Dr. Single Dad: A Single Doctor and Virgin Romance

by Dark Angel

  How can this girl be so new to my life and be tearing it apart. I’m trying to breathe over here, walking toward the elevator with her. My hand is at the small of her back as we walk, and Lucy slips her other hand into mine. My fingers close over hers and my heart skips a damn beat like I’m some kind of school girl. The effect that Lucy has on me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before and I want to be able to get my head clear and get my cock buried deep inside of her. I thought those two things were connected, but now I’m not so sure. Because the way that I need to be inside Lucy, that’s the same intensity with which my feelings toward her confuse me. I’m baffled by how I can feel so much for this girl. I’m confused more than anything by how I don’t take advantage of the perfect situation to twist and turn any way I want. This girl is utterly reliant on me, and instead of taking advantage like I would in any business deal, I find myself thinking about her feelings. About the feelings that she creates in me. I need her more than I’d like to admit.

  The elevator becomes a challenge. The idea of making out in an elevator shouldn’t be as hot to me as it is now, but I want to press her against the wall of this elevator the instant the doors close.

  When the doors actually do close, it's Lucy’s hand that squeezes mine. I look at her, an ounce of shock ready to convert into a full gallon of surprise when her lips close over mine. Well, Lucy was so inexperienced. A virgin. Making out in an elevator is exciting for her because she’s not some tired out girl that’s done everything.

  And it's exciting for me, the man everyone thinks is tiring out plenty of women in this city. I gave up that life a long time ago when I thought I was marrying someone who cared about me, and when that turned out to be a business move on her part, well, I just gave up women entirely.

  How can I be going through my own soft little moment with Lucy now? Her lips on mine aren’t tentative. They're soft. Lucy is kissing me softly, almost as if she’s asking for permission. I aimed to charm her pants off, but right now she’s the one charming me. In a way that does mean that I succeeded, and I don’t think I want to keep dwelling on this. Not when her body presses firmer into mine… and then I hear the elevator ask for my card and code. Nothing like an interruption to make you appreciate what’s before you.

  Reluctantly, I tear just part of my body away from her, but my hand is still in hers. My side is still pressed to her side. I don’t feel foolish wanting to touch her like this.

  That’s truly the worst part, I realize as we both fade away into our kisses.

  I don’t want Lucy to want me the way that she wants me. I already knew that I wasn’t good enough for her, but I’m ruining this poor girl. She’s sweet. She should be with a man who can love her. A man who can marry her. I’m just the rich asshole helping her with her brother. Her affection for me is wholly undeserved.

  Still, I can’t deny the sparks that fly between us. I never understood that expression, sparks flying, until I met Lucy and a fireworks show could be going off every time her hazel eyes met mine. I want to kiss her until we both wake up in a new life and there’s nothing to be worried about. But that’s not how life works, and I know this because I'm able to buy just about anything else. But I can’t buy my way out of how wrong for Lucy I am.

  Worst of all, I can’t buy myself out of the parts of me that want her no matter what. That don’t want me to let me save her.

  When we’re about to walk into the penthouse door, she turns and faces me, holding my hand, smiling. Lucy’s too goddamn good for me and I just can’t take this. Well, I can. That’s what’s so rough. I’m going to take every drop of everything Lucy has to give.

  What will be left when she realizes who I really am?

  I smile back at her. It isn’t hard to fake being the guy who wants her so much right now. To be charming. Because I do want her more than anything. It's a hazard to us both.

  The soft way her eyes crinkle when she smiles makes me need to breathe her in. As soon as we’re inside, I close the door and press her against it. Softly, gently. I’m being charming, remember?

  I cradle her face, and kiss her face where her smile gives her soft little lines, trailing down her cheek to kiss next to her lips, and then to kiss her there. My other arm wraps around behind her and holds her against me. I want to hold her like this forever.

  I’m fooling myself into thinking I’m just doing all of this because I’m trying to charm her. Lucy is the one who is charming me and making me into the shell of someone that I don’t even know. Where do I fit in if I want her, and not the existence that seems so empty to me now? What good is all the power to control a city of sin when all I want is heaven in Lucy’s arms?

  Her soft little body is pressing against me. Everywhere she’s soft, I’m hard, and the contrasting sensations mixes up everything in my mind and I can’t think about all this melancholia drenching my throats. Lucy presses her soft lips to mine, parting them so slightly and sliding her tongue into my mouth. So gentle. So sweet. She tastes like a freedom I never knew that I wanted. This is what happens to a man who has everything. You want something more. Lucy makes me want a lot of things.

  Now, my hand gripping her collarbone, I want to rip every inch of her clothes off her body and put my mouth on every soft and trembling part of her. Not exactly gentle, but I can show a modicum of restraint and get what I want. Breaking our kiss, I pull back and look into her hazel eyes. They look back at me through sooty lashes, a wide smile spread over her cherry lips. I reach out and suck in her lower lip, releasing it and dropping down to my knees. For a moment, all I want is to wrap my arms around her legs and squeeze her. So I do, holding her so tightly that she shakes in my hold. I say those words to her that I find myself saying like a prayer. “I’ve got you,” and that’s the truth for her as much as for me. I want to have her. I need to have her. And she has me so wrapped up in her that I don’t know what to do to keep control of myself. I don’t want to be in control when I’m with Lucy. I don’t want to pretend to be anything. I don’t want to manipulate her.

  That’s what’s really unlocking me to the core. Lucy makes me want to be free to be whatever it is that I’ve become.

  But if I was, would she even want to be near me?

  I pucker my lips to just above her knee, kissing soft as a wind in spring. My other hand trails up her skirt and finds the soft vee of her cotton panties, encasing what I need but what I’ll take time to get to. Not just because of some gentle act … I have a compulsion to worship every inch of her, here and now, when she’s real and in front of me. It almost feels like if I don’t touch Lucy as much as I can, she’s going to fade away.

  Her hands are in my hair, not with any particular goal and just to touch me. No one has ever touched me so tenderly and it cracks something hard in my chest that breaks free a wellspring of emotions. My fingertips sweep back and forth over her panties, inside her thighs, and back, before I sweep in and pull down her panties, in one hand, but still gentle and soft. When they slide down her thighs, down to her ankles, I don’t let her step out of them, my other hand holding her leg in place. I like having her so gently captive, at my mercy while I try to worship her with the grace she deserves.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done, walking into my life, Lucy,” I whisper against her inner thigh, kissing her.

  “I don’t have to know, I just need you,” Lucy says, and I realize she heard what I said.

  Her words shake me to the deepest part of me, buried deep behind the mask of who I am every day.

  God, that woman could penetrate my armor if it was forged in the pits of hell. Some days, that’s exactly how I feel, and yet here Lucy is and she’s at my side. For now.

  My teeth graze over her knees, softly skirting the flesh and not breaking skin or even being so rough to even qualify as a bite. My fingers slide over her bared pussy softly but don’t enter her yet. I just need to feel every part of her, slide through her folds and feel how wet they are, how ready for me they are. I let my thumb slide up to
her clit. The bud is swollen with need and I can’t deny her what her body needs. Sliding two fingers in her pussy and working them into a curl to softly stroke her G-spot, I ghost my thumb over her clit. I have to be really gentle as I’m going right to the money spots. I want to stroke her, tease her, bring her to that point where she’s ready to fall apart in my hands. I stroke her, looking up at her gorgeous face. I see how she whimpers, little sighs escaping with her breaths. Her breathing hitches in her throat and gets more shallow, and I know she’s close. My lips on her thighs, kissing her softly, licking at her soft skin to taste her, bringing her to shiver. That’s when I know she’s close and I’m not ready to let go of her just yet. I scoop her up into my arms.

  Carrying her to the bed, I lie her down like she’s so fragile she might shatter. I slide my hand from under her skirt slowly because I’m not going to let her shatter just yet. I press my fingers into her skin, cascading down her leg as my hand exits. I hook my thumbs under her skirt and slide it off. I pull her shirt up and off. Her hands are on her bra and I watch her take it off as I pull off my own clothes. I keep myself from tearing off my clothes in a mad fury. There’s a fury building so strong inside of me I would've shredded it all in a second flat, but I’m not trying to be rough. I’m being tender. Savoring every moment of tonight.

  Because I know the truth. Sooner or later, because I’ve told Lucy that she can go, she’s going to see me for who I am, and when she does, she’s going to leave.

  I want to remember today forever.

  I’m memorizing the taste of her skin, the curves of her body. Because every night when I close my eyes, that’s all that my mind can conjure. But when she’s gone, I won’t be able to pull her tight against me while we sleep.

  Lucy shoots me a mischievous look and then gets up on her hands and knees, pressing her ass up in the air and in my direction. God, she has a wicked mind that I love to plumb the depths of. Not so long ago, she’d never been kissed. Now she’s inviting me to fuck her from behind with the gorgeous half moons of her ass calling for my hands.

  I suck in a breath and grip each of her ass cheeks with my palms, holding handfuls of her and stroking my cock up her pussy slit. Damn, she feels amazing. My cock is so hot rubbing against her pussy that if it weren’t for how wet she was, I’d be afraid we were going to start a fire.

  I slam into her and fuck her so deep, so hard, so fast, that neither of us can breathe for several seconds. I keep fucking her, hard, slamming deep into her pussy and rocking my hips with every thrust to make sure I’m claiming every inch of her. My hands grip her hips and I thrust again and again until I feel just how ready she is.

  “Cum for me, Lucy,” I say fast, trying to catch my breath again. My heart races at the feel of her pussy gripping my cock so hard that I groan out loud. I bury myself inside her and cum so much I can feel our cum dripping down her thighs. I like defiling that sweet pussy and mingling our cum together so damn much. Her legs are ready to give out, so I pull her up against me, and then pull us both onto the bed. I slide my cock out of her and hold her against me, savoring the scent of her skin while she shakes. Little tremors from the afterglow of us fucking. My hands hold onto her so tight you’d think I was trying keep her from flying out the side of an airplane. Because losing her will crush me.

  I know I have to tell her that I’m married. I know it because I want her to marry me, and that’s not going to happen unless I dump off the woman I’m currently married to. Which shouldn’t be too hard because my current wife was trying to get Lucy’s brother to kill me.

  Lucy

  Gian doesn’t bring up the argument again, and really doesn’t bring up anything for a while. We talk about how my brother is doing well and how I should go visit him soon, but not yet because he’s having a difficult time with the detox. I believe Gian, but I can tell that there’s something else that Gian isn’t telling me.

  I don’t confront him about this or whatever sin from his love life that Margot doesn’t want to tell me about. I’m just not ready. I'm tense and frustrated, and right now I don’t want to drown in the overwhelming tides of my relationship with Gian. I don’t want to think about how my brother is suffering. I know he’s getting help. I know that when the time is right I’ll talk with Gian.

  I realize what I need more than anything is for Margot and I to hang out tonight. I go down to the spa, and when she sees what I’m wearing, her eyes get super wide.

  “We should dance tonight,” I tell her.

  “Are you sure … after—“ Margot looks weary.

  And I can understand why. But I don’t want to worry about anything tonight. “I need to feel unburdened and unstressed like I did before that really terrible ending to the last time we danced. I told Gian that I can do what I want with my body, and if he still has a problem, then it's with me.”

  Margot looks convinced and I can tell that she would much rather be having fun than being worried.

  “My brother is not doing so well and I just need a distraction,” I say quietly.

  “Oh, babe,” Margot says and rubs my shoulders. “Sure thing babe. I had customers from hell today,” she whisper to me. “I could use some relief. Let me finish closing up and then we’ll go to the club.”

  When we slink backstage, my stomach turns at little at how poorly the last dance ended. But everything before that was fun, and this time should be fun, too.

  Margot and I pick a good ballad and tease out our hair. This is for us. The fact that our boobs are pushed up so high they might touch our noses is basically beside the point.

  I already feel lighter and happier.

  When the music starts, she and I go out and dance as if there is no one there to watch and it's just she and I having fun.

  But I do look to the audience as our number ends … and I can’t believe what I’m seeing!

  Gian is in the audience, meeting with that same man from before. And though I see Gian grit his teeth, he gives me a small smile. I know he’s trying to let me do my own thing and that neither of us wants to have another fight.

  Which may have worked out perfectly fine if a guy several tables up hadn’t grabbed my ass when I got closer to the end of the stage.

  It happens so fast that I almost don’t process it. Gian punches that guy right in the face, hard enough for blood to spatter on Gian’s crisp white shirt and make a loud, wet sound that makes me cringe.

  Some security guys cart the guy off, who looks so shocked. I bet that guy never grabs another ass in his life, and good riddance.

  But now Gian is totally pissed.

  “You just don’t know how to keep your women under control. Though this situation is definitely much better than our little murderous wife cadre,” the man with Gian says.

  Oh God.

  Gian is married. That has to be what that means. But I see Gian every day and I know that he was living in that penthouse suite. I should be angrier, but I trust Gian to know that there is more to this story. I still don’t want to fight with Gian.

  “Take me home, when you can,” I say to Gian.

  Gian narrows his eyes at the man he was talking to. “It's done for. Square?”

  “Square,” that man says, and he walks out of the club.

  Margot walks over to Gian and I, and I give her a hug. “We have bad luck with hobbies, so I guess it probably wouldn’t be safe to put us near knitting needles or anything,” I say to her with a laugh.

  She laughs nervously.

  Gian is nice enough to smile tentatively.

  “I’m going to head home for the night. Breakfast tomorrow, Lucy?” Margot says with her own weak smile.

  “Definitely babe. Though I’m probably going to see Tommy tomorrow, so it'll be quick,” I tell her. That’s when the nurse on duty had said would be the first day that I could visit. I can’t wait to see Tommy, even though I know he’s been through hell. I want to see him and hug him and tell him that soon he’ll be on the other side of all of this.

  “Y
eah, sure thing,” Margot says and turns to leave.

  “Lucy, I have to tell you…” Gian starts.

  “Take me upstairs and fuck me, Gian,” I say, stepping up on my tiptoes and wrapping my arms around Gian’s neck. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to talk. I’m worried about Tommy and I just need to feel you inside me right now.”

  “Hard to argue with that,” Gian says, eyes hooded with lust, his finger gliding along my jawline.

  I need him so badly right now … I really don’t want to fight or talk about anything until I work out all the tension that built right back up inside of me with this incident.

  I grab his other hand and see that the blood on his knuckles isn’t his, and I wipe it off on the tank top I’m wearing.

  Something about this amuses Gian and we head for the elevator, time suspended from the tension at hand because we’re both thinking about how much we want to fuck.

  Gian

  “I want you inside me now, Gian,” Lucy says. Her eyes are pleading. Is this a distraction because of the argument? Is this because of the argument — Lucy doesn’t strike me as that type, but there are women who enjoy that sort of getting riled and getting defiled thing. Or can this be what I truly hope it is … that she wants me?

  Or worse of all, is she just saying this because Lucy is afraid of the consequences otherwise?

  I'm not a gentle man when I’m wronged. Embarrassed even. Sure, there are few that know Lucy is mine just yet. I have that reputation; perhaps everyone who thinks I fucked her also thinks I’m discarding her. I'm married after all.