Chapter 3:
Author's Note: I'm so happy to hear that you guys liked their first encounter! There will be many more where that came from.
Rating: M, for graphic sexual content
Warning: I feel the need to inform some of you: Lexie and Jackson are not going to break up anytime soon. I know many of you are hoping that will happen, hoping she'll see what's "good for her" and start dating Mark instead, but that, I'm sorry to inform you hopefuls, isn't going to be happening. This story began because she was unfaithful, and while I'm not saying it will necessarily end with her being unfaithful, almost all of this story will contain very graphic scenes of infidelity… as well as some scenes where she's just as faithful to her boyfriend as unfaithful to him. This isn't a story where you get to see one side and then don't get the other—you'll see her relationship with Mark, and you'll see her relationship with Jackson too.
I know cheating can be a very, very touchy (and sometimes not at all appropriate or reasonable) topic for some people to read about. I get that. If you are uncomfortable reading about such a subject, or the way I write it, then it is more than fine for you to stop. I'll understand and won't be offended. For those of you who are interested in this story, though, and maybe enjoy stories like this—it's okay, you can admit it ;)—I am so very grateful for your continued interest and support. I hope you like this chapter.
Regardless of whether you're still reading or are deciding to stop after this note, thank you all so, so much for the reviews you've given me so far. Every single one brought a smile to my face.
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She only came on Wednesday to get her panties back. That's what she told herself. And to make sure she left with her panties, she purposely didn't wear any in the first place. In retrospect, Lexie Grey realized that she should have known from the second she left her apartment that this was a really, really stupid idea. There was no way that it could possibly end well.
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Her leg was shaking as she waited in the reception area, and when her name was called, she couldn't help that flutter of nerves in her stomach. She was happy a nurse had arrived to escort her to the room, and found herself hoping the woman would stay after she dropped her off. She had control of herself, she knew that. Of course she had control of herself. She didn't need a babysitter to ensure that she'd keep her pants on. Yes, she had control… And he was the one who'd kissed her, anyway. It was all his fault, obviously. His fault, not hers. He was the one that was out of control. He was the one who couldn't help himself. He was the one acting like a slut.
She knew if she'd been a man, she would've gotten hard the second he'd arrived. Her arousal would be plain to see, obvious and prominent and… She shifted her weight, already realizing how bad a decision it'd been for her not to wear panties. She could already feel herself start to get wet, and he hadn't even touched her. (She tried not to tack on the 'yet' after that thought.) He'd just entered the room, that was it.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She suddenly wondered if he was hard. She remembered how good he'd felt when he was hard, how strong and thick and powerful. She wanted him inside her again. It had been less than a week—only four days—and already she wanted him again.
"I'm here for my panties," she announced, just so she'd stop thinking about him.
A smirk flickered across his face as he looked at her. "You are, are you?" His voice was the quietest murmur, and she tried desperately not to let it turn her on.
"You stole them," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood in the middle of the room. He looked only lightly amused at her accusation; he didn't exhibit any of the fear or shame she'd he'd show at being so directly approached. She supposed she should have known that he was without shame, though. And he didn't look as if anything frightened him. "You took them, you freak, and I want them back."
He smiled, sauntering over to her. "You sure you aren't here for something else, Ms. Grey?" He leaned in close to her, just a bit too close to be considered appropriate. It made her want to kiss him.
Instead, she shoved him back, and smiled at the surprise on his face. He obviously wasn't accustomed to women turning him down, and certainly never ones that had spent a night—or a quick couple minutes against a door—with him. She felt powerful and proud for that moment—and she would have felt so much more, that was, if she hadn't been able to feel her own arousal trickle down her upper thighs. The way he turned her on diminished the effect pushing him away had had. She almost regretted the decision to refuse him, but she had to—she had to—stand by it now. She would feel good about it when she went back home, anyway.
"I'm here for my panties," she repeated. "Nothing else. Give them to me."
"How do you know I have them?"
"Because I wasn't wearing them when I walked home! You took them; give them back!"
He stared at her for a minute before muttering something under his breath. She was about to ask what he'd said, but by then, he was at the door and holding it open for her. Glancing from side to side, she nervously followed him out, wondering where they were going. After a few twists and turns down a set of practically identical hallways, she got her answer written on the door.
Dr. Mark Sloan, M.D. F.A.C.S. Head Practitioner.
Lexie realized later that she probably shouldn't have followed him into that secluded office, with its frosted glass door and large leather couch. No, not probably not—definitely not. By under no circumstances should she have followed him into his private office. But she wanted her panties back, and she wanted to make a show of the fact that what had happened between them was a one-time thing. It would not be happening again. He seemed like a stubborn little shit, and she knew the only way for him to grasp the idea that she was taken and off-limits was to tell him, to his face, while she held the evidence of her previous lapse of judgment in her hands where he was unable to lord it over her.
There would be no loose ends when she left his office, of that she was certain. He would know where they stood, which was nowhere even neareach other, and she would have her panties back. She could go home and forget about the whole thing, push it to a back corner of her mind and never visit it again. She had a boyfriend. She had no need for a second cock, and Jackson's was more than enough.
When he had time to use it.
She closed her eyes, forcing that thought away. She would not think about her boyfriend's lack of availability right now. She would not think about the fact that the last person who'd fucked her was standing right in front of her this very second, in a private and concealed back room. And she absolutely would not think about the fact that she hadn't stopped imagining him fucking her on that brown leather couch in the corner from the moment she'd walked in.
"So you still sticking with that boyfriend of yours?"
Lexie's head snapped away from the couch to where he was standing behind his desk; he'd almost made her jump. "Yes," she replied immediately. She didn't like the way he smirked at her when he closed the drawer he'd opened, slipping something into the front pocket of his white lab coat, and came around to lean against the front of his desk as he stared at her. "What?" She snapped. "Spit it out."
He shrugged, but the smirk didn't leave his face. "I'm just implying that you could do better."
Lexie snorted. "What?" she laughed. "You mean you? Please."
He grinned, but shook his head. "No, not me. I don't fit into the 'boyfriend' role very well, anyway. I'm just saying you could do better than him."
Lexie rolled her eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say." She sighed, and then remembered why she was here in the first place. "My panties?" She held out her hand.
"Ah, yes…" He dipped one hand into the pocket of his scrubs. Lexie couldn't decide whether she was disgusted or turned on that he had kept them there. She wondered what it was that he'd taken from his desk, then, if it wasn't her underwear. When his hand surfaced again, her red lace panties were balled up in a wad of bright red color.
She smirked. "What, have you been using them as a stress ball?"
He smiled briefly, and stepped towards her. "Something like that."
When she reached out to take them, he snatched his hand just out of her reach. She glared at him, but didn't have the strength to sigh heavily. "I did not come here to play games, Dr. Sloan."
"Oh, I have no doubt of that, Ms. Grey." He paused, and then offered the panties to her again. Lexie glared at them, unwilling to be made a fool again by being seen snatching for them and then missing. His eyes danced when she looked up to them. "Gimme a kiss?" He wondered, grinning at the disgusted look on her face. "Just for old times' sake?"
No, she almost said. No way in hell. But then she lifted her jaw, squared it at him… And yes, she thought, I can do that. She could kiss him, she could give him the best kiss of his life, and then she could pull back, walk away, and never see him again. He would be the one left wanting after that, not her. He would be the one left lost and desperate. Not her. She could do this.
She stepped forward, slowly, and watched as a smug smile curved up his lips slowly as he straightened up. He'd obviously been expecting her to deny him. "One kiss," she told him, and he nodded. She took a silent breath before she stepped forward to meet him. One second, she told herself as she looked up at him. It doesn't have to be longer than one second. Then all I have to do is turn and walk away and all of this is done.
His lips met hers softly, and it surprised her. Their mouths joined for a moment—just one second—and then they parted, hovering only centimeters from each other. In the hundredth of a second it took for their lips to break and rejoin again, stronger and faster and harder, a million thoughts raced through Lexie's mind. She thought of Jackson, and wondered what he was doing right now. She thought of the practice's staff, how any of them could walk in this very moment and catch the both of them together. But more than all that, she thought again of that brown leather couch in the corner, and how much she wanted to be fucked against it. She slammed her body to his.
He groaned somewhere deep in his throat when her body rammed against his. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he'd dropped her panties to the floor, but it didn't matter. It was clear she wanted him more than she wanted them, and he was all too happy to oblige her. Her hands were already clutching his cheeks and shoulders, pulling him close as his lips trailed to her neck. One of his hands cupped her waist in return while the other—the one that had been holding her underwear—reached up to tangle roughly in her hair.
He let his hand on her waist do some exploring. He liked the black skirt she was wearing today. It looked good—very good—and hugged that luscious curve of her ass like it had been sewn specifically for her. He wondered if it had. His hand found the zipper on the side and quickly did away with it, exposing a couple more inches of her smooth skin to his touch. He opened his eyes as his hand slipped between her uppermost thigh and skirt, confused… He couldn't feel the waistband of her panties. His lips fell from her neck as he turned to look down at her waist. Where were her panties?
It hit him like a bolt of lightning.
Lexie moaned aloud when his hand that was tangled deep in her dark hair tugged on it—sharply but not roughly—to break her mouth from his. She was panting and he was now too.
"You're not wearing any underwear." He spoke so seriously, but his voice was so low and hot… And she was so breathless, so turned on, she couldn't even smile or have her moment to take credit that she was the reason for the all-consuming lust in his eyes.
"I came to get mine back," she replied between hurried breaths. "I thought this would be easiest, so I could put them right on when you gave them to me."
"Fuck," he swore. His hand travelled from the side of her waist to her lower back and butt. He felt around there, groping her, just to make sure she really wasn't wearing any panties. His eyes found hers as he squeezed the twin globes of her perfect ass. "Lexie, are you trying to kill me?"
She couldn't help but smile. "I'm just trying to get what's mine returned to me," she replied.
He grinned, "I think that can be arranged." He stepped forward, gently pushing her back and back… Before she knew it, she'd collapsed into that large leather sofa she'd spent so much of this afternoon admiring. Her body hummed in anticipation. She couldn't believe he was about to fuck her on it—had he read her mind when she'd walked in and known what she wanted? Was it that obvious?
"In fact," he murmured, following her to the couch and slowly lowering himself to her level, "I may have to give you a reward for making my job that much easier."
Lexie smiled, thinking he was about to untie his scrubs and pull out his cock… But instead, he sank to his knees before her, pulling her knees towards him so they framed either side of his head. He bent forward without a word, and put his mouth on her before Lexie could even draw a breath.
"Jesus Christ," she heard herself whisper, half in awe, half in unadulterated lust, as he began licking at the wetness that had formed—and continued to form—from the second she saw him. He held her gaze all the while, his blue eyes intense. When he lifted a hand up to part her sex for easier access, her legs sprung apart immediately to make room for him. She didn't care anymore how desperate it made her look. He already knew, and it wasn't like she had a reputation to save. Not with him.
He groaned so loud after he'd had his first taste of her, she thought the room would shake from the want in his voice. "So sweet," he whispered, lapping at her. He buried his face in between her thighs. "Jesus, I knew you'd taste good, but you're better than I ever imagined."
Lexie couldn't help herself from getting wetter at his words. No one had ever talked dirty to her before, and she knew this wasn't much, but still… Shivers went up her back. "You… imagined this?" Her chest was heaving as she stared down at him. Slowly, he lifted his face from her sex. When he licked his lips, it took all her willpower not to come apart.
"From the second you left my practice, I regretted not tasting you when I'd had the chance—when you were naked against that door. I've regretted it for four days and three nights, ever since…" He bent towards her, and lowered his voice. "It's driven me crazy."
Lexie felt her heartbeat pick up. "It has?" She whispered, so quietly she wasn't sure he'd heard.
But when she felt his tongue push its way inside her a few seconds later, she cried out, knowing he was giving her an answer… And a taste of what he'd been going through. Her hands reaching for his shoulders automatically, pulling him closer and closer, wanting—needing—more and more and more. She was certain she would come any second. It had been such a long time since Jackson had gone down on her, and god, did Dr. Sloan have a talented tongue.
He grinned when he felt her nails through both his lab coat and his scrubs. God, he'd missed her enthusiasm. He couldn't believe it'd only been four days. It felt like a four years. It felt like an eternity. He suddenly needed to hear her. He wanted to hear her scream and moan; he wanted to feel her hands tugging at his hair; he wanted her to say his name.
He needed to be inside her.
But he had to finish this first. He could feel that she was close.
"Tell me," he whispered, as his talented tongue made use of her ever-growing wetness, "have you fucked your little boyfriend since you last saw me?"
Lexie's eyes shot open, and her head lurched up off the couch as she stared down at him on the floor. He was still licking her—as if he hadn't just mentioned her boyfriend while his mouth was on her—and though she wanted nothing else than for him to continue, she had to pull away. He looked confused when she did so, but she quickly snapped, "That's—none of your business."
"It is definitely my business," he shot back immediately. She saw something flash in his eyes, and watched as he stood to his feet. "I want to know if another man's cock's been inside you besides mine."
Anger flared across her face at his presumption, and it lit up her dark eyes defiantly, even as she sat, spread out, on that on that couch in his office, with a rumpled shirt and her skirt pushed up past her waist. "And I want to know what other patients besides me you've been screwing on the side!" She replied, sounding much more furious than she'd intended. She immediately berated herself for yelling. She hated how weak and needy it made her sound. How jealous. She squeezed her eyes shut. I am not jealous. I have no reason to be jealous. Her eyes opened, and her next realization filled her with such great satisfaction, because it would be so easy to accomplish.
She wanted to make him jealous… and he had just told her exactly what she needed to say.
"Answer me," he growled, and she suppressed a smile at how on-cue it was. "Have you fucked him since you saw me?"
She glared at him a moment before letting that smug smile spread over her face. "Well," she began slowly, settling herself back against the expanse of his couch, "you remember those red panties you stole? I wore them for him." Mark tried not to let out a growl, and his eyes burned into hers as he stared down at her. "Did you see how they matched my bra? Yeah, he likes that. And I like doing things he likes."
Mark clenched his jaw at her words; he knew what was coming. He just wished it didn't make him so fucking envious. Why did he care, anyway? She had a boyfriend; so what? It wasn't like she was the first woman he'd ever cheated with. He knew the rules, he knew how things went. They used him until they got bored or got their man back, and he had his quick, illicit fun with them. It was easy—no feelings, no emotions, nothing tying him down… Most times, it was a relief when they went back to their boyfriend or husband, and he could move onto the next girl. But everything seemed to be different with her, for some reason. He cared what she was doing with that boyfriend almost as much as he cared what she was doing with him… And he hated that. He hated caring and he hated that he'd let it slip out in front of her. He'd told her exactly where to hit so it'd hurt; practically given her the go-ahead to take full advantage of him.
"When I got home from the appointment, I'd always planned on taking him immediately to bed. I was going to tell him it was his last chance with my old boobs, so he'd better make the most of it." She smiled. "We were naked before we'd even gotten to bed. When he saw I didn't have any panties, he swore and asked why I didn't tell him earlier. I said I liked to surprise him." She sighed dreamily. "And then I did something else to surprise him. Can you guess what that was?"
Mark wished he could make his heart stop beating so fast. It felt like a jackhammer in his chest.
"I can't hear you," she replied, lifting a hand to her ear. She let it drop a moment later, pouting. "Oh well. I'll tell you anyway. I went to my knees in front of him and put him in my mouth." She sighed. "His cock's so big, though, I couldn't fit it all. Didn't stop me, though. Didn't stop him, either." She grinned. "I lost count of the orgasms after five."
He felt so angry he could hit her. He honestly thought he might—which was why he kept his hands clenched at his sides as he stood above her. "You're lying," he ground out, separating the two words into two menacing sentences.
She merely shook her head. "You'd like it if I were, wouldn't you?" She smirked. "Then it would mean that the only cock that's been inside me has been yours… But that'd be a lie. I have a boyfriend, Dr. Sloan."
"I bet I can get you off quicker than he does."
"I'd like to see you try," she sneered.
That was it. He couldn't take anymore. He tore off his coat, his shirt, his pants. She was still grinning at him from her place on the couch, but he could see lust darken her eyes when he rolled the condom he'd pulled form his desk drawer onto his already-hard cock.
He pushed inside her so hard her back bowed from the bed and she had to bite down onto her whole lower lip to stop from screaming. He grunted, pulling out and pushing back in again. He hated that he couldn't hear her scream. He wanted to make her shout and cry out, wanted to hear her beg. He thrust his hips into hers, again and again, as he covered her still-clothed body with his.
"Tell me," he growled, pumping into her, "was it true?"
"Yes," she gasped, but he could tell she didn't hold fast to her answer. He moved forward, tilting his hips, and she moaned at the change in position, at how deeply he penetrated her now.
"Tell me," he ordered, his thumb moving to rub circles around her clit.
"Argh!" She half-shouted, as if she'd wanted to scream but caught herself at the last second. "Fine! Fine, we didn't fuck! God!"
"I knew it," he glowered, pushing into her again, deeper this time, to reward himself.
"I wanted to, we were going to, but we didn't have time—to—to—" Suddenly she shut her eyes closed, and when his eyes found her, she looked exhausted. "I was teasing him that I hadn't worn any panties that day, but we'd barely made it to the bedroom before he… he got called into work." She squeezed her eyes shut, and Mark tried not to care when he saw a few tears leak out. His thumb fell away from her clit then, and he kept his cock completely still inside her. He didn't know why he was bothering. What did he care about her boyfriend and his lack of availability? Shouldn't it be a good thing he wasn't around—then she'd be coming to him more, right? That should make him happy, make him hard, make him eager for more… But all he felt when he looked at her right now was a confusing sadness, accompanied by guilt and pity and frustration.
"I can barely get him off these days before they call him back to the firm," Lexie continued to whisper, "and then when he finally gets home, it's at ten or eleven… but by he's too tired to even return the favor, as much as he might want to." She sniffed. "And by then I'm usually asleep, anyway." She wiped her eyes quickly, looking down. "Nearly all of our sex is make-up sex these days, or one of us paying the other back for putting out when they didn't really want to, at two or three in the morning." She sighed, and looked up at him. "Coming to you for implants was stupid," she told him. "It doesn't matter how big my boobs are or how good in bed I am—he's trying to build himself a career and that comes first, comes before me." She took a breath. "He didn't care about the implants, and why would he," she scoffed, "unless you fuck up and there's a malpractice suit filed that he can chime in on?" She sighed, and her voice fell to a whisper.
"There was a time when I understood." She paused, and searched his eyes. For what, he had no idea. But she continued a second later, so maybe she'd found whatever she was looking for. "You know?" She whispered. "I understood. I supported him and I rooted for him and I was by his side every step of the way. I watched him leave to take the bar, and I was home when he came back. I comforted him when he was certain he'd failed, and I celebrated with him when he got the results. I was standing beside him when he became a lawyer. But that was when we were kids. That was years ago. I just…" She shut her eyes. "It's stupid of me, I know, but I never realized being a lawyer would be this time-consuming. And I'm not even the one trying to be a lawyer! Jesus Christ, I'm just his stupid girlfriend, who complains that he's never home, or never awake, or never relaxed. I have no right to demand any of that from him. Not when my job's eight to three five days a week and all it entails is making sure third-graders know their multiplication tables by June."
She sighed, frustrated, and Mark tried to think of something to say to calm her down. Nothing came to mind.
"But his job? He works like a maniac. He's trying to change the world, trying to make it a better place. He's trying to provide for me even though I tell him all the time I don't need providing. I can take care of myself, even on my tiny teacher's salary, but he has it in his head that it's his job to care for me. And it is, it is, I'll give him that… But we're not married. We're not engaged. We just live together. He doesn't need to work himself into the ground for me. I don't need nice things or fancy dinners or an apartment with a working elevator." Her voice cracked here, but she ignored it. Mark tried not to let it haunt him. "I need him, but he forgets that, because he's so busy with everything else. He's busy saving the world and making a name for himself and making sure I have everything I could ever want or need before he ever thinks that he might have things backwards. I just…" She took a deep breath, and Mark could see tears dangling in her eyes. "I miss the way things used to be between us. We loved each other so much those first few years. He was all I ever thought about, and I know I was all he ever thought about. And now…" She wiped her eyes, letting out a bleak laugh. Her eyes roamed over his face and body—especially where hers and his connected—as if for the first time. "Now what?" She chuckled. "Now I'm fucking my plastic surgeon because I can't stand not getting laid for a few weeks?" Her voice turned desperate. "What the hell is my problem?"
Mark didn't reply, and tried not to take offense. He knew enough to know he was here to listen, not contribute, and he did so. Part of him still wondered why he'd bothered listening in the first place. She was here for sex, and so was he. Talking and feelings in no way have to come into that. Why was he letting them stake their claim now?
"He's working his ass off," she whispered. "He's working all the time… And I'm cheating on him because of it." She looked away and let a few more tears fall. "I am such a horrible person." Her voice choked on the words, and they seemed to echo in the silence that followed.
A minute later, she seemed to finally remember that he was there. "Sorry," she muttered, swiping at her eyes angrily. "I didn't mean to tell you my whole sob story, Jesus." She laughed weakly. "Why the hell would you give a shit?"
Mark swallowed, but his throat was dry. He had to clear it before speaking. "Lexie, I'm sor—"
"Oh, don't try to apologize," she snapped, her eyes flashing to his. She was suddenly very aware of everything she'd told him, and incredibly humiliated that she'd done so. Couldn't I have just held my fucking tongue for two minutes? Couldn't I have just gotten off and left? "You are not part of my life with him, Dr. Sloan, so don't try to insert yourself or your pity there. I don't want it and I don't want you." Her eyes were cold and hard and he knew she wasn't bluffing—this was the truth, the whole truth, the one they both had to accept to be able to continue this affair in any semblance of peace. They both knew this would be the last time she'd ever talk to him about her boyfriend or her relationship. She wished she hadn't mentioned either in the first place, but at least the rules were laid out now.
"Just shut up and fuck me," she ordered, her voice quiet and controlled, "because, yes, you can give me what my boyfriend can't." She glared at him, her brown eyes fiery. "Are you happy now, Dr. Sloan?" She took a breath, and said the words he'd wanted to hear… Only a few minutes and one long confession too late. It was like everything she'd said about him since she mentioned her boyfriend's name was tainted. He couldn't stand to listen anymore, but it wasn't an option not to. "You are a god," she told him, keeping her voice completely flat and uninterested. "You give me the best sex I've ever had. I've never orgasmed with anyone else the way I do with you."
He opened his mouth when she paused to tell her to stop, but found it impossible. Too quickly, she continued.
"No one has ever made me as wet as you make me, Dr. Sloan. I'm constantly aroused, constantly wanting sex because of you." She bit down on her lower lip, and he saw tears gather in her eyes. When she spoke next, it wasn't in a monotone. "When we finally do find a spare moment to have sex, Jackson and I, you can be sure I'll be thinking of you instead." She glared at him, sniffing. "Are you happy now? Are you satisfied, asshole? You've ruined my life, and I've laid here and let you, I've encouraged you to do so."
"Lexie," he whispered, "I—"
She shook her head, looking away. "Please just fuck me," she told him quietly, wiping her eyes. "Just get it over with. If I don't get off now, I won't get off for god knows how long. Jackson's working on a new case right now, so I see him for about two hours every—"
She broke off with a wild gasp as he pulled out and thrust back in again. He didn't care if he was hurting her anymore. He didn't care if he was being gentle. He couldn't stand to hear that man's name on her lips, not ever, but especially not while he was still inside her. He fucked her, hard, until she screamed into his shoulder, until he hit his release, and then he slipped out and threw away the condom as she slid her clothes back into place. The two dressed in silence, and afterwards, she left without a word, not even a sarcastic 'thank-you' before she slammed the door.
Later, as he sat in his office alone and stared at nothing, Mark realized that he hadn't kissed her on the lips today, not once since he'd blackmailed the first one out of her, not at all. He tried not to care, and he didn't know why he did, but the simple fact that their lips hadn't met besides when he coerced the action out of her bothered him a hell of a lot more than he'd like to admit.
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Author's Note: Reviews are always, always welcome. I'm going to be working on the next chapter of Out of My Hands tonight, and I'll have it posted very soon. Thank you all for reading.
