Hump Day: Brenda L. Thomas's Every New Year

EVERYNEW YEAR by Brenda L. ThomasThe holiday season is officially upon us and we've got the perfect Hump Day treat to celebrate! Brenda L. Thomas's Every New Year, available next week, offers plenty of intrigue and suspense and we happen to have an excerpt. If that's not enough, as a special treat for RT readers Brenda offered up a bit of bonus content, adding several sexy enhancements to the excerpt that you won't find anywhere else! But first, a bit of background on the story:

Dr. Cynthia Lampley has no idea who she is, but she does know that Dr. Strohmile arouses more than her apparent interest in practicing medicine. During an intimate encounter with the doctor, Cynthia suddenly remembers who she is — and who's waiting for her at home. 

The appearance of Dr. Strohmile dressed in a black tuxedo under his lab coat surprised me. Surely he had somewhere festive to be on New Year’s Eve rather than visit an arrogant patient suffering from amnesia. Either way his visit tonight was a comfort, as all of them had become in the past few days.

“What are you doing in this place on New Year’s Eve?” I said referring to the rundown Cobbs Creek County Hospital where I’d landed after being caught in the crossfire of a shooting. 

“In your sleep last night you kept repeating that you needed to be somewhere on New Year’s Eve, so I had an idea for something that might spark a memory.” 

I didn’t tell Dr. Strohmile but flashes of memory had begun to return, just not enough to know my name or where I belonged. 

“How’d you plan on doing that?” I asked, indulging in the scent of his cologne as he grabbed hold of my wheelchair and pushed me onto the elevator.

“You’ll see.” 

He pressed the button for the third floor, and then wheeled me off through the double doors of a room marked for surgery.

“Dr. Strohmile, I don’t know what you were thinking bringing me up here?” I asked, glancing around the dimly lit and deserted operating room that was obviously used for storage, and maybe even hazardous waste judging by the number of red trash receptacles. 

He responded by fanning out his hand to show me where he’d set up a table, two folding chairs, and two covered trays from the cafeteria. The last thing I wanted was another tray of tasteless hospital cafeteria food.

“This is ridiculous. I mean I may not know who I am but I know this was not how I planned to celebrate.” 

His wounded expression indicated that I’d clearly insulted him and the last thing I wanted was to be left alone. For as much as I didn’t want to be ungrateful, I didn’t know how not to be. I prayed that this wasn’t who I was.

“Well I’m sorry, I tried. I’ll take you back to your room so you can be alone,” he said, already stepping back towards the doors without me. 

Uncovering the lid on the hospital tray I found the same tan dishes and plastic wrapped silverware with the exception that tonight’s sectioned plastic tray held black-eyed peas, potato salad, a side dish of collard greens and 3 golden fried chicken wings doused with hot sauce perched on top of a slice of white bread. My mouth watered.

“Don’t leave. I’m sorry. Can we eat, please?” 

By the time he took his seat across from me I’d already broken apart my wings, and wrapped them in bread. I noticed him removing a bottle of yellow label, Veuve Clicquot champagne from his messenger bag. I hoped it was chilled. 

“This might help make your meal more palatable.” 

While he popped the cork and poured the champagne into our plastic cups, I was holding the dish up to my lips to get the last bit of juices from the peas.

“Looks like the food just might have some taste after all,” he teased when I cleaned the bones of my second chicken wing.

“Clearly I misspoke,” I said, chasing a spoonful of potato salad with the champagne.

The food was amazing. I hadn’t had fried chicken in so long--it was just something I didn’t eat anymore. How could I eat food like this and still stay at my weight? And I never wanted to trigger high blood pressure or diabetes. Dr. Strohmile didn’t eat, instead, chose to watch me, which made me uncomfortable because it was stirring warmth inside me as it had on his previous visits.

When I was finished, my fingers were slick with grease and bits of the small napkin. “Uhm, do you know if there’s any wet naps around here?”

“That, I think we can find,” he said standing up to open a cabinet overstuffed with supplies.

While sipping my champagne I studied the motion of his body as he strolled across the room. Watching him move generated a familiar wetness between my legs, which prompted me to rise from my wheelchair and say, “Would you consider being my patient for the night?”

He turned and eyed me suspiciously. I could see through the fabric of his pants that he was hard.

“And why would I want to do that?”
 I stepped away from the table and without any modesty or embarrassment I pulled my hospital gown over my head, then went towards him.

“I’m not sure this is inappropriate—,” he started. I cupped his face in my hands and said, “Maybe I’d like to play doctor.”

Dr. Strohmile removed his glasses and his eyes swept over my nakedness. “You seem capable,” he said.

“I’ll need to examine you. I suggest you put on a gown and lie down and I’ll need your lab coat.”

He handed over his lab coat, I slipped my arms into it and hung his stethoscope around my neck. His watch I pushed onto my wrist. 

He began removing his tuxedo shirt, kicked off his shiny shoes and stepped out his pants. I was sure I’d seen a man undress before but somehow this was different, it was as if I wasn’t supposed to be watching, that I was perhaps invading his privacy. He pulled down his boxers and that beautiful instrument that was his penis sprung out. I was captivated. I remembered that I knew penises, that I’d examined them before, that I had a room where I saw lots of penises. I wondered if perhaps I had been a highly kept prostitute. 

“Where do you want me?”

“Sit on the table please,” I instructed, noticing how quiet the room had gotten with the exception of the noise of New Year’s Eve traffic outside on the streets and the radio station he had playing on his phone.

In circles, I walked around him, once, then again, to admire his body. It wasn’t rippled with muscles or lacking body fat, no this was a well-fed man who had made his patients-- not the gym--his priority. However just watching his chest heave up and down in anticipation of my touch was affirmation that Dr. Strohmile was the perfect specimen for my examination. For today, there’d be no gloves. 

I stepped in between his thighs, feeling the heat rising from his body transferring onto mine. Placing the stethoscope on his chest, that was speckled with tight curly hair like the locs on his head, I checked his racing heartbeat, which I approximated was at least 175 beats per minute. I gently leaned his head forward, which placed my breasts close enough in his face for his lips to touch but he didn’t move, he was being a good patient.

Touching the stethoscope to his back I said, “Take a breath and hold it please.” His lungs were clear. Lastly, I held his wrist and counted the beats on the second hand of his watch. His pulse was racing, as was mine.

Having already eyed a familiar instrument that lay on a nearby tray table, I retrieved the smooth and slightly curved uterine dilator, that fit perfectly in my hand and dipped it in the champagne.

“You’re not going to…”

“Lay back and relax,” I said, leaning over him close enough for my breasts to brush against his lips, muffling his words. This time though he reacted by taking both hands and massaging my breasts then tracing my nipples with his fingers. 

“These are gonna make me lose my license.”

I took his fingers in my mouth and sucked on them until he closed his eyes.

With the rod, now wet from champagne I ran it up and down the good doctor’s chest all the way to his toes, applying the right amount of pressure with circular motions for his body to begin writhing on the table. My memory floated back to me as I heard Cat’s voice on the radio, and I saw her face, her new car, she was my friend. To shake it from my thoughts I began licking over and around his nipples. Men never paid attention to their nipples as a source of arousal, I remembered telling my patients that when they had issues with getting hard. Dr. Strohmile was sensitive there and when I reached down for his penis it swelled at my touch. 

Weighing his testicles in my hand, I lightly massaged his scrotum, and then with two fingers I made circles on that sensitive flesh, the glans that covered the head of his penis until a long accelerated moan escaped him.

I knew that by now his testosterone was at its peak and his pre-ejaculatory fluid would be rising to accumulate at the back of his penis. Like a conveyor belt it would move to fill the urethra until it had nowhere else to go, making his expulsion inevitable. I stopped, stepped away and wondered, how did I know all this? Why was I being so clinical? This man didn’t have a penis, he had a dick, and yet here I was examining him as if I really were a doctor.

Concerned he sat up and asked, “What is it? Did you remember something?”

“Yes, I just... I just want this…in my mouth,” I said full-stroking his dick, slow and long, from the base and up the shaft to the head. I pushed him back onto the table, and then standing at the foot of the table; I bent Dr. Strohmile’s knees and positioned his feet in the stirrups that were at the sides of the operating table. When I saw him spread apart, lying open for me, I did what I’d dreamed of doing; I took him in my mouth. When he screamed out, I swallowed, caught my breath and took him deeper.

His penis, his dick, I didn’t know what to call it but it was firm and warm in my mouth. Beads of his pre-ejaculation bubbled to the top and I took them on the tip of my tongue then flattened my tongue to make room for him. With every part of my mouth, I kissed, licked and slurped at his dick, his balls, his thighs, even until I dragged my tongue up and down his perineum.

He gripped the side of the table, then dug his fingers into my shoulders. I knew he was ready to cum and if he did I knew exactly how to get him hard again. Any man could get hard again, they just had to be patient and have the right partner who knew the correct techniques.

“My God woman, what are you doing, no one has ever….”

“I know because I’m…” but I stopped because in that moment I knew that I was Dr. Cynthia Lampley, a board certified urologist, with my own practice and a primary residence at Bryn Mawr Hospital! There was no time to think about that now. I had an exam to finish.

But he was ready to take control. He pushed my head away, leaned down, and cupped me under my arms, bringing me on top of him. Gathering my hair in his fists, his mouth tore into mine, our kisses hard and wet with greed for each other.

With his knees he spread my legs open and in turn I lifted my ass to receive him. With our bodies perfectly aligned he pushed himself up into me. 

“Ohhh, ohhhh Doc….tor…,” I cried out in passion as the unexpected girth of his dick filled me and I knew that for the first time I was going to be fucked with every inch of this human’s anatomy, way better than I’d ever made love to Terrell or anyone before him.

Oh my God, Terrell… my fiancé. I’d forgotten him too. He was waiting for me at the port in Honolulu. I couldn’t think about him now not with Dr. Strohmile wracking my body with his vicious strokes that were causing me to convulse with multiple orgasms. No man had ever done that which meant Terrell would have to wait, as would the rest of my life.

Somehow my foot must’ve touched a button on the side of the table because it began to slowly incline to a slanted position. I held my breath, as his dick pushed further inside me. He kept pushing as if there were room for all of it and I pushed back, spreading my legs wider, moving up and down, sliding his dick in and out until finally I heard myself screaming. It wasn’t only me screaming, Dr. Strohmile screamed out when his cum burst inside me at the same time as the explosion of fireworks and gunshots went off outside our room. 

A little before sunrise and many orgasms later, Dr. Strohmile wheeled me back to my room and sat at my bedside, watching me until I fell asleep. I prayed that the life that I remembered was as good as my New Year’s Eve had been.  

Every New Year will be available in digital on December 4. Copies start at $0.99, grab yours here: Amazon | B&N | Google Play | Kobo | iBooks. If more Hump Day excerpts is what you crave (who wouldn't?), we've got you covered.

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