The Cajun Doctor

by Sandra Hill

  She shrugged. “Give or take.”

  He was sitting up straighter now, and the sheet which had been drawn to his chest slipped away, revealing a pair of boxer briefs, and nothing else.

  Good.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  He was clearly surprised by the offer. “Sure.”

  She reached down and took out a bottle of wine and two crystal glasses, set them on the dresser, and poured.

  He laughed. “What else have you got in the bag?”

  “You would be really, really surprised.” She handed him his glass and took a sip from hers. The wine was no longer chilled, but it would do.

  “Give me a hint.” He took a sip of his wine and nodded his appreciation of its taste.

  “Suffice it to say, I went to the Frisky Fun Boutique in Houma today to make a few purchases.”

  “A sex shop? You didn’t!” he said, and took a really long sip this time.

  “I did.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Nope. Tante Lulu and Charmaine went with me.”

  He choked on his wine and set it on the bedside table. “I do not want to picture that scene. And I definitely do not want to know if they bought anything.”

  “They did,” she told him anyway.

  He groaned, then sat up on the side of the bed. “What did you buy?”

  “Well, I don’t want to disclose all my secrets at once.”

  “God forbid you should do that!”

  “I will show you these, though.” She lifted out a pair of velvet handcuffs and waved them in the air.

  He laughed. “Are those for you or for me?”

  “Me at first. I have this fantasy, see. You’re the sheik, and I’m the slave girl you’ve just added to your harem. I’m fighting my captivity, so you cuff me to a tent pole, and—”

  “You’ve really thought this fantasy through, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah. Anyhow, the sheik . . . you . . . are torturing me with . . . things.”

  “What things?”

  “Oh, some of the tools I have in my bag.”

  “Tools now?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Samantha, this is all cool and everything, but I’m really pissed at you, and until I resolve—”

  “Did I tell you I have nipple rings?” she interjected quickly, not wanting to have that particular talk. Later, after they made love a time or three. In case he hadn’t heard her, she flashed him a nipple.

  He stood so quickly he almost knocked over the glass of wine. “I thought I was good at fantasies, but I can see I’m way out of my league.”

  “Not really. If I stand here much longer, I’m going to lose my nerve.”

  He reached out and grabbed the cuffs from her. Before she knew it, she was backed up against one of the bedposts, her hands restrained behind her back on the other side of the tent pole/bedpost, her breasts thrust out, making her appear bigger than she was.

  He noticed. “I think it’s time I took over this fantasy . . . before you lose your nerve, or I lose . . .” He glanced down at the bulge in his boxers.

  “Whatever you say, master.”

  “Isn’t that a little demeaning for a woman?”

  “Not if you refer to me as Mistress in later fantasies.”

  “Later fantasies? Better and better,” he muttered. “And what is your name, slave girl?”

  “Salome.”

  “Of course it is. Okay, Sal baby, let’s see what you have in your magic bag.”

  She groaned. “We should probably be drunk before you do that.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “Or bad.” She groaned again. “I am going to be so embarrassed.”

  “Why should I be the only one embarrassed? I bared my soul with all my secret fantasies.”

  “You weren’t embarrassed at all.”

  “You’re right.”

  He was digging in her bag and took out the red vibrator thingee. He flicked on a button and it made a whirring sound in his palm. “Interesting. For later.” He set it aside.

  Next, he took out a little leather case.

  “Don’t you dare laugh.”

  Inside was a string of silver balls. “Ben wa balls. I’m not sure I know what to do with these. You’ll have to show me.”

  “Like I know what to do! I didn’t know whether to buy that one, or the Adam and Eve ones.”

  “What?” He looked at her, rather puzzled, and set those aside, too. “For later.” Then he took out the last of her “tools.” It was the long whip with the feather tails. “Now this one I know I can use.” He came toward her and flicked the feathers across her breasts, causing the already turgid nipples encased in the nipple rings to grow even bigger and harder.

  He noticed.

  She moaned.

  “Do you like that, slave girl?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  He did it again, then ordered, “Dance for me, Salome.”

  “I can’t, with my arms behind me.”

  “Yes, you can. Dance in place.” He flicked the disc player on again. It had apparently turned off at its end. The eastern music filled the room again.

  She began to sway from side to side, and realized that she actually had room to move a little, and so she undulated a bit, emulating the sex act.

  Daniel muttered something under his breath, which she took for a good sign, and did some more undulating. “Am I a good slave girl?” she asked, glancing downward.

  He knew she was teasing him for his own over-arousal and asked, bluntly, “Are you wet yet?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you check?”

  “Tsk-tsk-tsk! Didn’t you ever hear that saying, ‘Never challenge a Cajun!’?”

  “I think that referred to something else.”

  He set the feather whip aside and unbuttoned her blouse, setting free her breasts with the gold clips on them. “Oh, my!” he said and touched each of them with his fingertips. “Don’t stop dancing,” he ordered.

  What? She couldn’t dance and concentrate on what he was doing at the same time. She tried, but it was difficult, especially when he’d taken up the whip again and was feathering across the nipples, back and forth, slowly, then rapidly.

  She was panting, even as she continued to sway and undulate to the music. When he pinched each of the nipples, softly, she whispered, “More.”

  “Slave girls do not give orders. Spread your legs, but don’t stop dancing. Now, are you wet yet?”

  She was going to tell him to check himself, like she had before, but she knew better this time. Besides, his one hand was braced against the bedpost and the other hand was already sweeping down over her abdomen, across her belly where he paused to look at the ring she’d pasted there, then inside the elastic waistband of her low-slung harem pants until he reached her wetness. One, two, three strokes of his finger in her slickness where her clitoris felt the size of a marble and she swooned into an orgasm that had her knees buckling and her breasts arching outward.

  Luckily, he was able to catch her with his hands at her waist. “Good girl,” he said against her ear. “What would the slave girl like now? To be spanked, or fucked?”

  “Both,” she said.

  “Good answer,” he said, but he pinched her buttock for her sauciness. Then he undid her handcuffs.

  She was about to take off her harem attire and follow him to the bed where he’d already shucked his briefs, but he said, “Oh, no, I have more plans for that outfit. Don’t you dare take it off yet.”

  “Yes, master,” she said.

  And he grinned.

  Why do fools fall in love? . . .

  Daniel was in male fantasy heaven. There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t be tempted by what Samantha was offering.

  He lay flat on his back, his head propped on the pillows, and arranged Samantha astride his hard-on so her channel rode his rod. A perfect fit, without an actual fit. Then he removed her shirt so she wore only the harem pants. “Tilt f
orward, sweetheart,” he said.

  When she did, he leaned up and took one breast into his mouth, nipple, nipple ring and areola. And then he sucked rhythmically. She tried to pull back, but when he wouldn’t release her, she began to thrust her pussy forward and back on his cock. He didn’t know who was in greatest danger of a premature climax, although she’d already had one of those.

  “Slow down,” he urged, even as he gave equal treatment to the other breast. He was supremely pleased to see that her nipples had turned a rosy color, whether from the clips or his suckling, he couldn’t be sure, but what a pretty picture she made!

  “Slow down?” she said with consternation. “How about you hurry up.”

  “Follow orders, slave. I can still spank you.”

  “Hah! Promises, promises.”

  He did, in fact, smack her behind, which surprised both of them. He’d never done that before, and apparently she hadn’t ever had it done to her, either. He liked it, and so hotdamnhallelujah did she.

  “Come here,” he said, tugging her by the nape so her lips almost touched his. And then he kissed her. And she kissed him back. The kisses were hungry, hungry, hungry. Deep, wet, noisy. They’d gone too far for gentle and coaxing.

  Daniel had never been so turned on in all his life. There wasn’t any part of his body that didn’t feel stimulated. But he wanted to prolong this delicious anticipation. He tugged the harem pants down so that the waistband was under her butt in back and on her thighs in front. “Now, touch yourself. Show me how you like to be touched.”

  Her green eyes were misty with arousal, almost like she was drugged . . . drugged with excitement . . . drugged with wanting him. Now that was a compliment!

  She lifted her breasts from underneath and used her thumbs to flick the nipples. She caressed her breasts in wide circles, the nipples being abraded by the palms. Then she flicked the nipples some more. Her lips were parted and she made a soft moan deep in her throat.

  “Lower now,” he entreated, “and keep looking at me. Don’t close your eyes.”

  He could tell she was embarrassed, but she was here to please him, and she complied. Then, while he held her gaze, her hand dipped lower, between her legs. Glancing down, he could see her middle finger stroking the slick folds. In fact, he could even see her swollen clitoris rising out of the wetness, just waiting to be touched. He’d love to take it into his mouth, but that would have to wait for later. They were both too excited to wait that long.

  “Do it,” he said then. “I can’t hold out much longer, babe.”

  She knew exactly what he meant and touched the oversensitive bud, once, twice, then arched her back, pressing herself forward on the ridge of his cock, trying to ride him.

  “No! Don’t stop. I want to see.”

  She screamed out her ecstasy as she exploded into what had to be a rocking hard climax.

  He couldn’t wait. Rolling her over onto her back, he yanked the pants off and thrust into her so hard and deep that he moved them both halfway across the bed. Her inner muscles were contracting wildly around him, but still he needed to move. He stroked in and out, long and slow, but he couldn’t maintain that pace, and he plowed into her with shorter, harder strokes. And, God bless nature, Samantha began another rise to orgasm, almost as if her body were sucking at his cock, trying to keep it inside when he was on the out strokes. He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a roar of the most intense pleasure, he surged into her, farther than he had ever been before, and he could swear his cock was convulsing with its own separate orgasm.

  He might have passed out for a minute, he knew she did, and, no, that wasn’t a medical diagnosis. When she opened her eyes to gaze up at him, she had tears.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head.

  “What then? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

  She shook her head again.

  “You’re regretting making love with me?”

  “No, of course not.” She wiped her eyes with the edge of a sheet that was under her. “It’s just that . . . well, I missed you so much. And you didn’t call, and you didn’t come to see me. With everything that’s happened and then being crushed by your rejection, the tension has been growing. Ever since that one night, you changed. I thought we were going to make love again, but then . . . we didn’t.”

  He frowned. “I never rejected you. You’re the one who rejected me. You deliberately put yourself in danger, and you talked about one-night stands, and limits on how long we would be together.”

  “What? I don’t think I ever said that, not precisely anyhow.”

  He put a hand on either side of her face and said, “I love you, Samantha.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, and I’m in it for the long haul. Doesn’t matter if you don’t love me now. You will, eventually, because I’m going to keep on trying to convince you to reciprocate. Hell, I have a thousand and one nights of fantasies to go.”

  “I thought I was the one who had to come up with a thousand and one fantasies.”

  “That works, too.”

  He was still cupping her face with his hands. There was so much he wanted to say and wasn’t sure how much to say or how to say it. They had a lot to resolve, like whether they might marry someday, or have children, or stay in Louisiana, but none of that mattered in the scheme of the bigger issue. Love.

  “You fool! I already love you, too,” she said.

  “You do?” he repeated the same words she’d said to him.

  When realization hit at how misguided they had both been, they smiled at each other. And then they kissed, gently, to seal their words.

  It was a good thing Daniel was still inside her then because she said, “But don’t let that stop you from convincing me. For the rest of our lives.”

  And that part of him that was quiescent inside her knew exactly what she meant. There was more than one way to pledge love between a man and a woman, and, in his opinion, this was the best way. And lucky him! He got a thousand and one chances to do it right.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Let the games go on . . . and on . . . and on . . .

  They made love again two more times that night, and Samantha couldn’t be happier. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to walk when she arrived at Tante Lulu’s birthday party later tomorrow . . . rather, since it was past two a.m . . . but it was a small price to pay for the happiness she felt now.

  “Are you smiling again?” he asked, turning his face to the side beside her. He was splayed out on his stomach, as depleted as she was . . . for the moment anyhow.

  “Yes. I’m happy.”

  “Me, too,” he said, sitting up and settling a pile of pillows behind them before pulling her over to rest her face on his chest. “Samantha?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I promised myself that I wouldn’t rush you, but . . . oh, hell, will you marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  He held her away so he could see her face. “Just like that, yes?”

  “Why not? I’m not a kid. I know what I want. Why wait? I’m excited to begin my life with you.”

  “I feel the same way. Man oh man, I can’t believe what a difference there is in my life since this morning. Depression to euphoria.”

  “Same here. Even Emily was getting sick of being around me, I was so sad.”

  “Will Em be our flower pig?”

  She laughed. “Why not?”

  “I feel like I have a whole life of firsts with you to look forward to. First marriage. First honeymoon. First home together. First . . .”

  As his words trailed off, she realized why he hesitated. It was the big elephant still in the room with them. Children.

  “If you want children, Samantha, we’ll have them. Or at least one. I’m afraid, but I’ll find a way to overcome that. I know I can.”

  She kissed him and said, “We can talk about that later. Truly, we’ve been handed a second chance here. We could have very well lost each other without e
ver confessing our love. Let’s savor that. Problems can be solved in the future.”

  He kissed her, then asked, “Will you go to Tante Lulu’s birthday bash with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have to go back to your house to get clothes?”

  “No, I packed an overnight bag. And Lily Beth is there to take care of the animals.”

  “You were that sure of me?”

  “No. Only hopeful.”

  “Speaking of bags . . .” He jumped out of the bed and went over to the dresser where he dug into the bag she’d brought upstairs with her. “Aha!” he said, holding up two objects. “What’ll it be, baby? Balls or vibes?”

  “Aren’t you tired? Aren’t men supposed to be incapable of doing it more than once or twice a night?”

  “It’s amazing how a little nap can energize a fellow.” He held up the balls, in fact jangled them in the air, then held out the object in his other hand which began to Bzzz.

  She laughed and chose both.

  Hail, hail, the gang’s all here . . .

  Even though it was only four p.m. they were late for Tante Lulu’s birthday bash at Luc LeDeux’s luxurious home outside of Houma. When he’d seen Samantha come down the stairs at Bayou Rose in that strapless, green, satiny sundress, wearing those fuck-me black high heels with the little straps around her ankles, highlighting an ankle bracelet, he just had to show her how good she looked. Afterward, she’d had to repair her makeup, but did she look like she cared? Hell, no, and thank God!

  He glanced at her and smiled. Little did she know, there was a sex flush on her chest and neck, and her lips looked kiss-bruised. She smiled back at him in a knowing way. He figured he looked as if he’d had his coals raked, too.

  God, how he loved this woman! Wonder filled him, that he had fallen so hard, so fast for her. And even greater wonder, she returned the sentiment.

  He linked his fingers with hers as they walked side by side. They’d had to park more than a block away because there were so many cars. Even though this was supposed to be family only, and a few friends, Luc had told them, when they called to say they would be late, that he had expected seventy-five people, but at least a hundred had shown up so far.