Date: 2021-05-06 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Romance; Fantasy; Medical; Contemporary
Description: When Dr. Darren Drake catches his Certified Nurse Assistant smoking behind the clinic and gushing on the phone about him, he decides she requires punishment: an embarrassing examination including anal play. Playing around with an employee opens him up for sexual harassment charges or getting kicked out of his practice, but when Chloe asks for more, he just can't resist. Despite working in an OB/Gyn clinic, Chloe hates doctors. Their know-it-all God-playing rubs her the wrong way—until the man she refers to as Dr. Dreamy shows her giving up control might fulfill fantasies of submission she neve
Rights: Copyright 2020 Renee Rose. All rights reserved.

Yes, Doctor

Renee Rose

Burning Desires

To Leigh Ann, my real life BFF of almost 20 years.

Contents

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Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Her Russian Master - Excerpt

About Renee Rose

Other Titles by Renee Rose

Originally published by Baronet Press under the author name Darling Adams

Copyright © August 2014 Yes, Doctor by Darling Adams copyright (c) March 2020 Yes, Doctor by Renee Rose

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the authors. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Published in the United States of America

Renee Rose Romance

Editors:

Casey McKay / Baronet Press

This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book contains descriptions of many BDSM and sexual practices but this is a work of fiction and as such should not be used in any way as a guide. The authors and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained within. In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!

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I WARNED YOU.

I told you not to set foot in my casino again. I told you to stay away. Because if I see those hips swinging around my suite, I’ll pin you against the wall and take you hard. And once I make you mine, I’m not gonna set you free.

Because I’m king of the Vegas underground and I take what I want.

Read now

Author’s Note

This idea for this book came many years ago when my husband at the time thought it would be fun to orchestrate a “doctor/patient” scene for us. My immediate reaction was ugh—why? I hate doctors. It ended up with us in a fit of giggles and quite a bit of tickling rather than hot domination.

Still, it made me think. I knew medical BDSM was a much beloved sub-genre and since I loved everything BDSM, I figured I should try to explore it. As I wrote this book I discovered that what I hate about doctors is actually what makes medical BDSM so hot! It’s about someone else (a hot, dommy doctor, of course) having total authority over your body.

This book was first published under my alternate name, Darling Adams, because I was going through a period of trying to reinvent myself at the time.

I hope you enjoy this short romp from my naughty vault!

Chapter 1

Chloe ripped the paper covering off the exam table and threw it in the trash, pulling forward a fresh one. She picked up the patient folder from the slot in the door and brought it to reception to stand in the lobby door. “Janice Wilson?”

A pregnant woman stood and ambled toward her.

“Did you leave your urine sample yet?”

The woman looked at her blankly.

She stifled her sigh. It’s only the test I have you do every time you come in. “If you would please step into the restroom there, you’ll find cups on the counter, and the instructions for catching a clean urine stream are posted on the wall. Simply apply the label the receptionist gave you to the side and put it in the pass-through window for me to pick up.”

“Oh,” Janice said, looking surprised, as if she hadn’t already done this at least eight times in the past six months. “Okay,” she said, taking the cup.

Pregnancy sucks the brains right out of women. Either that, or Irontree OB/Gyn practice attracted the city’s most air-headed patients.

“Chloe, someone just threw up in Exam Room 3,” Dr. Reinhart said. “Can you clean it up, sweetie?”

She used to bristle at the endearment, which she found condescending, but Sandy Reinhart called everyone “sweetie,” including her ditzy patients, so Chloe had grown used to it. All doctors had a habit of holding themselves above the rest of the population, in her opinion, so it pretty much went with the territory.

For someone who worked in the medical profession, she had a low opinion of the people who ran the show. Not that she didn’t think her bosses were completely capable and knowledgeable about their field. She just hated Western medicine—the way doctors made patients feel so powerless, becoming the only authority over their bodies. Like when women had Cesareans or inductions scheduled based on the doctor’s availability, rather than when the baby decided to be born. She was pretty sure she’d have a home birth when the time came. But, of course, that would require a relationship. Preferably with a man who wanted to raise a family with her. And she was sorely lacking in that department.

“I’m on it,” she told Dr. Reinhart.

She steeled her stomach as she opened the door.

A pale-faced woman sat on the exam table, holding a plastic tray for any additional vomit. “I’m really sorry,” Pukey McPreggers said, looking embarrassed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll have things cleaned up in a minute here.”

Puke was an occupational hazard at Irontree—women with morning sickness often lost their breakfasts, lunches or dinners on the exam room floors.

She mopped up the mess with paper towels, then sprayed the area down with disinfectant and wiped again in record time.

“See? No big deal. Can I get you a cup of water or something?”

“Yes, that would be great,” the woman said weakly.

“Sometimes just keeping food in your stomach can help, even though that sounds counter-intuitive when you’re feeling queasy,” she offered, giving the advice she’d heard the nurses give one hundred times before.

“I know, I totally should have eaten breakfast this morning, but everything just sounded gross to me,” the woman laughed weakly. “But I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Do you want me to find you something to eat now? A granola bar?”

“Um, sure, I’ll try that, thanks.”

“Okay, be right back.” She zipped out, knowing Ditzy Prego and her urine cup would be waiting. She found Janice standing outside the bathroom, looking uncertain. “Sorry, I had to do a quick clean up. If you’ll just follow me, you’ll be in this exam room on the right.” She ushered her in and took her blood pressure, jotting the results down on her chart, then excused herself, dashing back to find a granola bar and deliver it before putting on gloves to dip the test stick into Ditzy’s urine sample.

She rushed back to her exam room, but Dr. Drake, the man she privately referred to as “Dr. Dreamy,” had already arrived and was looking for the patient file.

“It’s right here,” she said breathlessly. “I got a little backed up with a clean up in Room 3.” She tried to ignore the piercing blue gaze with which the doctor fixed her. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel completely bared to him. As if he saw past all her cheerful, eager-to-please pretense and read her snarkiest thoughts. Anytime she inwardly rolled her eyes at patients or the doctors in his presence, she sensed his amusement. To top it off, he always seemed to guess where she was and what she was up to. Every time she tried to text friends on the job, he was the doctor who caught her.

“Thank you, Chloe,” he said, stretching out his hand. Their gazes tangled when he took the file, locking a moment too long.

She sucked in a breath before she tore them away, flustered. “You’re welcome,” she managed. As always, she turned a little stupid in his presence, his good looks and authoritative demeanor making her palms sweat. And he probably noticed that, too, since she was sure he saw through the rest.

It was Friday, which meant the two nurses and three of the four doctors in the practice cut out by noon. As the only Certified Nurse Assistant, she didn’t get to flex her time, but she didn’t mind. She liked it when the clinic was quiet—it gave her more opportunities to do her own thing while the one remaining doctor was closed in with patients.

She checked the board to see with whom she would be working that afternoon. Dr. Dreamy. A thrill of excitement zinged through her. Being alone in the clinic with him always made her knees go weak.

The hours flew by while they were busy and by afternoon, she was ready for time to slow. “Well, it’s just you and me, kid,” Dr. Drake said when they passed in the hall.

“Yep,” she chirped.

Yep. Brilliant, Chloe. That was the best she could do? She wished she had the ability to pop out witty replies. Or somehow impress him with her amazing CNA skills, but the tasks in a gyno clinic didn’t really give her the opportunity. She had a friend who worked at the hospital as a nurse assistant and received free movie passes every time she saved a life. Now that would be exciting. Cleaning up puke, not so much.

They continued through the afternoon and by four o’clock, she found a chance to slip out the back door. She had a pack of smokes she and her best friend Leigh Ann had bought to share at the bar that weekend. She didn’t consider herself an addict—more of a social smoker, particularly when she drank, but having them knocking around in her purse made the temptation too great. She should have given the rest of the pack to Leigh Ann.

She pulled out a Natural American Spirit and lit it. Only organic tobacco when you’re trying to get lung cancer. Smoking made her think of Leigh Ann, so she dialed her number at work.

“This is Leigh Ann,” she said in her very business-like tone. She worked as a graphic designer for an ad agency.

“Hey, girlfriend.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m just taking a quick smoke break at work.”

“You better not let those doctors catch you smoking, they’d probably fire you on the spot.”

She giggled. “I know. I’m so bad. And I’m working alone with Dr. Dreamy today.” Somehow the idea of being naughty while under his watch gave her more of a high than the nicotine.

“Ooh, lucky you. What’s his scoop, anyway? Is he married?”

“Divorced. I don’t know if he has a girlfriend, though. All I know is I’d get in the stirrups for him any day.”

The sound of a deliberate throat clearing nearly made her throw the phone down with her cigarette as she sprang to her feet and whirled around.

Dr. Drake stood with his arms folded across his chest and eyebrows raised but she thought she detected amusement flitter over his face.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Are you finished already?” She dropped her phone in her purse and pulled out a little bottle of rose water, spritzing herself to remove the smoke smell. As if it wasn’t already too late to hide the evidence. “That was the last patient, right?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Whose job is it to keep track?”

“Um...mine?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, turning around. “That’s kinda what I was thinking.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, trotting after him. “I was just taking a quick break.”

He went into an examination room and she followed. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, sitting down on a stool and opening one of the drawers.

“I-I don’t. I mean, I know you just caught me smoking a cigarette, but I’m not a smoker. That was totally a...one-off,” she said breathlessly.

He turned and pinned her with a blue-eyed gaze. “I see.”

She had the notion he was toying with her—playing stern just to watch her panic. Which was better than him being actually annoyed with her because then she would worry all weekend about her upcoming performance review and, hopefully, raise.

He pointed at the sample birth control pills in the drawer he had opened. “These need to be re-stocked.”

“Okay, I’ll get right on that,” she said, whipping around and practically running to the supply closet.

* * *

Darren had always found Chloe adorable. He loved how easy it was to reduce her to blushes and stammers, the way she scurried around to please him even though it seemed like everyone else got on her nerves.

He stood up from the stool when she returned, standing back with crossed arms to watch her stack the sample pills in neat rows. “So,” he drawled. “Who’s Dr. Dreamy?”

He shouldn’t go there, but he just couldn’t resist.

She stilled, not turning around. When she began stacking again, her fingers fumbled, the boxes scattering across the drawer. She mumbled something.

He put the buds of his stethoscope in his ears and held the chestpiece in front of her lips. “What was that?”

She giggled and looked up at him with big brown eyes, her cheeks pink with color. Then she tossed her auburn hair back, putting a hand on her hip and pulling out the sass that he’d always sensed lay under her overly-friendly exterior. “You are. But you already knew that, didn’t you? Why do you ask, are you going to give me that pap smear?”

He smothered a laugh, loving that she owned it and leaned even closer to her. “Are you asking for one now, Chloe?”

He saw the flare of her pupils as she realized he might not be joking. He should never have suggested it, should never have even started this topic of conversation. He had definitely strayed into the arena of sexual harassment. If she acted at all uncomfortable, he would apologize profusely and tell her he was only kidding.

But her lips parted, her little tongue darting out to moisten them and he could see her nipples protruded through the double layer of bra and scrubs. “Um...yeah,” she said hoarsely.

His cock went rock hard. Oh God, was this really happening? He’d been propositioned by patients with doctor fantasies before and despite the temptation had never given in. But this time he was actually considering it. Chloe Jones had always tweaked him with her long thick auburn hair, sensual lips and perky tits. He guessed they shared a similar sense of humor and perspective on people from her subtle reactions or facial expressions. And the forbidden factor of molesting an employee made it all the hotter.

Before his brain had arrived at a decision he found himself pushing her back toward the exam table. He picked her up by the waist and lifted her to sit on it.

“I’m afraid we’re all out of dressing gowns, Miss Jones,” he murmured. “Our CNA was smoking out back when she should have been doing laundry.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it shut again as he began to peel her top off.

“I’ll make sure she’s punished,” he said, pulling both bra straps down so far the cups flipped over, revealing two perfect tits. He unsnapped her bra and tossed it onto the floor. Her breasts sprang free with a bounce, as if joyful to be released. He cupped one and rubbed his thumb across her pebbled nipple as he placed the chest piece of the stethoscope over her heart. “You seem excited, Miss Jones,” he observed, listening to the quickened thump of her cardiac rhythm.

She licked her lips again, and he found himself picturing that lush mouth closing over his member, sucking him off with that same eager-to-please attitude he loved in her.

“Lay back for your breast exam,” he murmured.

Her tongue ran over her lips again as she lowered, first to her elbows, then to her back. Her breasts fell open to the sides. He cupped one in each hand, squeezing. “Firm,” he observed. “Youthful. Size C?”

“Um hmm.”

He circled the tissue of each breast and palpated in her armpits. “No sign of lumps. Do you do a daily breast exam, Miss Jones?”

“Um…”

“If you like, I can perform it for you. I’ll just need you to start each day in my office with your shirt off.”

She giggled.

He pinched both her nipples and pulled.

She gasped.

“Breast cancer is no laughing matter, Miss Jones. I expect you to take it quite seriously.”

“Okay,” she murmured and he released her aching peaks.

“Lung cancer is a serious matter as well. I haven’t decided yet how to drive that point home.” He slid his fingers under the waistband of her scrubs. “Let’s get these off you now.”

She lifted her pelvis and he shucked both the scrub pants and her panties at the same time. He stopped and held the Batman panties up, stretching them wide to view the sparkly fucsia bat printed on black cotton. “These are cute.”

She blushed and reached for them, but he snatched them out of her grasp, making a tsking noise.

“Now, now. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I’m a doctor—I’ve seen it all.”

Chapter 2

Her insides were squirmier than a bowl full of eels. Embarrassed, uncomfortable, and totally turned on, she was dying to know his next move. How far would he take this? All the way? How far was that? And more importantly, would she ever be able to look him in the eye again?

“Pierced belly button,” he observed as he palpated her belly. “Very nice. Feet in the stirrups, please. And slide your bottom down to the edge.”

She obeyed, placing her heels in the plastic rings and scooting into the vulnerable position.

He snapped on latex-free gloves and pulled up a stool, switching on the light and sitting face to face with her most intimate parts. He stroked her sex with his gloved thumb. “Pretty,” he observed.

She didn’t know what made a vagina attractive, but then, he had seen a million of them, so if anyone was qualified judge, it would be him. He peeled her labia back to expose her even further. The light warmed her bottom, and her pussy grew even more moist in response.

“Good color,” he reported, as if she were taking notes on a chart. He stood up and rubbed two fingers across her opening. “Adequate lubrication. Are you on the pill, Miss Jones?”

“Um, yes.”

“Which one?”

She told him, trying not to shudder with pleasure as he continued to casually stroke along her slit.

“Any trouble with dryness during sex?”

She rolled her eyes. She literally hadn’t had sex in at least a year—finding the post-college dating pool too limited.

“Is that a yes?”

“I can’t really remember,” she said drily.

He stopped stroking and fixed her with a stern glare. “What does that mean, Miss Jones?”

“It means I haven’t done it in a long time,” she mumbled.

“Ah. I see,” he said, relaxing and resuming a slow caress.

“What did you think it meant?”

“I was afraid you were going to tell me you were too drunk or something like that.”

“Oh,” she giggled. “No. I do go out to bars, but I haven’t picked anyone up in ages.”

“Why are you on the pill?”

“Just in case.”

He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I approve, Chloe,” he said, dropping the “Miss Jones.” She wondered if he was giving her real medical advice. “It’s not to regulate a heavy flow or painful cramps?”

She shook her head.

“Well, your liver has to process those hormones. Studies have not proven any negative long-term effects, but taking a prescription drug ‘just in case’ doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

“Well you’re not female,” she shot back.

He ignored her retort, applying a dollop of lubricant to his gloved finger and rubbing it over her opening. “This may be a little cold,” he said in his usual efficient doctor tone.

The insertion of a stainless steel speculum made her gasp, and she had to will herself to relax, just like at any gynecological appointment. A moment of panic had her mind scrambling over the situation. What in the hell was she doing here? Had she really volunteered for a pelvic exam? Because pap smears were normally about as fun as having a tooth pulled, in her book.

“Does ‘just in case’ mean so you have the flexibility to hook up with any random person without planning to have sex?”

She lifted her head and glared at him. “Are doctors supposed to judge their patients’ sexual activities?”

His lips twisted into a sexy grin, melting her irritation. “I’m not judging,” he said, sitting on the stool again and spreading the speculum. “I’m just wondering if you’ve done this before.”

She bit back a groan.

“Had an exam from a doctor I find attractive before? No, I definitely would’ve remembered. And actually, as a rule, I only see female gynecologists.” She lifted her head and tumbled into his amused gaze, the panty-melting smile on his lips.

“Have you done this before?” she managed to ask in little more than a whisper.

He arched his brows. “Played doctor?” He shrugged. “Only in a relationship. Like with a girlfriend in med school. Or my ex-wife. Never with a patient or staff member before.”

It pleased her to hear she was his first, in a sense.

“No change of partners since your last exam, then?” he said as he leaned close to inspect the inside of her canal.

She didn’t answer, trying to think when her last exam had been.

He lifted his head and looked at her quizzically.

“I’m thinking.”

“When was the exam? Should I pull your file?”

“I don’t get examined here—that’s disgusting!”

He laughed and wrapped his big hands around the fronts of her thighs, smiling down at her. “What do you think we’re doing here?”

She nibbled her lip. “Getting kinky?”

He laughed again. “Yes, we are. But really, Chloe, the speculum is open. Do you need a pap smear?”

“Yes, I probably do, but there’s no way I’m going to have you sending my test to the lab. Everyone here will think you gave me an exam.”

He inserted the plastic spatula and small brush and took a sample of her cells, despite her protests. “That will be your punishment for smoking. The public humiliation of having the staff know that you had a pelvic exam from a doctor who does such things on a routine basis.”

She rolled her eyes, but he slipped the speculum out, which sent frissons of pleasure billowing through her.

“I’ll just do the bimanual check,” he said, inserting two fingers in her vagina and pressing back at them with his other hand on her abdomen. He began to slide the fingers in and out and her breathing rate increased while she tried not to moan like a cat in heat.

“Lubrication still appears healthy,” he observed.

“You’re killing me, here,” she muttered.

His lips curled. “Am I? Are you afraid I’ll never get you off?”

Just the suggestion of giving her pleasure made something in her core flip flop with excitement. He shoved his fingers in deeper, causing her to gasp with pleasure and then he began to do something on the inside that made it impossible to hold still. She mewled and bucked her hips. He grasped her hip to pin her pelvis down as he continued to tickle her inner wall.

“No,” she moaned, rolling her head from side to side.

“Healthy response to g-spot stimulation,” he said in his same clinical tone.

“Dr. Drake,” she whimpered, “please…”

“No, Miss Jones. You’re not coming yet,” he said, abruptly removing his fingers.

She nearly wept with unfulfilled need. “Wait! Please?”

“I still need to give you your rectal exam.”

* * *

“Oh boy,” Chloe panted, looking alarmed. “I don’t think that’s really necessary. You can just...uh...check my g-spot again, doctor.”

“Who calls the shots in this exam room?” he snapped in his best “don’t question the surgeon” tone.

“You do?” she said in a small voice.

He squirted a dollop of lube on the tip of his gloved finger. “That’s right, Miss Jones. I expect your full cooperation for this examination. And you still have a serious punishment coming for smoking.”

“I do?” she asked in the same little voice.

He pressed his finger to her anus and waited until she relaxed it and allowed him in.

She gave a wanton whimper.

He slid his finger slowly in and out, watching her face contorting with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. “Is it embarrassing to have your ass finger-fucked by your doctor, Chloe?”

She moaned louder, both a protest and encouragement.

“Have you ever had anal sex, Chloe?”

“No,” she gasped.

“No? Why not? Do you think it would be unpleasurable?”

“Um...no! Wait—yes?”

He chuckled. “Are you getting confused?” He applied more lube and picked up the pace, plunging in and out of her.

“Oh God…” she moaned. “No...no...no…oh God.”

He shoved his thumb in her pussy and rocked back and forth between the two, sliding deep into her anal cavity, then to the hilt of his thumb.

“Oh please, oh please, oh please, oh please…” her fingers balled into fists in the paper covering on the exam table and she tore chunks off, gritting her teeth. “Ahhhhh!” she screamed through clenched jaws as her vaginal walls contracted around his thumb and he pounded his digits into both holes at once.

She rolled her head to the side, sobbing with the release.

He eased his fingers out and wiped the lube off her with a towel. “Very good, Chloe. You did so well with your first pelvic exam,” he told her as he helped ease her heels from the stirrups. “Now, I may need to see you back here sooner than one year. I may need to repeat this fairly often, in fact,” he ad libbed.

He hoped she would want to play again and not be embarrassed about what had passed between them.

She moaned softly. He pulled off his gloves and threw them in the trash, eager to touch her skin. Sliding his hands up her legs, he caressed her, soothing away the post-climactic trembling. She tried to roll onto her side, but instead he lifted her to sit and wrapped his arms around her, holding her head against his chest and stroking her back.

When she lifted her face, the shy vulnerability he saw there surprised him. Cradling her chin, he lowered his head and nibbled at her lips. She closed her eyes and arched into him, lifting her mouth to his, responding with sweet little kisses. He smiled against her mouth.

When he drew away, he spun his hands around her breasts, twiddling her erect nipples. “We do need to have a talk, though.”

She tensed. “Okay.”

“What’s the deal with the smoking?”

“Look,” she explained, her words coming out in a rush. “I only smoke when I drink. And just a couple cigarettes, but I had this pack in my purse from last weekend, and...I just wanted one.”

“Okay,” he said evenly. “After you get dressed, you’re going to bring me what’s left in the pack. We don’t allow smoking anywhere here on the premises, and you know that. But worse, I’m quite certain you’re aware of the highly addictive quality of tobacco, as well as the health risks you undertake when smoking.”

“Yes, doctor,” she said meekly, her submissive tone going straight to his aching cock.

He picked up her chin and held it, peering into her eyes. “I want you to quit. Not even when you’re drinking.”

She hesitated.

He raised his eyebrows. “Or are you a smoker? Too addicted to give it up?”

“No!” she snapped impatiently. “I can quit. Okay, okay, I’ll quit.”

“Promise?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Look me in the eye and swear it.”

She dragged her eyes to meet his. “I promise I won’t smoke again.”

He smiled. “Thank you. I am going to punish you, so you understand the consequences of breaking your promise to me.”

She searched his face, her expression uncertain.

He pulled her down from the exam table and walked her back to the end with the step. “Bend over and put your belly down.”

She gave the paper a quick yank to bring a fresh sheet under her and obeyed, lowering her torso over the end of the examination table.

He walked over to the cupboard where Dr. Dihns kept her arthritis cream.

"Are you going to spank me?" she asked, sounding far too excited about the prospect.

“It's a medically induced spanking,” he explained, slipping on a new pair of latex-free gloves and squeezing a small dollop of the cream on his finger. “This will sting just like you've had a long hard spanking and it will last a couple of hours."

He rubbed a scant amount on her twin globes, knowing it was better to go light than put too much on and have her hopping around with steam coming out of her ears. As it was, she might never speak to him after she experienced the burn of capsaicin cream. She wiggled her butt, as if she wanted more.

He wrapped a fist in her hair and tugged her head back. “No smoking, Chloe,” he murmured in her ear. “Understand?”

“Yes, doctor.”

He released her and lifted her torso, turning her to face him.

“Is that all?”

His lips twitched in a smile. “It won’t start working for about ten minutes or so. Get dressed, bring me the cigarettes, finish restocking this supply drawer. Then we’ll see if you’re appreciating your punishment.”

She bent to pick up her clothing.

“What do you say?”

“What?”

“I’m waiting for my yes, doctor.”

She grinned and leaned forward, lowering her eyelids and making her mouth pouty. “Yes, doctor,” she purred like a 1950’s pin up girl.

He smacked her ass. “Get moving, Miss Jones.”

He sat on his stool and folded his arms, watching her dress. His attention made her nervous, which he enjoyed. Plus, she had a spectacular body, so watching her naked form in action was no hardship.

She dressed quickly, almost frantically, and left the exam room without a word, returning to hand him the cigarettes.

“Thank you, Chloe,” he said, crumpling the pack and tossing it in the trash.

He didn’t have to prompt her to organize his supplies, she worked with quick efficiency. When she stood up and closed the drawer, she rubbed her ass.

“Are you starting to notice it?”

Her face had flushed. “Ah...yeah,” she said, sounding breathless.

“Let me inspect,” he said and didn’t wait for her agreement, simply guided her across his lap and pulled down her scrub pants. Her skin had turned pink where he had applied the cream, but did not appear too angry. He actually had learned the trick from a patient who was into BDSM. Her partner had used too much and she showed up in a state of complete panic, with chemical burns all over her poor bottom. Later, curious, he had researched it and found the proper “dosage” to be quite small to have a large effect.

He gave each cheek a light slap. “Yes, it looks like it’s working.” He lifted her to stand. “Now be honest, is it too much?”

She swallowed and shook her head, looking glassy-eyed. “No,” she mumbled.

He patted her backside. “Good. I hope this serves to remind you that I won’t tolerate your naughtiness.”

“Yes, doctor,” she said, shifting from foot to foot.

He grinned. “You may leave, Chloe. I’ll give you the results of your lab tests as soon as I get them.”

She spun around from where she had started to walk to the door. “You’re really going to send them in?”

“Of course I am,” he said, fixing her with a stern look. “I took a Hippocratic Oath and you placed yourself in my care. It’s my duty to follow through as your healthcare provider.”

She looked uncomfortable, her hands cupping her ass. She opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it and fled from the room.

Chapter 3

Chloe drove home with her bottom burning. Dr. Drake had told her if the heat became too much to handle, she should call the clinic and be transferred to him because he was on call but there was no way she was doing that. She assumed that was the equivalent of safe-wording, and she would never humiliate herself that way. Besides...it was a good burn, a heady reminder of the kinky exploit she’d just had. And she enjoyed the flutter of naughtiness it incited.

She jumped in the shower, but the water only caused the burning to increase. The worst part was that he’d sent her home without actually fucking her. Because now, with her ass on fire, her pussy dripped with wanton need, and no amount of masturbation or vibrators were going to give her relief.

Why hadn’t he sought any kind of release for himself? She’d seen the giant bulge in his pants. Was it part of his control thing?

Because clearly the game fit his personality. No one played so well without being into it. He obviously loved being in charge of her and her body, being the voice of authority she could not resist. He could not have improved the scene—having her completely naked, her legs spread, her most intimate parts vulnerable to his plunder, all while he stood around fully clothed, in his white doctor’s coat, calling all the shots.

She picked up the phone to call Leigh Ann. Then hung up again. She was too horny for chit chat. She flopped on her bed and slid her hand into her panties, not surprised to find her lady parts still swollen and ready for action. It only took a few strokes of her fingers to come to climax, but it did little to relieve her need. Getting up, she pulled on a pair of running shorts and a tank top and put on her sneakers. She needed to get rid of some energy.

She took off down her street too fast, fully knowing that without pacing herself, she’d be falling down dead in less than a mile. She didn’t care. She replayed the entire examination three times in her mind before she returned to the question that really drove all her thoughts: would it happen again?

Had this been a one-time fling? Or would they make it a regular thing? And if it became a regular thing, would it just remain purely sexual? Or would the dashing Dr. Drake pursue a real relationship with her? How would he treat her on Monday? Like it had never happened? Or like they shared a special secret? Would she ever be able to look at him again?

She would like to pretend she didn’t care either way, that she could roll with it, and take the one-off kinky sex and enjoy it for the fabulous story it made (and she had every intention of sharing almost all the details with Leigh Ann and her other friends). But deep down she knew, if she showed up at work on Monday and Dr. Dreamy acted like nothing happened, she would be crushed.

By the time she made it back home, with a stitch in her side and a cramped calf muscle, she had steeled her resolve. She needed to get back on matchme.com and find a date. Pronto. Pining and daydreaming about some fantasy relationship with her boss wasn’t healthy or realistic.

So what if she had a few bad dates? That was how you weeded out the losers. Eventually, she’d find someone…

Or not.

She took a second shower, rubbing her calf muscle down under the warm water, her thumbs digging into the origin of the muscle, behind her knee. She took her time and shaved, wishing she’d done it that morning, before she found herself under intense examination. Oh well, too late for that.

She put on a pair of soft pajamas, disappointed the sting of Dr. Drake’s punishment had faded. Picking up the phone, she dialed Leigh Ann.

“You’re never going to believe what happened to me today.”

She filled her friend in on most of it, leaving out the anal examination, which was just too embarrassing to even admit had happened.

“So he didn’t get off? At all? Did you offer to help?”

Her heart plummeted. “I-I didn’t...it was like, he was in control, so I didn’t even think to take charge in any way. I totally should have, huh?”

“Well, it’s okay,” Leigh Ann reassured her quickly. “If he was calling the shots, he could have taken care of his own needs. Maybe that’s part of his kink—holding himself back.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too,” she said, the sinking sensation growing. “That’s not good, though, is it?”

“It sounded to me like it was pretty fabulous.”

“I mean, it doesn’t bode well for a relationship.”

Leigh Ann was silent long enough to tell her that she should not have even been considering her boss for a boyfriend position. “Right…” she said. “I shouldn’t be thinking that way.”

“Well, I mean, you never know,” Leigh Ann said, as her cheerleader and consummate optimist. “But I’d stick to matchme.com for finding Mr. Right.”

“I know, I know. I was just going to get on there and see if anyone interesting has turned up.”

She sat down at her laptop with the phone still pressed to her ear and opened up her email. “Ooh, I got a few messages. Let’s see if any are date-worthy.” She clicked through to check out the profile of the first one and made a buzzer noise. “Cheesehead is way too old for me. Ugh.”

“Well how old is Dr. Dreamy?”

“Not sure—youngish. Definitely under forty.”

“Okay, who else?”

“Let’s see...this guy looks about twelve.” She made another buzzer sound.

Leigh Ann laughed.

“They’re all horrible. I totally give up!”

“Don’t throw in the towel,” Leigh Ann counseled. “Mr. Right is out there.”

* * *

Guilt wracked Darren all weekend. Taking advantage of his employee like that had been dastardly. If any of the other doctors in the practice found out, he’d be out on his ear. Not to mention possible repercussions from the ethics board.

He imagined the headline: Local Gynecologist Sexually Harasses CNA, Performs Unnecessary Pelvic Exam

Granted it had been consensual, but he had zero proof of that. If she decided to tell someone—anyone—his goose would be cooked.

At least he had held back from getting his own pleasure. It had been his rationale for going through with the illicit adventure. He told himself he was just helping her realize her fantasies. Yeah, right. Totally altruistic.

And he felt a bit trapped about what to do next. Continuing their reindeer games greatly increased his chances of getting caught or found out. But not pursuing the most interesting relationship he’d had in ages would also be a serious mistake.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to figure anything out because he ended up with three women in labor Sunday night and was at the hospital until noon the following day. By the time all the babies had been safely delivered, he had worked seventeen hours straight and went home to sleep.

Tuesday morning he had a scheduled surgery and then two more of their practice’s patients went into labor, so he ended up at the hospital all day once more.

By Wednesday his tryst with Chloe seemed ages ago, and yet he couldn’t wait to see her. He went in early to catch up before he had to start seeing patients and found her lab results on his desk. He picked up the report and looked at it, smiling as he remembered how horrified she’d been at him actually taking a real sample.

He carried the report to the reception desk, asking Sandra, the main receptionist to start a file on Chloe.

“Okay. Are we billing on this?”

“No charge,” he said firmly. “Thank you, Sandra.”

As he walked back in the hall, Chloe stepped in through the back door, her head jerking higher when she saw him. He stopped and waited, not knowing exactly what to say or how to act, considering his colleagues were everywhere.

“Dr. Drake, your eight-thirty is ready in Room 4,” said Jenny, the clinic nurse, handing him a file folder.

“Thank you,” he said absently, still waiting for Chloe.

“Good morning, Doctor Drake,” she said in what sounded like the sexiest voice he’d ever heard. His cock twitched. But no, surely it was his imagination. She’d only said good morning.

He found himself incapable of answering, as all the responses that came to mind included completely inappropriate words or behavior. Jenny would probably notice if he shoved Chloe against the wall with his knee between her legs. He settled for touching her back as she passed him—just a light brush, innocent enough—to let her know...well, he didn’t know exactly what he wanted her to tell her. That he was dying to spread her legs again? That he hadn’t forgotten the heady scent of her arousal, or the way her face twisted in ecstasy as she’d climaxed? That he’d already imagined one thousand other things he’d like to do to her? He gave himself a mental shake and stepped into the exam room.

The day flew by and he only saw Chloe in passing until the end of the day when he saw her gathering her things to go.

“Chloe?” he called down the hall.

She looked up expectantly.

“May I see you for a moment? In my office?”

“Oh, um, sure.”

He loved that she still looked flustered by him, not knowing how much she already had him in the palm of her hand. Well, that was the way he liked to keep it. He loved holding the reins of a relationship, which had eventually driven his ex-wife to divorce him. But he liked to think he’d learned a few things about himself since then.

She followed him into his clinic, leaving the door open.

“Sit down,” he said, indicating the chair opposite his desk.

She sank into the seat and picked at her fingernails.

“I’d like to get a copy of your previous medical records,” he said, sliding a consent form across the desk.

Her head jerked up in surprise. “Why?”

“Well, you’re under my care now.”

Her eyes went wide. “Did my pap come back abnormal?”

He immediately regretted playing doctor authority games with her. “No. Everything looked fine. There’s no cause for alarm. I’d just like to have a full picture. That is...if you do actually trust me to be your doctor?”

She looked uncertain and he was surprised by how much her mistrust bothered him. But of course she wouldn’t want him to be her doctor—he’d been as unethical as a doctor gets with her.

“I guess it’s hard to put yourself in the hands of a doctor who hasn’t proven himself to be trustworthy,” he said.

* * *

“No,” she said quickly. “I totally trust you. I do. I just feel weird, that’s all.”

The irony of working as a nurse assistant when she mistrusted all doctors was not lost on her. It wasn’t personal with Dr. Drake—she hated the medical profession as a whole. She hated the way they held all the power, as if she couldn’t handle the responsibility of making decisions about her own body.

“Weird, how?”

She flushed and shrugged.

“Do you think you could come to trust me in spite of my past indecent behavior?” He arched a brow, “Or perhaps it’s because of it?” he teased.

She giggled, grateful at the release of tension. “Yeah, I guess I could. I mean, at least I know if you’re sneaking extra peeks at my va-jay-jay for thrills, you’ll include me in the fun.”

He threw back his head and laughed, a deep, rich sound that warmed her. “That’s one way to view it,” he said.

Sandra, the receptionist buzzed through on his phone. “Dr. Drake, Dr. Roberts is on line five.”

He gave her a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

She jumped to her feet. “No problem,” she said, and signed the order for her medical record release. “Thanks.”

As she walked out of his office, she tried to decipher their conversation. Was he just being friendly? Or rather, responsible as a doctor? Or did his request to be her doctor mean something more? But that was stupid—they hardly knew each other outside the workplace and one torrid pelvic exam. To imagine a request for medical records equalled an interest in being her Mr. Right was like believing Prince Charming would be showing up at her door with a glass slipper.

Besides, did she really want more with him? Didn’t her dislike of doctors confirm the medical thing wasn’t for her? She sighed and went home to peruse the matchme.com profiles and try to find a real date.

Chapter 4

Chloe occupied most of his thoughts that week. He experienced an intense need to protect her, which was probably why he had insisted on becoming her doctor.

He had entered med school out of a desire to master life’s calamities. His father died when he was sixteen, leaving him and his mother with a sense of helplessness and even betrayal. Perhaps if he were more spiritual, the message would have been to surrender to a higher power because humans have no control. Instead, he vowed to learn everything about the human body to manage its frailties. He didn’t expect difficulties with Chloe’s case, but if the results were less than ideal, he would be her warrior.

Chloe also occupied his less altruistic thoughts. He thought of the sight of her sprawled on his table, her head thrashing in utter abandon. He wanted to get her on it again, despite his better judgment. Without fully admitting to himself his intention, he had volunteered to let Dr. Dihns go home early on Friday, so he might have the pleasure of working alone with her again. He’d even stopped by the adult toy store to buy a few choice items. But when Friday came, he ended up with a patient in pre-term labor and had to work at the hospital all afternoon.

Now, with the clarity of a Monday morning, he decided it was for the best: getting kinky with Chloe again was playing with fire. He should consider it a dodged bullet and let it all fade to a memory.

But when he walked in his clinic that morning, a little African violet plant sat on his desk, wrapped up in a purple bow. It had no card with it.

Chloe peeked her head in through the doorway. “Hey.”

He looked up, the sound of her voice lifting his spirits more than the two cups of coffee he’d already drunk. “Good morning. Is this from you?”

She walked in a few steps, looking shy. “Yeah.”

“What for?”

“For, you know—taking me on as a patient. Sandra told me at the front desk you labeled my file as a “no fee” and I appreciate that.”

He found himself mildly disappointed by her answer. An obligatory thank you gift for not charging her was hardly what he wanted. But what had he hoped for, then? Her big eyes blinking up at him with undying gratitude? For her to call him her hero? Or sink to her knees and unzip his pants? That image seemed to propel him around his desk, into her personal space.

His door gaped open, which meant if anyone walked by, they would see them there. “I need to know something, if I’m going to be your doctor,” he said in a low voice.

She licked her lips. “Oh yeah?”

The space between them seemed charged, as if the heat of her body reached him through the eight inches separating them, and it sent tingles down his legs. “I need your implicit trust in every order I give. You must completely give yourself over to my care, obeying me and submitting to every protocol.”

She swallowed, her eyes dilating. “Obey you?”

He leaned closer, still not touching her. “Yes, Chloe.”

“And submit?”

“You heard me.”

“Like what?”

He shook his head. “You don’t question. You give your body over to my care. Do we have an agreement?” He could see by the frantic flutter of her pulse at her throat and the way her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath, he had excited her.

She nodded, her big brown eyes locked on his.

He raised his eyebrows. “Where’s my yes, doctor?”

Her face broke into a slow grin so dazzling he almost stepped back. “Yes, doctor.”

“Good girl.” He looked at his watch. “I have a pretty full schedule, but I think I can fit you in around 5:30,” he said.

The clinic closed at five, so they would be alone by then.

Chloe gave him another chesire cat grin. “Thank you, doctor.”

* * *

“Exam Room Six. In a gown.” Dr. Drake wore a serious expression that made a shiver run down her spine. Obviously her resolve not to play this way again had dissolved the moment he’d suggested it. She turned on her heel without answering and strode down the hall toward room six.

She didn’t love his request for a gown. She rather preferred the way it had gone the first time, with him undressing her. Something about wearing the ridiculous gown took away the sex appeal.

You must completely give yourself over to my care, obeying me and submitting to every protocol.

His words made taking off her clothes an act of submission. He ordered her into a gown. She had to obey. Why did such a thing make her insides flip flop? What would he do to her today? The memory of his finger in her ass made her pelvic floor muscles contract, heat spreading to every part. She realized she’d whimpered out loud and almost giggled. The power this game had on her staggered her.

A sharp rap sounded on the door and Dr. Drake walked in, looking professional. “Miss Jones, how wonderful to see you again.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she answered meekly.

He looked up from her chart and gave her a quick wink, which made her heart flutter in her chest. “I’m going to need you to lie on your belly on the exam table today.”

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline at this unexpected news.

“You heard me,” he said with an impatient wave of his hand. “Up on the table, prone position.”

She drew in a breath and gingerly stepped up to the exam table, climbing onto it with little grace. She realized she was giving him a full view of her ass, and somehow having the useless, open-backed gown made it worse than being naked. She crawled forward and lowered to her belly, the fabric of the gown falling down to completely bare her backside. It took great effort not to clench her buttocks.

Two large hands gripped her calves and pulled her down until her ankles reached the stirrups. She didn’t see how her feet would fit in them backwards, but then she sensed the stretch of rubber tubing against her calf and realized he was binding her lower leg to the stirrup with surgical tubing. She tried to pull her leg away, but he held it firmly, already wrapped with the band and quickly secured. He repeated the action with the other foot, so her two legs were open wide and immobilized, her most intimate parts revealed.

Her pussy clenched.

He trailed a hand up her calf, along her thigh to her ass, where he delivered a gentle slap. “Excellent muscle tone,” he observed and slapped the other side.

“Thank you, doctor,” she murmured.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

She pleaded with her eyes as she raised her arms above her head to extend her wrists to him. She trusted he wouldn’t harm her, but being trussed up like a chicken was definitely out of her comfort zone.

He wound another length of surgical tubing around them and knotted it, then secured it to a knob on the head of the bed immobilizing her. Lying on her breasts without the support of her arms was uncomfortable and she winced, shifting.

He pulled another dressing gown from the bin and rolled it into a ball. Lifting her shoulder, he tucked it under her chest, peeling her sternum and shoulders away from the bed to take the pressure off.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

He gave her another wink and she turned to mush. Who was she kidding? He could do anything he wanted with her.

He picked up his chart again with a pen poised over it. “Today we’re going to examine your time to orgasm. What would you say is the fastest you’ve ever hit climax?”

She giggled into the crinkly paper of the exam table. “I don’t know...five minutes?”

He jotted it down. “And the longest?”

“Well, sometimes I don’t reach it, so what’s that? Never?”

“With manual stimulation or intercourse?”

“Intercourse.”

He stroked a hand down the muscles of her back, his touch light but warm, igniting shivers of excitement through her entire body. She was almost trembling by the time his palm crested her right buttock. “In some positions the clitoris does not receive stimulation during coitus, making it difficult to reach orgasm.” His fingers trailed between her legs, brushing lightly over her sex. Though the touch was feather light, she jerked in response, gasping as a bolt of lightning shot to her toes.

“Do you ever have trouble with manual stimulation?” One finger glided over her honeyed slit, spreading her natural lubrication. She arched her back, pushing her sex against his finger, begging for more. “Miss Jones?” he prompted, his finger still exploring with the lightest of contact.

“Uh…” She trembled with need, her entire body beginning to shiver.

“Do you have trouble with manual stimulation?”

“No! Never,” she gasped.

“Good. Let’s just test it,” he said, removing his fingers.

She gave a whimper of protest.

He left her side and went to the cupboard, returning with a thermometer. “I’m just going to see when and if your temperature rises during stimulation.”

She lifted her head and opened her mouth, obediently.

“Oh no,” he chuckled. “This isn’t for your mouth, Miss Jones.”

Her bottom tightened when she realized his intention. In fact, her entire body went rigid, as if squeezing her buns together and stiffening her knees might somehow keep him from inserting the thermometer in her most private orifice.

He gave her bottom a sharp slap. “Open for me,” he said. He didn’t wear disposable gloves this time, and as much as they lent to the scene, she appreciated the intimacy of his bare skin.

He leaned down, speaking close to her ear. “Be a good girl, or I won’t use lube.”

Her pussy pulsed in response to his dominance, even as her mind rebelled. “Oh God,” she whined, “do you have to do this?”

His only answer was to pull her cheeks apart.

She gasped at the sensation of having her anus pulled taut and exposed. A cold blob of lube landed near it, making her jerk. Dr. Drake touched the head of the thermometer to her pucker which betrayed her by relaxing to allow its entrance. She squirmed at the intrusion and made a “meep” of protest.

When he walked away, she bit the paper table covering, willing herself to relax. She couldn’t see what he retrieved this time, and he walked out of her line of sight, in the direction of her feet. She jumped when he placed his warm hand on the back of her upper thigh.

Chapter 5

The room practically vibrated with the thrum of sexual tension. He had Chloe so wound up she was jumping out of her skin and he couldn’t wait to see what happened when he sprang her coil.

He slid a finger across her folds again, checking for wetness. Not surprisingly, her sex quivered with readiness, her tissue plumped and lubricated. He pressed the tip of a vibrator he’d bought last week at her opening and turned it on.

Chloe drew in her breath with a gasp, her body jerking in response.

“Now I need to get an accurate reading on the thermometer, so do not orgasm until I tell you. Understand?”

“I can’t just orgasm or not orgasm on command!” she protested, trying to twist her head around to see him. He had purposely stayed out of her line of sight, to add to the mystery and suspense.

“I believe you promised to obey?” he reminded her.

“But I—”

“No excuses, Chloe,” he said, hoping she would fail. He circled her clit with the tip of the vibrator, enjoying the sight of her little ass bucking in response, the thermometer jutting out so she looked like a turkey ready for basting.

He buried the vibrator deep inside her, using its curved tip to seek her g-spot.

“Oh God!” she cried in a panicked wail.

“I can see why doctors used this device to treat hysteria, can’t you?” he asked conversationally.

She thrashed her head from side to side, lifting it from the table and arching her back like a cat while pulling on her bound wrists.

“You seem to be growing more and more hysterical, don’t you? I suppose the instrument draws out the hysteria first, and then relieves it.”

“Dr. Drake...pleeease,” she pleaded. “Oh please, oh please, oh please. I need you.”

The words I need you sent a shock through him. Already turned on by watching the most erotic display of female arousal he had ever witnessed, his cock gave a painful throb. Did I need you mean she wanted him inside her? He hadn’t planned on getting himself off with her, still clinging to the idea that withholding his pleasure made this scenario more acceptable.

Now he wasn’t sure he could hold back. He slid out the vibrator, stood on the step between her bound feet and leaned forward, gripping the backs of her thighs.

“Ohhh,” she moaned in anticipation.

He leaned forward and licked into her, holding her legs firm as her knees bent and straightened, her pelvis humping the table. Her scent filled his nostrils, her tangy essence driving him to distraction. He flicked his tongue over her clit while she writhed under his grip.

The moment he penetrated her with his fingers, she convulsed, her pussy clenching around his digits, her voice raising to a high-pitched scream.

He shoved his fingers in and out until she finished, then eased the thermometer and his fingers out at once, eliciting a groan. He made a tsking sound. “Miss Jones, I asked you not to orgasm until I gave you permission.”

“Impossible,” she panted, sounding completely spent.

“No, it is quite possible, and with a little training, you will learn I am in charge of your body. But first, I believe punishment is in order for your disobedience.”

“Are you going to...spank me?”

He heard a quaver of excitement in her voice. He slapped the delicious curve of her buttocks. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He walked to the cabinet and pulled out more surgical tubing. Holding a length, he used it to whip her bottom.

She giggled. The tubing was too light, not providing any sting when he brought it down. He abandoned it and returned to the supply cupboard, this time retrieving a hypodermic needle. “What did you hate most about visiting the doctor as a child?” he asked, walking toward her with the needle prepped.

She lifted her head, her eyes wide. “What’s in that?” she asked, her tone dead serious. It was as if they were actors in a play and she’d just broken character to question the director about their blocking.

“Saline,” he answered as a similar “aside”.

She lowered her head, and tensed her shoulders, signaling her acceptance of his punishment.

He inserted the needle on the lower side of her right buttock, and injected the saline.

She gave a soft moan when he removed it. “You’re a sick bastard,” she said, although he heard a giggle in her voice.

He chuckled. “I can still give that spanking.”

She didn’t even pretend not to want it.

Walking to the head of the table, he released her wrists, rubbing away the red where the tubing had pressed against her skin. He kissed her pulse, then bit the meaty part of her thumb. Gently twisting her arms behind her, he re-tied her wrists where they lay in the small of her back. Surveying the picture she made, he reached out and plucked the tie to her dressing gown, releasing the knot so the strings fell to the sides and bared her back completely.

There. Absolute perfection. Fully naked, her peaches and cream skin glowed against the white of the paper, her small lean body perfectly framed on his table. Legs spread, ankles bound, wrists secured behind her back and hair fanned around her head like a halo, she made the most erotic and enticing picture he had ever seen. The crowning glory came with the sight of her pink sex glistening once again, despite her recent orgasm.

Untying her ankles, he pulled her legs down until she could stand on the step, still bent at the waist, her ass presented to him. He slapped one cheek, catching the lower curve of her buttock in his palm in a most satisfying way. Rubbing the sting away, he slapped again, and then again.

“Mmm,” she encouraged.

“I think you quite like being a naughty girl, don’t you Miss Jones?”

She gave a soft “oomph” when he slapped her other cheek. “I-I’m not sure of the appropriate answer to that question,” she admitted.

He brought his hand back and landed it squarely between her legs, slapping her pussy.

She squeaked and tried to erect her torso in surprise.

He pushed her back down. “No, Miss Jones. You asked for this spanking. If I decide you require vaginal percussion, I will apply it.”

She giggled at his made up medical term “vaginal percussion.”

He slapped her sex again, his fingers moistened by her slick juices. By the third slap, she was moaning wantonly, beginning to writhe against the exam table.

Being able to ignite such desire in her gave him a rush like he’d never before experienced—a soaring sense of virility and heady power.

“Doctor Drake…”

He fisted fingers into her hair and pulled it back. “Dr. Darren, my dear Miss Jones,” he murmured in her ear.

“Dr. Darren, I need you.”

Once more the words set him on fire, his own animal need barely leashed. “Need me...how?” he asked hoarsely.

“I need you to fuck me, doctor,” she moaned. “Now.”

He abandoned any thoughts of reminding her who was in charge as he yanked off his white coat and tossed it on the floor. Fumbling for a condom from his wallet, he drank in the sight of her again. Her submissive pose exquisite, her pleading moans singing him into an altered state. Unbuttoning his pants, he freed his length, sheathing it with the condom.

“Now, Miss Jones, this is still an experimental procedure,” he said, stepping up onto the stair behind her. “But I’m willing to try, since your case is rather unusual.”

He slid into her without any preparation, her tissues engorged and welcoming, channel slick.

“Oh God, yes,” she muttered. “Oh please fuck me hard.”

He went dizzy to hear her talk like a porn star. He’d always known her blushes and stammer did not mask a demure little innocent. No, they had been real enough, because they hid her true nature: submissive slut. In the best possible way that label could be used. He grasped her hips and obliged, slamming his cock inside her and withdrawing, slamming again, reveling in her gasps and the sound of flesh slapping flesh.

His own control began to crumble. He wanted to draw it out, to pleasure her further, but he became lost in the act of burying his cock deep inside her tight little channel. “Chloe…” he muttered, forgetting about Miss Jones and Dr. Dreamy and letting the scene drop away until it became only about the two of them. Not doctor and patient, not employer and employee, just Chloe and Darren—their true selves, underneath it all.

As he held Chloe’s pelvis, controlling her to meet his thrusts, he knew he would never get enough of her. He could no longer pretend this was all a game: he wanted her as his own, wanted to devour her, control her, protect and care for her. He needed to claim her like a rutting beast choosing the best mate.

“Ahhh, God, Chloe!” he groaned moments before he shot his load.

* * *

“So...do you have a girlfriend?” she asked after Dr. Darren had brought her to the second most incredible orgasm of her life, the first being the one that immediately preceded it. He had turned her around and sat her on the edge of the exam table, standing fully clothed between her knees while she remained naked.

“A girlfriend?” he repeated looking surprised. He cupped one of her breasts, running his thumb over it. “No, but there is this very cute CNA in my practice,” he purred in her ear. “I’ve had my eye on her for a while now.”

“Oh yeah? How long?” she asked.

He brought his other hand up so he cupped both breasts, pinching her elongated nipples. “Months and months. She used to go tongue-tied in my presence, but I could tell she had real spark.”

“Real spark?” she repeated. “Do you mean spunk?”

He pushed her back to lie on the table, lifting one of her legs to his hip as he nuzzled her neck. “No—spark. Like she might combust into flames on my exam table.”

She grasped his head to keep him there. “Do you think you’ll ask her out?” she whispered.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

His hand stroked up her thigh to knead her buttcheek. “Yesss,” she moaned.

“There’s something she probably ought to know about me,” he said.

She stilled, bracing herself for the revelation. He had herpes. Or three children under the age of four. Or a wife in Canada. “What is it?”

“I like to be in charge.”

She giggled. “I think she already knows about that.”

“Do you think she can take it?”

She looked at his face, thinking about how he had the power to make her stomach drop, her legs quiver and her center core turn to molten liquid. But that was all sexual. Did he mean in general? She swallowed. Could she handle it?

He started to pull away.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, she reached for him and yanked him back down, kissing him with passion, wrapping her legs around his waist and squeezing.

He smiled against her lips. When he broke the kiss, he helped her to sit up and then stand. “Would you like to get some dinner with me?”

Even though she’d practically just demanded he ask her out, she flushed with pleasure. “I’d love to, Dr. Darren.”

He grinned, his lips curling into the smile she found so devastating.

She glanced at her scrubs in the corner. “Would it be all right if I went home to change really quick?”

“You are pretty sexy in scrubs. But okay,” he conceded with a wink.

She gave him her address and they agreed he would pick her up in an hour.

As she drove home, she pictured what it would be like to sit across the table from him and froze up. What would they talk about? Did they have anything in common at all? She was a twenty-six year old who spent her time hanging out at nightclubs with her close friends. He was a thirty-something medical doctor, who probably went to wine tastings or did something sophisticated and mature in his spare time.

She arrived at home and changed quickly, freshening up her make up and hair, her anxiety only mounting.

When the bell rang, she answered it, her stomach in a tight knot.

“Hey,” she said, her palms sweating.

“You look great,” he said, his eyes sweeping up and down with an appreciative gaze.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she racked her brain for something interesting to say.

It was going to be a very long date if she couldn’t pull it together soon.

Chapter 6

The date had been a flop. Although he knew she wanted him to come in, to give it the happy ending they’d both expected, he dropped her off at the door with a quick kiss.

“We both have to be at work early,” he’d said by way of explanation. “I’ll see you there.”

“Right. Okay,” she said, her gaze not lifting above the level of his sternum. “Good night,” she said, turning and rushing inside.

Damn.

It had been awkward. Even though he’d tried to keep her relaxed, Chloe had slipped back into her nervous employee role, blinking at him with wide eyes and stammering monosyllabic answers to his questions. He knew there was more to her—she had been irreverent and cute and totally frank when he’d pierced her bubble before. When she’d let him pull off her clothes and do dirty things to her on his table.

Maybe it was one of those relationships that couldn’t go beyond the sexual.

Except that seemed like a cop-out. She wasn’t an airhead or annoying or anything else that would make him deem a woman “undateable”. She wasn’t even shy, despite the way she’d behaved at dinner. So he just had to get her to open up and be herself so they could get to know each other. And a quiet dinner at a steak house had not been the right approach.

He considered their age gap. Maybe meeting somewhere on her turf would’ve been better?

He sighed as he undressed that night, feeling like he’d somehow let her down. He’d been able to make her let go in his examination room, so why not on a date? And the worst part was he knew with an absolute surety she sat at home blaming herself. What would she do about it?

He hoped she would rally.

* * *

In the morning he found her paperwork from her previous OB/Gyn had arrived. He called her into his office.

“I received your medical history file, Chloe,” he said when she entered his office and sat down, looking nervous. “Everything seems to be in order. Are you satisfied with the brand of birth control pills you’re currently on?”

She blinked for a moment. “Yes. Do you think they’re okay?”

“Well, even the lightest dose of hormones have side effects, but it’s a brand I’m comfortable with.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I hate doctor speak.”

He sat back, crossing his legs and looping his fingers around one knee. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She gave a short bark of laughter, her eyes crinkling as her cheeks colored. Ignoring his remark, she said, “I thought you were going to call me in here and tell me I’m a lousy date.”

He smiled, amused. This was the real Chloe—the girl he wanted to know better. “No. I take responsibility for the bad date. Next time I will keep you on a shorter leash.”

Her brows lowered but he could see her nippes protruding through her scrubs. “A shorter leash?”

He nodded. “You require closer supervision. Tighter controls. Next time I’ll tell you what to wear, when to speak and how to speak to me.”

She stared at him, her mouth agape.

He arched a brow. “And if you can’t obey, you’ll be punished.”

That tweaked her. Color rose high in her cheeks, her brown eyes looking bright. She rubbed her lips together. “When?” she asked hoarsely.

He suppressed a laugh and tipped his head to the side. “We’ll see how you do around here this week. I have a few challenges for you.”

She appeared to be hiding a grin. She stood and tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder. “Well, I’m ready for them,” she said.

“Ok. Supply closet. Ten minutes.”

She drew an audible breath, her eyes widening, then whirled on her heel and walked swiftly out.

He chuckled. He’d had no idea things would go that way, but he couldn’t be more satisfied. He opened his desk drawer and retrieved the small toy he had ordered last week after their first tryst. The Lelo “LYLA 2”—a bullet vibrator with a wireless remote control. Quiet enough to use in public, with eight different speeds. He could literally keep Chloe on edge all day long. He stood and pocketed the device and controller, adjusting his cock, which already strained in anticipation.

He looked through the rest of his lab reports and checked his watch. While keeping Chloe waiting held a certain appeal, the likelihood of them getting caught increased every minute she was away from her duties. He left his office and walked purposefully to the supply closet, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

Chloe stood on the far end, her hands braced against the shelves behind her, as if she could not stand on her own.

“Turn around and bend over.”

She only hesitated for a few seconds before slowly rotating and folding at the waist.

“Pull down your pants and panties.”

She reached back, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her scrubs and slid them down.

He stifled a growl in his throat, the sight of her creamy white ass offered up to him making it hard to breathe. The pink lips of her sex peeked out, the smell of her arousal filling the supply closet.

Voices in the hallway brought him back. He deliberately stood so his body would block the sight of her if anyone opened the door.

“Place your hands on the shelf in front of you,” he instructed.

She complied.

He sauntered over, maintaining the air of casual disinterest, while the animal in him wanted to pounce, to take her right there in the supply closet, fucking her until her teeth rattled. He drew in a breath and released it, stroking the sensuous curve of her buttocks.

She remained still, waiting, a slight tremble in her knees making her buttocks quiver.

“You like to obey, don’t you, Chloe?”

“Only you, doctor,” she said, making him smile.

He rewarded her by caressing her glossy slit and she whimpered, pressed her butt out further. “Today we’re going to work on orgasm training.”

“What does that mean?”

He gave her ass a quick spank. “Do not speak except to say yes, doctor,” he said sharply.

She stifled a nervous giggle. “Yes, doctor.”

He pulled out the LYLA 2 and rubbed its head in her juices.

She twisted to see what he was doing, but he grasped her hair and pulled back. “Did I say you could look?”

“No, doctor.”

“Eyes on your hands.”

She dropped her head, staring at her hands on the shelf, as he instructed.

He turned on the vibrator, moving it around her engorged clit, drawing out the most beautiful moan.

“Shh,” he warned, clamping a hand over her mouth. “No moaning, no groaning. And you will definitely not be orgasming until I give you permission. He shoved the LYLA deep inside her. “Use your Kegel muscles to hold this in. I don’t want to have to come back in here and reinsert this,” he said, although he’d enjoy nothing more.

He pulled up her panties, then her scrub bottoms and, reaching around front, cupped her mons. “How does that feel?” he asked, his cock pressing against her low back.

She took a shuddering breath. “Um...fine?” she said in a desperate-sounding voice.

He chuckled and turned the speed on the LYLA up. “Just fine?”

She gave a whimper of protest. “What are you doing to me?”

He moved his fingers over her sex, adding external stimulation.

She covered his hand with hers, pushing him against her clit. “Ah-ah, Miss Jones,” he chided. “I’m not even close to giving you permission yet. Bend back over and put your hands on the shelf. Do not move until I signal my permission by turning off the vibrator, and when you do move, you may not touch your pussy.”

She made an indistinct sound.

“Enjoy your day,” he said, turning and walking out.

* * *

She stood, completely immobile, simply by his command. What was this power he had over her? Why did he have the ability to make her pussy weep with a mere look, her nipples harden at the timber of his voice?

She shivered, the pulsing vibration driving her to distraction. She wanted nothing more than to slip her fingers between her legs and twiddle her clit until she came, but she couldn’t make herself disobey the good doctor Drake.

Anyone could walk in right now and see her. She imagined the picture she made. At least her pants were up. She decided if she heard anyone coming, she would simply crouch down like she had dropped something. Or should she just erect herself quickly? She nibbled her lip, trying not to pay attention to the insistent little device inside her core.

It stopped buzzing.

The change came as both relief and disappointment. She slowly stood, her hand reaching between her legs then freezing mid-air.

You may not touch your pussy.

Damn him. And how well could she keep the thing seated inside her? The sound of the door handle turning made her whirl and rush toward the door.

“Good morning,” she called out as she breezed past Jane, the nurse practitioner.

Despite the awkwardness of carrying a small sexual toy within her cavity, her mood soared. She’d been a first class idiot the night before at dinner, searching for something clever to say, and coming up with zilch. She’d lost all her nerve contemplating the date. She wondered what one discussed on a date with a doctor at least ten years her senior. She wanted to meet him at his level, and then realized she couldn’t possibly.

Her life consisted of work—which they had no need to discuss—and partying with her friends. She didn’t golf, attend investment meetings or dine at steak houses or whatever else middle-aged doctors did. She didn’t even like doctors!

Well, clearly that was a lie, because this particular doctor could take her by the nose and lead her anywhere he wanted her to go. A fact which she still didn’t understand.

She led a patient into the exam room and took her blood pressure, noting it on the chart. “Dr. Reinhart will be right with you,” she promised as she stepped out. She swung the door closed, nearly slamming it, because at that moment, the little bullet began to vibrate. She whipped her head around, looking for her torturer, but he was nowhere in sight.

Already aroused from his previous use of the bullet, her body flamed into hot desire. She walked toward the reception area, each step making her swollen pussy ache more. She placed a hand over her low belly, as if it might somehow alleviated her need.

“Cramps?” Jane asked as she passed her in the hall.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

Where the hell was Dr. Drake? Did the toy have a certain range? If she left the building would it stop? But even as she contemplated it, she knew she wouldn’t. She had to see where this would lead, craved the delicious torture.

She opened the door to reception and called the next patient. A woman pregnant with twins waddled forward, her huge belly making the rest of her look tiny in comparison.

The vibration intensified. She crossed one leg in front of the other, trying to brush the lips of her sex, dying for some kind of contact or pressure there.

“Did you—” she stopped, gasping as the bullet moved at a new speed. “Did you leave a urine sample?” she managed, trying to keep her face blank.

“Yes, of course,” the woman said.

Finally. A patient who paid attention to instructions. “Thank you. If you’ll just step on the scale here,” she said, stifling the whimper rising in her throat.

The patient stood on the scale and she slid the bars across. “One eighty-three,” she read, jotting it in the chart with a shaking hand. She’d be lucky if the doctor could read it. She glanced at the chart to see which doctor she belonged to. Dr. Drake. Well, it served him right if he couldn’t read her numbers.

“Exam room five,” she said, motioning toward the appropriate door. “You’ll find a gown on the table.” She looked around again. Where the hell was Dr. Drake?

The vibrating stopped.

She exhaled, walking forward on shaky legs to pick up another file. She called another patient, then returned to Exam room five to take the patient’s blood pressure, although it took her two tries—she lost track of counting the first time.

A knock sounded on the door and Dr. Drake walked in, his debonaire smile lighting the room. She longed to launch herself into his arms, or tear out his hair. Or just swoon at the wink he gave her. She needed him with her whole being.

She forced herself to walk out of the room, though she wanted to shove the patient and her twin belly to the floor, throwing off her own clothes and spreading her legs for him. But oh yeah, she’d already done that, at least the throwing off her clothes and spreading her legs part.

She couldn’t help but turn and glance at him one last time as she shut the door. Her heart stuttered to find him looking back, a little smirk twisting his lips.

This was, by far, the most exciting thing to ever happen in her boring little life. At that moment, she didn’t care whether Dr. Drake—Darren—wanted to date her or not. Even if he gave her nothing more than crazy kinky sex in the workplace on a weekly basis, she would be fulfilled.

But who was she kidding? They couldn’t continue this way, could they?

The vibrating began again, a slow, maddening pulse. She groaned.

“Take some ibuprofen,” Jane advised, overhearing.

She choked back a laugh. “Good idea,” she managed. “I will. Thanks.”

She went into an exam room to clean it up for the next patient. As she replaced the paper covering on the table and tossed the used gown in the hamper, she considered shutting the door and giving herself some privacy. But to do what? Did she plan to disobey Dr. Drake and touch herself? She didn’t want to—she liked the idea of meeting his challenge. So then how else did she hope on getting release? Squeezing her thighs together hard enough? Considering her state of arousal, it would probably work. But no, when she came, she wanted it to be with Dr. Drake’s participation.

She dug her fingernails into her palms and walked out, wondering how many more hours of torture she could take.

Chapter 7

Darren teased Chloe all day, turning the LYLA on and off, changing speeds and generally keeping her on the edge. He could tell by her flushed cheeks and bright eyes she was one stroke away from an orgasm, and he wanted to keep her that way as long as possible.

Unfortunately, none of the other doctors seemed inclined to leave that afternoon, everyone gathering in Dr. Reinhart’s clinic for a social chat. He was about ready to grab Chloe’s arm and yank her out to his car, bend her over the hood and fuck her in front of God and the world.

She stood at the end of the hall, an irresolute look on her face. Technically, she should be off by now, so she may have run out of excuses to stick around. He flicked the vibrator on. She whirled and looked down the hall, seeing where he stood in Dr. Reinhart’s doorway. Without signalling, she turned and walked into the supply closet.

He smiled. Well, why not finish things where they started?

The idea of fucking her in the supply closet while his colleagues stood shooting the shit less than twenty feet away had a lot of appeal.

He eased back from his position, drifting away without excusing himself. At the end of the hall, he twisted the handle to the supply closet and slipped in, noiselessly.

Chloe stood much like he’d found her that morning—backed against the shelves. But this time, her eyes looked wild. He closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, capturing the back of her head and holding it to plunder her mouth.

She twined her arms around his neck, throwing her weight against him as she kissed back, her sweet little tongue tangling with his. When they broke apart, he held out his palm, using his best operating room voice, “lube.”

“Yes, doctor,” she whispered, reaching for a box containing a tube of lubricant and handing it to him.

“Turn around and bend over,” he instructed. He shook the tube out of the box and opened it. “Pull down your pants.”

She did not hesitate this time, yanking down her pants and panties.

Smearing a generous amount of jelly on his finger, he parted her cheeks and rubbed it over her anus.

She shot a worried glance over her shoulder.

“That’s right, Chloe,” he said in a low voice. “I’m going to fuck your ass, while you have a vibrator buzzing in your pussy and the rest of your bosses are just a few feet away.”

She whimpered.

He fully realized if they were caught, they would probably both be kicked out of the practice, but for some reason, it seemed completely worth the risk.

He pressed his thumb against her anus until she relaxed it enough for him to enter. He reached around with his other hand and stroked her pussy while he eased his thumb up to the knuckle, wiggling it inside her.

“Oh please, God!” she whispered.

“I am your God aren’t I?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she answered, more readily than he expected. “I need you so badly.”

He shoved his thumb in all the way and withdrew it, then buried it again.

“Ohhhh,” Chloe moaned.

He freed his cock, put on a condom and rubbed more lube on the head before bringing it to her little hole.

Chloe tensed and he stroked his palm down her back. “You can do this,” he assured her. “Just relax and let me in. The more you surrender, the better it will feel.” He turned the vibrator up to a higher level and circled her clit with his finger.

The muscles in her back softened and her anus opened once more. He pushed in, just a little bit and stopped to allow her to get accustomed to his girth.

“Doctor...Drake, I mean Darren,” she panted.

He eased in a little further. “You’re doing great, baby girl.”

“Mm, it’s so intense.”

“Yes. The pleasure will be all the more intense too.” He used more pressure, penetrating deeper into her deliciously tight channel.

“More,” she grunted.

“You’re ready?”

“Yes...oh God yes!”

He pushed into the hilt, slowly withdrew and pressed in again. “You feel so good,” he gritted, beginning to lose composure as his senses overloaded. He gripped her hips to hold her still, pumping smoothly into her, listening to her muffled squeals.

“Yes...yes!” she moaned in an urgent whisper.

He suddenly wished they were not in danger of being overheard, because he wanted to shout with his release, which he had built to the bursting point.

“Oh, God, Pleeeease!”

He curled his fingers inside her and her muscles spasmed. “Yes!” he hissed, slamming into her and remaining pressed deep inside as he pinched her clit.

“Oh,” she sobbed, sagging beneath him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist to stabilize her and eased out, pulling off the condom placing it in the box the lube had come in. Seeking the loop to the vibrator, he gently tugged it out.

She gave a cry of surprised disappointment.

He turned it off and tucked it in his doctor’s coat pocket, along with the box and lube. Pulling up her panties and pants, he spun her around and captured her mouth, kissing her deeply.

She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her to lend his strength to her still trembling form.

“Good girl,” he said.

She offered her lips again, looking completely dazed.

He stroked them with his own, drinking in her softness, amazed at the way she’d given herself to him so fully, so fearlessly. He cleared his throat. “The prognosis looks good, Miss Jones.”

“The prognosis on what?” she murmured.

“On our on-going chemistry together.”

She arched her back, pressing her firm tits against his ribs. “What about the lousy date?” The question sounded light, but her eyes searched his face with a trace of vulnerability, as if his answer might mean more than she let on.

“I told you—I’ve got that handled. Now, here’s what I want you to do: walk out of the supply closet. If the coast is clear for me to come out, let me know. If not, shut the door and leave. I’ll find my own way out later. Got it?”

She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Got it.”

“Oh and Chloe?”

She turned, smiling a bright smile. “Yeah?”

“Leave your phone number on my desk before you go.”

Her smile widened. “Okay.”

He caught her arm. “Yes, doctor,” he corrected.

“Yes, doctor.” She kissed him again and turned away, slipping out.

* * *

Chloe left the supply closet on wobbly legs, her sex still pulsing. She froze, trying to compose her face when she saw the group of doctors coming straight at her.

“Chloe! Why are you still here?”

“Oh, I uh...just needed to reorganize some things in the supply closet. I think everything should be nice and orderly now!” she adlibbed.

Dr. Dihns looked at her watch. “Well, I don’t think we needed you to work overtime on it,” she said doubtfully.

“I don’t expect you to pay me for this!” she reassured them. “It was just for my own sanity.”

“Well, come along, we’re ready to lock up.”

“Yep, I’m coming. I think Dr. Drake is still around here somewhere. Maybe in the restroom?”

“Oh yes, I see his car out there,” Dr. Reinhart called from the door to the parking lot. “Okay, good night!”

She walked swiftly toward the first exam room, where she stowed her purse, since she didn’t have an office. When she returned, the doctors had left, as she hoped. She ran to the supply closet and swung open the door. “All clear!”

Dr. Drake was leaning against the shelves, his arms folded casually across his chest, as if hiding in a supply closet was a perfectly comfortable and ordinary experience for him. He stood and sauntered out.

Remembering his instructions, she scurried ahead of him to his office, writing her phone number on a prescription pad.

She found him in an exam room, washing and sterilizing the bullet. “Well...goodnight,” she offered.

He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “I’m in surgery all day tomorrow and Wednesday, but Thursday I want you to wear your hair in that one-sided braid and bring a change of clothes so we can go out.”

She stopped, not sure whether to be offended or turned on by his bossy presumption. What if she had other plans for Thursday night? Of course, even if she had, she’d drop them in a heartbeat for a date with Dr. Dreamy.

He arched a brow in the stomach-dropping way he had and she understood it was deliberate.

Next time I’ll tell you what to wear, when to speak and how to speak to me.

She licked her lips. What did he have in store for her?

“Yes, doctor,” she said. Their eyes met and held and for an instant, she could not breathe, the searing intensity of his gaze melting her into a puddle.

“Good night, Chloe,” he said softly.

The spell broken, she turned. “”Night,” she answered, slipping out the door and leaving the building before she launched herself at the doctor and begged him to take her home and keep her as a pet.

What was it about him? The very doctor-ness she hated in the rest of the medical profession? The take-charge confidence certainly appealed. But there was something deeper. Something he understood about her that she had only just begun to see. A secret she wasn’t sure she was ready to explore.

She passed the next few days in eager anticipation, and when Thursday came, she spent time in the morning braiding her hair to one side as he had requested, putting on makeup and choosing an outfit.

She feared the day would pass slowly, but with a packed schedule she found herself too busy to spend time thinking about their date until five o’clock rolled around and the clinic emptied.

“Change your clothes and meet me in the parking lot,” Dr. Darren ordered when just the two of them were left.

Her heart skipped as she popped into the restroom and shucked her scrubs, putting on an outfit she deemed as sophisticated—a black skirt, purple spaghetti strapped blouse and high heels. Grown up clothes. This time she’d be ready to date a doctor.

She toddled out to the parking lot, the heels already making the balls of her feet ache. She looked around. His car or her car? Where exactly in the parking lot did he want her to wait?

“My car,” came the deep, commanding voice behind her. “Walk over, put your hands on the hood and don’t turn around.”

She obeyed, her heart racing with the thrill of the unknown. She reached his white Jeep Cherokee and placed her hands on the warm metal, as instructed, listening for the sounds of his steps.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered. She started to look over her shoulder, but he snapped, “Do not turn.”

“Sorry,” she giggled, snapping her head back to face the vehicle and forgetting.

He cleared his throat. “The panties?”

“Oh!” she giggled again and lifted the edges of her skirt enough to grasp her panties and yank them down. She prayed no one besides him could see her. She stepped out of the tiny g-string and held it out, without turning.

“Hmm,” he said, taking them from her. “These are smaller than I imagined.” He wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her against the front of his firm body. His hard cock pressed at her low back and she longed to touch it, but she didn’t move, just waited for instructions. He brought the panties in front of her face. “Put these in your mouth.”

“What?”

“In your mouth. Now,” he said sharply, reproof in his tone.

She opened her lips tentatively. He pressed the little piece of silk and elastic into her mouth.

“That will serve as your gag. I do not want you to speak until I remove it. You may nod your head yes or no if I ask you a direct question. Understand?”

She nodded, rolling the fabric around in her mouth.

“Turn around.”

She spun to face him.

He took a step backward, surveying her from head to toe with a critical eye. “You look beautiful, Chloe. Are you comfortable?”

“Mmph?”

“You don’t quite look comfortable to me. Are the shoes bothering you?”

She shrugged, embarrassed. “Mmmph mph,” she replied, an attempt at “a little bit.”

She realized he had dressed casually, in a pair of jeans and short sleeved button-down. She flushed.

He stepped back in and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Did you choose this outfit for me, Chloe?”

She nodded, feeling foolish.

“I love it. And I love the way you look in it. But I think I prefer you to look more like yourself. I don’t mean scrubs, but this doesn’t quite seem like your style. Is it?”

She shook her head, her forehead crinkling.

He kissed the lines away. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For making such an effort.” He took her hand and led her to the passenger side, opening the door for her and helping her in.

Chapter 8

He had planned to go more casual for this date to put Chloe at ease, and ironically, she had readied herself for something more formal. Her efforts to meet him with what she must perceive to be his style touched him, but all he wanted was for the two of them to click. He wanted her to open up and share her real thoughts with him, to trust him enough to show her true self.

Certainly she trusted him with her body. The image of her bent over the supply closet shelves, letting him take her anal virginity with the possibility of her bosses walking in at any moment had stayed with him. He’d thought of nothing but Chloe all week, strategizing for how to crack her shell.

A heavy dose of domination was the best plan he’d come up with.

“Were you sore from our escapade on Monday?” he asked when he climbed in. Her cheeks puffed from the panties, her lips thrust forward, making them look even more full and kissable than usual. He enjoyed the thought of interrogating her when she couldn’t talk.

“Mmm...hmm mmm,” she said, giving him the so-so sign with her hand.

“Did you tell anyone about what we did?” he asked as he started up the car.

She nodded with a guilty smile.

“Who? The friend you were talking with on the phone the day I caught you smoking?”

She giggled and nodded again.

“Was she shocked?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Impressed?” He pulled out, heading to a local microbrewery pub that served food.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Have you touched your pussy since Monday?”

She looked startled and guilty, as if she hadn’t considered his orders not to touch still held. She nodded, looking at him with wide eyes.

He made a tsking sound. “I will have to punish you for that. How many times? Hold up your fingers.”

She blushed and looked down at her hand, counting on her fingers. He had to hold back a smile when she held up four fingers.

“Four times?” he exclaimed, giving an incredulous lilt to his voice. “Did you climax four times?”

Her cheeks grew more pink and she nodded.

“Naughty girl. I will have to spank you before dinner.”

She squirmed in her seat, as if the idea excited her.

“In fact, I may spank you four times. Once for each transgression.”

She gave a mewl of protest and he dropped a hand on her knee, giving her a squeeze of affection.

He pulled into the parking lot and chose a spot in an unlit corner, away from other cars. “Don’t move,” he said, opening his door and getting out. He walked around to her door and opened it for her, offering a hand.

She took it, swinging her heels out and stepping down.

“Open your mouth.”

She obeyed and he pulled the little panties out. She looked at them dubiously. “I can’t wear those now, they’re all wet!” she protested.

He grinned. “You’re not going to wear them, and you still don’t have permission to speak. You won’t wear panties when you’re on a date with me.” He tossed them in the car and shut her door, then opened the door to the back seat and climbed in. Patting his lap, he said, “Come in. It’s time for your first spanking.”

She hesitated, looking nervously around the parking lot.

“Now, Chloe,” he said sharply.

She gave one more furtive glance and stepped in, shutting the door behind her and gingerly crawling over him to drape herself across his knees.

“Mmm,” he said, stroking the outline of her curvy backside through the skirt. “This is just how I like you.” He pulled up her skirt, his cock jerking at the sight of her naked ass. He brought his hand down on one cheek, hard.

“Ouch!”

“Shh. No talking. You earned this punishment, and I expect you to take it without protest.”

The scent of her arousal filled the vehicle.

“Spread your thighs a little,” he ordered, wanting a better view of her pretty little pussy.

She complied and he smiled at the sight of her glistening slit, begging to be stroked.

He slapped her other cheek, then rubbed away the sting. He wondered how long or hard he’d have to spank before she stopped enjoying it. The truth was, while he had a naturally dominant personality, he had never before engaged in kinky play to this level. Though now he wondered why not. The heady sense of power and virility he derived from taking charge of Chloe fulfilled a need he’d never known he had.

He continued to spank her until she began to writhe and whimper. Her cheeks had turned from creamy white to a rosy pink and the color began to hold. “Have you had enough, little girl?” he asked, rewarding her with two fingers between her legs.

She jackknifed back, eager for his touch.

“No, little miss. Naughty girls do not get off after they’ve been spanked,” he said, though he did not stop his steady caress of her sex, circling her clit, then penetrating deeper.

“Ohhh,” she moaned.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes!”

He removed his hand and gave her one last slap. “Then you’d better behave tonight so you can get your reward later.” Pulling down her skirt, he helped her slide off his thighs to sit beside him. “You may get out now,” he said imperiously.

Her face flushed, she swallowed. “Okay,” she said meekly, reaching for the door handle.

He exited from his side and met her around the car, putting a hand on her low back, straying toward her bottom to guide her in. They sat down and the waitress handed them menus.

“What can I get you to drink?” she asked.

Chloe shot him a glance, as if wondering if she had permission to speak. Pleased she had remembered, he leaned forward and asked in an undertone, “Do you drink beer?”

She nodded.

“Light?”

She nodded again.

“We’ll have two honey ales,” he said.

The waitress looked from Chloe to him as if trying to understand why a grown woman wouldn’t order her own beer.

When she walked away, he grinned. “It used to be considered gentlemanly to order for your date.”

Chloe just smiled, clearly enjoying the game as much as he. They looked at their menus.

“You may point to the food you’d like to eat,” he informed her.

She chuckled and held up her menu, pointing to the grilled chicken salad like a mute.

“Perfect. After we order, you may speak, but only to ask any questions you may have for me. Make them good, because I may not allow you to speak again.”

* * *

Once again, Dr. Dreamy had reduced her to a mass of tingling nerve-endings, in the best possible way. She understood his game now—by taking away all her control, she had no reason to be nervous. All she had to do was obey, which, it turned out, served as the hottest foreplay she’d experienced.

She didn’t even want to think about what that said about her.

Darren ordered their meals and then turned to her. “You may now ask me questions.”

She took a breath. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight. Next?”

She went for the most difficult one for her to ask. “What made you think I would like this?”

The corner of his mouth turned up as he regarded her with a heavy-lidded gaze. “You enjoy having control removed. It keeps you from worrying about whatever it is you worry about.”

“But how did you guess?”

He shrugged. “I saw the way you responded to your first...examination.” He made the word examination sound thrilling and dirty all at once.

“Well...that’s what I don’t really understand,” she said, realizing she wasn’t asking anything and hoping he wouldn’t stop her. “I hate exams. I hate doctors. I don’t think I like having control removed at all. I think perhaps it’s just you.”

“That wasn’t a question, but I’ll let it slide. And I’m flattered you think it’s me, but consider this theory of mine. Perhaps you’ve always craved, at least in a sexual context, having someone take charge. But in a non-sexual context, being submissive is considered weak and so you resist it with all your might.”

She furrowed her brow, considering.

“I mean, what is it you hate about doctors? The fact that they claim some sort of authority over you and your body?”

She blinked. “I guess so.”

He cocked his head. “The very thing that flips your switch.”

For some reason, the revelation made her want to cry, shaking her like a hidden truth dramatically revealed.

He reached his hand across the table and covered hers, as if he understood the magnitude of her reaction, which she could hardly comprehend herself. “Why did you become a CNA if you hate doctors so much? You may speak,” he added with a wink.

“The French lit degree didn’t land me a job as quickly as I thought it would,” she said with a sardonic grin.

“French literature,” he mused, without the how could you be so stupid? tone people usually used when she told them. “I bet that was interesting.”

She shrugged. “I liked it.”

Even more than French lit, she liked the way he looked at her, as if she were the most fascinating creature on Earth. “Other questions?” he asked after a moment of silence.

She gathered her thoughts. “What about you? Do you like having authority over people’s bodies? Is that why you became a doctor?”

He smiled. “The short answer is yes.”

“And the long answer?”

He drew a breath. “A lot of reasons. I like to be the hero. I have a fierce need to understand how everything in the body works. And I love babies—truthfully,” he said when she raised her eyebrows. “It may seem paradoxical, but even as someone who has distilled the process into science and procedure, I am still reverent about the miracle of every birth, and every little soul that comes into life.”

She waited, sensing there was more.

He looked as if he were deciding whether to say it all or leave it at that. “My father dropped dead at the dinner table when I was sixteen,”

She stilled, meeting the pain in his eyes with steady presence.

“I couldn’t be a hero to him, or to my mother, who suffered for years after his death. I felt so helpless, and I resolved never to be that way again. Going to medical school was the antidote. Mastering the human body, in a sense.”

Her eyes smarted, but this time for him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The waitress interrupted, bringing their beers and he started to pull his hand away, but she caught it, giving it a squeeze.

He gave her a faint smile.

“So did it work?” she asked when the waitress had left.

“No,” he answered frankly, his expression turning sober. “The first time I lost a baby during delivery I had to come to grips with the fact that control is just an illusion.” He lifted his shoulders. “Maybe this,” he said moving his finger back and forth between the two of them, “is a healthier expression of that need.”

She sat up straighter, liking the idea of being good for him.

The waitress brought their food. “You have permission to speak freely,” he said with a wink.

Despite the permission, they fell into silence as they ate, but it was a comfortable one this time—so different from the last strained date. When they finished, he led her to the car.

“So, my plan is to take you home and have my way with you. Are you on board with that?” he asked, backing her up against his Jeep and trapping her between his arms.

“Oh, I get a choice?”

He leaned over and nuzzled her neck. “You always have a choice, sweet thing. You can give yourself to me or you can hold yourself apart. But once you’ve given yourself, I’m in charge.”

“You had me at my plan is…” she admitted.

“Okay, let’s go get your car from the clinic parking lot and you can follow me home.”

She nodded, excitement about going home with him pinging through her body. But by the time he pulled into the parking lot, she had herself twisted in knots, with every anxiety small and large looming up at her. Would she spend the night after sex? Should she stop at home to get her toiletries? Would she act awkward and embarrassed when she got there?

Dr. Drake—he had become the formal to her again in that short time—put the car in park and turned to look at her. “I just lost you, didn’t I?”

She nibbled her lip. “What do you mean?”

He turned the car off and got out. She climbed out on her side and he met her, taking her hand and leading her toward the clinic.

Chapter 9

He’d had visions of Chloe in his bed after their date the night before, but she’d frozen up on the way to the clinic, so he ended up spanking and ravishing her in an exam room. He figured the thought of spending the night had made her nervous, so he’d kept it in her comfort zone.

He didn’t mind. He’d get her home eventually. Maybe even get her to loosen up around him.

In the meantime, he enjoyed getting frisky at the clinic. He’d called her in that morning and demanded she remove her top and bra for her daily breast exam, which he performed with his thigh between her legs and strategic use of his tongue on her nipples.

Hoping for more examination time, he offered to take the afternoon appointments, since it was Friday, but Dr. Reinhart waved him off. “No, I need to get caught up. Enjoy your weekend.”

He cornered Chloe where she was cleaning an exam room between patients. Walking in and opening the drawer as if he needed something, he said in a low voice, “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Oh! Um...no!” she said, sounding confused.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher her reaction. “Did that really mean you’d rather not see me again tonight or yes you did actually have plans, but you could change them?”

She blushed. “My friends are going out to a club, but I’d rather do something with you.”

He glanced at the open door to be sure no one was coming. “Well, I don’t want you to cancel plans on my account. Could I join you and your friends?”

He wanted to meet her on her turf, to get to know the real Chloe, the one he overheard talking on the phone a mile a minute.

Her eyes widened. “Well...yeah! Sure.”

“You think the old doctor can’t hang.”

She giggled. “You’re not old.”

“But you think I can’t hang?”

The sound of an exam room door opening made them both snap to attention. He made the gesture of a phone to his ear and mouthed, “I’ll call you,” with a wink before walking out.

He picked her up at nine o’clock. She looked stunning dressed in a little spaghetti strapped dress and platform heels. The dress was gathered and shaped around her breasts and then hung freely to her upper thighs.

“Wow,” he said, standing back and giving her the full up and down.

“Well, it gets hot when you’re dancing,” she said, as if defending her choice to wear so little.

“All I know is no bouncer will be making us wait in line.”

She smiled uncertainly.

“You look beautiful.” He slid the hem of her dress up to view black lace panties. She twisted to give him a view of the back, which had a cut out to reveal the tantalizing cleft of her ass, a flat bow at the top made it look like a present, just for him.

“Uh oh,” he said.

“What?” she asked nervously.

He gathered her skirt in one fist and tucked his thumb in the band of her panties, yanking them down to her thighs. “Those panties are made to be torn off,” he murmured, lowering to his knees and pulling her legs as wide as they could go with the panties still on. “You hold this up,” he commanded, handing her the fistfull of dress. “Don’t let it drop.”

He licked into her pussy and she squealed, unprepared for his quick onslaught. She rocked off-balance, catching his shoulder as he slid his tongue up and down her warm slit. Pulling her panties the rest of the way off, her lifted one of her legs and hooked it over his shoulder, giving him full access to her treasures. Cupping her ass, he squeezed and kneaded as he flicked his tongue over her clit, circling and sucking, then penetrating.

She caught the back of his head with her free hand and gripped his hair, moaning.

He slapped her buttocks as he licked, causing her to yelp and thrust her pussy forward, into his face. He slapped again and again, the flat of his hand connecting with a satisfying crack, echoing off the walls of the small entryway.

“Ooh...oh!” she cried, her excitement evident in the pitch of her voice.

He continued to spank and suck until she began to yank at his head and bounce her knee. Picking up the tempo, he spanked faster and let her grind against his lapping tongue until she came with a scream so loud he feared the neighbors would hear.

He tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, carrying her to the living room, where he plunked her down and sank onto the couch, pulling her ass up over his lap. He began to spank her again, marveling at how much he enjoyed it. She wriggled over his thighs, making little squeaks but it took a while before she began to make noises that sounded more like genuine alarm. He stopped and rubbed her heated flesh. “I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends,” he explained. “So I thought I would remind you before we left who is in charge.”

He pulled her dress down and lifted her up to sit on his lap.

Her face had flushed to the same pretty pink of her ass and her eyes looked bright. She snuggled against him, looking content. All the nervous energy she’d displayed when he walked in had dissipated.

“Go put your panties back on so I can rip them off you again later,” he said, helping her to stand and giving her bottom a pat.

* * *

The anxiety she’d had about their date had disappeared with the orgasm and delicious spanking he’d given her. He truly had a knack for flipping her switch, as he’d put it. His dominance allowed her to let go.

Still, she had nigglings of doubt about introducing her friends to him—worrying it would accentuate their age difference, underlining how young she was in comparison to him.

He drove to the club and she found he’d been right—the bouncer let them right in while he held a line mostly consisting of men outside. Darren had dressed sharp as well, wearing an elegant button down, slacks and shined black leather shoes. The drape of the shirt accentuated the muscles of his chest and she had to fight the urge to reach over and squeeze his bicep, just to feel the hard contours under her fingers. He had a way of making her feel safe and protected, as if he could handle anything. He guided her in with a hand on her back, seeming as comfortable in a nightclub as he was in an operating room.

She saw Leigh Ann wave from across the club and she waved back. Darren propelled her through the crowd to where her friends had staked out a cocktail table.

“Hey everyone! This is Darren. He’s my boss.”

Sarah, Jen and Tanya stared, agape. Leigh Ann, prepared for the news, hopped off her bar stool and offered her hand. “Better known as Dr. Dreamy?” she quipped.

Darren’s face broke into a broad grin.

“I’m Leigh Ann.”

“You must be the friend Chloe is always sneaking out back to call,” Darren said, shaking her friend’s hand.

“And you’re the world renowned expert on pelvic exams,” she shot back, clearly a little tipsy already.

Her boyfriend looked scandalized, thankfully not knowing the back story. “I’m Joe,” he said, heading off any further degradation of the conversation.

The introductions went around and Darren bought a round for everyone, which naturally inured him to her friends. There weren’t enough stools, so she perched on one and Darren stood behind her, sliding his palms over her hips in a possessive way.

She experienced a sense of pride at having him as her date, as if she’d shown up with a rock star, or a Hollywood hunk. But then Dr. Drake had been like a movie star to her, considering she’d spent the past two years drooling over him every day at the clinic.

When Leigh Ann pulled out a pack of smokes and offered her one, she shook her head without hesitation, eager to show her obedience. Darren wrapped an arm around her waist and bit her ear. “Good girl,” he murmured.

She shouldn’t enjoy being treated like a child, but the two words turned her to mush, like every little act of dominance from him. She’d thought a lot about their dinner conversation the night before, still trying to wrap her head around the seeming truth of her submissive nature. She certainly never considered herself submissive, but like he’d pointed it out, she had a defensive resistance to feeling that way that could be masking her true nature.

The club began hopping and he surprised her by going readily to the dance floor winning points for not even looking like he hated being there. By the time they took a break, her friends had scattered and someone else had claimed their table.

Darren pushed through the crowd to buy them bottled water because they were hot and thirsty, and she found Jen belly up at the bar with several empty shot glasses beside her and a hopeful suitor who appeared to be buying them for her.

“Heyyyy!” Jen said, falling into her with a drunken hug.

“Jen, you’re smashed!” she said.

“I know. I think these boys are trying to take advantage of me,” she slurred with a happy grin.

“Are you going home with them...or him?” she asked, not wanting to cock block if her friend was into it, but also feeling like she needed a babysitter at this point.

Jen pointed over her shoulder at the boys with an exaggerated look of shock. “With them? Nooooo!”

“Okay. Did you drive here yourself?”

“Uh…” she considered, as if trying to remember. “Yeah,” she said, giving an affirmative nod when she arrived on the answer.

“Keys,” Chloe demanded, holding out her hand.

“What?”

“Don’t be dense, I’m driving you home. I mean we are,” she said looking over her shoulder at Darren uncertainly.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

The shot-buying boys glared at her for screwing up their sure thing.

“Should we go now?” Darren asked.

She nodded, her stomach sinking at the lame end to their date. “We might as well. Otherwise we’ll just have to watch her the whole time.”

“Come on, girlfriend,” she said, taking Jen’s hand. Darren took her other hand and led them through the crowd and out the front door. Of course, Jen began stumbling and nearly fell as they passed the bouncers, who then had to question them about how much she’d had to drink and whether she was driving.

Darren put an arm around Jen’s waist to hold her up. Her eyes were already rolling in her head as if she was going to pass out.

Crap.

She’d done plenty of drunk babysitting, and she relied on her friends to watch her back when she imbibed too much, but in front of Darren, it embarrassed her. They must look so young and immature to him, not even able to handle their liquor. Drinking like they just became of legal age.

They helped Jen in the back seat of Darren’s Cherokee and she collapsed in the corner, passed out.

Darren exited the parking lot. “Where to?” he asked, as if he were their limo driver.

Jen threw up down the front of her blouse, without even opening her eyes.

“Oh no!” she groaned.

Darren pulled over on the side of the road and they both got out and went to Jen’s door. Jen continued to heave, still totally passed out.

“Oh God, this is bad. This is so bad,” Chloe wailed.

Darren moved with a relaxed efficiency. “There’s a towel in the trunk. Get it, please,” he directed, lifting Jen out of the car and bracing her in a bent position so her puke would hit the ground.

When she returned with the towel, he had vomit down the front of him but looked completely unfazed as he took Jen’s pulse at her wrist.

“Oh God!” she exclaimed, the situation zooming from bad to worse in her imagination. What if Jen had alcohol poisoning and they had to take her to the hospital to have her stomach pumped? She knew her friend didn’t have health insurance and wouldn’t want to go, but she would hate to argue with a doctor over it—this could be very bad all around.

“She’ll be fine,” Darren reassured her with unflappable calm as she mopped the front of his shirt with the towel.

She exhaled in relief. She wondered if this was how he was in surgery, or at births.

Jen opened her eyes and blinked at them. “I don’t feel so good,” she moaned.

“I know, girlfriend. We’re going to get you home,” she said, using the towel to wipe her friend’s face and shirt.

“Chloe, we can’t leave her alone, can she stay at your place tonight?”

“Oh, uh, yeah!” she said, letting go of the last shred of hope she had for redeeming their date.

“Will you please spread the towel out on the back seat?”

She scurried to obey. “I’m so sorry about your car. I will clean it up. Fortunately, I have a lot of experience in disinfecting puke,” she said with a failed attempt at humor.

“Whoa,” Jen moaned when he lifted her up and placed her in the car on her side, managing to buckle her in place.

“Puke happens,” he said, seemingly unconcerned.

It sure did.

Chloe leaned her head against the headrest, miserable and embarrassed.

* * *

He rolled down the windows to clear the smell and drove back to Chloe’s house. She said very little on the ride, but he could sense her distress.

“Hey,” he said. “She’s going to be okay. Are you worried?”

She gave him a long face. “No...I’m just disappointed.”

He squeezed her knee and she managed a weak smile.

When they arrived back at Chloe’s, he carried the groaning Jen inside and arranged her on her side on the couch, with a towel spread in front of her. He sat down and took her pulse again.

Chloe brought a trash can in to set in front of her friend. “Hey. If you puke again, do it in here, okay?”

Jen opened her eyes. “Okay,” she mumbled.

She used a wet washcloth to wipe off Jen’s face and the front of her shirt.

He stood up and Chloe wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m really, really sorry,” she said, sounding as if she was about to cry.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m just...really embarrassed. You must think—” she broke off and sniffed.

He pulled her face away from his chest and cupped her chin. “Think what?”

“I don’t know—this is so immature. I’m sure you wish...I…” her eyes filled with tears.

“What?”

“Well...do you think I’m too young for you?”

He led her to the overstuffed armchair and sat down, pulled her onto his lap. “Chloe, I think you have some idea about me because I’m a doctor, or older, or your boss, that I’m different from you or that I look down on you. But...I’m not that guy. I know I gave you a hard time about smoking, but I promise I won’t judge you or your friends for having a good time.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t be upset about this on my account. I’m fine.”

She blinked her wet lashes, looking sweet in her sorrow.

“In fact, I’m glad it happened. “I’ve been trying to get to know you,” he said, holding an imaginary magnifying glass up to her and making her giggle, “but you’ve been hiding. Tonight I got to see more of the real you.”

“Ugh. Is this the real me? I sort of hope not.”

“I saw someone who has solid friendships with nice people. Someone who cares for and is there for her friends, even when it screws up her plans for the evening. That’s the real you.”

She blushed.

He caught the hand she had lifted to cover her face. “I make you nervous. Maybe that’s part of the thrill. But I want it to be the good kind of nervous—the kind that winds your crank, not the kind that makes you doubt you’re good enough. Because you’ve got it going on. You’re smart and fun and the hottest woman I’ve ever been with. And I like the way I feel with you.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, her confidence returned, her voice low and seductive. “How do you feel with me?”

He cupped her nape and captured her mouth, plundering it with a hard kiss. “Powerful,” he said when they broke apart. “Virile. Masculine. Younger.”

She pressed her lips to his, looping her arms around his neck and adjusting to straddle him. “Mmm,” she purred against his lips.

“I do, however, want to get out of this shirt,” he said, looking down at the nasty wet splotch.

“Ew,” she said, jumping off his lap.

He stood, unbuttoned his shirt and she pulled it off him, then looked at her friend on the couch. “Do you think we can leave her out here?”

“Yeah. I’ll come back and check on her,” he said.

Chloe hooked a hand in the waistband of his pants and pulled him after her, to her bedroom where she dropped to her knees and unbuckled his belt. Maintaining eye contact with a sultry stare, she freed his hard length, grasping it at the base as she licked around the rim.

He groaned, the pleasure of her touch equally matched by the delight of seeing her so emboldened. He threaded his fingers into her long auburn hair.

“I love your cock,” she murmured, opening her mouth and taking him in, the shock of her moist heat flooding his senses with need.

“Chloe,” he gasped, his voice gravelly. He tightened his fist in her hair, gently encouraging her as she took his cock into the pocket of her cheek, her hands working the base in a twisting motion at the same time. “You like to suck cock, don’t you?”

She popped off, causing his dick to jerk at the change in temperature. “Only yours,” she said before engulfing his shaft in her delicious heat again.

He shuddered with pleasure.

She wrapped her lips over her teeth and bobbed up and down over the head of his penis, stimulating the sensitive rim.

“Oh...God!”

When she switched back to taking his full length into her mouth, he held her hair, bringing his cock in and out while he stabilized her head. “Do you like having your mouth fucked, Chloe?”

He feared it would be too dirty, or too derogatory, but she gripped his ass, digging her fingertips into his flesh to pull him in.

“Oh, Chloe,” he gasped. “I’m going to come!”

She shocked him by staying on his cock, meeting his eye as she continued to move her head forward and back, caressing his most sensitive organ with her tongue.

He gave a bark of ecstasy, coming into her mouth while she held his eyes like a porn star. She swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking proud.

* * *

Chloe had never swallowed before in her life. The thought had always made her gag, but here she’d just done it, and Darren’s obvious appreciation made her glow. She’d told the truth when she said his was the only cock she enjoyed sucking. She’d never fallen into a deliberately subservient role with a partner before, had no idea how much being on her knees serving would turn her on.

He lifted her to her feet and kissed her, his mouth aggressive and proprietary. Kicking off his shoes, he stepped out of his pants. In two seconds flat, he had her dress off and her bra around her waist as he crushed her breast in one hand, nibbling at the nipple of the other.

She arched back, offering herself to him, savoring the pleasure of letting him take charge of her body. He swirled his tongue around her areola, then bit the stiffened peak, surprising her with momentary pain. He immediately soothed it with his tongue, then withdrew his mouth and blew, cooling the skin. Both nipples strained, aching for more of his touch.

“Who do you belong to, Chloe?” he asked in a guttural voice.

“You?” she asked hopefully. The idea of simply belonging to him brought a sense of security, eliminating all her anxieties around “dating”.

He unhooked her bra with more force than necessary and threw it across the room. Leading her to the full-length mirror on her wall, he commanded, “Bend over.”

She peeked at his face in the mirror, unsure of exactly how he wanted her.

He pushed her torso down, folding her at the waist. “Hands on the mirror.”

Understanding, she braced herself against the glass.

“Open your eyes, Chloe,” he murmured. “Look at yourself.”

She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes. She blinked and lifted her head, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her breasts looked larger hanging down and the submissive position of her bent over, him standing erect behind her made a shiver of excitement zing through her.

He took his time peeling down her panties, holding her eyes in the mirror. He slapped the low part of her ass, first on the right, then the left. “If you’re mine, Chloe, you must obey my every command.”

“Yes, doctor,” she breathed.

He rubbed her tingling buttocks. “What happens if you don’t?”

“You spank me?” she asked hopefully.

The corners of his mouth flashed up, then he suppressed the grin and pulled the stern face that always made her scurry at the office. “I will punish you,” he said sternly. “In whatever way I choose.”

Another frisson of anticipation ripped through her.

He bent and slowly pulled the belt from the loops on his discarded pants, doubling it.

She erected her torso in alarm.

“Bend over, Chloe,” he said, a warning in his voice, but his hand on her back stroked a gentle reassurance.

She drew in a breath and squeezed her eyes closed, willing herself to relax.

He swung the belt lightly, hardly causing any sting at all.

She opened her eyes to find him watching her in the mirror.

He swung a bit harder and she jumped, but the sting that bloomed across her cheeks felt delicious.

“Mmm,” she encouraged.

He smiled in satisfaction and struck again with the same force.

She sucked in her breath over her teeth, but gave another moan of approval.

He struck again and again applying even strokes up and down her buttocks, leaving a warm sting in his wake.

“Five more, a little harder this time. To show you the kind of spanking you’ll get if you disobey. I want you to count them.” Without waiting for her acknowledgement, he struck.

She gasped and tried to stand up.

“Count,” he reminded her.

“One!” she yelped.

He laid the next stripe before she had recovered from the first.

“Two! Two!” she called out, as if saying them faster would somehow earn her a reprieve.

“Good girl,” he encouraged, seeming to know he had pushed her limits. She took a deep breath and pushed her bottom back out for him.

He struck again, twice.

“Three—four!” she shouted.

“One more. You’re doing so well.”

His praise helped her, even though she didn’t know how one could be spanked well.

He brought the belt down one last time, a little harder.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she bit her lip, trying to recover her voice. “Five,” she said, her voice wobbling.

He dropped the belt and stroked his large hand up and down the length of her arched back. “Very good, Chloe.” He leaned over and gripped her hair, putting his mouth by her ear. “I love it when you obey me.”

Those words should not turn her on, but clearly they did, the fire on her backside eclipsed by the one in her center core, her body trembling to be fully taken by him. If she’d had any concern about his stamina as an older man, it disappeared when she caught sight of his cock, fully erect once more. She gave a pleading bray, hollowing her back to offer her pussy to him.

He brought his fingers to her sex, sliding them over her wet folds. “I know,” he said softly. “You’re ready for your reward.”

“Ohhh,” she moaned, letting him know he was definitely on the right track.

His finger stroked along her opening seemingly without agenda, despite the urgency she felt.

“Please?” she tried.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me, doctor?”

He gripped her hair again, lifting her head. “I love it when you talk dirty, little slut.”

She shuddered at his use of the term, which normally she would consider an insult. Somehow, in this situation it came as the highest praise. Her pussy gushed in response, her insides quivering as much as her legs, her ass still toasty from his delicious display of dominance. “Please?” she asked again.

“Yes,” he drawled. “Tonight I will indulge you. Sometimes I will make you work harder for it.”

She lifted her head. “A blowjob and a whipping aren’t considered work?”

He slapped her ass. “Do not get sassy, or you will be kneeling in the corner with a vibrator up your ass until I decide it’s time for you to come,” he said sharply.

“Ooh.” She couldn’t even pretend not to love that idea.

He chuckled. “I can think of a number of embarrassing medical procedures I could subject you to, as well.”

She didn’t have a chance to consider what he might mean because he chose that moment to push into her. Her pussy took him in like a long lost friend, stretching wide to accommodate his girth, hungry for his full length. “Oh yes, please,” she whispered.

He kept his fist in her hair, lifting her head again. “Look at yourself,” he commanded as his hips bumped hers.

She opened her eyes to see her breasts swaying with the movement, her face already twisted into the expression of desperate desire that precedes orgasm. She squeezed her lids closed again, embarrassed.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

This time she looked for him, found the handsome planes of his face set with the same dark passion, the chiseled muscles of his chest straining. He slammed into her harder, his balls slapping against her clit, sending her careening over the edge with just a few strokes.

“Oh yes!” she gasped.

“Not yet,” he growled, never stopping the hard fucking he delivered with each firm instroke.

“Darren,” she whimpered, begging.

“You come on command,” he reminded her, his voice harsh and roughened.

“Yes!” she gasped, her hands growing slippery on the mirror from their heat, her legs shaking with the effort to remain in position and accept his aggressive plundering.

She panted, distracting herself from her own need to release by squeezing the walls of her vagina each time he pushed in.

“Chloe!” he exclaimed, the sound of shocked pleasure echoing through the room.

Encouraged, she kept at it, until he gave a desperate, “Oh God!”

Abruptly her attention returned to the feel of his hard cock moving inside her, every sensation heightened tenfold. She smelled her own arousal, tasted the salty reminder of his cum still on her tongue. The sound of flesh slapping flesh as his pelvis smacked against hers, his balls pleasuring her most sensitive nerve-endings. He pulled her hair back even further, pounding into her with a ferocity that satisfied every last need within her.

“God, yes!” she screamed through clenched teeth.

“Come, Chloe!” he barked, and she shattered, losing control as a tidal wave tossed her over the edge and her muscles contracted around his cock, spasming on and on, longer than she had ever orgasmed in her life.

Then, just as it passed and she thought she might collapse, Darren pulled out and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed where he settled her. Switching off the light, he climbed over her and covered her body with his own, kissing her with the tenderness absent in their love-making.

He kissed her until her lips felt bruised and her heart seemed it would explode with fullness. Then he settled beside her and pulled her against his chest, where he cradled her head on his shoulder. She tossed a leg over him, snuggling in, the sound of his heartbeat lulling her toward sleep.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?”

“Hot sex. Helping with Jen. Being my hero.”

He kissed her temple. “Thank you for letting me be your hero.”

She almost slipped into sleep when he said into the darkness, “I’m excited about you. About us.”

She shivered, goosebumps standing up on her arms, the thrill of possibility dancing in her chest. “Me too,” she whispered, floating in happiness.

Her Russian Master - Excerpt

Read all the books in Renee’s Master Me Series

Her Royal Master

Yes, Doctor

Her Russian Master

Her Marine Master

Please enjoy this snippet from Her Russian Master:

Three years undercover with the mob and he’d throw it all away for a girl.

He didn’t give a shit if it got him whacked by the mob, or fired from the FBI. Lucy Carr wasn’t going to get killed on his watch. Hell, if any of them fucking touched her, he would blow his cover in a second.

After a lifetime believing he was fundamentally soulless, his fervor surprised him. Who knew? Some part of his spirit must still be intact for him to want to protect something so precious.

Yuri climbed out of the backseat of Freddo’s S-class Mercedes and cracked his knuckles. Mob enforcer was a part he’d played so long—for real and for the FBI—that he’d come to believe it was all he was. Darkness shrouded in crime. Even if he was working for the “good guys” now.

He wasn’t wearing a suit. Neither were Freddo and Tommy. Tonight could get bloody, and who wanted to ruin a thousand dollar Armani? No, just a short-sleeved button-down and slacks tonight. With his customary swagger, he led the way to the front of the line snaking onto the sidewalk in front of Blue Turtle, the upscale club Jake Carr owned.

Jake was in deep shit.

Yuri could give two fucks about Jake or his cocaine habit-induced problems. It was Jake’s captivating little sister he wasn’t going to let die.

Lucy.

The Blue Turtle’s resident DJ was an ongoing source of fascination for Yuri. How did something so fresh, so full of light, exist in their world of darkness? It was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

Her music pumped out on the sidewalk, the bass loud enough to demand their heartbeats amp up the speed to match. The bouncer at the door recognized them and opened the velvet rope for them without a word. “Where’s Jake?” Freddo demanded in notes of deep baritone asshole.

The bouncer shrugged his shoulders. “Not in yet—I haven’t seen him.”

Freddo glowered at the guy for a minute but he clearly didn’t know anything, including enough to be scared, so they moved on, into the club.

The moment they walked in, Yuri’s eyes went to the DJ booth, where they were always drawn.

Lucy bounced in the plexiglass enclosed space, pumping her arm in the air, an exhilarated grin lighting up her beautiful face. High cheekbones made her face heart-shaped, and a bow shaped her mouth. Her pale skin was flawless and bright, decorated with a tiny piercing of a diamond up by one eye. She could have been a model. Or an actress. But instead she had this counter-culture thing going—hair dyed platinum and pulled into two fuzzy pigtails high on her head. Fucking adorable.

Just seeing her lifted a weight from Yuri’s shoulders, only it immediately slammed back down onto his chest, because yeah. If Jake no-showed tonight, Lucy would become their hostage until he did. You don’t stiff the don his drug money and expect to get away with it.

She caught sight of them as they pushed through the crowd, and looked away quickly, telling him she knew why they were there. He sure as hell hoped she would cooperate and just inform them of her brother’s whereabouts. Or call him to come down.

He walked to the booth and tapped on the glass. She stood on an elevated platform, so he had to reach up to knock, but he knew she saw him there.

She pretended she didn’t.

He walked around to the side and tried the handle on the door but it was locked from the inside. Smart girl. A bouncer saw him and started to come over, then he must’ve realized who Yuri and his cohorts were and quickly diverted his attention to something else.

Yuri threw his shoulder into the door until the plywood splintered and the lock broke away.

The look of terror Lucy gave him gutted him. But she should be afraid. Only a healthy dose of fear was going to get her out of this mess. He stalked up the stairs.

She tore her earphones off and shouted over the music. “You can’t be in here!”

Up close, she was even harder to take in, her light so bright it fucking blinded him. She wore a simple white tank top—wife beater style and too small, so it hugged her androgynous body. In hot pink glittered letters, the word kinky glowed across her small tits. It nearly made his knees buckle. Was she kinky?

No. It was just a sassy shirt she wore to grab attention, along with the miniscule jean skirt that barely covered her ass, and the platform sandals with straps that tied around her ankles. She probably had no idea what kink even meant.

He ignored her declaration and countered with his own. “Where’s your brother?”

She visibly paled and her mouth tightened, but she lifted her chin with a bravado he had to admire. “Something came up. He’s not coming in tonight.”

He pointed a finger, using the warning look he’d first perfected as enforcer for a teenage street gang back in Russia. “Call him. Tell him to get his ass down here, or there’s trouble. Do it now.” He turned and left, not able to stand there and see the fear he’d put into that precious face a moment longer.

It made him sick to threaten her.

He tripped back down the stairs and met Freddo and Tommy, who’d gone to the bar.

“Manager says he’s not in yet but she’s expecting him later,” Freddo said.

“Bullshit,” he rasped, his Russian accent always growing thicker when he got tough.

“Right. So we grabbing the girl?” Tommy asked.

“Not yet.” He spoke too quickly. Willing his body to hang loose and easy, he surveyed the club. “We wait. If he doesn’t show by closing time, the girl comes with us. I told her to call him.”

“And you think he’ll come running down to get his ass kicked?” Freddo snorted.

“No. But we can’t grab the DJ in the middle of a set. They’ll call the cops in a heartbeat.”

“No one here wants the cops involved,” Tommy countered.

He was right. The club may be high end and filled with hordes of beautiful people, but it also was a mecca for drug sales of all kinds. Which was how Jake had got himself fucked.

“They will if you drag the girl out in front of three hundred witnesses. Sit. We wait.”

Yuri wasn’t their leader. He was just a fucking soldier. Freddo was his capo, but his experience in the Russian mafiya had encompassed a lifetime’s worth of street cred, so they’d learned to respect his opinions. He just hoped he could keep leading this show until Lucy was out of the don’s crosshairs.

Tommy strong-armed his way into a table and chairs and they waved down a cocktail waitress, who came running, having learned months ago that if she gave them special service, they tipped in c-notes.

He slid his chair around where he could keep an eye on his beautiful DJ, which wasn’t anything new. He always positioned himself where he could see her. Watching her revel in pumping up a crowd was the only glimmer of light in his fucking mess of an unlived life. Three years he’d been working undercover for the FBI as Don Diego’s enforcer, and he still hadn’t managed to nail the guy. His life was a series of drug drops and beatings. He had yet to be ordered to kill, which was either a good thing or bad. If the order came through Freddo, he’d be in a bad place—forced to choose to kill or blow his cover without nailing Don Diego. The part that gave him night sweats was wondering which he’d choose. He had so much blood on his hands already. A little more in the name of justice wouldn’t change much.

Or would it?

Wasn’t his soul supposed to be saved now that he’d gone straight?

On the other hand, if he managed to get a recording of Don Diego making the order to kill, he’d have succeeded, making his mentor, boss and possibly only friend, Leo, proud.

* * *

The Russian was staring at her. That wasn’t new. Every time he came into the club he found a chair with a view of the dance floor and watched—not the dance floor, but her. As if there was anything interesting about a DJ. She’d been tempted to flash her tits or something just to see what he’d do.

But tonight was different. Jake hadn’t told her exactly what happened, but from what she’d pieced together, some money or drugs had been stolen from him and now he owed the mob. He’d told her they’d given him a deadline and he was trying to scrape the money together. He’d also promised he’d have it figured out in time, but based on the way Yuri the Fury had busted in her DJ booth door, Jake’s time was up.

Her gut twisted with dread. She’d known, the first time she saw the mobsters in the Blue Turtle, her brother was in over his head. But of course he wouldn’t listen to her. She was six years his junior, which meant he still thought of her as a baby.

It probably didn’t help that she’d done nothing with her college communications degree except backpack across Europe, rock his dance floor, and sign up for a yoga teacher training course. He was the one telling her to fix her life. But he’d been partying too much since he opened the nightclub.

She got it. It was an exciting, glamorous world, and by the simple nature of being the club owner, he was a rockstar. He’d started snorting coke recreationally and occasionally dropping E. Then he’d started dealing—just a little to his best customers, he’d told her. And his dealers? Yeah. They were members of the Italian mafia. Who also happened to employ one intense and sexy Russian with an apparent crush on her.

She’d asked Jake to be careful, but he always exuded confidence. He’d told her he had it handled. Nothing bad would ever happen.

Famous last words.

Oh God, no. She couldn’t think that. Jake would show up with the money any minute now. And hopefully he would never do business with these men again.

Somehow she made it through her set, but with the Russian and his Italian heavies staring her down, she’d lost her mojo completely. Not that anyone on the dance floor noticed.

The DJ who gave her an hour’s break between sets came into the booth and she pulled off the headphones and put her records back into her plastic crate, taking it with her, since she didn’t trust other DJs not to steal them. She went straight from the booth through the door that led behind the bar, annoying all the bartenders as she lifted her crate high to get past them. Though she didn’t look, she sensed the Russian trailing her along the other side of the bar. She kept moving, into the storeroom, where she shoved her records into a locking cupboard and grabbed her purse. From there, she went out the far door and around the corner to the women’s restroom, just as the Russian pushed through the crowd to catch up with her. Inside, she leaned against the wall and attempted to slow her heart rate.

She checked her phone. No response from Jake.

Damn him.

She needed to get out of the club.

A scantily-dressed, leggy brunette stood at the mirror, primping. Lucy fished a twenty dollar bill out of her purse. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you kiss the sexy Russian standing outside this door.”

The woman grinned, snatching up the money before Lucy had even finished talking. “What’s he look like?”

“Blond. Built like a fighter. Tattoos everywhere.” Yuri’s black ink extended up his neck, down his forearms, and across his knuckles.

Her smile grew wider. “Okay.” With a flounce, she whirled on her high heels and clicked out.

Lucy followed close behind, slipping past as the brunette wrapped her arms around Yuri’s neck and tried to slip him the tongue.

Lucy ducked down, crawling under cocktail tables toward the emergency exit in the back, praying he didn’t see her.

Over the music, she thought she heard the sound of a smack and squeal, and hoped the Russian hadn’t hurt the woman.

The club was packed and the music pumping. No one even noticed her crawling under their tables. Or, if they did, no one reacted quickly enough to say anything. She emerged at the end of the line of high-tops, just feet from the back door. The alarm would go off if she went out of it, but the bouncer was there and he could disable it.

She made a mad dash for him, but a strong arm caught her around the waist and dragged her back against six feet of solid muscle. Fear coiled with something else—dark interest in the man who’d captured her.

It’s like the captivation she had with villains and anti-heroes. She was the type who always rooted for them to get their day.

The bouncer started toward them, but then recognized Yuri and paled. He shot her a “what should I do?” look.

Not wanting to get him killed, she averted her eyes.

Yuri wrapped one hand around her throat. He didn’t squeeze, but used it to pull her head back against his chest, the threat of asphyxiation obvious and clear. “Little DJ,” he spoke directly in her ear, his thick accent so much sexier that way, “I would love to let you sneak out the back door, except for two things.”

She cursed the trembling in her limbs, which she was certain he felt. To make it worse, his hand at her waist started to roam, slipping inside her tank top and skimming across her belly. It sent ripples of heat and tremors cascading down her inner thighs. “Wh-what things?” she managed to breathe.

His warm palm coasted over her skin, up to one breast, which he squeezed through her bra. Back down to the waistband of her jean skirt, where he insinuated his fingers. “One. Nobody gives me the slip, so the boys would know I let you go.” His lips pressed against her ear so it seemed like he spoke right into her very cells. His fingers wriggled deeper into her skirt, making her clit come alive with the nearness. “And two, I can’t let another one of Don Diego’s thugs pick you up instead of me. Then I couldn’t protect you.”

She wrestled with her breath, trying to even it out, slow it down before she hyperventilated. “P-protect me?”

He couldn’t wedge his fingers any further into her skirt so he settled for grasping the top of her panties and pulling up, tugging them into the seam of her sex, the fabric threading over her pulsing nub. “Yes. Come with me now. I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you. You have my word.”

A shiver ran through her, but it wasn’t of fear. There was a solemnity to the oath he uttered that made goosebumps stand out on her arms. She’d long suspected the Russian had a thing for her and this seemed to confirm it.

He gave one last tug of her panties and eased his hold on her, turning her around to face him. “Come.” He took her hand and led her toward the back door, nodding at the bouncer before he shoved the door open.

The bouncer flicked off the alarm. “Good night, guys.”

Really, dude? Not that she wanted him to get killed trying to stop them, but good night, guys when she was being led out by Yuri the Fury? Well, she supposed the way Yuri was holding her hand made it look like they’d hooked up and were on their way to screw like horn dogs, rather than… well, she didn’t know where they were going, but she sure as hell hoped it didn’t involve a pair of pliers and her fingernails being ripped off.

I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you.

Beautiful, dark Russian.

He’d once seen a guy squeeze her breast in the club. It had been some drunk stranger, acting like an asshole. She’d batted the guy’s hand away, about to tell him to keep his nasty paws to himself, when suddenly the guy levitated, a set of tattooed knuckles wrapped around his throat.

“Apologize,” the Russian, who had appeared out of nowhere, had snarled in his thick accent.

The guy hung in the air, kicking and choking, too stupid or drunk to even understand what had happened. He turned blue in the face as the Russian shook him. “I said, apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the guy had choked and Yuri had dropped him, glowering and cracking his knuckles as the guy literally bolted like a rabbit straight out of the club.

She’d turned to Yuri and met his dangerous, ice blue gaze. She’d cocked a hip. “That wasn’t necessary.” There were six bouncers she could have called for help—if she thought she’d needed it, which she hadn’t.

His resting face always appeared angry, but now it screwed up with fury. “Yes it was,” he growled. “You did not like him touching you.”

She’d swallowed, fighting against the swoon those words produced. She didn’t need a Russian mobster with serious anger management issues taking an interest in her protection, no matter how sexy she found him. “What do you care, anyway?”

For the first time, that intense gaze of his faltered. He looked away, fists still clenching. “I don’t know.” He spoke through tight lips, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Her belly had fluttered, a wash of warm tingles sweeping over her. Did Yuri the Fury have a reluctant crush on her? She’d thought it so highly unlikely it was laughable. No one had a crush on her. Guys wanted to fuck her, sure. Only because she looked fun and available. But no one cared about getting to know her. No one sat at their table drinking iced vodka staring at her for hours on end while she played.

Except Yuri.

So, as he led her through the parking lot like they were on a date, one part of her fear fluttered in a direction that almost resembled excitement.

Until she saw the other two goons stalking toward them from separate directions, all converging on a shiny black Mercedes.

Christ, she was being kidnapped by the mafia! She attempted to wrench her hand free from Yuri’s, turning to bolt back toward the club, but in just a half-second, he had her up off her feet, one strong arm around her waist.

“Don’t fight me,” he ground out. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, right.” She struggled for all she was worth. She parted her lips to scream, but he anticipated her move and clapped one hand over her mouth, carrying her quickly the rest of the way to the Mercedes.

One of the guys opened the back door and Yuri forced her through, keeping a tight hold of her wrist as he climbed in beside her. A guy sandwiched her from the other side. “We’re in.”

The car lunged forward with a screech, tearing out of the parking lot and making Lucy shriek. Her breath came in audible pants, almost cries.

“Where are you taking me?” She cursed her voice for sounding so high.

“We’re holding you until your brother delivers the money he owes,” Yuri said. “Be good and no harm will come to you. I promise.”

Be good.

Now there were conditions attached to her safety. So much for his vow. She should’ve known not to trust a tattooed Russian mobster. Who does that, anyway?

Holy mother of God, what was going to happen to her? To Jake? This was right out of a movie, and she knew how every movie ended—with people either dead, or in the hospital. An angry tear worked its way out of the inside corner of one eye. She clamped her teeth together, willing the rest of them back.

But the Russian saw.

Alarm flashed across his face, followed by anger. His hands curled into fists on his lap and he looked away from her, out the window. “Stop. Crying,” he grated through clenched teeth.

His tone was angry, but what would he be angry about? Shouldn’t asshole mobsters be happy when they’ve scared a girl to tears?

“Fuck you,” she shot back.

He gave her a quick sidelong glance, then looked back out the window. “That’s good,” he muttered, more to himself than her.

About Renee Rose

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR RENEE ROSE loves a dominant, dirty-talking alpha hero! She's sold over a half million copies of steamy romance with varying levels of kink. Her books have been featured in USA Today's Happily Ever After and Popsugar. Named Eroticon USA's Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won Spunky and Sassy's Favorite Sci-Fi and Anthology author, The Romance Reviews Best Historical Romance, and Spanking Romance Reviews' Best Sci-fi, Paranormal, Historical, Erotic, Ageplay and favorite couple and author. She's hit the USA Today list five times with various anthologies.

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Other Titles by Renee Rose

Vegas Underground Mafia Romance

King of Diamonds

Mafia Daddy

Jack of Spades

Ace of Hearts

Joker’s Wild

His Queen of Clubs

Dead Man’s Hand

Wild Card

More Mafia Romance

The Russian

The Don’s Daughter

Mob Mistress

The Bossman

Contemporary

Daddy Rules Series

Fire Daddy

Hollywood Daddy

Stepbrother Daddy

Master Me Series

Her Royal Master

Her Russian Master

Her Marine Master

Yes, Doctor

Double Doms Series

Theirs to Punish

Theirs to Protect

Holiday Feel-Good

Scoring with Santa

Saved

Other Contemporary

Black Light: Valentine Roulette

Black Light: Roulette Redux

Black Light: Celebrity Roulette

Black Light: Roulette War

Punishing Portia (written as Darling Adams)

The Professor’s Girl

Safe in his Arms

Paranormal

Wolf Ridge High Series

Alpha Bully

Alpha Knight

Bad Boy Alphas Series

Alpha’s Temptation

Alpha’s Danger

Alpha’s Prize

Alpha’s Challenge

Alpha’s Obsession

Alpha’s War

Alpha’s Mission

Alpha’s Sun

Shifter Fight Club

Alpha’s Desire

Alpha’s Bane

Alpha’s Secret

Alpha’s Prey

Midnight Doms

Alpha’s Blood

Alpha Doms Series

The Alpha’s Hunger

The Alpha’s Promise

The Alpha’s Punishment

Other Paranormal

The Winter Storm: An Ever After Chronicle

Sci-Fi

Zandian Masters Series

His Human Slave

His Human Prisoner

Training His Human

His Human Rebel

His Human Vessel

His Mate and Master

Zandian Pet

Their Zandian Mate

His Human Possession

Zandian Brides

Night of the Zandians

Bought by the Zandians

Mastered by the Zandians

Zandian Lights

Kept by the Zandian

Claimed by the Zandian

Other Sci-Fi

The Hand of Vengeance

Her Alien Masters

Regency

The Darlington Incident

Humbled

The Reddington Scandal

The Westerfield Affair

Pleasing the Colonel

Western

His Little Lapis

The Devil of Whiskey Row

The Outlaw’s Bride

Medieval

Mercenary

Medieval Discipline

Lords and Ladies

The Knight’s Prisoner

Betrothed

Held for Ransom

The Knight’s Seduction

The Conquered Brides (5 book box set)

Renaissance

Renaissance Discipline