Doctor Desirable: A Hero Club Novel

by Anjelica Grace

  Dee

  He knows exactly what he’s doing. He wound me up so tight before he left me hanging, it wouldn’t take much to make me spin right out of control. A single kiss. A touch of his adept fingers. A single taste. They would all send me spiraling into sweet oblivion.

  He has other plans though. Torturous, calculated plans meant to tease and torment me, show me he is single-handedly in control of every bit of tonight. It might be my apartment, I may have gone into the night thinking I’d have the upper hand, wearing seductively tight jeans and a top that reveals more than just the right amount of cleavage, but I was so very wrong.

  Nate has me so tense, and in need of release, I’ve never thought of him as more desirable, or crueler. Every time he glances at me over his dinner, every time he leans in, brushing a hand against mine or accidentally bumping a foot against me, I have to actively fight the urge to drop my fork and attack him.

  “This was a great dinner choice.” He sets his fork down, taking a slow sip of beer, prolonging my misery and getting a kick out of it.

  “I’m glad you liked it.” I need to get back some control. I have to drive him as crazy as he’s driven me. I slide my bare foot up his leg slowly, maintaining as much innocence as I possibly can while I smile at him. His lip quirks up when I increase the pressure of my touch, dragging my foot up his inner thigh.

  “Need something?” He clears his throat and slides one hand beneath the table.

  What is he up to?

  He twists his spaghetti onto his fork slowly, meticulously, with the hand still above the table. He’s observing me watch him when he lifts his fork to his mouth and makes a show of taking a bite, startling me when his fingers beneath the table wrap around my ankle. “Now, now, Dee. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me going by teasing me with your foot.”

  Deny. Deny. Deny. Just shake your head no and try to take your foot back, Dee.

  “Why would you think that?” I try to tug my foot out of his hand and his grip grows tighter.

  “No reason.” He scoots his chair closer to the table across from me. There is no room between the firm, hard planes of his body and the table between us. “I think I know what you were looking for.” He removes my foot from his leg and guides it to the chair, setting it between his powerful thighs, letting the arch rub over the bulge tenting his sleek, soft slacks.

  Oh my God.

  “Cat got your tongue?” He closes his legs around my foot and ankle, keeping it pressed tight enough against him all I can do is flex and point my toes—rubbing against him—or keep my foot stock-still. It’s my only option to try to get the upper hand here. I can do this.

  Our eyes lock in a stare down and his lips twitch up in amusement.

  “Something funny?” I’ve got this. I won’t give him what he wants. I won’t give in to temptation to feel what he’s offering or see if he gets any thicker.

  “Nope. Not at all.” He uses the hand he had wrapped around my ankle and slides it up my leg to my knee and squeezes. It’s just hard enough I can’t fight the reaction I know he is aiming for. My foot presses in, responding to his ticklish torture that has me giggling and pressing my foot against his dick, rubbing along his length.

  His gaze grows heated, and his fingers grip again, drawing out the same reaction. I can’t move my foot from the vise of his legs, and now I don’t want to. His food is forgotten, his fork is lying in the middle of his nearly finished plate, and his eyes are reigniting the simmering embers he left lit earlier back into a hot, growing flame.

  I don’t wait for him to squeeze my knee again. This time I very intentionally point my toes and rub them against them, stretching and bending them in any way I can to give him enough pleasure he can’t deny either of us any longer.

  “Fuck,” he says on an exhale. “I underestimated you.” He takes his hand from my knee and moves it back to my foot—putting space between my wiggly toes and his hardened arousal—massaging it, rolling his thumb along the arch and causing my breath to catch in my throat. It feels so good. He knows what he’s doing. He’s managed to rub two different erogenous zones on my body with lethal precision, and neither one of them is even connected to the more intimate ones he used to wind me up earlier.

  He’s a magician. My body is flying high, and he is winding me tighter and tighter, all with the simple acts of massage, teasing, and letting me feel what I’m doing to him.

  His fingers find another spot on my foot and I drop my head back and moan out. It’s good, so good.

  “I think it’s time for dessert now.” He releases my foot and my head falls forward.

  “You son of a—” I stop mid-accusation when I see him rise, dropping his napkin on the table as he stalks around toward me with a predatory, scorching look. “What are you doing?”

  “Dessert.” He is so matter-of-fact about it, I feel like the answer should’ve been obvious to me. Yet it wasn’t. It’s not. I’m on the edge of my seat, waiting with anxious anticipation to see what he does next. He has started us and stopped us so many times, I’m miserable with need and desperation.

  “What’s, uh, dessert?” I look up at him when he stops in front of me. With him standing and me seated here, I’m perfectly level with his waist. His pants are stretched to the brink and his zipper is being put to the test—I wonder what it looks like—how big it really is.

  “Stand up, Dee.” His voice is commanding, yet the shakiness in his breaths betrays his façade of being in complete control. “Stand. Up.” The command is louder, harder. And the shakiness that betrayed him last time is nowhere to be found.

  No sooner do I rise from my seat than he reaches for me, sliding his hand into my hair and taking a firm grip he can pull me to him with. His hold is tight, but he’s careful enough his intention of control and pleasure is evident. “Trying to tease me with your foot was nearly a mistake,” he whispers out, lowering his mouth to mine, biting my lip.

  “Is that so?” I reach forward to touch his face, but his free hand captures mine and redirects it to his cock, making me palm him.

  “What do you think?” He is so impossibly hard, I know it wouldn’t take much more before his body overtook his mind and released. “Were you trying to end this before we could even start?” His hand guides mine up and down slowly, rubbing him in a steady rhythm through his slacks.

  I glance up at him and the look on his face is enthralling. His neck muscles are extended, his jaw clenched with a tick giving away how wound up he is, and his eyes. My God, his eyes. They’re so dark and demanding. Gone is the familiar irritation and amusement, gone is all the softness he shows me and others sometimes. In their place is a man on a mission—a dark, exotic mission—and I’m his target.

  “Answer me.”

  “No. I wasn’t.” I brush my thumb over his pants, his erection, and shake my head. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Good girl.” He drags my mouth back to his—forcing our bodies to become inseparable in every possible place—and devours my mouth. He doesn’t hold back, he doesn’t let me give, all I can do is take, take, take. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, he overpowers me so easily and has me squirming and gasping in no time.

  Just as I think my body may be about to plummet off the cliff he’s driven me to, he eases off and lifts me up, swiping my plate and dinner mess aside so he can set me down in the place it once occupied.

  “You don’t get to come without me inside you.”

  “Oh God.” I nod in understanding and put my hands back to brace myself. His commands don’t anger me here like they do at the hospital. Here, they’re hot and get me going more than I would’ve thought possible. My body has already reacted to him, his voice, his control, and methods, more tonight than it ever has with anybody or anything else.

  I watch his nimble, precise fingers work my jeans open and tug them and my panties down my legs without preamble. He gives a final, hard pull and they slip right past my feet and toes, leaving me bare and open to his h
ungry gaze.

  “Shit.” He discards my clothes on the floor and steps closer to the table, widening my legs so he can stand between them and roam his fingers up my warm skin. “You’re body… These legs…” His fingers graze and skim, searing his touch into me and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them.

  “What about them?” I croak out.

  “I’ve pictured this very moment, imagined touching you, feeling them wrapped around me since the carnival when you wore those shorts.” He leans over me and kisses my lips with urgency before he mutters, “They’re even better than I imagined.”

  This new closeness with his body over me allows me to feel him against every sensitive, exposed part of me. “It’ll be even better when you undress and feel everything for yourself.”

  He knows what I mean and lifts back up, standing over me with a shit-eating grin as he reaches for his back pocket and pulls his wallet out. He opens it up and pulls a little foil packet free.

  “Those shouldn’t be stored in a wallet.”

  He chuckles and sets the condom on the table beside me. He works his slacks open and pushes them down, leaving him in a mouthwateringly tight pair of black boxer briefs. “I put it in there before I came over, we’re safe.” He winks at me and slowly pushes our last cotton barrier down his powerful thighs.

  “Holy…” I take in his freed cock and saliva fills my mouth. It’s thick, long, perfect like all the rest of him. And I want it. I want to touch, taste, hold it. I want to feel it stretch and fill me.

  “This experience will be that, yes.” He strokes himself as he rips the foil open with his free hand and teeth, pulling the rubber out and sheathing himself expertly.

  I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him closer impatiently. “Stop teasing and fuck me.”

  A corner of his mouth quirks up arrogantly and he shakes his head. “This is my show, not yours.” The asshole is getting off on tormenting me, and if how wet and needy I feel is any indication, I’m getting off on it too.

  The fucker.

  Momentarily distracted by my own thoughts, I didn’t see him reaching for me. I didn’t see his fingers dip lower, and the second he strums over my clit, my body tenses and a shock of unadulterated pleasure shoots from my core through every nerve in my body. “Oh Goddd.” He does it again and my toes curl behind him on their own accord. I need something to hold on to, to dig my nails into. The feeling is too intense, and without anything to hold me, my body starts to writhe over the wooden surface.

  “Uh, uh, uh…” he chastises, slowing his stroking finger over me. “Don’t move.” His thumb takes over for his index finger, circling my incredibly sensitive clit, as his fingers dip inside of me.

  “Jesus, Nate, please.” I try to pull him closer, but it’s impossible with the table stopping him, so all I can do is give in to his slow, intentional ministrations over and inside me.

  “Christ, Dee.” His fingers stretch me as he pulls them out, then he glides them back in and curls them. My eyes roll shut and I hold my breath. “You’re so fucking tight, perfect. Open your eyes.”

  I do as he says and open my eyes, just in time to see him pull his fingers free and lift them to his mouth, sucking them in like he did my lips earlier, cleaning all evidence of my need off them. “Please, Nate, please, I need more.” I’m not above begging now. My body is on the precipice and I want to give him what he demanded earlier. I want to come around him.

  He reaches down and pulls me by the hips to the edge of the table, leaving me hanging the slightest bit off, then lines himself up with me. “I like hearing you beg.” With his fingers dug into my hips, he targets my opening and nudges his head over me, taking a few slips and rubs before he makes contact and dips in.

  “Fuuuck,” we both exhale the word together, as the crown of his cock parts me and sinks in farther.

  “So good.” His eyes are hooded, his chest is heaving, and it looks like he’s having a hard time maintaining. “One. Second. Just one.”

  “Hurry.” I clench around him once he has filled me completely, egging him on and trying to relieve my own ache and desperation.

  “You little temptress.” His fingers dig tighter into my hips and he pulls out of me, then plummets back in, hard and fast.

  “Oh God. Yes!”

  He does it again and again. His hips dip, thrust, and grind in a hypnotizing rhythm. Everything else around us, the sounds of the cars outside, the smell of dinner, the feel of the table beneath me, all of it is replaced by the sound, smell, and feel of sex. His body slapping against mine, my arousal, his thick length driving in and out. Every sense is focused on him, his abilities.

  It’s overwhelming. It’s intoxicating. I want to prolong my release as long as possible so this feeling never ends, yet it’s surging through me, filling my veins and nerves, needing to be set free to relieve the intense sensations overtaking me.

  “Watch me, Dee. Don’t you dare take your eyes off of us. See what I’m doing to you.” His demand piques my need for more and I rise up on my elbows; watching him disappear inside me, then reappear glistening, over and over.

  “Naaate…” I’m so fucking close. It feels too good. It’s so erotic and filthy, watching him come out more and more soaked with my excitement every time.

  “I’ve got you,” he groans and breathes hard, then slips a hand from my waist, guiding it over my pelvic bone and down to my clit with an incredible pressure. The second his finger circles and flicks over me, my body stiffens and I succumb to the power he has over me.

  I let go and my release propels me off the edge. Lights and stars burst behind my closed eyes. My ears funnel out everything while the rest of my senses take over—shouting his name, feeling him thick and clamped inside me—it’s all I can comprehend as I ride out wave after wave of pleasure.

  His fingers never stop moving. His grip never loosens. Not even when my body returns back to normal and I open my eyes to watch him. With my release earned and gotten, he clenches his jaw and starts moving even faster.

  Out.

  In.

  Circle.

  Grind.

  Out.

  In.

  Harder. Faster.

  His grip intensifies, the muscles in his neck strain and flex, and his body starts quaking. His fingers are playing me still, surging me to another release, one I’m not sure I’m capable of giving him.

  He knows what he’s doing though. Within seconds my body is back on the brink, and the only thing I can think of is I want to see him let go. I want to watch him lose it in me, because of me, before I’m helpless to his expertise again.

  My body clamps back down, my toes point and curl, and my release starts deep inside me, squeezing him so tight with the tremors picking back up he can’t fight his own any longer. He drops his head back and shouts out his release with his jaw slack, eyes closed, and chest heaving. It’s so fucking hot.

  As my name passes his lips in a heady groan, my body loses its fight and my second orgasm crashes through me, even harder than my first.

  ****

  Nate

  Her body is pliable and spent beneath me on the table. Her breaths are shaky and fast. Even with her shirt messed up, pants on the floor, and my cock still, and limp inside her, she is fucking gorgeous. Her eyes are heavy and sated, and her legs gripped around me fall lax and hang off the table, toes brushing my legs like little feathers rubbing over the hairs there.

  “Oh my God.” She’s said this multiple times tonight, but this one is the sweetest of them all. Her voice is soft and spent, with a tone of disbelief and amusement laced in between every syllable. “Wow.”

  I need to pull out of her. I need to get rid of our protection. I need to either pull my pants up or kick my shoes off and lose my pants all together. I don’t want to do any of it right now, though. I don’t want to move. My body is calmer and more relaxed than it’s been in ages. Even the roaring storm of our fucking and releases has subsided enough to put me at ease. “Is that a good wow
?”

  I know what my answer is, and what I hope hers will be too.

  This feeling I have, it’s new, unusual. I’ve fucked other women in the past and as soon as we finished, I was done with them, disconnected—and ready to pack up and get out—or get them cleaned up and out of my place.

  “It’s a good wow.” She giggles and lies back on the table, giving her elbows and shoulders a break from holding her up to watch us. “Who knew I liked a tormenting, teasing, demanding asshole in the bedroom so much?”

  “Technically, you liked him in the kitchen.” I slide my hands up and down her thighs, massaging and rubbing them, eliciting a steady appreciative groan to part her lips.

  “You’re such an ass. You know what I mean.” She rolls her head left and right on the table, trying to stretch and pop it if I had to guess.

  “I do.” I hold my hands out for her to grab and ease her up, so she’s seated at the table with me still inside her. The movement and change of position is enough to cause my dick to twitch in response—it’s another new one on me. Most women can’t get me going again right away. “I figured you would. You’re a hellion outside of the kitchen.”

  She links her fingers in mine, not allowing me to let go, and grins. “Bedroom.” She corrects my word choice, and I chuckle.

  “Semantics. I fucked you in the kitchen this time.”

  “Technically, it was the dining area…” She squeezes my fingers with hers and glances down, stilling when she sees how and where we are still connected. “Nobody’s ever made me watch like that before.” She slides her hands free from mine and puts them both on my chest over my shirt. “I liked it.”

  “It was quite the sight.” I look down and edge back just a little so I rub against her walls.

  “Mmmm.” She squirms a little, causing another disturbance to my quickly recovering member. “Your clothes are still on. Not okay.” Her hands slide in to the buttons lined down the center of my shirt and she works each open, taking her time from the top, all the way down to the bottom.