Doctor Next Door

by Rush, Olivia

  “Good,” Kathy said. “Very good. At least some of the people in this town know what it means to obey the rules.” She took Ty from me and gave him a pat on the head, but the puppy didn’t seem as enthusiastic about being held by her. “You can come through to the office and fill out a form, and we’ll arrange a time to come see your home. It all really hinges on hours you keep,” she said and sniffed. “If you’re away at work a lot, for instance.”

  “I’m currently out of work,” I put in, “but I’m planning on getting a job in the food industry. A local diner or restaurant. I’ve got some interviews coming up this week.” Ones I was nervous for, even though I was more than qualified for them.

  My therapist had prepared me for being back in a professional kitchen, but what if I had another episode? What if it all came rushing back and I was paralyzed again, standing there, staring. What if—?

  “Rebecca?” Mason’s voice cut through all of the fear.

  “Hey, sorry. Yes, I’ll come fill out the form,” I said.

  Twenty minutes later we were back in Mason’s truck and driving toward the house. We were silent, the heat growing between us all over again, but it was a different kind this time.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

  “What?” He didn’t take his eyes off the road. It was afternoon, now, and the sun had just reached its zenith in the sky.

  “Stick up for me with Kathy,” I replied. “I’m good, Mason. I get you’re trying to be neighborly, but you don’t need to take it that far.”

  “That’s what you think?” He grunted a laugh, and it was bitter. “I’m not trying to be neighborly.”

  “Oh yeah?” I turned toward him in the front cab, tugging on my seatbelt to give myself leverage. “Then what are you trying to do? Because I don’t get it.”

  “Forget it,” he said and pulled up outside my house. The sun beat down on the black hood of the truck, and I looked up at the house—the thick front door, his ladder tucked against the wooden side panels of the home, the columns that held vague memories from my childhood.

  “Fine,” I said. “I will forget it. And look, I appreciate everything, I’ve told you that, but I think it would be better if I just handled all of this myself from now on.”

  “You think I’m too intrusive,” he said.

  I didn’t reply but did meet his gaze. Green eyes, deep as the friggin’ ocean. Oh man, what fresh hell was this? Why was my heart going crazy for some guy I barely knew? He was hot, but I could easily take care of all my…urges by myself. It couldn’t just be that.

  There was something more there.

  Something in the way he looked at me. Like he knew me, like he saw me, when we’d barely talked about anything.

  “You think I’m intrusive,” he repeated. It wasn’t a question, but he seemed to expect an answer.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said. “I don’t know. It’s weird. There’s something—shoot, I—never mind. It’s fine. I have interviews all week, I have a house to deal with. I’m sure you have stuff to deal with too, not that you’ve told me anything about it. Not that you have to. I just need to—I don’t know.”

  “You’re babbling.” He didn’t grin, yet mirth twisted his tone.

  “I have plans. I have goals. I have a past to move on from. I don’t have time to mess around or worry about… I don’t have time to be thinking about some guy I barely know—”

  “You think about me,” he said and unhooked his seatbelt. The air conditioning was still on, pumping the cab full of cool air, but I blushed hot from head to toe.

  Great. Me and my big mouth.

  “How much do you think about me?” Mason asked. “It’s been two days since we met. How much?”

  “Whatever,” I replied. “You were the one who was hard as rock that first day. When we fell on the ground? I know you felt what I felt.”

  “How much, Becca?”

  I lost my breath. Shook my head. Ridiculous. I placed my hand on the door handle.

  “Don’t you fucking move,” Mason growled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t you fucking move,” he repeated. “You won’t tell me how much you’ve thought about me, fine, but you’ll hear what I have to say.”

  “And what’s that?” I lifted my head, feigning defiance. I’d been through worse than a hot stare from a man who looked like Chris Hemsworth’s and Adonis’s lovechild.

  “I want you,” he growled. “I’ve been thinking about it since you fell into my arms for the first time. And I’ll be damned if I let you leave this truck without knowing it.”

  “Y-you want me,” I said and silently cursed that stammer. “How bad?”

  Mason reached over and unclipped my seatbelt. He took my hand and shifted it to the front of his jeans, placed it against the thick shaft pressing against the fabric. So fat, so thick. I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

  “Does that answer your question?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you have any more questions?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 6

  Mason

  We walked up the path to her front door side by side, in silence.

  I waited for her to mount the porch steps, torturing myself with a vision of her ass in that skirt, picturing what was underneath. What I’d do to her the minute we got inside. Christ, I was already uncomfortably hard.

  Becca slipped the key into the front door lock and fiddled with it.

  “Hurry up,” I said, stepping up behind her and bracing my palms on the jambs to either side of the worn door. “I won’t wait much longer.”

  “Oh? You wanna bet?” Becca didn’t turn the key. Instead, she looked over her shoulder and backed her ass into me. She swayed, grinding into me in a seductive little dance that came straight from every fantasy that’d ever existed.

  “You’re playing with fire.” Each sentence was a struggle to get out. Each thought was clouded by the desire to just fucking rip into her right here on the porch, in broad daylight where anyone could see.

  I’d do it too. I no longer gave a shit what the rumor mill in this town had to say.

  “I think you’ll find that you’re the one who’s playing with—”

  I clapped a hand to her ass cheek and squeezed hard, nearly lifting her from the ground. “Open the fucking door, Becca, or I swear to god I’ll strip you right here, right now, and eat that pussy till you scream so loud somebody will call the cops.”

  She writhed at that but opened up and stepped inside the house.

  I charged in after her, kicked the door shut behind me, and took her in my arms, sliding one hand over the straps of the camisole that’d been my temptation for the entire weekend, and down to her full breasts, nipples pricking at the cotton. I pinched one and watched her react.

  Becca threw her head back, eyes wide, searching mine. “Mason—”

  “Bedroom?”

  “Upstairs.”

  I lifted her into my arms, one behind the silky soft backs of her knees, the other supporting her back. I removed her shoes gently, kicked off my own, and then carried her to the rickety staircase that led to the second floor. We were up the stairs in two seconds, and in another two we were down the hall, and when we reached the end of it, I kicked the bedroom door in.

  And then we were in paradise.

  I tossed her onto her bed sheets, registering nothing about the room itself. I focused on her face and all the gorgeous micro-expressions that flashed across it. They were tainted with need for me. Little gasps and shudders and doe-eyes.

  “Strip,” I said.

  Defiance appeared, but Becca used it—she rose on the bed, standing on top of the mattress with bare feet. Christ, even her toes were sexy. How could toes be sexy? I shoved the thought aside and focused on her.

  Becca’s fingers trailed to the hem of her shirt, and she lifted it inch-by-inch, exposing her tan skin and the slope of her stomach. She reached her breasts
and hesitated, quirking an eyebrow at me.

  “C’mon woman, you’re killing me here.”

  Becca laughed and dragged the top up, releasing two perfect tan tits. They bounced, and I nearly lost my damn grip on reality. I cleared my throat. “The ass,” I said. “Turn around and show me that ass.”

  “No way,” she replied, and folded her arms across her chest. “One for one. My shirt’s off, and now it’s your turn, Doctor.”

  My cock throbbed at her use of my title. I growled in frustration but ripped my shirt up and over my body—giving her exactly what she wanted, judging by the flutter of her eyelashes and the dropped jaw.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered. “Holy—wow.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Thor,” Becca replied and finally turned on the bed. Her curls cascaded over her shoulders, brushing the smooth skin I’d make mine in just a minute. She looked back at me, still with that cheekiness written all over her face, and hunched a shoulder. “What now?”

  “Don’t play with me.”

  “I thought that was exactly what you wanted,” she replied, and tucked her thumbs under the waistband of her skirt. She shimmied, tugging down the cloth that clung to her perfect ass cheeks, and finally showed me what was underneath.

  Apple-shaped, with a gap between her thighs, and totally bare. Jesus H. Christ. “Bend.” The word came out a rough command.

  Becca dropped to her knees on the bed and bent for me, twisting so she caught my eye. “Is this what you wanted?” she whispered.

  I couldn’t find words. I was trapped by the sheer beauty of her. She was so fucking womanly, curvy in all the right places, strong and sleek. Nature laid bare in front of me.

  Pussy dripping for me, so wet it glistened in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, thighs shaking, ass flesh jiggling. She wasn’t cold—she just wanted it that bad.

  “It’s your turn,” she said, those baby blues sparkling up at me.

  The jeans were off in a minute flat—fuck, probably less than that—and I released my cock, held the base and stroked the shaft once for her so she could witness the effect she had on me. “You make me fucking crazy, Becca,” I said and stepped up behind her.

  I slapped the underside of my dick against one of her ass cheeks and then the other. She bit her lip in response.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all morning. Thinking about your body, your pussy, how you’ll taste, how you’ll look when I fill you up.” I ran my cock between her cheeks and over the puckered little asshole between them. Precum dribbled over my tip and onto her skin.

  “Do it,” she whispered. “Please.”

  I placed myself at her entrance, quivering, fucking ready to claim her and stretch her walls, change her life, for god’s sake—but it wasn’t right. “Turn over, angel.”

  “What?”

  “Turn over,” I repeated. “I’ve fantasized about what you’d look like when I make you come. You think I’ll pass on that now I’ve got the opportunity?”

  Becca flipped over onto her back and raised her knees, placing her feet on the bedspread. I bent and fished my wallet out of the back pocket of my jeans, and grabbed the old condom from inside it, grinning. I’d slipped it in there back in med school and had left it out of habit. Finally, it’d come in handy.

  “Hurry,” Becca moaned, massaging her breasts on the bed, pinching her nipples, then slipping one hand between her legs to play with her slick center. Fuck it, I was almost jealous—that pussy was mine.

  I tore the condom wrapper open and squeezed the ring over my head, grimacing at the tight fit. Finally, I crawled over her body, smacking her hand away from her clit as I did and replacing it with mine. “My job, gorgeous. I’m the one who makes you come from now on.”

  Becca threw her arms around my neck and bit back a yelp. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

  “Make noise,” I said. “There’s no one out here except us.”

  She chuckled, but I cut it off by gently pinching her clit. I worked her pussy with my fingers, slipping one inside, then another, struggling against her tightness. She clamped down hard on them, and my cock throbbed in response.

  “It’s so good,” Becca murmured. “Mason, you’re so good.”

  “I’m going to shatter your fucking world,” I whispered. Finally, I took her lips as mine. The last piece of the fucking puzzle. I sucked on them, then parted them and slipped my tongue inside. I massaged hers with mine, tasting the sweetness of her breath, working magic on her pussy with one hand.

  I caressed her G-spot and she tightened around me, trembling from head to toe.

  “I’m going to come,” she hissed, speaking into my mouth. “Mason, baby, I’m going to come. You’re making me come.”

  “That’s right. Fall apart, angel, I’ve got you.”

  Becca pressed against me, her nipples brushing against my chest, her ass lifting off the bed. She let out one final strangled cry then jammed into her orgasm. She massaged my fingers with her warmth, clenching tight, and she moaned against my lips, eyes squeezed shut, lids wrinkling from the pressure.

  Slowly, she came down from the crest and settled against the bed, a fine sheen of sweat coating her skin.

  “Wow,” she laughed and placed a hand to her forehead, staring at me from underneath it. “Wow.”

  “Show’s not over,” I said and drew my fingers out of her. I lifted them to my lips and sucked her flavor from them. “Fuck, you’re delicious. Every part of you.” I kissed her, and she reached between us and gripped my cock, pinching the latex that separated us.

  Christ, she really is trying to make me blow my load before I’ve even—

  I remedied that by placing the tip of my dick at her entrance and smoothing it back and forth through her juices. She was so damn wet we should’ve slid right off the damn mattress, and it was the end of control for me.

  My dick parted those pussy lips, ramming into her so hard she let out a tiny shriek.

  “Oh my god, you’re huge,” she said. “Mason, are you—oh—holy—oh.”

  Each thrust brought another “oh” from her, another wide-eyed look. She dug her fingernails into the muscles on my back and slung her legs around my waist. She clung to me as if her life depended on it.

  I rammed into her again and again, working my hips, building my own pleasure, even as her breaths came in shorter and shorter bursts. She was too tight, too wet, and the condom was…a fucking distraction.

  “Come for me again,” I whispered, sweat dripping from my nose onto hers.

  She dragged her tongue over her lips, and I caught it with my teeth then moved into another kiss, bridging the gap between us. She was so totally mine. I was buried up to the hilt, my tongue in her mouth, our sweat mingling, the juices from her last orgasm on my cock, on my fuckin’ abdomen.

  Her body, so much smaller than mine, heaved, and she rose up again. Her cunt clamped down on my dick, once, twice—and I lost it.

  I exploded inside her, squirting into the condom rather than her pussy. Fuck, my cum belonged inside this woman. What the hell?

  Becca came with me and bit down on my shoulder as she screeched her way over the cliff and back down to earth.

  Finally, our bodies relaxed. I rolled to one side, holding the base of the condom, but looking at her instead.

  Becca’s eyelids drifted shut then open again, and a small smile twisted her lips, still red from our fun. “Wow,” she murmured, and her eyes stayed closed, this time.

  “You’re not going to take a nap, are you?” I asked and got up. I disposed of the condom in the wastepaper basket next to her desk.

  “Maybe,” she said, sleepily. “I did just come twice. And I did move like….” She trailed off and didn’t finish the thought. Instead, she rolled onto her side, facing the wall, rather than the sunlight streaming through the window.

  I grinned at her. She was still covered in our sweat and fluids, totally pooped, and already half-asleep. Fucking beautiful. Easy there. Easy, man, t
his is supposed to be uncomplicated. You’re leaving, remember?

  Once again, I ignored the thought. I shut the drapes and slipped into bed beside her, lifting her head gently and placing it on my arm. She groaned and snuggled closer to me, skin on skin again.

  “That’s a good way to make a man go another round,” I murmured into her soft, rose-scented hair.

  “Ready when you are,” she replied but yawned right after.

  Slowly, we drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 7

  Mason

  I opened my eyes to darkness and the soft sighs of Rebecca sleeping next to me. She was warm against my chest, her legs tangled with mine. My arm was fucking killing me, trapped beneath her head, but it was…nice.

  Too nice.

  When last had I enjoyed touching a woman?

  In the beginning of my relationship with Tabitha, years ago. That was the answer. Near the end, everything had gone to shit and what time we’d spent together had been cloaked in bitterness and regret.

  This was something else, though. Shit, even in those sweet years in the beginning of the relationship with my ex, the sex hadn’t been this good. Holding her hadn’t been this satisfying. Becca fit in my arms like two puzzle pieces connected, and goddamn if it didn’t make me both hard and determined to get the hell out of here before I got in far too deep.

  I shifted, careful not to wake her, and looked around the room, my eyes adjusting to the gloom.

  Well, damn if you haven’t screwed the pooch on this one, genius.

  I’d slept with my next-door neighbor, soon to be total stranger when I moved out of this unforgiving town, and I’d promised to help her fix up her place in the meantime. Things had officially grown complicated, and it was all my fault.

  Well, my dick’s fault. And her pussy’s.

  Stop, jackass.

  Memories of her moaning beneath me, the flavor of her, her sweat mixing with mine, only woke up the big guy downstairs, and he didn’t give a shit about my moral compunctions. He pressed into her back and nestled between her ass cheeks like he’d been created to fit there.