by Renee Rose
She put on a pair of soft pajamas, disappointed the sting of Dr. Drake’s punishment had faded. Picking up the phone, she dialed Leigh Ann.
“You’re never going to believe what happened to me today.”
She filled her friend in on most of it, leaving out the anal examination, which was just too embarrassing to even admit had happened.
“So he didn’t get off? At all? Did you offer to help?”
Her heart plummeted. “I-I didn’t...it was like, he was in control, so I didn’t even think to take charge in any way. I totally should have, huh?”
“Well, it’s okay,” Leigh Ann reassured her quickly. “If he was calling the shots, he could have taken care of his own needs. Maybe that’s part of his kink—holding himself back.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too,” she said, the sinking sensation growing. “That’s not good, though, is it?”
“It sounded to me like it was pretty fabulous.”
“I mean, it doesn’t bode well for a relationship.”
Leigh Ann was silent long enough to tell her that she should not have even been considering her boss for a boyfriend position. “Right…” she said. “I shouldn’t be thinking that way.”
“Well, I mean, you never know,” Leigh Ann said, as her cheerleader and consummate optimist. “But I’d stick to matchme.com for finding Mr. Right.”
“I know, I know. I was just going to get on there and see if anyone interesting has turned up.”
She sat down at her laptop with the phone still pressed to her ear and opened up her email. “Ooh, I got a few messages. Let’s see if any are date-worthy.” She clicked through to check out the profile of the first one and made a buzzer noise. “Cheesehead is way too old for me. Ugh.”
“Well how old is Dr. Dreamy?”
“Not sure—youngish. Definitely under forty.”
“Okay, who else?”
“Let’s see...this guy looks about twelve.” She made another buzzer sound.
Leigh Ann laughed.
“They’re all horrible. I totally give up!”
“Don’t throw in the towel,” Leigh Ann counseled. “Mr. Right is out there.”
Guilt wracked Darren all weekend. Taking advantage of his employee like that had been dastardly. If any of the other doctors in the practice found out, he’d be out on his ear. Not to mention possible repercussions from the ethics board.
He imagined the headline: Local Gynecologist Sexually Harasses CNA, Performs Unnecessary Pelvic Exam
Granted it had been consensual, but he had zero proof of that. If she decided to tell someone—anyone—his goose would be cooked.
At least he had held back from getting his own pleasure. It had been his rationale for going through with the illicit adventure. He told himself he was just helping her realize her fantasies. Yeah, right. Totally altruistic.
And he felt a bit trapped about what to do next. Continuing their reindeer games greatly increased his chances of getting caught or found out. But not pursuing the most interesting relationship he’d had in ages would also be a serious mistake.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to figure anything out because he ended up with three women in labor Sunday night and was at the hospital until noon the following day. By the time all the babies had been safely delivered, he had worked seventeen hours straight and went home to sleep.
Tuesday morning he had a scheduled surgery and then two more of their practice’s patients went into labor, so he ended up at the hospital all day once more.
By Wednesday his tryst with Chloe seemed ages ago, and yet he couldn’t wait to see her. He went in early to catch up before he had to start seeing patients and found her lab results on his desk. He picked up the report and looked at it, smiling as he remembered how horrified she’d been at him actually taking a real sample.
He carried the report to the reception desk, asking Sandra, the main receptionist to start a file on Chloe.
“Okay. Are we billing on this?”
“No charge,” he said firmly. “Thank you, Sandra.”
As he walked back in the hall, Chloe stepped in through the back door, her head jerking higher when she saw him. He stopped and waited, not knowing exactly what to say or how to act, considering his colleagues were everywhere.
“Dr. Drake, your eight-thirty is ready in Room 4,” said Jenny, the clinic nurse, handing him a file folder.
“Thank you,” he said absently, still waiting for Chloe.
“Good morning, Doctor Drake,” she said in what sounded like the sexiest voice he’d ever heard. His cock twitched. But no, surely it was his imagination. She’d only said good morning.
He found himself incapable of answering, as all the responses that came to mind included completely inappropriate words or behavior. Jenny would probably notice if he shoved Chloe against the wall with his knee between her legs. He settled for touching her back as she passed him—just a light brush, innocent enough—to let her know...well, he didn’t know exactly what he wanted her to tell her. That he was dying to spread her legs again? That he hadn’t forgotten the heady scent of her arousal, or the way her face twisted in ecstasy as she’d climaxed? That he’d already imagined one thousand other things he’d like to do to her? He gave himself a mental shake and stepped into the exam room.
The day flew by and he only saw Chloe in passing until the end of the day when he saw her gathering her things to go.
“Chloe?” he called down the hall.
She looked up expectantly.
“May I see you for a moment? In my office?”
“Oh, um, sure.”
He loved that she still looked flustered by him, not knowing how much she already had him in the palm of her hand. Well, that was the way he liked to keep it. He loved holding the reins of a relationship, which had eventually driven his ex-wife to divorce him. But he liked to think he’d learned a few things about himself since then.
She followed him into his clinic, leaving the door open.
“Sit down,” he said, indicating the chair opposite his desk.
She sank into the seat and picked at her fingernails.
“I’d like to get a copy of your previous medical records,” he said, sliding a consent form across the desk.
Her head jerked up in surprise. “Why?”
“Well, you’re under my care now.”
Her eyes went wide. “Did my pap come back abnormal?”
He immediately regretted playing doctor authority games with her. “No. Everything looked fine. There’s no cause for alarm. I’d just like to have a full picture. That is...if you do actually trust me to be your doctor?”
She looked uncertain and he was surprised by how much her mistrust bothered him. But of course she wouldn’t want him to be her doctor—he’d been as unethical as a doctor gets with her.
“I guess it’s hard to put yourself in the hands of a doctor who hasn’t proven himself to be trustworthy,” he said.
“No,” she said quickly. “I totally trust you. I do. I just feel weird, that’s all.”
The irony of working as a nurse assistant when she mistrusted all doctors was not lost on her. It wasn’t personal with Dr. Drake—she hated the medical profession as a whole. She hated the way they held all the power, as if she couldn’t handle the responsibility of making decisions about her own body.
“Weird, how?”
She flushed and shrugged.
“Do you think you could come to trust me in spite of my past indecent behavior?” He arched a brow, “Or perhaps it’s because of it?” he teased.
She giggled, grateful at the release of tension. “Yeah, I guess I could. I mean, at least I know if you’re sneaking extra peeks at my va-jay-jay for thrills, you’ll include me in the fun.”
He threw back his head and laughed, a deep, rich sound that warmed her. “That’s one way to view it,” he said.
Sandra, the receptionist buzzed through on his phone. “Dr. Drake, Dr. Roberts is on line five.”
>
He gave her a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”
She jumped to her feet. “No problem,” she said, and signed the order for her medical record release. “Thanks.”
As she walked out of his office, she tried to decipher their conversation. Was he just being friendly? Or rather, responsible as a doctor? Or did his request to be her doctor mean something more? But that was stupid—they hardly knew each other outside the workplace and one torrid pelvic exam. To imagine a request for medical records equalled an interest in being her Mr. Right was like believing Prince Charming would be showing up at her door with a glass slipper.
Besides, did she really want more with him? Didn’t her dislike of doctors confirm the medical thing wasn’t for her? She sighed and went home to peruse the matchme.com profiles and try to find a real date.
Chapter 4
Chloe occupied most of his thoughts that week. He experienced an intense need to protect her, which was probably why he had insisted on becoming her doctor.
He had entered med school out of a desire to master life’s calamities. His father died when he was sixteen, leaving him and his mother with a sense of helplessness and even betrayal. Perhaps if he were more spiritual, the message would have been to surrender to a higher power because humans have no control. Instead, he vowed to learn everything about the human body to manage its frailties. He didn’t expect difficulties with Chloe’s case, but if the results were less than ideal, he would be her warrior.
Chloe also occupied his less altruistic thoughts. He thought of the sight of her sprawled on his table, her head thrashing in utter abandon. He wanted to get her on it again, despite his better judgment. Without fully admitting to himself his intention, he had volunteered to let Dr. Dihns go home early on Friday, so he might have the pleasure of working alone with her again. He’d even stopped by the adult toy store to buy a few choice items. But when Friday came, he ended up with a patient in pre-term labor and had to work at the hospital all afternoon.
Now, with the clarity of a Monday morning, he decided it was for the best: getting kinky with Chloe again was playing with fire. He should consider it a dodged bullet and let it all fade to a memory.
But when he walked in his clinic that morning, a little African violet plant sat on his desk, wrapped up in a purple bow. It had no card with it.
Chloe peeked her head in through the doorway. “Hey.”
He looked up, the sound of her voice lifting his spirits more than the two cups of coffee he’d already drunk. “Good morning. Is this from you?”
She walked in a few steps, looking shy. “Yeah.”
“What for?”
“For, you know—taking me on as a patient. Sandra told me at the front desk you labeled my file as a “no fee” and I appreciate that.”
He found himself mildly disappointed by her answer. An obligatory thank you gift for not charging her was hardly what he wanted. But what had he hoped for, then? Her big eyes blinking up at him with undying gratitude? For her to call him her hero? Or sink to her knees and unzip his pants? That image seemed to propel him around his desk, into her personal space.
His door gaped open, which meant if anyone walked by, they would see them there. “I need to know something, if I’m going to be your doctor,” he said in a low voice.
She licked her lips. “Oh yeah?”
The space between them seemed charged, as if the heat of her body reached him through the eight inches separating them, and it sent tingles down his legs. “I need your implicit trust in every order I give. You must completely give yourself over to my care, obeying me and submitting to every protocol.”
She swallowed, her eyes dilating. “Obey you?”
He leaned closer, still not touching her. “Yes, Chloe.”
“And submit?”
“You heard me.”
“Like what?”
He shook his head. “You don’t question. You give your body over to my care. Do we have an agreement?” He could see by the frantic flutter of her pulse at her throat and the way her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath, he had excited her.
She nodded, her big brown eyes locked on his.
He raised his eyebrows. “Where’s my yes, doctor?”
Her face broke into a slow grin so dazzling he almost stepped back. “Yes, doctor.”
“Good girl.” He looked at his watch. “I have a pretty full schedule, but I think I can fit you in around 5:30,” he said.
The clinic closed at five, so they would be alone by then.
Chloe gave him another chesire cat grin. “Thank you, doctor.”
“Exam Room Six. In a gown.” Dr. Drake wore a serious expression that made a shiver run down her spine. Obviously her resolve not to play this way again had dissolved the moment he’d suggested it. She turned on her heel without answering and strode down the hall toward room six.
She didn’t love his request for a gown. She rather preferred the way it had gone the first time, with him undressing her. Something about wearing the ridiculous gown took away the sex appeal.
You must completely give yourself over to my care, obeying me and submitting to every protocol.
His words made taking off her clothes an act of submission. He ordered her into a gown. She had to obey. Why did such a thing make her insides flip flop? What would he do to her today? The memory of his finger in her ass made her pelvic floor muscles contract, heat spreading to every part. She realized she’d whimpered out loud and almost giggled. The power this game had on her staggered her.
A sharp rap sounded on the door and Dr. Drake walked in, looking professional. “Miss Jones, how wonderful to see you again.”
“Thank you, doctor,” she answered meekly.
He looked up from her chart and gave her a quick wink, which made her heart flutter in her chest. “I’m going to need you to lie on your belly on the exam table today.”
Her eyebrows shot to her hairline at this unexpected news.
“You heard me,” he said with an impatient wave of his hand. “Up on the table, prone position.”
She drew in a breath and gingerly stepped up to the exam table, climbing onto it with little grace. She realized she was giving him a full view of her ass, and somehow having the useless, open-backed gown made it worse than being naked. She crawled forward and lowered to her belly, the fabric of the gown falling down to completely bare her backside. It took great effort not to clench her buttocks.
Two large hands gripped her calves and pulled her down until her ankles reached the stirrups. She didn’t see how her feet would fit in them backwards, but then she sensed the stretch of rubber tubing against her calf and realized he was binding her lower leg to the stirrup with surgical tubing. She tried to pull her leg away, but he held it firmly, already wrapped with the band and quickly secured. He repeated the action with the other foot, so her two legs were open wide and immobilized, her most intimate parts revealed.
Her pussy clenched.
He trailed a hand up her calf, along her thigh to her ass, where he delivered a gentle slap. “Excellent muscle tone,” he observed and slapped the other side.
“Thank you, doctor,” she murmured.
“Give me your wrists,” he said.
She pleaded with her eyes as she raised her arms above her head to extend her wrists to him. She trusted he wouldn’t harm her, but being trussed up like a chicken was definitely out of her comfort zone.
He wound another length of surgical tubing around them and knotted it, then secured it to a knob on the head of the bed immobilizing her. Lying on her breasts without the support of her arms was uncomfortable and she winced, shifting.
He pulled another dressing gown from the bin and rolled it into a ball. Lifting her shoulder, he tucked it under her chest, peeling her sternum and shoulders away from the bed to take the pressure off.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
He gave her another wink and she turned to mush. Who was she kidding? He could do anything he w
anted with her.
He picked up his chart again with a pen poised over it. “Today we’re going to examine your time to orgasm. What would you say is the fastest you’ve ever hit climax?”
She giggled into the crinkly paper of the exam table. “I don’t know...five minutes?”
He jotted it down. “And the longest?”
“Well, sometimes I don’t reach it, so what’s that? Never?”
“With manual stimulation or intercourse?”
“Intercourse.”
He stroked a hand down the muscles of her back, his touch light but warm, igniting shivers of excitement through her entire body. She was almost trembling by the time his palm crested her right buttock. “In some positions the clitoris does not receive stimulation during coitus, making it difficult to reach orgasm.” His fingers trailed between her legs, brushing lightly over her sex. Though the touch was feather light, she jerked in response, gasping as a bolt of lightning shot to her toes.
“Do you ever have trouble with manual stimulation?” One finger glided over her honeyed slit, spreading her natural lubrication. She arched her back, pushing her sex against his finger, begging for more. “Miss Jones?” he prompted, his finger still exploring with the lightest of contact.
“Uh…” She trembled with need, her entire body beginning to shiver.
“Do you have trouble with manual stimulation?”
“No! Never,” she gasped.
“Good. Let’s just test it,” he said, removing his fingers.
She gave a whimper of protest.
He left her side and went to the cupboard, returning with a thermometer. “I’m just going to see when and if your temperature rises during stimulation.”
She lifted her head and opened her mouth, obediently.
“Oh no,” he chuckled. “This isn’t for your mouth, Miss Jones.”
Her bottom tightened when she realized his intention. In fact, her entire body went rigid, as if squeezing her buns together and stiffening her knees might somehow keep him from inserting the thermometer in her most private orifice.
