His large hands held the notebook, the make shift clipboard, and a pen, brown eyes light with amusement, the corners of his lips lifted in the barest of smirks.
“You should know, Miss Lee, that I don’t ordinarily see patients after hours like this. You realize that all the proper medical equipment is at the clinic?” He raised both his finely sculpted brows high over the rims of his glasses. “I’ve not even a stethoscope.”
“I understand, Doctor. I apologize for the abruptness in my appointment.” Hands much smaller than his own fiddled with the fabric of her knit sweater. She kept her eyes on the ground first, then raised them to the wall behind the stove, before sliding to the black refrigerator near where he was standing, before resting on the counter she was sitting on. She had to keep constant check of herself so that her legs didn’t bounce in her excitement. She was antsy, curious, and bewildered. “The matter…couldn’t wait.”
She heard the doctor hum in thought, before sighing. “By law, I am obligated to treat those who are ailing, regardless of time, place, or situation. A stay at home away from the clinic never means an off day.” She heard rustling, and in one quick stride he was directly in front of her, leaned against the stove door, notebook and pen in hand. “What seems to be the issue today?”
So direct. So professional. Suave. “As if he actually does this for a living,” she thought, awed a moment before she remembered his question. “Ah, well…since early this morning, I’ve been feeling rather…strange.”
“Like there’s something…building and spilling over…inside me.”
His writing hand faltered a moment as his brows came together in wary confusion. “…When did this…feeling…start, exactly?”
“Well, I was at work,” she found her eyes staring once again at his moving hand, “in the Housekeeping Closet on the sixth floor of the complex.”
“What were you doing in there?”
“I” – she thought a moment – “was getting a vacuum and my headphones. Brandy and Blair, my coworkers, had wanted me to vacuum the six residential halls. I’d also vacuumed the halls yesterday. Today I planned on listening to music until I finished them.”
“Hmm.” The doctor barely wrote anything that time, she noted, telling her that she cared little to know the extra details that didn’t seem to concern her issue. “Were you doing anything else? Please, think back the best you’re able to, Miss Lee.”
“Well…” Her eyes left his hand and ventured to the hem of his dark jeans. They fit him nicely, the color blending deliciously well with the caramel tan on his skin. She let her eyes slowly trail up his legs, and her gaze rested intently on his pelvic area, imaging what lay hidden underneath the jean fabric.
“I was also thinking,” she answered, blinking several times to clear her mind from her reverie as she continued her assessment of the doctor’s frame. “I wasn’t doing anything else besides the things I’ve told you.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“It was…” she stalled, pretending she was thinking about it. Her eyes took in the hem of his grey, two toned sweater. It was dressy, yet casual, and form-fitting, yet it appeared comfortable, the way the long sleeves covered his arms and the V expanse of the next exposed just a little bit of skin below the base of his throat. He looked good, real good. She wanted to run her tongue against the revealed skin; feel his adam’s apple bob against the ball of her tongue ring.
“Miss Lee,” the doctor drawled, a flat tone of bemusement and annoyance at her slow replies. He was becoming impatient.
His commanding voice only made her meandering thoughts linger. “I was thinking about you. I mean,” she said hastily, realizing how that sounded, “about your check ups. About a check up.” She’d hoped she’d covered her slip-up. He kept his face a calm masque, almost. The corners of his lips struggled to remain in a thin line.
He cleared his throat, and his face went stoic; inquisitive. “He is good,” she thought.
“Describe your symptoms,” he murmured, as if her words had little effect on him.
“Well I…I felt antsy,” she told the doctor. “Restless. There was this…feeling…this hot feeling, on my skin. I wasn’t burning, or anything, but I was – warm. Yes, warm. It was not entirely a…comfortable feeling.”
“I felt these coils…and tingles…on my stomach and skin and,” she caught herself before the words slipped and amended, “lower abdomen area.”
Her eyes eagerly drank in his face. The way the muscles of his neck strained as he looked down at the paper. The way his short hair teased the tips of her fingers and made them itch to feel its softness. His nose, the way its size and shape fit his face perfectly, and his stubble on his jaw…
He stopped writing, and her breath caught as his eyes locked with hers, his light, brown eyes glowing with something that made heat pool between her thighs.
He was still ever professional and lax. “Oh?” the doctor raised his brows again. “What…strange symptoms. There was no pain associated?”
She shook her head. “No, Doctor. What I felt wasn’t painful, just….disconcerting. I was worried something could be wrong.”
“You say you felt this…heat on your skin and tingles and coils in your lower abdominal region after you thought about my check ups?”
Sneaky bastard, she thought, as she hesitated to reply. Two could play this game.
“It would appear…to be so,” she murmured, captive by his stare.
She saw his eyes narrow, flicker and dance on her skin before snapping back to her face.
“Before we get started…Miss Lee…” she loved the way her last name sounded on his lips, “I have to ask, Do you have insurance?”
“Insurance?” She asked with a confused crinkle of her nose. “Well…The thing is, Doctor… I don’t, no. I don’t have insurance. Are there any alternative methods of payment?”
He was silent.
“Without insurance, I don’t know if I can help you,” he murmured. Her eyes widened.
“Oh, Doctor, please!” she said, “Don’t say that…” She opened her thighs a bit, “Are you sure there aren’t other ways of payment?”
She saw his slow smile, and felt the urge to clench her thighs in anticipation.
“I’m sure we can work out an alternative method of payment. Now, let’s get started.”
He set the notebook down on the stove top and when her eyes traveled to it, she realized the page was blank. In the small kitchen, it took only one small step for him to step to her body. She could almost immediately feel herself preparing herself for his touch. “To think,” she thought, “Only one step separated myself from his radiating body heat.”
There was a frown on his face that she didn’t see, but heard in his voice; her eyes were trained on the exposed flesh of his sweater’s V. “Hmm. I wonder how to do this. All my equipment isn’t here…” the doctor trailed off and she saw his hand raise from the corner of her eye.
A second later, she felt his fingers on her skin and fought the urge to moan. His fingers pressed delicately on her pulse, and she was sure he saw her shoulders sag and felt the breath leave her as she relaxed into his touch, but he made no comment.
“Hmm. Your pulse is racing.” His fingers trailed slowly from her pulse, down the side of her neck and shoulder. His index and forefinger slipped under the fabric of her sweater and she could have sworn she felt his fingers stroke the skin there. She felt the urge to shudder.
“You were also right before; your skin is very, very warm.”
“Ah…yes…” She agreed, trying not to sound breathless.
“Hmm…Miss Lee, I hate to ask…” he began, somewhat hesitantly. “I need to check your breathing but…”
“No stethoscope,” she finished for him, realization dawning.
He nodded. His head lowered. She swallowed.
“I’m not sure the proper method…” He said quietly. She could see his eyes flicker to her lips. His face was so close to hers. She could feel his breath on her skin.
“My shirt,” she said quickly. His brows raised. “I could…remove my shirt.”
His eyes flickered to hers. “That would be best.”
Her gaze never left his. She felt her hands travel to the hem of her shirt as she tugged it upwards. The doctor backed up just enough for her to raise her arms with her sweater’s hem over her head. His eyes never strayed from her own.
“So collected,” her mind whispered. “He must know what’s he’s doing to me now.” It made her warm, the way he acted to casual about it all. His gaze and voice made her hypnotized by all things that were him. She couldn’t disobey his stare. Giving her the pleasurable heat on her skin, she’d do for him anything he asked. Electricity tingled her core.
Without sound, he placed an ear against her heart, hands coming to rest on her waist to keep himself steady against her. For a moment, all he did was listen there, she thought she heard a sigh of contentment pass his lips.
She took a breath.
“No,” he ordered, “a deeper one.”
She took another, slightly deeper breath. She held it.
“Release.” She exhaled. “Again.” Breath.
“Exhale. Again. Exhale…”
Lost in the rhythmic waves of his instruction, she didn’t feel his fingers dance across her skin until his fingers tickled the sensitive dip of her back. She gasped as her stomach did somersaults, coils and throbs from beneath her panties. She felt herself drip for him, body yearning for his touch.
“What was that? What’s wrong?” His breath was in her ear, sending tiny tingles there.
“The, um, feeling…” she let her voice fall.
“On your back? Here?” He pressed for emphasis, and she shuddered a gain, and shook her head.
“No, I – I felt it somewhere else.”
“Your abdomen?” His hands moved as he shifted himself to better examine her. He placed on hand on her stomach. “Here?”
“No…” she said softly.
“Lower?” He shifted his hands to just above the waistband of her jeans.
“It’s…lower…” she whispered. He paused.
Leaning down to her ear again, he said hotly, “Protocol requires I inspect any areas a patient feels discomfort.”
She nodded. She couldn’t speak.
“Remove your pants.”
Her hands hastily flew to the pop the button of her jeans.
“Slowly,” the doctor chided softly. He angled his head to watch her shimmy out her Dickies. She thought of her thong, and wondered what he was thinking as he stared at her.
As soon as she’d kicked off her pants, she felt the doctor’s hands on the insides of her thighs. His pokes and probes gradually slowed to small circles and soothing squeezes.
“Where?” the doctor asked.
She shook her head. “It’s not my thighs.”
He was silent, rubbing and squeezing her skin. His fingers trailed to the liner of her panties. She could feel her moisture as he rubbed her there.
“There seems to be a moisture there,” he stayed, rubbing her still. “Is this where you feel your tingles?”
She nodded, breathing harshly. She didn’t trust her voice.
“Say it,” his voice broke on his words a moment, the speed of his breathing suddenly very evident as he quickened the pace of his fingers a moment.
“Yes,” she whimpered. “This is where I feel it.”
She could still hear his breathing, harsh and hot and liquid sex. In a sudden movement, she felt his fingers slip under her panties, and stroke against her center. She cried out and bucked her hips.
“Ah,” he said, “no wonder. Your pussy’s wet.” He stroked against her more and hummed. “So very, very wet. Tell me, Miss Lee, do you know why your body’s reacting this way?”
Too distracted by his fingers and desperate for his touch, she nodded, uncaring to keep up their charade.
His deep voice was filled with something dark. It was something she needed. She moaned softly.
“You. You’re…touch.” She gasped as he teased her.
“You’re telling me that the reason why you’re this wet is because of me?” He asked, and she nodded.
“You’re so wet. Did you know how wet you are? Do you feel yourself?”
He paused his movements, and she whimpered.
“Protocol says that I need a patient’s permission before any operative steps are taken,” he whispered. The damn bastard wanted her to beg for it.
“Please!” she asked him, “Please, Doctor. Touch me.”
Her eyes were closed, head back against the cabinet doors. She heard the smile in his voice. The victorious lilt as he reveled in the power he held over her and her body.
“But of course.”
A finger slid easily inside her, and she cried out when she felt him stroke her inside walls. She was panting, thrusting her hips up as she saw stars in her vision.
When he added a second finger, she felt him snug and secure around him. She moaned loudly as he pumped her.
“You’re warm and tight, Miss Lee,” he said with a chuckle, “and still so dripping wet for me.”
She mewled, lost in a wave of pleasure.
“Tell me how often I make you this wet,” he said to her. “Is it often?”
She nodded. He hummed in appreciation.
She felt her body rocking against his hand. It always felt so good when he touched her there.
Opening her eyes against the lusty haze, she watched him watch her. Feeling herself moisten even more. He noticed, she could tell by his slow smile.
“Baby,” she whispered, “Baby. Baby, please.”
“Please what?” he asked her. “Tell me.”
“I need you.”
“You have me now.”
“No, I…I need you. I need your…”
She leaned forward and rubbed him through his jeans. He was big, thick and hard, straining against himself for her. He groaned and rocket his hips into her hand.
“I don’t want to play around anymore,” she stated, breathless. He was still touching her, his thumb pressed on her clit, making her thrash and whimper on the counter.
No sooner were the words out her mouth and he was unbutton his jeans and pulling down his boxers. His cock sprang free, unrestrained, hard for her, promising things she knew would come.
“I want you inside me. Please.”
“Get down,” he ordered, hands on her hips, pulling her to the edge of the counter and off of it. He turned her then, sliding her panties down and bending her over the counter.
“Mhm,” he hummed, trailing his hands on her skin and gripping her ass. “Spread them thighs, baby.” She did.
She felt him then, stretching her, filling her. He was so big, and he was so snug. She felt so full.
“Damn, baby,” he grunted. His thrust was slow but pointed, hard against her. He increased his pace a bit, sending she and he both into lustful, euphoric throes of passion.
She was so caught up in him. In his movements. The sound of his rock hard shaft against her dripping center. His kisses on her back and fingers kneading her ass. His harsh breaths and the way he chanted, “Yes,” when she moved against him. She loved it, the way he made love to her, the way she loved him, and the way he sent coils and flutters deep inside her when he hit that certain spot.
His movements became erratic, and she knew he was close, lost in the feel of her, the way she was lost in him. He began to thrust hard and deep.
She cried, “Baby! Please. Please. Baby.” His name was a moan and a scream of pleasure. With a curse he pulled out of her quickly, and she felt drops of his cum against her ass and thigh as he came in his hand.
She felt the strength leave her, her body shaking with her own release as she came. A second later, she felt her doctor’s arms around her as he gathered her in his arms. She sagged against him.
He rained kisses on her neck and shoulder. He was still panting when he spoke.
“Whoo,” he said and chuckled. “Shit.” He kissed her temple. “I’ll get you a towel. I know you can’t walk right now.”
She blushed. “Cheeky bastard.”
“I’m not being cheeky. I’m just saying what you tell me happens all the time. How is that being cheeky, Miss Lee?” He kissed her lips. She sighed. “I love you,” he told her.
She smiled against his lips, “I love you, too.” Her doctor always knew just how to treat her body, and she loved it. (Copyright, Marie Meyers, 2017. All Rights Reserved.)