Rascal (Edgewater Agency Book 2)

by Kyanna Skye

  She felt… cheated.

  “What the…?” she wondered aloud.

  The PA spoke overhead, and she nearly jumped at its sudden sound.

  “Dr. Carlie Kyle, report to J-Ward at once, please. Dr. Carlie Kyle, please report to J-Ward at once,” said the PA system before that too went dead.

  She stood, dumbfounded for the second time in half as many minutes.

  As she rode the elevator up, she pondered what had just occurred.

  That she should be summoned to the tenth floor of the hospital – the J-Ward – was an unusual request. That she should get a strange phone call from the handsome god just before was even stranger. Had he known she would be called up to the tenth floor? He couldn’t have, she thought. Although gods were omnipotent, weren’t they? It should have come as no surprise.

  Still, being called up-levels was surprise enough. The tenth floor was well above her usual place on the sixth floor, and she knew enough about the hospital’s politics to know that the tenth floor usually catered to those who valued their privacy and paid handsomely for it. Sometimes it was a movie star undergoing plastic surgery. Sometimes it was a politician being treated for a skin condition. Once or twice she had heard it was a professional athlete being treated for steroid side effects or some such.

  Such a thing wasn’t common practice for a hospital, but this was L.A. and people with money and power were able to sweep their influence into the world in one manner or another. It shouldn’t have come as any shock. But that she should be asked to report to such a place was certainly unexpected.

  When the elevator doors opened, there was an elderly man with gray hair, a red tie, and a doctor’s lab coat waiting for her. She didn’t know this man, but she could tell from his expensive watch and spit-shined shoes that he was a long time resident of this floor. In his hands, he held a manila folder, and he passed it to her in lieu of a “hello” or “welcome” as soon as the doors clanked open and before she had taken her first step.

  “Dr. Kyle,” the elder man said as if he’d known her for her entire professional career. “Dr. Soren, patient relations. Please follow me.”

  A short introduction, she thought as she followed the older man. Before she could speak, Dr. Soren began to answer all of her questions.

  “The patient asked for you, specifically.”

  “Who is it?” she asked the elder doctor as they walked on.

  “No idea, I’ve never seen him before. But that doesn’t matter. Confidentiality is a must up here, doctor,” replied the other, almost impatiently. “Speed is second to that. This isn’t the walk-in waiting room up here. If a patient comes in on this floor and asks for someone specific, we oblige as quickly as we can. You can check the file for references to the patient’s disposition if you need,” the older man said.

  She took a quick look down at the file in her hands and looked perplexed as they walked. She didn’t even bother to open it but found only a name written on the folder’s label: Damian Crowe. In order for there to be a file on him, he would have had to have come in here before now. She found another question rising into her throat. “You’ve already examined the patient?” she asked curiously.

  “His pertinent medical information was sent in ahead of him from a private physician’s office,” the elder man explained. “That means that he has connections, and our board of directors responds very well when we take care of people with friends in the right places. This isn’t the F-Ward, doctor. The people that we treat here don’t come in with scraped knees or sore throats. If they ask for special treatments, we give them. If they ask for sweets on their way out, we ask what flavor. If they ask for a doctor by name, we provide them that doctor. That means you,” he said, bringing her to the door of a private ward. “Now, I don’t know how you know this person, and I don’t care. All that matters is that he asked for you and it’s up to you to put a good face on our service here. So, off you go!” he said with a bright and cheery voice that she knew he did not feel.

  And with that, the elder doctor pointed out a single door to her that was marked “Privacy Ward 2” and walked off as if he were an unconcerned parent leaving a child to a day at school.

  Carlie stood there with the folder in her hand that was labeled with a man’s name that she had never heard before in her life. She felt as if this was some kind of a joke meant to get a rise out of her, like something she had once experienced in medical school. But the expensive carpets, the fragrance of rose oil, and the fact that there was a pair of waiting chairs in the hall made of oak told her practical jokes were unheard of on this floor. Not when money literally paved the walkways here.

  She turned to the ominous door that concealed a patient behind it and blew out a short breath before tentatively reaching for the handle and opening it.

  She passed into the private ward and found that it was an anteroom. It was shaped almost like the kitchen of a small apartment with a counter, a small table, a pair of chairs, a sink and even a coffee pot that sat idly on its surface. It was the kind of place where bodyguards, public relations people, or family could wait close by if someone of wealth and privilege was being tended to.

  The only thing that looked out of place in the whole of the area was a leather jacket that had been draped over the back of one of the chairs. Sewn onto it were a number of patches that she did not recognize, but the simple garment looked out of place in a setting like this. But there mere sight of it alone made her skin tingle with anticipation.

  The phone call… the summons… the jacket… All the signs pointed to the god she had met at the bar. And strangely curious as it all was, the excitement that was simmering inside of her threatened to become a full out boil.

  To her left was a second door that was marked “Examination Room”. She took a short breath and walked to it, pushing the door open. She felt a gentle flutter of fear and confusion as she did so but the feeling evaporated the second she passed fully into the next room, leaning on the door for support.

  Sitting on the examination bench was her god.

  He looked just as she remembered from two days before. His appearance had not changed, save that he wore a white t-shirt underneath his leather vest and the smile that he wore was warm and inviting.

  “Hello,” he said with his soft and hypnotic voice. “I think I have a problem, doc.” His smile endured, and his eyes looked her over from head to foot. “A problem that I think only you can cure.”

  His words were suggestive, and she caught their meaning without needing to dwell on them. It felt as if he was fucking her already… with his voice. If he could do that, she wondered what the rest of him could do. The feeling made her – to use one of Jackie’s favorite expressions – damp in her panties.

  She rolled her eyes excitedly, trying to conceal her emotions. In the course of it, she took in the sight of the rest of the room.

  The room itself was possessed of the usual features; a countertop that was covered with small folders details various medical practices, cabinets and drawers filled with medical tools and medicines, and a small stool on which she supposed she could have sat if she liked. And directly behind the god was the L.A. landscape through a floor-to-ceiling window that made her think once again that the man before her was a god looking out for the world that he had created.

  She felt her gut flutter with a new sensation.

  “D-Damian Crowe?” she asked, almost excitedly.

  The god smiled at her. “I like it when you use my first name.”

  His voice seemed more hypnotic than before, and as she stood in the doorway of the examination room, she felt her legs trembling lightly. Some part of her mind was reeling from this whole experience… her thoughts… her small fantasies… they all seemed to be overbearing on her now, and she could make no sense of them at all. The part of her brain that had been trained to put logic before emotion warred with itself for control.

  “But… how…?” she tried to speak, fumbling the words in her mouth.


  “How did I find you?” He asked with an amused arch of an eyebrow. “I G.P.S. tracked your phone,” he explained simply. He got up off of the examination table, and she saw that he stood a little more than an inch or two taller than she. “It’s amazing what you can do with today’s technology. Sorry for not calling you sooner…but I had to see about you.” He took a step towards her.

  “W-what?” she asked, feeling her heart accelerate.

  “I have to be very careful whom I associate with,” he said, taking another slow and tentative step closer to her. “I tracked my phone while you had it yesterday. I saw that it was here for almost nine hours; that’s how I knew to find you here. After that, it was a simple matter of looking you up in the hospital directory online. Then I tracked the phone back to your apartment.” His smile was alluring, almost commanding her to focus on it. “I see I was right about you being a doctor.”

  I would have expected a god to know that, she thought excitedly.

  He took another step towards her, coming at arms’ length. “After that, it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest. A good doctor… no ties to any, shall we saw, law enforcement agencies.” He paused. “I was actually very pleased about that.”

  She saw through to the subtext of his statement and realized at once what it meant. “Y-you’re some kind of criminal.” It wasn’t a question. And he didn’t seem bothered by it. Oddly, neither was she.

  “That’s why I have to be careful,” he said, taking another step closer. “I’m sure you noticed that by the way you looked through my phone… yeah, I was able to tell every time you opened it up.” His tone was pleased, intrigued, even a little excited.

  She licked her lips. “So… you waited until today to see me?”

  He took a final step until he was standing so close to her that their bodies were very nearly touching. She could almost smell his breath, and it wasn’t the hot and muggy thing that she would have expected from a biker. There was something sweet about it… something alluring… something that was begging to be tasted.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Carlie,” he said. That he used her name so familiarly – and in so profound a statement – made her shudder. Her hands began to tremble. A thing that he seemed to pick up on and slowly he reached up and put one hand over hers, steadying her shaking extremities. His touch was reassuring, powerful, even commanding somehow.

  Her eyes wandered down to where his hand had come to rest against hers. The clash of his pale skin against the chocolate tint of hers was oddly exciting. His fingers gently closed around hers, she could feel the power that he commanded within. It felt as if he were somehow bestowing some kind of strength upon her, making her unafraid. She knew – somewhere – in the back of her mind that she should be afraid.

  But she wasn’t. She liked it.

  This man was a criminal. She had said it, and he had not denied it. The strange phone he’d given her… his calmness at the bar… the manner in which he had tracked her down… all of it was simply screaming something terrible about him. Yet she was unafraid. She felt quite the opposite in fact. She wanted to be closer to him.

  Much closer.

  As if he were using his omnipotent powers he leaned in closer until his body was pressing lightly against hers. He moved so slowly that she could have counted the very short hairs on his chin from his depleted beard. And when his lips met hers she felt a warm sensation overcome her that would have made hot cocoa on a cold day seem only as warm and filling as a pop tart.

  She could taste him… the honey scent was indeed present though she could not divine how it could have come to be there. His lips were just as warm as the rest of him felt, and if she had thought that his words were hypnotic, then his kiss was downright spellbinding.

  The simple exchange of their lips lasted only a moment, though she felt it had lasted for eternity. As he pulled away, her body felt lessened for it. She could have gone on forever in such an embrace, simple as it was. That it had to be cut short was disheartening.

  “Close the door,” he whispered, “and take your clothes off.”

  That’s better.

  She dropped the manila folder onto the floor, the papers within scattering across the soft carpeted floor and she closed the door absentmindedly behind her. The god took a step back and immediately her desire was to be closer to him again. But he had not given her the command to do so. And with the door closed now, assuring their privacy, she felt like a privileged mortal-drawn into the temple of a god. In such circumstances all, she could do was obey.

  She shrugged her way out of her lab coat and let it fall carelessly to the floor. Her blue scrubs came next. She pulled off her shirt, revealing her large bosom in her black bra. Her private god seemed to feast upon the sight of so much flesh, and he shifted on his feet with anticipation. She was pleased that she could have such an effect on so perfect a man.

  She slipped her thumbs into the hem of her scrub trousers and gently wiggled her way out of those, revealing her black panties. Her god’s smile increased. She kicked aside her shoes and stood before him, clad only in her underwear and as though he indeed had cast a spell upon her – maybe he had – she began to wiggle her way out of her panties.

  His eyes dropped down to the small patch of pubic hair, and his smile became a full grin. Then they returned up to her as her fingers found the clasp of her bra, unfastening it she shrugged out of the hindering garment before dropping that aside.

  She stood before him as bare as the day she was born. Her fingers lightly traced the edges of her hips and breasts. She took her darkened nipples between the tips of her index fingers and thumbs, lightly pinching them, making them hard. Her god looked on as if he were memorizing every curve of her body. No man that she had ever had before now had ever looked at her like that. It was as if he were looking at more than just the shape of her body… it was like he was looking at her.

  He began to remove his clothes.

  My turn, she thought excitedly.

  He pulled off his leather vest slowly, reminding her of a stripper that she had once seen at a friend’s bachelorette party. But this show was entirely for her. She alone could see what he possessed and unlike that show, she knew that she would be free to touch him as much as she wanted. And she had every intention of doing so.

  Next came his white t-shirt. He pulled it off slowly, revealing his body inch by delectable inch and she was tickled by the sight of so much muscle. He was better sculpted than she remembered or imagined. His abs looked so firm she could have graded cheese on them. His pecs were full and firm, his shoulders broad, his arms thick and veins protruded from them showing how well he kept his body.

  His hands fell to the belt buckle of his pants, and as he unfastened it she felt herself growing damp between her legs once more, and her legs trembled anew. As he pulled down his leather riding pants, she saw that everything south of his waist was just as well built as the rest of him.

  His cock was already hard, the veins upon it throbbing with power just like the rest of his body. His legs were thick as tree trunks, his calves and thighs looked like they could have been shaped by nothing less than granite. As he stood before her, naked under the fluorescent lights of the examination room, she thought that there was indeed something godlike about him. The way the light itself seemed to dance on his skin was mesmerizing… like the light itself was afraid to touch him.

  He held out a hand, palm up, waiting for her.

  She felt her body trembling once again and recalling the image of Adam reaching out to God on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel she reached out for him. Her dark fingers closed around his paler ones, and she felt his power within him. Whether he was a god or not became irrelevant. All that mattered now was the connection between them. This room was her church, and she wanted nothing more than to worship the god that possessed it.

  He guided her across the room and much to her excitement he pressed her against the window overlooking the city. The glass was cold
as her body flattened against it but she soon forgot the sensation as he pulled her hair aside and began to kiss her neck.

  Her hands shot up to the glass, looking for something to grab hold of but her fingers could not find purchase along the sleek surface. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she began to question if this was actually happening or not… that perhaps she was still in the throes of a dream… or maybe she had gone mad… but the light and warm touch of his lips and tongue were reassurance enough that neither was true. This was as real a thing as any science class could have taught her. She could see it… she could touch it… she could taste it… she could smell… and most importantly, she could feel it. And in this one moment, she felt certain that she had indeed found a means to prove that there was a god.

  And he was all hers.

  He snaked his hands between the glass and cupped her breasts. He wasn’t gentle in his touch… his hands seemed as hungry as his mouth as she turned her neck and allowed his mouth to claim hers. His grip was firm… fierce… like he had never had a woman before in his life. He held her and kneaded her breasts like she was almost being punished for something. There was pain… but it was fleeting… replaced by pleasure. She had never had a man do such a thing for her before in the whole of her life.

  His left hand slipped down, finding her crotch and his fingers slipped inside of her. She moaned as he entered her, his fingers just as powerful and thick as his arms and legs. His fingers seemed to hold tremendous power, and she wondered what the rest of him would do once he got inside of her with his cock.

  The power that his fingers seemed to hold made her legs quiver and she nearly collapsed under her own weight. But with one of his hands still clenched firmly upon her breast and the other inside of her pussy she felt as though she had been mounted upon some kind of a harness that would not allow gravity to claim her.

  Gravity, she thought with an inward chuckle. Gravity – science itself – had no dominion here. This place was ruled by the god in whose embrace she was now locked. Nothing happened here without the leave of the one whom she now worshiped, and that was completely fine with her.