He rubs his palm in slow circles, then pats me a few times before landing down hard with another smack. I press my lips together and moan softly, gripping the comforter tight in my fists as his fingers slip between my legs and tease my outer lips.
"Again," I whimper, bending my knees and curving my spine.
I stop counting how many times his hand meets my sensitive skin, and I swear I almost come from that act alone. But before I can, he lifts me easily from his lap so my feet touch the floor and turns me around with my back facing him.
"Bend over, kitten," he growls.
I bend over.
He keeps a good hold on my hips when he buries himself inside me, scooping the front of his pelvis against the back of mine as he pushes as deep as he can. I feel his lips on the middle of my spine, taking small sections of my skin between his teeth as his hips buck forward.
I fan my fingers out on the bed and try to match his rhythm. When my breath is lost and I'm closer than I'd like to admit, I hear his voice.
"Aren't you going to thank me for making you come so much?" he asks gruffly.
I fall to my elbows, jolting forward with every snap of his hips. As I catch my breath, I smirk to myself and say, "Thank you, daddy."
He comes with a load groan, hands all over me as his body twitches. Mine finds release moments after when he rubs the electricity between my legs - and that's all I need to be sent over the edge I was already so close to.
In the shower when it's over, we're us again. Not that I didn't like trying on the other versions of who we are in the bedroom, but his gentleness is welcomed after the aggressiveness that got me to come so hard I could barely stand.
We kiss with my back pressed up against the slick tile, both arms wound low on his waist. I kiss his lower lip, his chin, the front of his chest over his heartbeat, as he weaves his fingers through my damp hair.
"I liked that," I whisper, looking coyly at him through my eyelashes.
"I wish I would've asked sooner," he says, turning so his lips move against my cheek.
"Don't worry," I say, dragging my fingernails over his dripping skin. "We have all the time in the world."
The next morning when we walk into the hospital together, Jackson's arm is tight around my waist. We walk past Callie and Arizona, whose argument seems to have carried over into today, and I throw them a smug look as I lean in close to my husband.
Jackson raises his eyebrows at their hushed, angry voices, then looks back to me as we come to where we have to separate.
"See you later?" he says, framing my face with one hand.
I slink closer to him, palms against his chest as I lean to press my lips to his ear. I whisper, "Yes, daddy," and throw a wave over my shoulder as he stands there and stares.