What began as a simple joke turned into much more than he’d bargained for: blue balls.

He’d been left alone, by his own choice, but left alone with one of the firmest erections he could remember. It was almost painful. Not since he’d been a teenager had he felt so absolutely full and ready to explode. And now he was left to deal with it himself.

But what were his options? The alternative would be to have allowed Fiona to continue her bed bath, and if she’d gone ahead and carried out what she threatened him with, he would be, right now, rolled onto his side and probably staring at Chelsea, his audience, while his ex-lover and potential future girlfriend wiped his ass for him.

And if that were to indeed happen, then all would be for naught. For, after she’d finished, there wouldn’t be anything left to take care of. He would’ve probably shriveled up faster than he would during a winter swim in the Potomac.

Jasper, still lying, still naked, knew for a fact that he had not jumped into any icy water. Though at this point, he wished he had. He shifted his weight under the towel and rolled onto the side of his hip. He could feel the pressure of his cock still fully erect, the tip poking into and rubbing against the towel.

It would be hilarious, if he hadn’t been so turned on.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

He felt like such an idiot.

It was awkward, and embarrassing, but that seemed to make it hotter. Even the fact that he had an audience, and that Fiona had no choice but to at least attempt to stay professional throughout the procedure. He thought back on how she looked, his view from below her breasts. How her hand, more than a few times, came within inches of his manhood.

His own hand slipped down there now while thinking of her. It seemed to have happened automatically, his fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft and slowly massaging the skin. The head was still full and large and he was rubbing a little harder now. He needed to. There had been such a buildup . . .

A few coherent thoughts finally crossed his mind as he lay there naked in his hospital room, bringing himself to completion. A disbelief at how he’d arrived in such a position. And rational objections to what he was now doing: mainly, jerking himself off harder and faster under the towel, hoping and praying that no one would walk in. And then harder now, hoping that Fiona would walk in.

He’d never dreamt of masturbating in a hospital, in his workplace. But, then again, he’d never imagined he’d be in such a position that he’d simply had to. How likely had it been that he’d ever see Fiona again, let alone be given a sensual bed bath by her delicate, soothing touch? And her naughtiness, the way she teased him about Chelsea, the way she teased him in general . . .

She had teased him before, too, back in training. That first time, in a most public and crowded hospital elevator, backing up into him to make room for a patient in a wheelchair. She made sure to make as much room as possible, her plump ass grinding back into his crotch and then holding there, as if she was waiting for him to respond. The response he wanted was to wrap an arm around her and pull her in closer, maybe kiss the nape of her neck. But that would have been too obvious.

The less obvious response, and what actually ended up happening, was his cock firming up against her body. All this after only kissing once before. It was the start of a fun final month of rotations. And then she left, in a rush, not too differently than how she’d just left him today. She had left him hard and diabolically frustrated. Such cruelty, however, was perhaps deserved by the way he’d carried himself during the bed bath. He’d been a bad boy.

And he was still being a bad boy, the towel above his crotch fluttering now like a flag in the wind as his fist pumped faster, as he approached some sense of relief that had long been required. He edged closer, and closer, just needing to finish. No matter the insanity of it, his task needed to be completed—with or without Fiona’s touch.

Of course he preferred for that touch to return, by any means necessary, some miracle bringing his nurse back to her patient. What he wouldn’t have given for just a little more “bathing,” even with a gloved hand, even with an audience. It could have been Dr. Wahl watching for all he cared. It could have been—

And then the door creaked open.

And then his brain scattered into a panic, an electrical storm, his quick deliberation of whether or not it was worth it to continue toward his goal.

He had turned to check the door, watching it open wider.

Fuck!

Fuck it, he had to stop.

No orgasm, at least one that was self-administered, was worth getting caught and humiliated and fired.

He kept watching the door while he reluctantly dropped his hand, praying that the emergency would subside. And in walked a wine-colored shape. A nurse’s outfit. And the most beautiful face he could imagine. That smile . . . And then the voice he’d wanted so badly to hear, saying his name. A question. “Jasper?” She asked it with a quavering voice. “Jasper . . .” A quiet, nervous inquiry.

She closed the door behind her, shutting it carefully and silently, before walking up to his bed.

He was out of breath from his activity. But maybe more so now that she had returned. “Hi,” he said quietly, trying to make his voice sound normal. But it came out high and tight.

Upon entering, she had looked nervous and fidgety, but after he spoke, she seemed to relax. She softened up, moving with more fluidity, her hands now propped up on the bed and feeling their way toward his thigh as he rolled flat onto his back.

“You’re still under your sheet,” she said.

“Yeah . . .”

“And you’re still . . . naked?” She looked down at his bulge. With how close to orgasm he was, the tent was even bigger than she’d seen earlier. “I see you’ve been washing yourself.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have.”

“And have you finished?”

He took a deep breath.

“Have you?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Her hand had slipped under the towel, moving toward and climbing up his hip, and then onto his stomach. No glove this time.

“I was waiting for you.”

Fiona bit her lip and nodded. “You need help.”

He nodded too.

He needed help.

And her bare hand was sliding down lower, him moaning and sliding around underneath her touch, his breathing getting faster as she approached, as she wrapped her hand around him. She started tugging him immediately, in a slow and deliberate rhythm, the motion of her wrist bringing him back to the edge.

“Yeah,” she said. “I can tell you need some help here.”

Jasper groaned as her other hand slid under the towel, finding its way over his leg and under, wrapping itself around his balls, massaging, playing. “Oh, yeah,” she said breathily. “Yeah, you definitely need some help.”

Her hands felt wonderful. They were smooth, and capable, and slightly cool against the heat of his body.

“Thank you,” said Jasper, feeling weak and dizzy and completely surrendered. And so completely thankful. Somehow, his prayers had been answered. She had returned—without an audience, or an official hospital-sanctioned task to perform. This was extracurricular. Pro bono. And the way she performed made his toes curl up, his back arching off the bed, his hands grasping the sheets as a type of warm and fuzzy madness took over.

Finally, in that moment, everything was right in the world. He wasn’t stationed in a hospital. There were no hackers to worry about. No job to do but to lie back and relax and release. Oh, God, he was so close to exploding . . . then an alarm sound sounded through the room’s intercom. Loudly.

“Fuuuuuck.” Jasper groaned.

Hands immediately stopped working. Her head whipped around.

“Fuck,” he said again, sitting up.

“Get dressed,” she ordered him.

“I already am.” He sat up, grabbing the first pair of pants his fingers touched, reaching under the bed for his gun when Fiona turned her back. She had already spun away from the bed, washing her hands. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” said Fiona, turning back around and straightening up her clothes. “But finish getting dressed and meet me in the hall.”

He struggled to fit his still burgeoning erection in his pants. “In the hall?”

“Find me,” she said as she stormed out of the room, leaving the room with the door open.

Bath time had ended.