On the ride to Red Fort, a local radio station plays classic hard rock. We don’t utter a single word as I stare out of the passenger side window, watching the scenery drift from green country to small-town America. Before I know it, we’re parking out front of an old, mint green two-story Victorian. There’s a fancy white sign in the yard that reads Dr. Shipley OB/GYN.
Wordlessly, we exit the vehicle, cross the sidewalk, amble up the bush lined path and the four steps to the grandiose double door entrance. There’s a plaque on the wall beside the silver house numbers that declares this property a historical home. Hmm. Am I the only one sort of wigged out by this? Who runs a doctor’s office that specializes in vaginas out of a Victorian manor? Seems odd. Dr. Davies is located in a small office building that he shares with three other lady part doctors. This is a horse of a different color.
Pausing on the porch, I soak in the exquisite wrap-around adorned with white rockers. There’s a pretty pregnant woman occupying the far one. We exchange friendly nods and smiles as Ryker enters the building without me. Asshole.
By the time I join him, he’s already seated in the waiting ro—parlor on a leather wingback, period style chair. Not at all what I’d imagine a doctor’s office should resemble. Where’s the sterile smell in the air? The six-month-old magazines on bland end tables? Aren’t pamphlets on motherhood mandatory in a place like this? The receptionist desk is just that—a true to form desk. Vintage, much like the rest of the period décor. There’s no magazines anywhere. No pamphlets. There’s quiet speakeasy jazz filtering out of some discrete speaker. The walls are a mauvy pink. The floor, original hardwood. There’s a pink, green, and cream colored floral rug in the center.
“Do I need to check in? Fill out any forms?” I whisper, taking the seat beside him.
“Already checked you in,” Ryker replies.
“No forms?”
“When I said you were taken care of, what do you think that entailed? Your medical records were faxed yesterday. She has all she needs to know. Nothing more. Nothing less. We like to keep it that way ‘round here.”
Can I get a … what the fuck? Do I even want to know how they were able to release my medical records without my signature? Probably not. The rest, I’m going to pretend he didn’t say or I’ll hyperventilate.
“Is this legal?”
I dunno what possesses me to blurt it, but this is small town Texas. And we are sitting in a house. Not a doctor’s office. The longer we stay here, the more this screams backwoods physician. The ones you hear horror stories about. Either that, or I’m overly paranoid and need to calm the hell down. I’m praying it’s the latter because I want to trust that this lady isn’t a quack. The least Sir I’m-Ignoring-You-Like-You-Don’t-Exist could do was prepare me for the shock of this place. It’s not every day you visit a medical practice this … um … unique.
Jerk Face puts me on ignore.
The click click click of heels on the floor, along with the sound of two hushed voices carry as the owners of those voices stroll through the house, deep in conversation. They stop by the door. The heavily pregnant woman with bouncing curls hugs the slight woman in heels, who wears a sincere smile. They exchange pleasantries like they’re best friends, and the black-haired, shoe lady sees out the departing guest.
Once the door comes to a gentle close, she turns toward us with an equally genuine smile. “Ryker,” the woman I presume is Dr. Shipley says, coming at him for a hug with open arms. Ryker unexpectedly unfolds from the chair to greet her. They hug long enough that it makes me uncomfortable. Then Dr. Shipley turns her attention to me, offering a well-manicured hand to shake. Apparently, no hugs are in order for the other woman. Ya know, us adulteresses don’t deserve love. We’re a shameful bunch. Nope. This isn’t weird at all…
“You must be Katrina. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dr. Shipley, or Megan, if you prefer,” she enunciates with southern belle charm.
Climbing out of the comfy chair to come face to face with the pretty, and quite young, doctor, I put on a smile and join her in the formal exchange of niceties. “The pleasure’s all mine,” I lie.
Having appeased Dr. Shipley, she hooks her arm through Ryker’s and leads the way down the hall. I follow like a good little dog, watching the chummy pair chat as if I’m invisible. Who wants to bet fifty bucks that he’s slept with her before? Hell. Let’s make it two hundred. If her perky tit rubs his arm any harder, she’ll burn a hole through his shirt. Why would anyone think this is professional? I should’ve ran far, far away the minute I set foot in this place. But, no, I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt. My gut was spot on, once again. She rarely steers me wrong.
Trailing them inside the doorway at the end of the hall, we enter a mint green exam room. At least this space resembles an OB/GYN office. There’s a table with stirrups, a portable sonogram machine, two visitor chairs, a sink, and cupboard.
Detaching from Ryker, the doctor washes her hands and slides on a lab coat that has her name stitched on the chest. She gestures toward the exam table and grabs a folder that she begins to flip through. I perch myself on the end, feet dangling.
“This is your third baby?” she asks, reading my file.
“Yes. Third and final.”
“Are you wanting a hospital birth?”
Does anyone really care where you have a baby as long as it’s healthy? I never have.
I shrug. “As long as she comes out safely, it matters little to me where she’s born. Why?”
Making eye contact, Dr. Shipley plucks a strand of black wavy hair off her forehead and tucks it behind her ear. “My practice offers a birthing center right here. Many of the families in town choose to forgo the hospital for a more relaxed birth under my medical supervision. We offer a variety of birthing options to suit patients’ needs. That’s why I was inquiring. It’s perfectly fine with me if you opt to use the hospital. But I wanted to present this as another viable option. I know we’ve just met, and building trust with any doctor is essential. So I want to assure you that my staff and I are happy to talk over whatever it is you need to make this transition into motherhood as smooth as possible.”
Now, this is how I expect a doctor to act. It’s as if her earlier snub no longer exists and I’m her sole focus. I love that she hasn’t addressed Ryker on this matter. Although, I would like to ask him if Vanessa is planning on birthing here. I’ve heard of centers like this before. They just don’t have one where I’m from, or I would’ve probably opted to have Rox and Scarlett there. Hospitals are great. But I love the idea of not feeling like I’m just a number to fill a quota. It’s too systematic and impersonal. You get less than twenty-four hours to recharge after birth before you’re shoved out the door so they can refill your bed. I can’t commit to anything yet, but I do fancy the idea of doing it my way with a doctor present to guide the process.
When I don’t respond in a timely manner, Dr. Shipley approaches the table with a measuring tape. “Don’t worry about it right now, Katrina. I know it’s a lot to mull over. So why don’t I examine you and we can talk about options afterward. How’s that sound?”
Nodding my agreement, I lie back and lift my shirt. She measures my belly to see if I’m on target, which I am. We discuss normal pregnancy woes, and she asks various questions. It’s a typical prenatal visit minus the vaginal exam that’ll take place at my next appointment in two weeks. You know you’re in your final stretch when the appointments get closer and closer together. Not much longer and I’ll be a mother for the third time. How exciting.
Examination complete, Dr. Shipley takes a seat on the rolling stool and folds her hands in her lap. “Do you two have any questions? Thoughts? Concerns?”
Her gaze sweeps from Ryker to me, then resettles firmly on Ryker. The doc’s eyelashes flutter, and she shifts in her chair, squeezing her slender thighs together. It’s no shocker to see women drool in his presence. This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered it, and it won’t be the last. I can vivid
ly remember what it’s like being on the arm of an attractive man when you don’t measure up. Being the average, curvy librarian with lots of junk in the trunk, women glare at you, dying to figure out how you, of all people, snared a hunk. They’d go as far as to brazenly flirt with me present. He never understood it. Most of the time didn’t realize. The man I knew as Brent truly only had eyes for me. That’s what made the constant scrutiny worth it. Though, he was younger then. I’d imagine, given his man-whore status, he’d be used to the come-ons at this point. The bold tattoos certainly add to his appeal. As you know, even I’m not immune to his thrall.
“Ryker?” Doc’s breathy words flutter like tiny butterflies.
Arching a brow, he rakes her attractive form from hair, to tits, to toes, and back again before settling on her face. It’s painful to watch, and way too personal. I should turn away, but can’t seem to make myself.
“Yeah, Doc?” Ryker replies, and she squirms, licking her rose-tinted lips.
“D-d-do you have any questions?” she asks half way to orgasm.
Christ almighty. I wonder if she acts this way when he comes with Vanessa. Bet she’s picturing all the times they’ve fucked and hoping that I’d leave so they could have a steamy repeat right here on this table. Too bad I ain’t leaving so she can fulfill her dirty fantasy. If he wants to dip his stick, he can do it on his own time. Not mine. This is getting out of hand.
Opening my mouth to tell them to kiss my ass, I snap it closed when Ryker’s eyes cut to me, and he smiles one of those rare belly dipping, make me wanna come smiles that are made just for me. It takes my breath away. “My love, you got anythin’ you wanna ask your doc? I think we should do the birthing suite here. I’ve seen ‘em before when I toured the place. They’ve got one with a big enough bed that I can hold you when you deliver our daughter. We didn’t get to do that with Roxie and Scarlett. It’d be nice to this time ‘round.”
Wait. Back the truck up. Hold me when I deliver our kid? My love? Wasn’t this douche checking my doctor out a minute ago? Now he wants to act all sweet and caring. Fuck that.
The doc’s small gasp distracts me from unloading on my ex. “The other two kids Katrina has are also yours?”
Ryker’s smile turns downright diabolical as he leans back in his chair and crosses those arms. “Fuck yeah they are,” he boasts with pride.
“I th-thought you and Vanessa were having a baby, and you stepped out on her.” Confusion steeps Doc’s words.
“Not that it’s any of your business. But I didn’t step out on Vanessa. I stepped out on Kat.” He lifts his chin proudly in my direction, and my goddamn traitorous heart flutters. “That woman you’ve been disrespecting is mine. Do you get what that means, Doc?”
Dr. Shipley’s stunned to silence, hands shaking. That’d make two of us. Holy shit.
He keeps on. “No? Let me spell it out for ya. Vanessa ain’t mine. I’m doin’ right by her because she’s carryin’ my kid after a one-night-stand. We got married ‘cause I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. That’ll be handled soon enough. But lovin’ my old lady ain’t gonna end. So I expect you to apologize to her right the fuck now for treatin’ her like trash and eye fucking me in her presence. I’ve allowed it in front of Vanessa. ‘Cause I don’t give a fuck if you eye the goods. But Kat does. And what makes her upset, makes me wanna commit murder. You don’t wanna be on my bad side, Megan. We might’ve gone to school together back in the day. You’re an attractive woman, but you damn well know my dick ain’t goin’ anywhere near your snatch.” For emphasis, Ryker grabs a handful of his junk. “This. Is. Katrina’s. Ya got me?”
Mouth agape, eyes buggy, Dr. Shipley nods. I’m not fairing much better.
“Good. Now play nice and apologize to my woman,” Ryker demands.
Turning robotically on her stool, Dr. Shipley faces me. There are unshed tears in her eyes. Damn. Ryker sure knows how to give a lashing. “I’m so so sorry.” Sincerity clings to her frazzled words, and I instantly forgive her for all her indiscretions. It’s not entirely her fault that she fell victim to Ryker’s hotness. It happens to the best of us. Plus, I feel horrible for her now. That scolding had to hurt. I know my heart’s walloping in my chest, and I wasn’t the one he was directing his venom at.
“You can do better than that,” Ryker admonishes.
Dr. Shipley trembles violently at his words as a lone tear drops out of the corner of her eye.
“It’s fine, Ryker.” I attempt to smooth over the situation. There’s no need for all this. She gets it.
“No. It’s really not. She knows her place. What town she lives in. Who runs it. And that you don’t ever disrespect a Sacred Sinner’s old lady. Get on your knees, Megan, and apologize properly.”
Dr. Shipley instantly follows his orders and drops to the floor. Unbelievable! “It’ll never happen again, Katrina. That was very unprofessional. Please forgive me.”
“It’s fine. You’re forgiven. Please get off the floor.” I wave her up, but she doesn’t budge. She glances at Ryker for permission. This is… I have no words.
Shaking his head, he stands from the chair. Stepping in front of her, Ryker kicks the step closed on the exam table and settles between my thighs. Big paws rub my belly as he meets my gaze. Part of me itches to slap him across the face for inserting himself here without permission, and for humiliating that poor woman. His ass is in her face right now, and she still hasn’t moved. I’ll be damned if anyone ever treats me that way and gets away with it. Where’s her sense of self-preservation? Her backbone? If I could, I’d offer her part of mine.
“I know that you’re not used to this, babe. But this is a Sacred Sinner’s town. Respect ain’t up for negotiation. You’re mine, and I take that seriously,” Ryker explains.
Rolling my eyes, I cock my head to the side and look him up and down. I dunno who he thinks he is, but you can catch a lot more bees with honey than vinegar. Respect shouldn’t be forced. It’s earned. And I sure as hell don’t approve of forcing a woman to get on her knees to prove a point. Why? To demean her? Some chicks probably drop their panties at the thought of some man going alpha asshole for them. Not me. Do I like that he stood up to her? Yeah. She was acting inappropriately. What I don’t care for is the knocking her not only down a peg, but an entire row. If someone did this to my kid, I’d cut off their balls.
“You take that I’m yours seriously?” I mock.
“You know I do.”
“Uh huh. I know we discussed we weren’t gonna bring the past into this. But where was this attitude three weeks ago? Or a month? A year? Two years? Three? Need I go on?”
Ryker palms the base of my neck and brings our foreheads together. “I told you, babe, I’m tryin’ to make up for lost time. Doin’ what I should’ve done.”
“Then you need to understand one thing.” Reaching between Ryker’s legs, I secure his balls in hand.
Sucking in a sharp breath, he jolts in surprise. “What’re you doin’?”
“Gettin’ my point across.” I squeeze, and Ryker grips the base of my neck harder, expelling a ragged breath.
“Fuck,” he rasps.
“Want it to hurt more?” I test.
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
Uh oh. This isn’t going as planned. His dick’s growing.
“No,” I fib. “I want you to realize that bein’ a full-on asshole isn’t gonna make me want you.” Any more than I already do. “What you did to my doctor was unnecessary. You got your point across. Now I’m gettin’ mine. Don’t be a prick, Ryker. Be a good guy. Someone our kids will respect and admire. It’s bad enough you and Kade have already ruined future boyfriends for them.”
“Why’s that?” Ryker playfully nudges my nose with his. Cue the feels. Damn him.
“Do you really think they’re gonna be cool with dating some regular Joe Schmo with an average body, who doesn’t ride a Harley? No. They’re not. All girls dig the bad boys. Only, most don’t have a family full of
them.”
“My girls aren’t ever dating. Let’s get that outta the way now. And people don’t disrespect you, Kat. I’m not gonna stand for it. So don’t expect me to apologize for puttin’ Megan in her place. She knows the score. If you were from ‘round here, you would, too. We protect this town in exchange for a little respect. You’ve never been comfortable with chicks eye fucking me in front of you—”
“That never stopped them before,” I interject.
“It is now. If I have any say in the matter.”
“You’re being ridiculous. You can’t admonish every woman who eyes you like a piece of candy she wants to suck.”
“Am I a piece of candy you wanna suck, Tiger?”
Ryker’s hot, minty breath fans over my lips as he rotates his hips, forcing my grip on his balls to disengage. Sensuously sliding his hand from my belly to ass, he grips me there and draws our pelvises together. A yummy hardness brushes my clit through my leggings, sparking a wave of pleasure that travels all the way to my toes, forcing them to flex inside my Chucks. I bite back a moan. Jesus. Why does my ex have to be so good in bed? Couldn’t he be an ugly two pump chump? This is so friggen frustrating. Sexually and otherwise.
Cutting him off at the pass before this gets out of control, I push his shoulders away using both hands. “No, Ryker. I don’t wanna suck you like a piece of candy or a toe, or anything else that people suck. Now give Dr. Shipley her dignity back. We need to leave. Our children will be home soon.”
Yeah me! My tone’s much stronger than I anticipated. If only my vag wasn’t flipping me the bird right now. I’ll be lucky if she forgives me anytime soon. She’s tired of going solo, and so am I. Carpel tunnel’s no laughing matter. If Ryker wasn’t an evil bastard, he’d have a removable shower head in his cabin so I could give my poor fingers a break. The other bathroom doesn’t have a removable one either. Trust me, I checked. Ya know, desperate times call for desperate measures, and once you get a cramp in your wrist, you’ll consider almost anything else to bring you to climax when you’re horny. Don’t worry, I didn’t use a cucumber or hump my pillow. Not that I’m judging you if you use those. Go on with your climaxy self. Ya gotta do, what ya gotta do.
HOPE TRILOGY: Sacred Sinners- Texas Chapter Page 39
