The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood Book 1)

by Nikki Sloane

  I was excited, but also nervous. Would I be able to give him as much pleasure as he had given me? I squeezed, stroking up and down, and satisfaction burned on his handsome face. I didn’t get more than a few pumps before he attacked my shorts, wrenching them down my legs.

  He stepped out of his jeans as he lifted me up, seating me on the edge of the high bed, and my shorts were a puddle left on the floor.

  The tension between us grew infinitely greater and more serious. We were both down to just our underwear. My heart threatened to beat out of my chest, but I didn’t care. All I needed was his mouth fused to me, his bare skin touching mine.

  With a light shove, he pushed me down on my back, and the comforter felt cool against my heated skin. He stepped between my legs and followed me down, trailing kisses over my throat and down between my breasts. All while he ground his lower body against mine, and sparks of pleasure roared from the contact.

  Desire hazed the room.

  It took control of me and sent my hands roaming over his skin. His back was strong, and I loved skimming the muscles and the hollow of his spine. He was so fucking powerful. So different from anything I’d had.

  It seemed like Greg wasn’t sure what to do next. Not that he was hesitant, but more like he wanted to do everything all at once. He glided the length of his erection over the damp crotch of my panties, and I arched, bucking up into him.

  He straightened, smoothing his hands down my curves until they came to a stop on the sides of my panties. His gaze traveled the length of my body, lingering on my exposed breasts before settling back on my eyes. The connection between us was sharp and taut.

  “Stop me,” he said, making it clear this was my last chance.

  I bit down on my bottom lip and gave the tiniest shake of my head.

  “Fuck.” He whispered it as he began to drag the panties down and nuzzled his face into the cradle of my lap.

  “Oh my God.” I gripped his broad shoulders. His lips followed the descent of my underwear, kissing each new spot of my flesh he revealed.

  I was going to explode. Burst into a million pieces and flutter to the ground like burnt confetti. His mouth inched along the top of my slit, and something like panic gurgled in my system. I wasn’t supposed to do this, but dear God, how I craved the slippery slide of his tongue, desperate for him to go lower.

  I moaned and bowed off the bed as I got my wish. The tip of his tongue brushed over me. Cautious. Curious. My reaction must have left no doubt in his mind what I wanted, because his second pass wasn’t hesitant. The full sensation of his tongue against my clit tore a gasp from my lungs.

  He looked amazing as he hunched over me and delivered his wicked, intimate kiss. Pleasure was so sharp and overwhelming, it made me unable to do anything but stay there and take it. It had never felt like this before. Was this how it was supposed to be?

  Preston had been the only guy to go down on me. He’d done it a few times, usually when I wasn’t turned on enough to have sex, and although he’d never said it, his attitude always left me feeling like he was doing me a big favor. So, really neither of us liked it all that much.

  Greg didn’t act like what he was doing was a favor. I kneaded his shoulders as I shook and watched him through my barely-open eyes. His were closed, but his expression made it seem he was enjoying it almost as much as I was.

  His tongue was so soft. It caressed and stroked, sending my heart rate into overdrive. I grew lightheaded from how hard I was breathing and the waves of heat that traveled up my body. Pinpricks of bliss crept over my skin.

  A low, deep groan came from him. A bolt of white-hot pleasure seized me as his lips closed and sucked. My hands flew from him to go to my sides, and my fists tightened until my nails dug into my palms. The stroke of his tongue was insanity. He used his lips, his tongue, and even his teeth—just a faint hint—to tease, and torment, and please.

  I swallowed huge gulps of air, struggling to keep up with him. His tongue lashed at my clit, and he made every muscle in me shake. I was going to rattle apart. The sight of his mouth working over me was so sexy, I moaned.

  “The noises you make,” he whispered, “they’re driving me crazy.”

  His statement earned him another whimper.

  Heat crawled over my skin as I grew closer to satisfaction. His fluttering tongue was building me into a frenzy. I threaded my hands through my hair and shut my eyes tight, squeezing back the urge to let go. If I did, I worried I’d be loud.

  My challenge increased dramatically when his mouth paused, and he stirred two fingertips over my clit. I opened my eyes and peered at him, which was a huge mistake. His raw, hungry expression made another moan fall from my lips.

  The fingertips drifted down, and one began to press inside me. My mouth rounded into a silent “oh” as he slid deeper. Just one thick finger intruding, but my body threatened to break apart.

  I clutched at the comforter beneath my body—like having a physical handle on something would help. The sensation was too intense. I wanted to control it, but I’d have better luck holding back the waves of the ocean. He had his mouth on me, and part of him was inside my body.

  Claiming me. It made me want more. I shouldn’t, but I wanted all of him.

  This thought was my undoing.

  “Shit,” I groaned, locking up as the orgasm surged. Heat flooded through my veins, searing my nerves. I fell into a million pieces while pleasure roared up and down my body, leaving me cold and flushed as it subsided.

  I blinked my sluggish eyes, staring up at the ceiling as the blood swooshing in my ears began to slow. My mouth was no longer attached to my brain, and the words stumbled out of me.

  “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

  Embarrassment screwed my eyes shut tight. Why the hell had I just said that out loud? There wasn’t anywhere to hide, but with my eyes closed, I could pretend he wasn’t staring at me.

  He leaned over, and his kiss began at my collarbone, skimming up. Our mouths fused, and when our lips and chests were pressed tight together, there wasn’t room to feel anything else but him.

  I hooked my legs around his waist, locking my ankles together behind his back, and sank deeper into our kiss. It was full of fire.

  “Do you want to stop?” His voice was strained with need. “Because I want something I shouldn’t.” Our foreheads pressed together. “It’s all I want whenever you’re around.”

  My mouth fell open on an audible gasp. How was I supposed to react to that? It made my already racing pulse leap faster. All I could see were his dark, gorgeous eyes.

  A warning sliced through my mind, sharp and white-hot, but I shoved it aside. I’d always done the right thing. I’d been the selfless one in the relationship with Preston. For once, I was going to do what I wanted, and what I wanted was Greg.

  “I was thinking about the same thing when I just . . .”

  His eyes went heavy. “When you came?”

  We were too close for him to see it, but with our foreheads together, he had to feel my subtle nod. It sounded like I punched air from his lungs.

  It set him into motion. The tip of his tongue skimmed down the slope of my breast, keeping contact even as my chest rose and fell with my deep swallows of breath. I was a live wire beneath him, and I swiveled my hips, rubbing my arousal against his. Our groans came out in the same pitch, low and soaked with desire.

  “Cassidy.” He whispered it at the base of my neck. “I want to feel you all around me, even if it’s just for a few seconds. Is that okay?”

  Oh, God. The muscles deep in my belly clenched in response, so tight it was almost painful. Lust wrung the word from my lips. “Yes.”

  He took the heat of his body away as he straightened, leaned over to the side, and tugged open a drawer on the nightstand. Were his hands shaking? No, I had to have imagined it. He dealt with life and death situations every day on his operating table and had a steady hand there. There was no way fooling around with me could affect him like that
.

  I lifted my head to gaze at him as he pushed down his underwear, and I pressed my lips together to stifle the whimper. His dick was long and thick, so hard it had a slight upward curve to it. I stared while he tore open the condom, and as he rolled it on, tension tightened in me until I was one compact cord, too twisted to move.

  His eyes were hungry and full of longing.

  “Have you thought about this?” I asked abruptly. No idea where the question came from.

  He slowed. His expression clouded with hesitation, or maybe shame, and then disappeared.

  “All the time.” His measured gaze worked along the length of my bare body, lingering over my nakedness. I felt flushed and breathless. “Jesus, Cassidy,” he continued. “After that day I saw you and Preston on the lounge chair . . . I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  I closed my eyes as my heart skipped. His admission seared into my center, and desire reached fever pitch.

  He pressed the fingertips of one hand to my clit, shooting sparks of pleasure down my quivering legs, and used his other hand to stroke himself. His hooded gaze traveled to where he was touching me, and he looked mesmerized.

  “What about you?” His tone was tight. Desperate to know, but trying to hide it. His fingers teased my most sensitive spot, causing me to gasp and squirm. “Did you think about this?”

  I gripped the comforter at my sides and nodded vigorously. It was hard to say it out loud, and what he was doing made it impossible to speak, anyway. Need choked in my throat as a soft, sticky lump.

  His expression was relief at first, pleased he wasn’t the only one between us who had these wrong fantasies. His face then heated with pleasure, and a finger speared into me as a reward.

  “Tell me,” he pleaded. “Tell me what you thought about.”

  I bowed my back, clenching at his invasion and loving it at the same time. How was I supposed to tell him? How was I going to think about anything but the way his finger pulsed in and out, stretching and preparing me?

  I threaded my hands through my hair and shut my eyes tightly. “This,” I breathed. “Every night since we kissed.” A second finger joined the first and I moaned, clenching fistfuls of my hair. “Oh, God, every night.”

  His sigh was heavy. “Did you touch yourself?”

  “Yes.” I moved my hips to match his lazy tempo.

  His expression was indescribable. If I’d had to label it, I’d have said he looked fucking thrilled. “Did you get off thinking about me?”

  My desperation burned away any shame. I was suddenly eager to say it, hissing it out. “Yes.”

  He had me writhing on his bed, my toes curled around the edge of the bed frame. His powerful body stood between my bent knees, his fingers fucking me exactly how I’d spent the last nine days fantasizing he would.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he whispered, yet it sounded like he was thinking out loud. Saying it more to himself than to me. “No fucking clue how much I want this, even when I shouldn’t.” His fingers pumped deeper and faster. “But you want it too?”

  “Yes.” I was losing my grip on any sense of consequence.

  His fingers retreated, and he slicked them over his cock, wetting it with my own arousal. It was erotic watching his beautiful hand work himself over. And then he slid his forearms under me, his hands on my thighs, and jerked me closer to the edge of the bed.

  My heart stopped, but when the hard tip of him brushed against me, it restarted in overdrive. I hooked my quivering legs around his warm hips. He leaned over, setting a hand on the mattress beside my head as he steadied himself with his other.

  “I’m not supposed to,” he murmured, delivering a brutal kiss. “Just for a second. Just so I know what it would feel like with you.”

  He was right at my entrance and began to push, easing inside. I locked my legs around him so tightly, his hipbones dug into the insides of my thighs. Greg’s eyes were as dark as coffee, and the color deepened as he advanced. He watched intently, studying every breath I swallowed as he claimed me.

  Oh, shit, the uncomfortable stretch felt good. A delicious shiver tore through my body. I reached up a hand to cup the side of his face and held on to him, even as my lips rounded into a silent moan.

  “Fuck,” he uttered so quietly, it was a ghost of a word.

  His slow push kept going. Deeper, wider, harder. I whimpered as it felt even better and more uncomfortable. I’d only been with one other person before, and even though Greg had done his best to prepare me, it still was a tight fit.

  I’d never felt so full.

  But it wasn’t the only new experience. Being with Preston had been lonely. During sex, we’d been two people playing roles, him only there for himself. My enjoyment wasn’t a priority—only a bonus to him. I’d felt disconnected all the times we were the most physically connected.

  But Greg was present in this moment with me.

  Right as I reached the edge of him being too much to take inside, his body was snug against mine, and another tremor rippled along my muscles. He was buried deep, possessing me, and it felt amazing. Not only physically, either.

  But just as soon as he’d given it to me, he began to take it away. His hips drew back, easing out and pulling the sensations with him, leaving me feeling empty. No, my mind and body screamed together. I clutched at the landscape of his chest, trying to get him to stay.

  He pulled out completely, and panic swept me away like a rogue wave. “Again,” I gasped.

  The single word wracked his body with a visible shudder. He repeated my command, tinged with hope. “Again?”

  “Oh, shit, Greg,” I whined. “Again.”

  EIGHT

  UPON HEARING HIS NAME FROM MY LIPS, Greg’s face softened. He lowered until our lips touched and moved his mouth against mine, wanting that connection while he gave me the other I’d demanded.

  “Oh,” I moaned into his mouth as his hips flexed into me.

  The first slide into my body had been amazing, but this second one put it to shame. Satisfaction fired all along my system, lighting me up with fireworks. He pulled his mouth away from mine, dragging it across my cheek, and groaned into the shell of my ear. The sound was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

  His withdraw started sooner this time, and the same panic took over. He was still inside me when I cried out, “Again.”

  He grunted like I was killing him, but he loved it. “I shouldn’t.” It was a hollow statement, because he pushed inside me, and quicker this time too. “We shouldn’t.” His uneven breath fell in the crook of my neck as his body continued to move. “Doing this is wrong—”

  I grasped his shoulders, like I could keep him right there. “It feels too good to be wrong.”

  Which should have proved that sleeping with him was, in fact, very wrong. Usually, the enjoyable things were bad. Like chocolate cake and buying expensive shoes you didn’t need.

  My confession drilled into him and flipped a switch. The muscles on his back tensed before he shifted, rising enough so he could stare down at me. His eyes were full of primal need. It was then he actually began to fuck me.

  His first full thrust stole my breath. The second was hard enough it made my breasts bounce and drew his attention. He clamped his hands on them, holding firmly as he drove into me, his thumbs brushing over my peaked nipples.

  I arched off the mattress, pushing myself into his hands, wriggling against his hips beating against mine. Gone was the unsure girl I’d been before. Beneath Greg, the sexual woman I’d always wanted to be came alive.

  He looked stunning as the fading light from outside played across his chest, his expression intense and focused. I didn’t bother holding back the whimpers and sounds of enjoyment, and he didn’t either. He grunted and sighed as he rutted into me, both taking and giving pleasure.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he uttered between hurried breaths. His gaze wandered appreciatively over my breasts and moved up to settle on my lips. “You’re so fucking you
ng and gorgeous.”

  The caress of his hands was madness. Fire licked at me with his touch, sensitizing my skin. And as his pace increased, so did the feeling of another orgasm. Was it possible? I’d never come from sex before, but Greg was obviously experienced. He’d mastered my body more in one short afternoon than Preston had done in three years.

  He shifted so he was standing upright, locked a hand on each of my hips, and drove into me. The new angle threatened to make my eyes roll back in my head, and I gasped with satisfaction.

  His lips turned up at the corner in an impish smile, and I could read the question reflected in his eyes. “That’s the spot, huh?”

  Moans drifted from me, too loud to contain, and the smile on his face faded somewhat. I was loud. Too loud. If someone decided to come up from the basement, they might hear us. He slowed his tempo, but I was greedy and frantic.

  “I can be quiet,” I said, “but, please don’t stop.”

  He looked conflicted. “I love the little sounds you make, but—”

  Only I wasn’t making little sounds right now. He coursed a hand slowly up over the curve of my arm, along my shoulder, and up to cup the side of my face. It was sweet and sensual, and I turned into it, pressing my lips against the center of his palm in a kiss.

  I’d done it without thought, but it sent an unintended signal to Greg. His hand molded to my face, covering my mouth. When he resumed his driving rhythm, I didn’t mind the hand one bit. If anything, it only turned me on more.

  “You want to know the first time I thought about you like this?” he asked quietly. His dick plunged and retreated endlessly, hitting a spot that made the rest of the world fade away. “When he took you to prom. The green dress you wore . . . You looked ten years older. After you left, I thought about all sorts of things. Bad things.”

  Pressure was building, bubbling under a lid, and dangerously close to release. I wanted to ask him about these thoughts, but his hand was over my lips, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find my voice, either. My expression must have made it clear, because he kept going.