Blackout

Chapter 19

Imaia Island

Max

Present

It was official. Two days after Callan’s arrival, the hurricane Irina started heading north and passed Imaia on it’s way to the Atlantic. What was left after the hurricane was pure chaos. If I’d thought hanging from a cliff and almost dying had been hard, then working in an ER after a hurricane had passed was tantamount to living in Hell. Our team worked without breaks, without food, in eternal shifts that didn’t give us a single pause to breathe or catch the sunlight. I gained blisters in the soles of my feet from running so fast and so much through the halls of the hospital. 

I barely saw Callan but I knew for a fact he was probably even busier than I was. At times I would hear his voice outside the hospital, but by the time I ran to the entrance to see him, he would already be gone. The army had been mobilized to the rural areas to help neutralize the overflowing rivers and the houses that had been destroyed. After that they would be sent to the roads, to help engineers build landlines. 

The last time I’d seen Callan he had been jumping on a jeep, ordering other men to follow him to help a family that was stuck in a crumbling house near the closest river. His green-gray eyes zeroed on me and his face turned very serious, eating me up with a concerned look. Are you okay? He mouthed and I nodded, waving a hand when he and his men passed me on their way out. No, I was not okay. I was tired, starving and close to crashing down if I didn’t take a break soon but, what other choice did I have? We were understaffed and there were people in need that needed our help. There was no other thing for us to do but keep on and help as many people as we could.

I reached my breakdown point four days after the hurricane had passed. It was midnight and Dr. Spencer and I had just finished an eight-hour aneurysm repair. It had been almost impossible to locate the blood clog holding the blood flow and only by pure chance I’d stumbled through a small vein that had seemed too inflamed. I palpated the vein with my fingers and called for Dr. Spencer to assist me with opening the vein. The clog had been stuck right in the middle. We had saved the patient’s life in a matter of minutes. Another hour under anesthesia and he would be dead.

The surgery had been a success, but the moment we stepped out of the OR we found a board with three upcoming surgeries scheduled under our names. Dr. Spencer called for a nurse to confirm our next operation room but I was beaten, I knew I was way too tired to assist on another surgery. My legs were shaking and my eyelids were heavy. By the end of my last operation I’d been too tired to hold the scalp. I stopped Dr. Spencer by clearing my throat loudly. He turned to me with his eyebrows raised.

“What’s the matter, Dr. Cruz?” 

“I need to rest before doing another surgery,” I declared, squaring my shoulders and looking him in the eyes. He was my supervisor while we were stationed at Imaia, I owed him respect and deference, but I was responsible for my own performance. I couldn’t participate in another surgery in the state I was in. Knowing my limits was as important as recognizing when I wasn’t in optimal conditions to save people’s lives. And as a surgeon I needed to be in optimal condition. That was why I never drank alcohol, not even when I was off duty.

Dr. Spencer lowered his head a bit, placing a hand over my shoulder and giving me a smile.

“Of course, Dr. Cruz, go rest and be back by dawn for the day shift,” I nodded, feeling strangely aware of how close he was to me. I’d never initiated physical contact with any other male doctors I worked with. Not even a pat on the arm. As a woman and a latina it had been hard already to pass medical school and graduate, I would never compromise my work ethics by accepting any advances from my colleagues. Especially from my supervisor. It bothered me the liberties Dr. Spencer had with other female doctors, always getting too close, always patting them on the shoulder and keeping his hand on them for longer than what was politically correct. Maybe it was all in my imagination, but I pointedly took a step back and disentangled myself from his touch. I kept my facial expression serious, letting him know I wasn’t okay with his nearness.

“You might need to rest and cool off a bit, Dr Cruz,” he said, still smiling at me as if he couldn’t tell I was feeling uncomfortable. I nodded because he was right. I got angry easily when I was too hungry and too tired, but I never stopped looking him in the eyes, letting him know I would not like his touch today any less than tomorrow after sleeping and eating something. We parted ways and I exited through the backdoor of the small hospital where we were stationed. I think I stumbled a bit with my own feet on my way to the white tents that the military had built for the medical team.

“Max,” called a deep voice at my back, making me halt and look over my shoulder. Callan started running in my direction, his pace fast but perfectly proportioned, moving like the wind. He was back in his military uniform and combat boots. The moment he reached me Callan took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders to protect me from the cold humidity rising from the wet grounds. He inspected my face while fixing the zipper and palming my arms, so the remaining heat he had left on his jacket could warm my tired limbs, “You need to sleep. Do you know where you are stationed for the night?”

I nodded, waving a hand in the general direction of the medical camp. I was too tired to speak, leave alone explaining to him I was so sleepy that I was planning on crashing in whichever bed I found first. Callan frowned, keeping a hand over my back and inspecting the medical camp. I could see some male nurses talking by the entrance. I’d been thinking of asking them for directions to my tent. Callan turned me around then, keeping an arm around me and pushing my body to his side, so I could rest my weight on him.

“Come on, you are sleeping in my tent tonight,” he informed me, and I was probably more tired than what I'd thought initially, because I didn’t fight him, and let Callan guide me through the parked military rovers and to their camp. I recognized the green tents that pointed to their military status. They were bigger tents and perfectly built. Not one single tent had been placed at an irregular distance from the next one. I wondered if they used a ruler to make sure they were perfectly distanced from each other. The thought made me smile and the movement didn’t escape Callan’s attention.

“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?”

“Rulers. Do you guys use rulers to calculate where to build the tents?” I asked him, craning my neck so I could see him. Callan’s lips tilted up and he looked down at me for a whole second before brushing a lock of my hair away from my face.

“With how much we practice building tents it would be an embarrassment if we ever need rulers,” he said, guiding me further in. Some soldiers gave him a military salutation when they passed us and Callan acknowledged them with a short nod, never taking his arm away and keeping me close. We reached his tent, which looked to me pretty much the same as the others. Inside there was a single bed, a closed trunk, a couple of military boots situated by the entrance and a kerosene lamp that was already on. 

Callan placed me on the bed and started taking my shoes off. Yes, they were Crocs again. And yes, they were white and ugly. I blushed a bit when he took off my socks and started massaging my tired feet. His warm touch had me rolling my tired head over my shoulders and closing my eyes in pleasure. Hmmm, a woman could get used to that. After a while he helped me to get under the covers and tucked me in.

“Have a good night, Dr. Cruz,” he said, giving me a chaste kiss on the forehead, “ I will not be far in case you need me.”

“The aneurysm…” I started saying, half asleep already after that amazing massage. I pushed one hand up, feeling for a scalp with my fingers and looking for the vein, “if we reach the blood clog...pass me a 12 B...deltopectoral incision…”

“Shhh...I’m here, you can rest now,” I felt two arms hold me tight and the heat of his body made me sigh happily. I hugged myself tighter and closed my eyes the moment his scent sinked in. The mix of salt, sweat and shaving cream had me smiling and holding Callan like my own personal pillow. 

I don’t know for how long I slept in his arms, but the sound of men marching outside our tent had me opening my eyes and looking around in surprise. It took me a long minute to remember everything that had happened, me walking alone at night, Callan taking me back to his tent...sleeping in his bed. It was so sweet of him to give me a massage and tuck me in for the night. Not to mention, I knew he had taken me back to his tent because he didn’t trust I was fully capable of being aware of my surroundings. He had been protecting me, keeping me safe even when I was so damn tired that I couldn’t protect myself.

Callan pushed me harder against his body and my eyes widened in shock. He was still sleeping! I swallowed nervously when I realized there was a strong arm firmly attached to my waist. Little by little my awakening brain started to take notes of the fact we were laying together as close as a couple. Callan’s hand covered my left breast, keeping me in place, my back and ass plastered against his front. I could feel the undeniable pressure of his erection against my ass and in the lonely hours of dawn I...liked it. There was something terribly sinful about a man pressing his hard-on on a woman’s ass. It was like a silent invitation to do bad things, a temptation of sorts. I had never been pressed against a man’s body and apart from feeling strange I enjoyed it. Callan’s body was like a gigantic furnace, keeping me warm and cozy. His body pressed me a little bit down against the mattress, but it felt comfortable, safe even.

Slowly to not awake him I started twisting under his hold, until we were face to face.  His eyes were closed which made it easier to study all the little details of his face that I hadn’t seen before. Like the fact there was a tiny, little scar at the bottom of his chin. I would love to ask him what kind of story was behind that scar. I brushed his short hair back, staring at his eyes just in case he woke up. His eyelashes were long and curly, creating little shadows over his cheeks that I started caressing with the tip of my fingers. He was by far the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and right then, just during this dawn, he was completely mine. 

I don’t know what kind of insane impulse made me move closer and plant a kiss on his lips. I’d been the one to chastise him for trying to kiss me before, and in a sense, I knew I was playing with fire if I indulged in this temptation for too long. My body didn’t register any of those thoughts. I needed him closer right then and there, so I kissed him again, this time curling my tongue against his mouth until he opened it for me. I looked up in time to see Callan open his eyes. They were green right after awakening and illogically I took pride in the fact I was the first person he had seen today. His green eyes moved slowly down, focusing on my lips, he stared at them for what it felt like an entire minute and then he looked back at my eyes. Pure hunger, as naked and unrestrained as it could ever be, pooled from his eyes in a silent warning. 

Locking his fingers around my waist, Callan pushed me closer and with his other hand he covered my ass, keeping me close and squeezed against his own body. He was on me so fast that I gasped in surprise, loving the way he kissed me as if we only had that moment and each other to live as fully as we could. Callan kissed me passionately, hungrily, desperately. It was a kiss of reverence, of madness and need. His lips clashed over and over against mine, his tongue caressing mine so slowly and hypnotizingly against the mayhem of his mouth guiding mine to his maddening tempo of need. I moaned, opening my legs wider and feeling my eyes roll back when he got me on my back, positioning between my legs. His kiss deepened while his hips started rocking gently against the juncture of my own s*x, letting me feel his erection. God, that felt so good. Callan never stopped kissing me but his hands started moving down my body in a well practiced rhythm that spoke volumes about his level of experience. 

He knew exactly how to touch me. I hated how much practice he needed to have in order to be this good, but then again, I loved the fact I got to enjoy it all. Even the pressure of his fingers holding me was perfectly measured. Not too hard to leave a mark, but hard enough to remind me a man was touching me with need. Callan’s hands slipped around the outline of my body, halting over my breasts and caressing my n*****s with the palms, extracting a louder moan from my mouth. His mouth moved to my neck, leaving hungry kisses all the way down the column of my throat, while his hands started pushing the cups of my bra down. I didn’t have large breasts. They were not exactly small either, but I’d always been conscious of the fact I wasn’t as endowed as other girls from my same classes had been. The moment Callan pushed my bra down and got a look of them his entire face darkened and his eyes seemed to transform to an animalistic state. Frankly, his eyes scared me a bit, but then he kissed one of my n*****s, worshiping it slowly. His other hand caressed my untouched breast, large fingers grabbing it reverently.

To my surprise he closed his mouth around one of my n*****s and sucked. Hard. A thousand nerve endings seemed to explode, producing the most wonderful sensation across my body. I bowed on the bed, my body shaking in shock at the powerful pleasure Callan was giving me. I’d never imagined he could do something like that to me. I never imagined that two people could receive and give so much pleasure at the same time. Callan pushed one of his hands down my scrubs. His fingers found my wet p***y right away and his eyes closed tightly, as if he was in pain at the idea of being so close to my untouched s*x. Sucking harder on my n****e he pushed my thong to a side and with his thumb pressed against my hooded c**t. I orgasmed instantly. My back arched and I gasped his name, a mix of breathy sounds that he swallowed with a kiss while he guided me deeper into pleasure. His thumb caressed my c**t in circles, lighter and lighter, so the pleasure could uncoil and extend in large waves of heat through my entire body. The man was a seasoned lover with a thousand techniques at his reach. In comparison I was a bundle of nerves, shaking and still spasming after enjoying such powerful orgasm.

When I opened my eyes again Callan was smiling down at me. It was a wolfish grin, something hungry and dangerous that I couldn’t help to like. The corners of his eyes crinkled with pride while I tried to catch my breath. He looked damn perfect with the light of the upcoming day outlining the strong profile of his handsome face. I caressed his sharp jaw and as a reflex he humped me with his hips, making me feel the hardness of his c**k against my s*x. I blushed, feeling like a selfish moron for not thinking about him after he had given me so much pleasure. I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue and spoke in a hush, my voice still breathy after everything he had done to me.

“What about you?” I asked him, following the hard lines of his jaw and gently caressing his neck. Callan’s eyes were still hungry and at my touch his entire body tensed, his c**k pulsing angrily against my crease. He closed his eyes tightly and when he opened them again he looked away from me, as if he didn’t want me to see how much he wanted and needed me.

“I will live, beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse to my own ears. In silence he pushed himself away, his black t-shirt rolling mouthwatering slowly over the strong muscles of his large shoulders and muscular trapezius. When he was on his feet he offered me a hand, an easy smile on his mouth, but eyes casted away, “Come on, let me take you to breakfast.”

“Callan…”

His eyes found me and in them I could see everything he wasn’t saying. I could see how this was killing him. I could see that he was holding on tightly to his self-control and that the gray in his eyes was swallowing the green that had been in there when he woke up. That I deeply affected him and that his hands were trembling a bit. He passed one of those shaking hands over his features, trying to school his expression into one less scary and raw. When he offered me a hand a second time Callan seemed more in control of himself.

“Let me feed you and take you back to the hospital,” he offered me and I nodded, accepting his hand and letting him take me away.