Provocative Professions Collection (14 page)

"You look…" he drops his gawk from me to the floor, followed by a subtle shake of his head. Regrouping perhaps, he raises his attention back up and inches closer, his face tight. "I wanted you to join me for lunch," he declares. His voice is strong, final, his eyes on mine despite my attempt to offer up my breasts in coercion.

"Here I am," I purr, snaring him by the belt loops, pulling him between my legs.

"I see that." It's a low growl as his predatory regard finally runs the length of me again. "But I want an
actual
lunch." He gestures his head to the side and it's only now that I notice a plastic bag, obviously holding take-out, on the counter. Funny how it completely escaped my wanton attention, smell and all.

"You won't go out for a meal with me, so I brought it in. Thought we could make some semblance of dating conversation over a meal."

Seriously, years of nothing and I finally release my inner sex kitten only to be brow-beaten with courtship? Women would kill to be in my shoes, and all I want is to be out of them… and my panties.

"Don't." I loosen his necktie, moving straight to the buttons of his dress shirt. "Things are perfect the way they are. Can't we just have fun and enjoy it?" Leaning into him, I brace both hands on his chest and nibble my way across his jaw to that tempting bottom lip.

His thoughtful expression down at me gives nothing away, but his gears are cranking.

"Tick tock, doc," I tease, "you have patients waiting."

"Don't say that." He rests his forehead to mine, trying to steady his pout. "You're not…it's not like that with you, Addison. I—"

Silencing him with a molten kiss, I scoot forward, rubbing myself across his front while I work open a few more buttons of his shirt. "Touch me…I need my doctor," I moan into his mouth, the exposed, taut muscles under my hands unfurling my passion.

"Your doctor?" he grates, pulling out of my hold and stepping back.

It's obvious he's conflicted, but I need him to see exactly what this is between us. A fantasy, playtime, never anything more.

"My doctor," I confirm resolutely.

Predatorily, he crosses the room, closing the buttons up his shirt, then turns back to me, a cloud of understanding passing between us. "Strip," he demands, his voice so low and thick it reverberates over my flesh.

I do as he says, first slipping off my shoes, then sliding my short skirt down my legs, never once breaking my eager stare from his stoic one. After I toss the thin fabric over the chair, I pull off my shirt and stand before him in black panties and matching bra.

His confidence radiates off him. "You're here for an exam aren't you, Addison?"

"Yes." I reply, willing the trembling in my legs to cease.

"Then take it all off."

I want this, more than anything, but suddenly I'm feeling on edge. He's watching me, hard eyes inspecting.

Reaching back, I unsnap my bra and let it slip down my arms. "Do you want to help with my panties?" I ask, attempting to bring back the playful doc.

"No, I'm not your boyfriend, remember, I'm your
doctor.
Take them off and turn around."

Turn around? I swallow. That was never part of his exam in the past. The look he gives silences any questions. My panties glide down my legs and I step out, tossing them aside, and timidly turn away.

Overly aware of every sound, every movement, every nerve, my anxiousness peaks. There's nothing for a long moment until I hear his footsteps, followed by the loud snap of a glove from somewhere behind me that causes a flinch I can't hide.
What the hell is he doing?

Fingers touch my back, trail down my spine, and over the curve of my ass.

My eyes flutter shut, breath hitching. "What are you doing?" I ask, my voice a whisper.

"Inspecting."

"What exactly?"

His hands roughly grip my waist. "Are you questioning your doctor?"

My breathing rushes out in heavy pants. "No."

"Good, up on the table and lie back."

I do as he says again, nerves flipping in eager excitement.
Here we go. Back on track.

He stands over me and places both palms over my breasts, cupping the weight in his hands. My nipples pebble, aching to be caressed, teased, and tasted.

"These are symmetric, a solid C fit for your petite frame. And your nipples…" he squeezes my right breast then lowers his head, "are deliciously perky." His moist tongue sweeps over the sensitive flesh, my eyelids heavy with my rapid intake of breath.

Leisurely, his tongue bathes my nipple with teasing licks. He's no longer gentle when he sucks it past his warm mouth, his lips closing around it as his fingers mold and knead. He takes his time, giving the utmost attention as he learns every inch. He's never focused so heavily on them before and I'm basking in it, their sensitivity riveting.

His teeth bare and more than nibble, biting my nipple, a slice of pain shooting out with my purring cry. But abruptly he pulls away, despite my lurid whimper telling him how much I'm enjoying his affection.

I want more. My pout is undeniable but short-lived as I watch the corner of his shamelessly succulent mouth lift into a knowing smirk. Unaware what to expect, I'm consumed with a sweltering shiver when he dips his head between my breasts and trails his tongue across to the other, properly greeting my left breast. A bolt of heat enflames me, commencing the drip at my center.

"No issues here," he states oh-so-formally. That's right, he's my doctor, and a damn fine one at that.

"Good to know," I say, staring at his enticing lips. I crave them, almost begging them to come to me, take mine, kiss me like no one else ever could, but I don't, because that's not what a doctor would do, and the doctor is clearly in charge today.

Instead I sit up and watch as he walks to the end of the table and pulls out the stirrups.

Yes, please.

"Scoot down. I want that ass
right here
." He slams a hand forcefully at the end of the table.

Braced on my hands, I wiggle forward, following his directions, watching him roll over the tray of clean tools. Determination tight on his features, he sits calmly on his stool, sinister eyes tracking my movements.

Tools?

"Wait? What are you—"

"Lift your foot, Addison."

What?
My body goes rigid, foot locked down on the table, forcing him to pry it up and place it in the stirrup. I fall back and allow him easier access to my other one. So far I've enjoyed his new exam technique, why should I worry now?

With both legs where he wants them, I can only see his face when he lifts his hands and removes first one glove then the other.

"How many partners have you had?" he asks in a stern doctor voice.

"Excuse me?" I sit up on my elbows, narrowed eyes cast on him.

"It's a simple question." He raises up, challenging me with his firm scrutiny. "How many cocks have you allowed in this gorgeous pussy of yours?"

I should be furious. Doctor or lover, it's none of his damn business, but the way he's staring at me, trailing his tongue over his lips when he glances back at my dripping center, I'm compelled to answer.

"Two, only two," I confess.

He places his hands on my thighs and murmurs. "Undeserving bastards.
No one
is allowed near here again."

I say nothing, stunned at his severe tone.

"Answer me. Tell me you understand."

I nod in agreement, then speak. "Yes, I understand."

This is only a game,
I remind myself,
some roleplaying fun
, so I go with it. Not that there's anyone else I'm looking to entertain down there anyway.

Satisfaction carves out over his features. "Good. Now shall we continue with the exam?"

"Please, doctor."

His hands slip under my ass, his eyes gleaming in approval. "So perfect…every part of you." Caressing his fingers over my wriggling ass, he trails them under my legs then leans forward and traces his tongue down my inner thigh until his nose brushes my sex, then stops and moves back.

My body trembling in need, I watch as he removes the speculum from the tray and looks to me.

"No need for lubrication this time. You're soaking wet."

"I know," I reply brazenly.

His lip quirks up but it's gone instantly as he settles back on his stool and the cool metal pokes at my sex.

Anticipation rushes over me in fiery waves. I wait for him to slide it in but it never comes. Instead he strokes it up and down against my searing, drenched flesh, teasing me, taunting me. A moan spills out, louder than appropriate and his hands abruptly still.

"If a single nurse hears your moans…" The speculum presses down against my aching clit. I arch my back off the bed, grinding my hips upward, searching for friction against the smooth metal. "Then I'll fuck you with this instead of my mouth."

It presses harder, then in a wicked move he slides it down and slips it inside me, stretching me as his head dips and tongue flicks my pulsating bud once, then twice, in another tease.

"Which do you prefer?" His tongue strokes me again and mixed with the pressure of being stretched, I babble, lost in want.

"Tongue, both, please, you."

"Maybe you'd prefer my fingers inside you again instead?" He removes the tool and the loud thud it makes when he tosses it back on the tray echoes off the wall.

I can barely focus as his thumb is still swirling over my clit. I feel two fingers sliding over my mound, spreading my juices over my entire sex. Biting my lip, I quiver violently, body moist with sweat. His thumb draws back and my swollen clit aches for more.

"Mmmmm," he moans, followed by the sounds of his lips smacking shut. Did he just lick his fingers?"

I can't stop writhing, breathing hard, wanting to see him. Sitting up, I reach for him but am met with a gentle hand pushing me back down.

"I said lay back. Unless you want to end the exam?" The deep command in his murmur holds my focus. All I can see are his dark, clouded eyes gauging me.

"N-no. Don't stop. Please, I need more."

"Anticipation is one of life's greatest pleasures. Now let me do my job properly."

Staring up at the ceiling, immersed in pleasure, I feel his fingers spread me wider, opening my lower lips. Anticipation is an understatement; I'm about to burst into flames without his touch where I need it most.

His hands move to each of my thighs and in one long lap, his tongue runs over the entire length of my slit. I cry out, placing my hand over my mouth to silence the sobs of pleasure as he delves his tongue deep.

This is where you need a real sheet under you to grip onto, not a paper one that shreds in your hands. Still, I claw at it, arching up into his mouth as he caresses my inner walls. I've hardly had my fill when his tongue flicks out and sets its beautiful torture to my clit, two fingers satisfying my neglected center.

They thrust in and out, hooking up and hitting the exact spot they seek, the spot no man has touched in me before. My screams spill against my palms, covering my mouth as I writhe and buck against him.

His face is buried between my legs as he inserts a third finger, which stretches me in pure delight. I shudder and convulse, my walls gripped around his digits as I buck up once more. As the wave washes me away, I fall back, oblivious to all but sheer bliss.

His fingers fall away and he stands. I sit up, catching my breath, still dizzy from my orgasm but ready for his dick to fill me. When I reach out to him he steps back and walks over to the sink.

I watch, unsure what to think when he pumps two squirts of soap on his hands and washes them hastily.

Once he grabs a paper towel, he turns back to me, face passive.

My lips curl up, legs falling open in the stirrups. "It's your turn to strip," I hum.

"Why would I do that?" he asks, tossing the towel in the trash can and crossing his arms over his chest.

I blanch at the harshness in his tone. "What? I thought…I mean…I want you. I want to feel you inside me."

"You just had my fingers and my tongue, what else do you want?" He's goading me to say it. I'll play along if he needs to hear it.

I sit up straighter and lean forward, palms down against the table supporting me. "I
want
your cock."

"Hmm, well

problem with that is," he stalks towards me, stopping inches from my face, "I don't
fuck
my patients." With that, he turns on his heel and storms from the room, leaving me rooted in place, feeling anything but satisfied.

Chapter 14

I leave Dr. Reynolds' office unsure what to make of his last words. Unlike the previous times he'd left the room after our trysts, I was never regarded so severely. I drive straight home, my thoughts muddled, ready to soak in a hot bath to clear my head then curl up on the couch for a marathon of my favorite sitcom. Jack and Karen usually never fail at having me doubled over in fits of hysterics, no matter how many times I've seen the episode, but tonight I barely crack a smile.

Something changed between us and I have a feeling his secretary won't be calling tomorrow. Shifting the pillow under my back, I brush off the looming chance that our scandalous rendezvous could be ending and gulp down another swig of wine. He just needs time to see what we have is ideal—no fuss, no strings, simply raw pleasure.

I refuse to worry over what the future may bring and enjoy the mental replay of his hands working over my chest, the pressure of his fingers, the smoldering desire in his blatant stare. My eye slide shut and I'm there again, relishing the roughness of his words, a molten zing coursing through me from his vulgar, dominating instructions.

Of course I can't stay in that happy place for long as my phone begins to buzz from the side table. No clue who would be calling, I'm pleasantly surprised to see Dylan's name on the screen, half wondering if he might have butt dialed.

"Guess I can call off the APB," I greet him.

"Mocifus! How the hell are ya?"

"Pretty good. What about you? I feel like we haven't talked in forever." I slink back in the sofa with my glass.