The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8 - Sex Stories

The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8

... slowly take my hand away from his mouth and ease my knee from his arm. He wraps it around his stomach but remains quiet. Slowly I start to back away from his bed and towards the door. “One last thing; her name is Emily. You better pray to whatever god you believe in that she comes out of this okay.” I do not wait around to see his response to that; my time is up. I slip out of his room, closing the door after me, then quickly make my way back towards the lobby. My heart is hammering quickly in my chest from the physical exertion and adrenaline rush. As I walk quickly towards the main hospital doors, I feel like I am wearing a huge, neon sign around my neck telling anyone I pass of what I have just done. Luckily it is still pretty early in the day and the place is fairly empty. Those I do encounter are too wrapped up in their own worries to pay much attention to me. I slip into another bathroom before the exit where I pull off the scrubs and mask. Taking the lid off of a large trashcan I shove the clothes as far down as I can and make sure trash covers them from the top. I try not to think about what my hands just came into contact with as I secure the lid back in place. I make it out of the building without seeing the security guard. As soon as the automatic doors slide shut behind me I crumple over at the waist as all of the stress of the last couple of days finally catches up to me. Leaning over with my hands on my knees I try to calm my nerves. I close my eyes, ...

... concentrating on my breathing. Finally, I stand, take a deep breath, and then start walking towards the parking lot. I need to go home, grab a shower, charge my phone, and ice my sore hand. If I hurry I can be back here before Emily is even done in the operating room. ~ Emily ~ Clint laughs at my joke even though it’s really not even funny. I love the sound of his laugh. I love his smile. I love his eyes. I just love him. So I tell him and his smile gets bigger before he tells me that he loves me too. His voice sounds funny. He takes my hand in his. It feels so warm. Soft. Smaller than I remember. Kind of sweaty. Kind of not like his hand at all. I open my eyes. The light in the room seems to stab right through them and into my brain. I quickly squeeze them shut again but not first without seeing that Clint is definitely not holding my hand; Eric is. I pull my hand roughly away from him. “Where’s…” I want to ask about Clint, the effects of my dream still lingering, but I realize that would sound weird asking about someone I’m not supposed to care about and someone Eric doesn’t even know. Luckily Eric finishes my sentences for me. “Your dad? He will be back in a little. He was taking your stepmom home.” “My, what?!” No way did my dad marry that woman! And even if he did there is no way in hell she’s my stepmom. “Turn off that damn light!” “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Eric nearly runs across the room to switch off the lights. They dim considerably but don’t turn off all the way. He shrugs ...