Doctor Daddy

by Nicole Casey

  “Would you like to talk about your mother, Abby? It’s OK if you want to,” I tried to coach, without pushing.

  “Me and mommy went to the park on Tuesdays,” she said in between sniffles, and then she was silent as if that was the end of the conversation.

  “And what else, sweetheart?”

  “Mommy was really busy. Mrs. Chester took care of me most of the time. But she was old, and she smelled like cheese. Mommy didn’t smell like cheese.”

  I tried to ignore the fist that seemed to clench around my heart. Sadly, what Abby was saying helped to explain why she hadn’t appeared as traumatized by the loss of her mother as other children might seem. It sounded like the woman had spent little time with her daughter. And that made my heart ache doubly so for the child who had lost someone who should have been so prominent in her life…but wasn’t.

  “My mommy smelled like lilacs,” I told her, smiling at the memory.

  “Did your mommy die, too?” she asked.

  “Yes. She died last year. I was away at college when she died so I hadn’t seen her very much, but I was very sad. Even when we don’t get to see our mommies much, it’s still sad when they’re gone, isn’t it?”

  She sniffled and nodded, and then crawled out from beneath the slide and plopped down in my lap. I heard Ryan’s footsteps approach from behind seconds later, but he stopped a few feet away. I looked up at him and smiled, trying to let him know the crisis was over—at least for the moment.

  5

  Emma

  The rest of the day passed without a hitch. Abby seemed to recover quickly, and before long she was back to her rambunctious and happy self.

  It took a little longer for Ryan to recover from the ordeal, but that wasn’t surprising since this was all new to him. But by the time we returned to his car and he’d buckled Abby into her seat, I could feel the heat in his gaze when he turned back to me. I was so distracted by the sudden change that I wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next.

  “How did you know how to handle that?” he asked. It wasn’t suspicion in his tone, precisely, but I could tell by whatever it was that he knew there was a story behind it.

  And this is what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? So, before I could get caught up in his piercing gaze, I blurted it out fast, “Ryan, I need to talk to you about something. It’s important, but I think we should wait until Abby’s in bed tonight.” There, I’d said it. Well, I’d said enough to commit myself to the conversation I should have had two days ago, and that would have to do for now.

  He was silent for a moment, assessing me with eyes that seemed like they could see right inside my head. But then he nodded and opened the car door for me.

  Unfortunately, since it was only nine in the morning by the time we’d finished with the park, I still had the entire day to keep playing the upcoming conversation in my head over and over again. I kept trying to figure out how he’d respond…what he’d say. In the end, though, it came back to one simple truth: it had been a little misunderstanding. How angry could he possibly be? And if I was wrong, and he was going to be angry about it, it was better that he decided to throw me out now. It would be worse later if Abby grew more attached to me. She would be the one to pay the price then.

  But as I stood outside his office door, the task seemed substantially more daunting than it had during the umpteen times I’d reasoned and rationalized the little white lie. Of course, the task seemed more daunting at the moment primarily because of what had happened between us the night before. I was worried that I’d take one look at him and everything else would fall away, that the only thing I’d be able to think about was his mouth and his hands, and the way his lips had felt on my body.

  I was stalling. I knew it. I’d been standing outside his door for nearly five minutes. Eventually, he was going to open the door, and I was either going to look like a fool or an eavesdropper.

  So, mustering every bit of self-control in my possession, I knocked on the door, ignoring the way my hand was trembling, and I pushed it open when I heard his voice on the other side.

  He was sitting at his desk and his eyes grazed over me from head to toe in a slow sweep. His gaze seemed to burn hotter with every inch, and if I hadn’t been trying desperately to avoid a repeat of the night before, I would have smiled to myself, relishing the ego boost.

  He’d stood up without saying a word and came around the desk. It seemed increasingly difficult to find my voice the closer he came.

  He didn’t stop until he was right in front of me, and even then, he didn’t pause for more than a second. And then his arms were around my waist, pulling me hard against his body. I opened my mouth to protest but no words came out. I knew this was a bad idea, but just like last night, I didn’t want to resist.

  He swooped down then and captured my lips beneath his, surprising me with the ferocity of his kiss, even more, potent than it had been the night before. His tongue delved into my mouth, gliding against my own and I couldn’t help but abandon all rational thought. I moaned quietly at the sensation his kiss had sent coursing through my body, and I wrapped my hands behind his neck, once again twining my fingers in the short hair there.

  No more debate. No more backing down. I wanted this. I wanted Ryan Cade and he was right here for the taking.

  I tried not to focus on what I was doing, letting my hands wander at will rather than trying to figure out what they should be doing. But just like last night, his hands seemed to know exactly what they were doing, grazing down my back and up again before coming round to slip between us. He cupped my breasts in his hands, squeezing more firmly than he had the night before, but it felt just as good. In fact, it felt even better.

  My hands were kneading the firm muscle of his back when he stopped suddenly, and I couldn’t help but wonder briefly if I’d done something wrong.

  “I want you naked, Emma,” he said then, dispelling my worry, but what he wanted registered seconds later.

  I tamped down the nerves that fluttered through my stomach as he grabbed the hem of my dress and yanked it off over my head. I was naked except for a skimpy bra and thong set, more naked than I’d ever been in front of a man.

  He stared at my body for a moment, his eyes grazing over every inch and leaving a tingling trail in its wake, but he seemed restless, impatient.

  Before I knew what he was doing, his hands were back and he tore off my bra in one, swift movement. The lacy fabric fell to the floor in a now-useless little heap.

  He leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth and I couldn’t stifle the small cry of pleasure that escaped my lips. He sucked harder, and the sensations seemed to ripple straight down between my thighs. And then harder, and the exquisite mix of pleasure and discomfort threatened to drive me insane.

  I grabbed for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. He released my nipple just long enough to let me tug the shirt upward and off. I ran my hands over the flesh I’d exposed, grazing over the hard planes of his chest.

  He stood up straight and his lips covered mine once again, and I felt a swift tug on my hips as he tore off my thong. I was naked. I’d only walked into his office minutes ago, and already I was completely naked, half my clothes in shambles on the floor, and I wanted more.

  I’d always imagined my first time would be slow, maybe even gentle. I’d never in my wildest dreams imagined this passionate frenzy. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

  I pressed my breasts against his bare chest, relishing the feel of his skin against mine, but he grabbed my hips then and pulled me hard against him. I froze, stifling a gasp. I could feel the hard length of him through his pants and he was…massive.

  He chuckled against my lips. “You’re good for a man’s ego,” he whispered. And then he took a small step back, just enough it seemed to reach between us. I would have wondered what he was doing, but I didn’t have to. His fingers found my clit, and then he slipped lower, parting my lips and sliding along my slit.

  “God damn
it, Emma, you’re soaking wet,” he said and a thrill shot through me at the heavy desire in his voice.

  And then he was lifting me off the ground like I weighed no more than a grocery bag of feathers, and he spun around and laid me down on the edge of his desk, swiping off everything on its surface behind me.

  He unzipped his fly and his cock sprung free, and I tried to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. It was…well, it made my mouth water and my pussy ache at the same time just looking at him. I watched, fascinated, as he sheathed himself in a condom faster than I could have gotten the damn package open, and then he was pushing my thighs apart and stepping between them, pausing for only a brief moment to look down at me.

  His eyes were focused on my pussy, and I felt more exposed than I’d ever been in my life. But I didn’t want him to stop looking; instead, his eyes on me sent my own arousal rocketing even higher.

  But he did stop because he stepped closer, and I felt the tip of his cock press against my slit. I expected him to pause, or to enter me slowly, but it was a foolish expectation. Without warning, he plunged forward in one, hard thrust. I cried out as he tore right through the thin membrane inside me, gripping the edges of the desk in response to the pain and the sensation of being filled beyond capacity.

  He froze, a panic-stricken look on his face, but just as I felt him start to withdraw, I wrapped my legs around his hips to hold him there. I didn’t want him to stop. Every second now, the pain eased more and my body began to relax around him. I pulled him closer with my legs and tilted my hips up to meet him, and the panic and indecision on his face faded as he groaned and thrust inside me again.

  I could tell by the way his muscles trembled he was trying to exercise restraint, but the way his body was thrusting hard and fast, I knew he wasn’t succeeding. I liked it though, more than I ever would have guessed, and quickly the pressure began to build. It drove me higher and higher with every thrust. And while I’d thought he’d been doing a poor job of exercising restraint, I realized quickly I’d been wrong when his pace increased and he thrust into the hilt over and over again. He leaned forward and cupped my tits, squeezing them and rolling my nipples between his fingers.

  My breathless cries grew louder as he drove me higher, but eventually, there was no higher to go. I teetered on the edge; just a little bit longer…

  He leaned back up and rubbed my clit, fast and firm. The world ceased to spin and my entire body splintered into a kaleidoscope of rapturous pleasure.

  Ryan continued to thrust, once…twice…and then his hips jolted forward and he drove in deeper than I thought possible, stilling as he gripped my hips to hold me tight to him.

  I came back down from cloud nine quickly as he withdrew from my body. Something was wrong—aside from the fact I’d just done the very thing I’d sworn I wasn’t going to do. He reached for his jeans, tossed on the floor by the desk, and slipped them on. And then his shirt. He didn’t look up at me, and he was very quiet. While I didn’t have any more practice with the after-sex conventions than I did with the sex itself, something wasn’t right here. I suddenly felt more awkward than I ever had in my life, and I got up and grabbed for my dress as quickly as I could.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked after he’d buttoned his shirt in silence.

  Of all the after-sex conversation I had envisioned, that wasn’t it. If I was being honest, I’d have to admit that a small part of me had worried that his interest would plummet if I’d told him I was an inexperienced virgin. But he didn’t sound disinterested, he sounded unhappy.

  “It wasn’t like I came here planning to…to…” I couldn’t quite finish the sentence. “And besides, I…I didn’t think it would matter,” I said defensively.

  “You thought it wouldn’t matter?” he said, his tone kind of icy.

  “Yes, that’s what I thought,” I said, my embarrassment making me even edgier. “What difference did it make to you? It wasn’t your virginity you were losing? Was it that terrible being with someone so…inexperienced?”

  He just stared at me and I could see the muscles of his jaw twitching as if he was clenching very hard.

  Ouch—that hurt. Apparently yes, it had been that terrible. “My apologies then, for subjecting you to such an unfavorable experience.”

  My cheeks were flaming red, and I wished like hell I could erase the past hour. But since I couldn’t, all I could do was get out of there as fast as possible. I made a beeline for the door with my chin raised high, doing my damnedest to keep my crumbling dignity intact.

  Back in my room, I sagged against the door. I had never been so humiliated in my life. I should have kept my damn secret to myself and stayed as far away as I could from Ryan Cade. I’d known better! I felt like crying, but I flopped back on the bed and gritted my teeth instead. I wouldn’t let it happen. There was no way in hell I was going to cry. A McKenna never cries, never shows weakness. I was not going to be the first McKenna to break that rule, and I certainly wasn’t going to break it over an embarrassing mistake, no matter how much I wished I could undo it.

  The worst part of the whole mess, I realized as I laid there blocking out images of Ryan naked and towering over me, as I’d thought it had been incredible. I’d always imagined sex would feel good—there had to be a good reason for all the hype surrounding it—but I’d never imagined it could be like…that.

  Damn it! I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to forget it ever happened. I didn’t want to remember what his hands and lips had felt like on my body. And I desperately wished I could ignore the vague ache in my nether regions from the way he’d thrust deep inside me. But as I continued to lay there, willing sleep to pull me under, I remembered every second of it. His hands…his mouth…his cock…

  Damn it!

  6

  Ryan

  Well, I certainly hadn’t handled that very well. Hell, I’m not sure I’d ever handled anything more poorly.

  I was angry, yes, but I wasn’t angry with Emma. Finding out she was still a virgin had reinforced just how young she was, and how I had no business being with her…and how fucking her had absolutely, unequivocally, without a doubt been the most erotic sex I’d ever had. Knowing she’d never been fucked before, that I’d been the first to fill her…hell, I was getting hard again just thinking about it.

  But now what was I supposed to do? Fire her? Again, my conscience had qualms with that after having lured her away from another job. All right, so what were my options?

  I could apologize—it seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. But thinking about going to her room now to tell her I was sorry for the way I’d reacted seemed like a bad idea. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d still be dressed. Or was she lying naked in bed? Would her body still be aching from what I’d done?

  I hadn’t had the faintest idea she was a virgin—the possibility hadn’t once crossed my mind—so I hadn’t exactly been gentle with her. And while I didn’t like that I might have hurt her, the idea that her body would be reminding her incessantly that I’d been deep in her pussy excited me more than I cared to admit. So much, that I almost did it; I almost strode out of the office and down the hall to her room. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Clinging to what shreds of self-restraint I had left, I stayed where I was. She probably really was still sore, and even if she didn’t tell me to go to hell—which she probably would—I’d be an even bigger ass if I pushed her for another round tonight. But damn, I wanted back in that pussy.

  Unfortunately, her physical discomfort wasn’t the only reason I had to stay away. I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that virgins were dangerous territory, that they were far more likely to form emotional attachments—attachments that I had no place for in my life. It was the number one reason a guy like me avoided virgins like the plague. Emma was supposed to have been a good fuck, and nothing more. And she’d certainly been that. I had no doubt I’d never forget it, but it was best just to move on.

  And I figured Emma h
erself would make it easier to do that. After the way I’d reacted, it was fairly safe to say that if I just left it alone, there was no way she’d be hoping for what happened to develop into anything more. Hell, she might just slam the door in my face if I showed outside her room now.

  The thought bolstered my resolve, and I left the office, stealing one last glance back at the desk where I’d had her sprawled out just moments before. My step faltered as I passed by her room, but despite the hard-on that demanded otherwise, I kept going.

  It wasn’t until I’d made it to my bedroom and closed the door that I realized that I hadn’t exactly come up with a game plan. Given what I now knew, I should never have had sex with Emma, but since I couldn’t erase it—and I wasn’t sure I’d want to erase that memory even if I could—I needed to figure out where we went from here.

  I couldn’t fire her—not only would that make me a grade A prick, but I was pretty certain it wasn’t legal to fire an employee because I couldn’t keep my hands off her and discovered too late she should have been off-limits.

  So, it seemed the only option left was to act like nothing had happened. I wasn’t generally fond of shying away from reality, but what choice did I have? It was the most logical route to avoiding further entanglements.

  I laid down on my bed, still trying desperately to ignore the raging hard-on that was demanding attention. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to sleep like this, so I gave up right away, striding across the large room to the ensuite shower on the other side.

  A cold shower less than fifteen minutes after sex! If there had been any doubt in my mind, that confirmed it—Emma was dangerous territory.

  I awoke the next morning after a broken night of sleep to the smell of pancakes wafting through the air. It was a pleasantly sweet smell when it wasn’t overwhelmed by the scent of burnt dough and the sting of smoke. I didn’t have to wonder where the aroma had come from; she’d been on my mind the whole night and had followed me out of sleep. No wonder the dream I’d awoken from had Emma bent over the kitchen counter, while I slid my tongue up her thigh to her sweet slit. She might have tasted like pancakes in my dream, but I could still remember the taste of her on my tongue from last night, and that was a thousand times more intoxicating than pancakes.