Chapter 2 - My Voice Just Cooed
The air in the car was thick, a tension between them that could not yet be acted upon ever growing. There's too much space between us, Shelagh thought regretfully, but forced herself to remain on her side of the front seat, knowing if she slid closer to him, the prying eyes of Poplar would wind up seeing too much. But her gaze never left him, still filling her with the same desire she'd had in the kitchen at clinic, his forearms still bared, his smile still crinkling lines about his eyes, his hair still flopping about untamed. She didn't wait for him to open her door when they arrived at the flat, too impatient to get inside.
As soon as they were safely enclosed in their home, Shelagh could hold back no more, hormones and desire and heat raging within her, wetness pooling between her legs. She pushed him against the back of the door, lips meeting his with passionate force, one hand in his hair and the other cupping his cheek and curling behind his ear to draw him down closer to her. His coat dropped to the floor from his hand. She kicked off her shoes. Her tongue invaded his mouth followed by her sucking his lower lip and nibbling not so gently upon it. "It seems you have certainly come down with something," he managed to murmur thickly once she moved on from his lips, trailing wet kisses down his neck.
"Yes, I do have a fever, it seems," she rasped, hands trailing down his arms, "and I think you can fill my prescription for it Doctor." He drew in a loud breath then let out a low groan as her right hand cupped him through his trousers and began to rub his hardening length. His fingers tangled in her hair now, loosening the pins which held it in place while planting kisses of his own up her neck, behind her ear, along her jaw until their lips met once more.
Patrick grabbed her hips firmly, then maneuvered her backward until he could turn her around and push her into the door in his place, their lips never losing contact until he spoke, "first I'll need to carry out an examination, you ought to know that, Nurse." He pressed his body against her, hands roaming from her hips up to knead her breasts through her uniform.
A low moan escaped her at the action, loving the way their bodies fit together, loving the feel of the hard door at her back, loving the feel of his thumbs ghosting over her nipples. Too much fabric between us. "Of course, Doctor," she purred, bucking her hips toward him, seeking friction to quell some of the growing fire within her. More. Her breathing became shallow again and it was all she could do to speak through the groans that came of their own free will, "but don't forget, mmhhmm, we promised Sister Julienne, mmhhmm, that I'd go straight to bed."
At first he ignored the reminder and pushed himself fully against her, feeling the need to taste her once more, as if her lips held the breath of life for him. They poured their passion into one another in an elaborate dance of tongues and teeth and he had half a notion to simply push up her skirt and make love to her right there. But the thought of the residents of Poplar walking by on the sidewalk on the other side of the door quickly shook that notion away. Patrick straightened up, composed himself as best he could, although the sight of his wife's dishevelled hair and cardigan gone askew made that rather difficult, and took her hand to lead her to their bedroom.
"Yes, Nurse Turner, let's get you to bed," he was practically growling with want.