Dr. Orgasm (A Holiday Romance Collection Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  Table of Contents

  Part One

  Part Two

  Part Three

  Part Four

  Dr. Orgasm Extended Epilogue

  Free Gift

  Dr. Orgasm

  Doctor’s Demands Preview

  Winter

  Dirty Money

  His Beautiful Revenge

  Dr. Orgasm

  A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance

  Scarlett King

  Michelle Love

  ©Copyright 2017 by Scarlett King &

  Michelle Love - All rights

  Reserved

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights are reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Contents

  Free Gift

  Dr. Orgasm

  Part One

  Part Two

  Part Three

  Part Four

  Dr. Orgasm Extended Epilogue

  Doctor’s Demands Preview

  Winter

  Dirty Money

  His Beautiful Revenge

  Free Gift

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  Filthy Neighbor: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance

  Filthy Neighbor

  The little cutie next door is spying on me.

  She watches me when I exercise. She watches me when I use my hot tub and when I take a lover into it. It’s clearly a crush—and I like it. Those bright, longing eyes of hers turn me on. They make me want to show her that some things are much more fun to do than watch.

  There’s just one problem—if she’s been watching me, she may have seen too much. I’m a problem-solver for my uncle Ezio, the local mob boss. I leave at odd hours. I keep odd company. One day, she may figure it out. And if that happens, I have to make sure she’s already too attached to me to give me up to the cops.

  But there’s a simple solution. The little lady has a crush. She wants me to show her what it’s all about in bed. And with my secrecy at stake, I have to ask: why not give her what she wants?

  Click here to get your copy

  Filthy Neighbor: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance

  Dr. Orgasm

  A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance

  Maddy:

  It’s amazing what you can do when you don’t care if you live or die. Like escape from the hellhole where you have been a prisoner for half your life. Or ride off on the back of a hot stranger’s motorcycle. Aaron is the first guy I have ever met that I have felt this way about. I like him. I trust him. I want him. But if I follow his lead and start wanting to live again, what happens when someone tries to drag me back into the hell I escaped from?

  Aaron:

  I’m falling for a mystery girl that I just talked out of jumping off a bridge. I shouldn’t let myself. She needs help, support, maybe even protection—not sex. But as I try to show her that life is worth living, nature starts taking its course. Soon enough the best lessons I can teach her are the ones between the sheets ... and she is more than willing. But I’m about to stumble across an ugly truth about my Maddy that will make me rethink everything—and will put us both in danger.

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Aaron

  It’s almost midnight by the time I drive my motorcycle out of Ravenwood Hospital’s sprawling parking lot. It’s a foggy night, turning the road into a tunnel and the surrounding forest into something ghostly and surreal. It’s the perfect weather for Halloween.

  I love Halloween—I’ve been a horror movie buff since I was ten. I grew up on a ranch twenty miles from town in Wyoming, so the thirty-first of October meant a special dinner, pumpkin lanterns, and a lengthy horror movie marathon instead of trick or treating. I loved those nights.

  I’m dead tired and I don’t much mind that I won’t be home in time for any Halloween parties. Behind my visor, my eyes are bleary from checking and rechecking dozens of forms. It was back-paperwork night in the cardiology wing, and as the youngest director in Ravenwood’s hundred-year history, I didn’t have any excuse to leave early.

  I had two assistants helping me out—Becky, a veteran of the department, and Kate, who is less experienced but a harder worker. I needed both to help me plow through this month’s paperwork, which included the annual financial report and an assortment of federal grant applications. Now, each and every last scrap of paper has been filed, recycled, or followed up on, and I’m fleeing back to my mansion before more comes in.

  My head stings, my back aches, and I’m dehydrated. I know that enough fluids, a good meal, and a visit to my home gym and jacuzzi will fix everything. Meanwhile, though, I have to get home down a winding coastal road, with wet streets and swirling wind to deal with. Good thing I’m steady under pressure.

  At least the rain has let up. The wet branches drip on me as I drive out onto the main road, humming Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” under my breath.

  Ravenwood sits in the wooded hills just outside Marin County, in one of the most beautiful regions in California. The air is clean here, there’s plenty of rain and open land, and the sea goes on forever outside the Golden Gate. The area is at its best in high summer, with warm, slightly misty nights full of stars.

  In fall, however, it’s ... well, I find it perfect, but some of my coworkers find it creepy as hell. Especially since we have to cross a gorge on our way off hospital grounds, and the spooky looking bridge we have to use is always dark, falling under the shadow of towering trees with no lights to guide the way. At night, you have to use your high beams and pray there are no surprises waiting for you.

  I’m trying to sort out what movies to watch as I approach the stretch of road that leads to the bridge. The road is just wide enough that I can see the moon through the break in the trees, sailing ahead of me high and silver, with a pattern that always reminds me of watermarks.

  “John Carpenter?” I muse aloud. Classic horror is always good. Problem is I already did a John Carpenter marathon a few months ago. Though I love his creepy stuff, I need a palate cleanser.

  “Huh,” I mutter. I have a bad habit of talking to myself when alone.

  “Tales from the Crypt? Something from the MST3K collection?” Nah, too campy. I frown as I go around a turn. I can see the faint shape of the bridge looming half a mile up the road.

  “J-horror?” The Japanese have their own very distinct style of horror, and some of the best people in the business these days come from there. I’ve been working my way through the Ring series which, except for the crack-fest of the second movie, has managed to be both poignant and terrifying. I haven’t seen the prequel about Sadako, Ringu 0, and decide to put it on first when I get home.

  There’s nothing like a Japanese ghost story. Figures in white, with streaming black hair, transformed from demure wives, mothers, and daughters to betrayed, rage-filled entities whose power seems bottomless. The fact that these horrible monsters are often played by fetchingly pretty actresses only adds another layer of creepiness to it all.

  I nod to myself, satisfied. That’s one movie down to watch while I have my steak and beer. The household staff will be gone for the night except for my security team, but I’m sure I can sort out reheating my dinner.

  Too bad I
have no date to share movie night with. Being a department head in my mid-thirties tends to eat up all my free time. And a relationship requires a lot more than a quick date or fuck during my few spare hours on weekends.

  At least now, with the backlog of paperwork, phone calls, and meetings eliminated, I can think about going out to a bar or something this coming weekend. It’s been a while since I even danced with a woman, let alone took one to my bed. I miss it, in that bone-deep way that leads to dirty dreams and the occasional reckless decision.

  I’m almost at the bridge. My Harley’s headlights splash across the weathered wood and I peer ahead, catching sight of something emerging out of the fog. “What the hell is that?” I mutter.

  There is something white standing in a misty patch of moonlight about halfway across the bridge. It’s human-sized, if smaller than me—though almost everyone is. It has either black hair or a black shawl hanging over its shoulders, and it’s dressed in flowing white—either a robe or a coat.

  For a moment, my tired brain goes oh shit oh shit oh shit and I’m certain that either this is a nightmare or reality just took a hard left. But a split second later I get hold of myself and let out a laugh as I slow down.

  “Oh, man, no way.” I’m not looking at a Japanese ghost. I’m looking at a young, living woman who just really looks the part.

  I slow down enough to have a better look and to give her a compliment on her costume. Not a catcall. That’s not my style. But she did just scare the crap out of me—mission accomplished as far as dressing like Sadako.

  As I slow the bike down she squints up at me, holding up one slim, pale hand to shade her eyes. She’s not Japanese, though her petite build and straight, silky black hair make me think she could be mixed. Her wide, deep brown eyes catch my attention then, and I find myself falling into them before I can stop myself.

  “Uh ...” I manage as I stop and turn the headlight away from her, just enough to keep the glare out of her face. “Hi! Nice costume.”

  “Costume?” She looks down at herself, and I get a better look at her as I wonder if she’s a bit high. She’s actually wrapped in a lab coat that is about five sizes too big for her, making it float around her dramatically in the wind. Beneath it, I catch sight of an overlarge pale sweater and the silvery drape of a velvet skirt. It’s all too big for her, but she’s so waiflike that it almost looks like a deliberate fashion choice. If not, as I thought before, a costume.

  “I’m sorry, are you okay?” I ask suddenly. I’ve seen people with this shocked, sad look on their faces before—usually when I’m talking to the family of someone we lost on the table. It doesn’t happen too often, but that haunted expression sticks with you. So I notice it right away.

  She stares at me as if she has no idea what to say. The wind picks up, hissing through the pine branches and sending her hair and clothes drifting around her. We watch each other mutely. After a pregnant pause she lifts her head and gives me the saddest smile I have ever seen in my life.

  “No,” she replies simply, and my heart sinks.

  Chapter 2

  Madelyne

  The sky is so enormous, now that I am free. I have been indoors for so long that I feel dizzy as I stare up at the slowly disintegrating clouds, as if I will be overwhelmed if I don’t look away. And it’s not just the sky; the whole world outside the asylum is vast.

  I managed to avoid swallowing some of my meds before bed check, spitting them out and flushing them instead. It’s been a good two hours since then—just enough time to slip out and steal clothes from the nurses’ lockers and to hike this far down the road. Problem is, the pills still partially dissolved in my mouth before I could get rid of them, so I’m lightheaded as I turn to the man on the motorcycle.

  I didn’t expect anyone to be out driving this late in the middle of nowhere. The fact that he came from the direction of the hospital makes me a little nervous. But Ravenwood is huge—the campus has three separate complexes on it, including the mental hospital.

  It’s possible that he doesn’t even work in the same building. I try to remind myself of that fact as he dismounts from the bike and pulls off his helmet. When I see his face, everything else leaves my mind for a few moments.

  I don’t know anything about men or attraction. I haven’t had the opportunity to do anything but admire boys from afar. But suddenly my stomach flutters, I feel a warm flush in my cheeks, and the dark thoughts that have been swirling through my head part like clouds before the moon.

  His hair is a sort of tawny brown color, like a lion’s mane—shot with gold threads that reflect the glow from the motorcycle headlights in sparks. It stands up from a high forehead, mussed by his helmet. The lean, tanned face beneath is prickled with blond stubble along his jawline. His mouth is generous and well-shaped, and his narrow green eyes stare into mine like he’s looking right through me.

  He’s also huge, I realize as he dismounts his motorcycle and stands up straight. He looms over me, and only his gentle expression keeps me from freaking out and putting more space between us.

  “What’s your name?” he asks me softly.

  I blink at him, reluctant to tell him. He could hear, later, about a missing patient named Madelyne at this very hospital. But then I just shake my head slightly, amused with myself. Unless he’s a regular visitor to the hospital, he’s not likely to hear anything. I doubt they’d let my name get out to the public. “Madelyne.”

  “That’s a pretty name. I’m Aaron. Do you need some kind of help?” He tilts his head slightly, and I shrink a little under his piercing gaze. He’s intimidating without even meaning to be, even when he’s being kind.

  “I ... no. There’s ... not much that can be done, really. I’m just going to ... spend a little time around here, that’s all.” I struggle to sound casual and wonder why it’s so hard for me to keep the shaking out of my voice suddenly. “You can ... you can go on. I’ll be okay. Really.”

  The gorge is deep and shadowy, with rocks like jutting fangs. I can hear rushing water down there. The whole idea of throwing myself over the railing terrifies me.

  But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that they will catch me if I stay on the run. I have no family, no friends, no money, nowhere to go. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have any of the illnesses that I was hospitalized for, except, of course, for the depression. The doctor will not let me be free as long as I am alive.

  Aaron gives a deep, resigned sigh, and before I know what he’s doing he leans against the weathered railing, not so inconspicuously placing himself between me and the brink. He folds his powerful arms and the leather of his jacket creaks against his biceps.

  “I don’t think you’re going to be okay if I leave you, sweetheart,” he says in a calm tone that leaves me with tears brimming in my eyes. “As a matter of fact, I think that if I leave you here, they’ll be pulling you out of the gorge tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh, that’s nonsense. I—” I start, then realize that I have started fidgeting. “I’m ... I just ...”

  “Look,” Aaron says softly, catching my eye. “I don’t know what’s brought you out here like this. I don’t know what you’re going through, and I’m not gonna judge. But I am gonna ask you something.”

  I stop fidgeting and lick my lips, gathering my wits. How did he know what I was planning? I wipe my eyes impatiently. “What?”

  “If you don’t care whether you live or die anyway, then how about you come take a ride with me instead?” His smile is charming, his tone reasonable. But his eyes bore into mine, seeking my answer.

  This wasn’t in my plan. Confusion swamps me again and I stand still, blinking back at him. “Why would you do that?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I can’t just leave you. But I can’t tell you what to do with your life either. If you don’t mind my saying so, you look a little ambivalent about the whole ... situation here. I figure maybe a nice ride will help you clear your head.”

  I hesitate. It’s true that I have noth
ing left to lose. It’s true that if anything, taking this man up on his offer gives me a chance at a running start before the doctor finds out I’m missing.

  Escaping with my life might be possible after all. Or if it isn’t, maybe I can just have a little fun before I go back to my first option.

  I walk over to the motorcycle, which gleams black and silver in the moonlight. It’s huge and powerful-looking, like its owner. Maybe he’s a biker that was discharged from the emergency wing. Maybe he’s not the type to turn me in.

  Nothing to lose but my life, and I was an inch from giving that up anyway.

  I look back at him and nod. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 3

  Aaron

  “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle,” she confesses, and I smile and pull my spare helmet from my saddlebag.