Rick Sexed Up the Doc

by Leona Bushman

  Rick Sexed Up the Doc

  Leona Bushman

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Rick Sexed Up the Doc

  Copyright© 2012 Leona Bushman

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-891-3

  Cover Artist: Mina Carter

  Editor: Kristie L. McKinley

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  Look for these titles by Leona Bushman

  War of the Weres

  The Ulfric’s Mate

  In the Ravaged anthology

  Barely There

  Coming December 2012

  The Captain’s Christmas

  Chapter One

  Nelda stretched lazily upon her silken sheets, giving the latest man in her bed an affectionate glance. He could screw like a racehorse and it had been exactly what she’d needed last night. She had called him up after a rough pregnancy had ended with an emergency C-section landing both mother and baby in the ICU.

  She had craved rough and no-holds-barred sex and he’d given it to her. Now he needed to go. It was time to put her emotions of the night behind her and see to her other patients. But first, she needed to get lover boy gone.

  He always came over if she called, unless he had a prior commitment. Often, she wished she could fall in love with him, but they didn’t have enough in common to sustain a long-term relationship. No, it’s better this way.

  She stood up, pulled on her cream satin robe, and tied the ties. Putting her hair in a ponytail as she walked to the master bathroom, she called out, “Larry, you need to go now. I need to get ready for work.”

  She turned on the hot water to heat up the shower before heading to the bed. “Larry!” she said, nudging him. “Time to go.”

  Larry woke up, blinking his eyes sleepily, and grinned at her. She smiled. If only.

  “Hi, babe,” he said, and tried to draw her into an embrace.

  She shoved him off with both hands, but laughed to show she wasn’t angry. “You need to go now, Larry. I have patients this morning.”

  Larry groaned and sat up, letting the peach silk sheets fall off his beautiful black torso. He was darker than her, and she liked licking those nipples. His musky scent charmed her, pulling her in. With a regretful sigh, she turned away. Tempting as he was, she had already switched gears. Expecting him to be gone when she finished her shower, she started her morning rituals.

  An hour and a half later, showered, dressed, and munching on toast, she headed out the door. Her two-bedroom duplex was in a nice part of town, not far from the birthing center, Memorial Hospital, or her personal office. She loved her little slice of the world.

  Spring brought out all the blooming bulbs with shoots of other perennials starting to bloom. It gave her pleasure, this normalcy. This beauty grounded her and provided her a safe haven when she lost a patient or witnessed so much pain she could not understand how the person experiencing it coped.

  She decided to walk the half mile to her office. Her office assistant would give her a ride home if it turned windy and cold, or if it rained. She had not grown up in Central Washington and her body still had trouble adjusting to the extremes. In Puget Sound, the northwest area of the state that had large inlets of water coming in from the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Strait of Georgia, there were nine months of rain, not so much for two months, and one month of not likely to rain.

  Yakima was a whole different ballgame to her and she reveled in the sunshine. Even in the winter, the eastside of the Cascade Mountains seemed to have more sunlight. So happy to be out in the warm sunshine, she didn’t pay attention when the crosswalk sign changed to “Don’t Walk” before she stepped off the curb.

  A screech of tires and the smell of burnt rubber warned her of the impending impact, shaking her out of her revelry. She jumped back, abashed and a little frightened. The car came so close to hitting her she felt the rush of wind as the car’s rearview mirror passed her. A man came up beside her and grabbed her elbow to pull her back a step on the sidewalk. As soon as she steadied herself on her feet, he let go.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in husky tones.

  “I’m fine,” she started brusquely, then looked at the chiseled chin at her eye level.

  “I can see that,” the man said, giving her an examination of his own.

  The timbre of his voice sent sparkling awareness down her spine. His dimpled chin fascinated her. The lips looked soft and inviting. She looked up into his blue eyes and whatever blow off she had prepared left her mind. In Tacoma, she probably would have walked away despite the handsome visage. But in Yakima, in her area, she felt safer to flirt a little.

  Delighted laughter poured out of her at his mild flirting.

  His eyes said he not only liked what he saw, but wanted to keep looking.

  “I’m on my way to work,” she said. Yep, boring. That’s me. I wanted to be witty and funny and what comes out of my mouth? “I’m on my way to work?” So much for flirting.

  “Have lunch with me,” he said.

  Shock caused her to pause in her act of turning back to the light to wait for her walk sign. “You work fast, sir. You don’t even know my name,” she said, even though she felt tingles in her abdomen at his attentions.

  “And I’m not likely to learn it if I let you walk out of my life on your way to work,” he said, unmoved by her indignation. “Have lunch with me. Somewhere public. My name’s Rick Smith, by the way.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the sunlight.

  She opened her mouth to say no, but, “Okay, it’ll need to be close by. I don’t have much time for lunch between patients,” came out instead.

  “’Patients?’” he asked, his voice pitched a little higher than before.

  “Yes, patients,” she replied, cocking her head sideways. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, not exactly, but…” he said, shifting from foot to foot. “But my job might be a problem for you. It’s not exactly posh.”

  “Why? You think I’m a snob?” she asked angrily.

  “I—Look. Can I tell you at lunch?”

  “Yes,” she said, and smiled at the look on his face. “And I’m Nelda,” she supplied almost defiantly.

  “Do you always agree so harshly?” he mused. Before she could reply he said, “Tell me where and I’ll pick you up at twelve thirty? Or do you have a different time for your lunch?”

  “No, that’s a good time, actually,” she said. Her phone rang and she dug in her purse for it.

  ***

  Rick watched her smooth chocolate hands disappear into her purse and imagined them on his skin, the dark contrasting with his white and fought the temptation to adjust his jeans when they tightened.

  “Dr. Tuefale,” she said, her tone brisk. “Yes, she’s my patient. Yes, give her whatever the house doctor recommends and stall the contractions. I’ll be right there.” She snapped the phone into its case and looked at him. “I’m sorry. Lunch might be off. I have an emergency.”

  He missed her flirty tone already. “Want a lift? I have my motorbike right there,” he said, pointing to his Harley parked in front of a coffee house. He enjoyed the look on her face as she realized he was offering her a ride
on it.

  “Do you have a spare helmet?” she asked cautiously, but her eyes danced. He thanked whatever fates gave him this chance and grinned.

  “I always carry a spare helmet. You never know when you’ll meet the right girl and need it,” he said, the double entendre was definite and she rewarded him with her gorgeous wide smile. Nearly as tall as him without heels, he could so easily imagine those legs wrapped around him while he had her against a wall and—

  “Are you okay, Rick?” she asked.

  Shit. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.” He wanted to groan, not only for his faux pas, but for the pain in his jeans when he walked to his bike. After he took the spare helmet off the back of the seat, he gave it to her. Noting her lightweight clothing, he took off his leather jacket and handed it to her as well.

  “What’s this for?” she asked.

  This told him she was not experienced on the back of a bike. He would love to teach her to ride. “It’s protection in case of an accident. You don’t want road rash.”

  “I don’t want to be in an accident,” she replied dryly.

  She was quick. He loved her humorous side already. Even though he might be setting himself up for another fall, he enjoyed his banter with her. He hoped she would still give him a chance when she learned his occupation.

  “Which hospital?” he asked as he put on his own helmet. He sat on his bike waiting for her answer before revving his Harley.

  “Memorial. I have a baby to deliver. Or a delivery to stop if I can,” she said, and swung her long muscular leg over the bike seat.

  He bit his tongue to keep from asking all the obvious sexual jokes. Like the power between your legs? nearly escaped him despite his determination not to crack them. He would be as gentlemanly as possible with her—until he had her in his bed. There, she was getting a man.

  The drive took only a few minutes. He pulled up to the emergency room entrance of the large brick building and turned off the bike. She took off the helmet and shook her hair in that unconsciously sexy way women had. The waves tumbled around her shoulders, glistening in the sun where she’d had highlights put in. He wanted to grab her by the hair, hold her against him, and ravish her with his kisses.

  She handed him the helmet, took off the jacket, and laid it across his bike’s seat. “Here,” she said, digging into her purse. “It’s my business card. If I’m not finished here by lunchtime, call to make an appointment,” she said as she scribbled another number on the back. “My office door locks,” she added slyly.

  She took a quick look around as if to see if anyone watched and leaned in close. He held his breath as her shampoo scent wafted across the air to him. She looked him deep into his eyes, kissed him softly on the lips, then whispered, “That’s the most power I’ve felt between my legs in ages. I liked it.”

  She turned and walked through the doors opening for her. His brain knew they were automatic, but in his dazed state it looked like they parted for a queen. He didn’t know how long he stood there before he laughed, but suddenly his whole day looked brighter. Maybe she wasn’t the snob the last doctor he had dated—and became engaged to—turned out to be.

  He started to put his jacket back on when he saw a large broad shouldered man with a construction belt riding low on his hips. This time, Rick did groan. Just his luck he would find two of the sexiest people he had ever seen on the same day. Rick continued to put his jacket on, moving as slowly as he thought he could get away with. Next, he strapped down the helmet Nelda had used and did unnecessary checks on the rest of his bike while surreptitiously watching the way the jeans fit the other man’s physique as if he had been the original poster boy for blue jeans.

  Having run out of excuses for being parked in the emergency lane, he put on his helmet, and secured it. Rick wondered if the man’s chest was the same hickory color as his muscle-bound arms and nearly choked on his tongue when the guy came walking over to where Rick had parked his bike.

  “Hey,” the man said, his voice like black velvet across his senses.

  Oh dear God. His voice is going to make me come in my pants. I’m already so turned on by the doctor. It took all of Rick’s willpower to keep from touching himself to relieve a small bit of the ache in his jeans. And that was before the hickory man looked down at his bulging crotch and back up to his lips.

  “I see you have some power to ride there,” he said.

  Rick’s breath came out in gasps. The imprint of Nelda at his back with that power between his legs and this man’s inspection had him wanting to hit his bed now—with either one of them. Or better yet, both. At this point, he did not care which, but he yearned to have it.

  “Want to have lunch?” hickory man asked.

  You have no idea. Amusement coursed through Rick as he thought of Nelda’s response to his asking. “My name’s Rick,” he said, extending a hand for a shake. “I’d love to, but I think I’m booked for lunch.” He couldn’t risk his chance with Nelda. “Maybe a drink later?” They clasped hands but didn’t let go right away. Rick felt the calluses on the hand of the other man and wanted to feel them on his cock. Reluctantly, he dropped his hand away.

  “Brian. A drink works. El Porton?” he asked.

  “Perfect. The one on forty eighth?” Rick asked. It was right by a sports bar so they could extend the night there, or his house. Or Brian’s house.

  “Yes. See you at eight,” Brian replied, grinning. “I have to get back in. The remodel slows down when the boss isn’t in.”

  Rick’s ego was riding an all time high. Brian bragging about being the boss sealed it. Rick needed the boost. His fiancé, Anne, had undermined his confidence in his sexuality and in his profession. He grimaced as he remembered her parting shot.

  ***

  “You’re okay in bed, babe, but not good enough to make up for the lack of diamonds.” She had undermined him progressively, mostly with passive-aggressive comments. She put him down under the guise of helping him. “You look fine, but…” There was always a “but” involved.

  He did his best and had to admit, following some of her guidelines, he had started to feel better about himself. However, those had been the suggestions in the beginning.

  She had lived with him while going to school to become a doctor. As soon as she had successfully garnered a place on the hospital staff and her first check deposited in the bank, she had flat out told him he had to quit his job—painting. Her salary was enough, she’d said. She would give him everything he needed, food, clothes, golf clubs, to be her househusband.

  When he had argued that building him a studio would give him what he wanted and still allow him to support her emotionally and by having dinners ready on long nights, her true feelings had shown. “I allowed you to keep your dirty hobby because you did make some money and having art on the walls is prestigious. However, now I can afford real art.”

  That comment stung, but he had considered it. After all, he had only made a couple thousand dollars over the year at his art. Their main support had been his job waiting tables at the Red Robin. However, he realized, she had her dream, he had paid for her care while she strived for it, and there was nothing wrong with going after his own. She had disagreed.

  ***

  He revved the engine of his Harley a little more than was necessary. Damn, it feels good to be wanted.

  Two years later, he still worked part time as a waiter, dated here and there, and sold his artwork across the world through online resources. Not as well as he would like, but well enough he could get away with one part time job to pay his main bills. After all, he didn’t need a fancy house to impress his friends.

  Chapter Two

  Nelda’s feet scraped the floor as she left the hospital. It had been a rough delivery. The infant and mother placed in intensive care. Two in a row. She’d hardly recovered from last night’s emergency deliver. As much as medicine had going for it, it still couldn’t keep up with Mother Nature.

  She heard her name as she passed the lobby
on her way out the door. Rick. She nearly wept with relief. The clock said an hour later than she’d agreed to have lunch with him. Barely able to hope he might still be interested in lunch, or a new date for lunch, she was surprised to see him. She hadn’t imagined he would wait for her or be intuitive enough to know she would be at the hospital and not her office. She needed fuel. Not just food.

  When he caught up with her, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a hard kiss. Not giving any quarter, she ran her tongue along his lips until he opened his mouth for her attack. As quickly as she started, she backed off.

  “Take me home,” she whispered.

  “Your place or mine?”

  “Mine. I need to go home,” she said. Thankfully, he didn’t hesitate, but ushered her out and to his car.

  “I brought my car instead of my bike because I thought you might be too tired.”

  She had to appreciate a man who thought ahead.

  “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m a good listener,” Rick said, taking her hand in his. He stroked the top back and forth in a soothing gesture, which made her want him all the more.

  “It was rough,” she admitted after a few minutes. She pointed directions to her home. “I need some good, hard sex. You up to it?”

  The muscle in his jaw flexed, his mouth opened, and his breath quickened. She waited for the verbal answer to the one she saw on his face. “Yes,” he said, his voice cracking. “But, I should tell you, I’m bisexual.”

  “So,” she said pointedly. She felt a pang of regret for the pain he had to have suffered from some people who couldn’t handle it and caused him to bring it up the way he did. But she was making a point.

  “So,” he said, and fell silent.

  “Good. Now we have that settled, pull in here,” she said when they reached her duplex. He followed behind her and waited with his body barely touching hers while she unlocked the door. She should have felt crowded, instead her body reacted to his nearness as if they had already had sex. Wetness pooled between her legs, and she fumbled with her keys and dropped them.