Doctor Daddy
K.C. Crowne
Copyright © 2019 by K.C. Crowne
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Prologue
1. Hope
2. Colin
3. Hope
4. Colin
5. Hope
6. Colin
7. Hope
8. Hope
9. Colin
10. Hope
11. Colin
12. Hope
13. Hope
14. Hope
15. Colin
16. Colin
17. Hope
18. Colin
19. Hope
20. Hope
Epilogue
Playing With Fire (Preview)
About the Author
Prologue
“Do you want me?” he growled, his breath warm against my face.
“Yes,” I said.
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “I need to hear it.”
The words caught in my throat as I looked deep into his eyes. I wasn’t used to asking for what I wanted, or being told what to do in the bedroom, so to have someone so bluntly ask me was both hot as hell and terrifying.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“You don’t know?” he cocked an eyebrow as he pinched my nipples, and I moaned, my eyes fluttering open and shut. “You don’t know if you want to fuck me or not?”
“Oh yes,” I whimpered, my knees feeling like they might give out at any moment.
“Say it,” he said.
I looked away from him, but he took my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Say it, Hope,” he said. “Unless you don’t want to --”
“I want to,” I said. Taking a deep breath, I blurted out exactly what he wanted to hear. “I want to fuck you. Please.”
Before I could finish my plea, he scooped me into his arms, lifting me straight off my feet and letting them dangle above the floor. He lifted me up in those big, strong arms, and kissed me harder than he had before. His body pressed against mine and I felt him through his slacks. Just feeling his erection pressed hard against me send a shudder through my entire body.
He felt enormous. Thick and long. I melted into his arms, rubbing my body against him. Yearning to be even closer.
I needed him inside of me, and quickly. My body suddenly needed him every bit as much as it needed food when my sugar was dipping.
He moved over to the bed, carrying me over with him like I weighed nothing at all. He put me back on my feet in front of the bed, his mouth moving to my neck. He growled into my ear.
“Let’s get you undressed and give you want you want then.”
It didn’t take long at all for him to remove my dress. He was practically ripping it off of me, his movements fast and fierce. It was as if he couldn’t wait a second longer. He tossed my dress to the floor and with his rough hands, turned me around so I was facing away from him. He removed my bra, letting it fall to the floor as well and wrapped his arms around me. His hands held onto my breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze as he pulled me against him. I ground myself into him, feeling his hardness pressed against my ass.
I trembled in anticipation and a wave of nervousness. What if I didn’t measure up? What if we’d had all this buildup and sexual tension between us and it ended up being a bust?
“Please --” I whimpered as he sucked on my neck.
Roughly, he pulled my panties down, exposing my entire body to him at last. He was still clothed, however, and I needed to remedy that fast.
“Lie down on the bed,” he demanded. “And if you’re a good girl, you’ll get your reward.”
No one had ever been so stern with me before and hearing those words and tone of voice from him sent shivers down my spine, making the flames between my thighs burn even brighter.
I didn’t even hesitate to do what he told me. I moved toward the bed, sitting upon it at first.
“I said lie down,” he said, both firm and gentle at the same time.
I laid back against the thick down comforter, resting my head on a pillow. His gaze moved over me, and he stood there at the foot of the bed, drinking me in. I’d never felt as beautiful as I did in that moment, from just the weight of his gaze on me and the desire I saw reflected in his eyes.
He lifted up his polo shirt, slowly removing it, teasing me in the process. My mouth was watering, and my pussy was growing wetter every second he made me wait.
He exposed his six pack abs, hard and toned as an underwear model’s. Jesus, I thought to myself. I knew he’d been ripped, but seeing him like that, in the flesh, made me realize he was in even better shape than I’d thought.
As he pulled the shirt off over his head, my eyes moved up toward his chest where soft, dark hair ran from his bellybutton up to his chest. Not too much hair, but just enough soft fuzz to run my fingers through. I couldn’t wait to have my hands all over his body.
I started to lean forward, to move toward him, but he shook his head.
“Did I say you could move?” his voice was a low rumble.
“No,” I said, my voice coming out weak. I laid back down.
“Good girl,” he said with a smile that could make any woman weak in the knees. “Let me finish getting undressed, then you can touch me.”
He smirked at me as I nodded, fearing my voice wouldn’t work properly if I tried to speak.
He yanked at his belt, whipping it off and tossing it to the side with a snap. From there, he unzipped his pants, and slid them down his hips at a snail’s pace. He enjoyed doing it, I realized. He loved teasing me. Loved to see the pleading and desperation in my eyes.
His pants fell to the ground, and he stood there in black boxer briefs that hugged his erection. The outline of it against the tight material caused me to gasp. He was just so big, I almost couldn’t believe it.
His fingers traced along the top of his boxers, and he watched me, smiling mischievously.
I wasn’t prepared for the moment that he pulled his boxers down, exposing himself to me for the first time. No, nothing could have prepared me for the monstrous cock inside of his pants. Not even feeling it beforehand had given me an accurate picture of what he was packing.
My eyes were wide as saucers, and my jaw was on the floor. I stared, my insides twisting and turning, in both anticipation and fear -- would he be able to fit that inside of me? Would it hurt?
He was longer than average, and thick
Maybe a sane woman would have second thoughts, but not me. My body wanted him more than anything it had ever craved before.
He moved toward the edge of the bed, crawling on his hands and knees toward me. He spread my legs apart, dotting kisses along my inner thighs that sent white hot sparks shooting through my entire body. My back arched upward as he got oh so close to my most sensitive parts.
When his tongue pressed between my lower lips, flicking at my clit, I thought I might lose it. I cried out, trembling in pleasure and need as he continued kissing and teasing me, never getting too close, and keeping me right on the edge.
I ran my hands through his hair, and unintentionally, pulled him against me. My pussy ached to be filled by him. As if he could read my mind, His tongue slipped inside of me. My toes curled up, and I cried out in pleasure from just that simple act. When he began fucking me with his tongue, things got even more intense and my moans grew even louder.
I held onto the back of his head, my nails digging into his s
calp. All the teasing and tormenting meant I was already close to orgasm. I felt my climax growing inside of me.
“I’m close. OH God baby, I’m going to--”
Hope
Fuck my life.
I’d been in Paris for a whole two hours and already, I was ready to hop on the next plane and head back home. My best friend was on the other end of the line, laughing hysterically at me.
“Ugh, being here is so freaking depressing, Anna, you have no idea,” I said, flopping down on my hotel bed.
I frowned as I sat up clenching my jaw, though I felt a little foolish considering she couldn’t see the ridiculous look on my face.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, trying to keep the sharp edge out of my voice.
“You are,” she said. “I’m stuck at work, sitting in a stale ass office, typing useless facts into my computer, listening to people tell shitty jokes, and drinking the most vomit worthy coffee all day. And you’re in the city Paris for God’s sake. You want to talk to me about depressing?”
I sighed. “Yeah, I guess you have a point. I’m sorry. It’s just -- Jeremy and I were supposed to be on this trip together. A hot romantic getaway, he said. It was supposed to be just the two of us.”
“And your thousands of fans on social media,” Anna added.
“That’s hardly the point,” I said.
“Listen Hope, I’m sorry if I sound like a bitch and don’t have much sympathy for you right now,” my best friend sighed on the other end of the line. “Work is crazy these days, and you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a vacation, so --”
“This isn’t just a play vacation for me, it’s work, Anna. You know that,” I said, twirling a strand of my strawberry blonde hair around my finger. “And part of my job here is to write about Paris from a couples’ point-of-view. I’m supposed to work in all the romantic spots and stuff, which is kind of hard to do it without a partner. And my editor is going to be pissed if I don’t deliver. So yeah, sorry if I’m a bit stressed.”
I hated snapping at Anna, and when she fell silent for a moment, no doubt reeling from that rebuke, I was flooded with guilt. My eyes filled with tears, and I was just about ready to apologize when Anna finally spoke up.
“I’m sorry, Hope. Like I said, work has been killing me lately. I’m exhausted, grumpy, need to get laid and I need a break,” she said. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, especially since I know you’re hurting. Jeremy is a major limp dick by the way.”
“Total limp dick,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Well he must be now that his hot ex fiancé is no longer in the picture.”
The humor in Anna’s joke didn’t go unnoticed, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to laughing on a day like this one. My emotions were a total mess. The mention of his name made me recall finding out about him sleeping around the entire two years we were together. As much as that hurt, I was angrier that the whole time he was doing it, I’d been totally clueless and busy with work. I really thought he was a good guy. God, how could I have been so incredibly stupid?
“I’m sorry for snapping, Anna,” I said. “My emotions are all over the place these days.”
“I understand, sweetie. It’s a shame my boss didn’t let me take vacation time, or I would have been there with you. Happily,” she said. “I’d totally be your date and check out all the posh romantic spots with you.”
I chuckled. “I’d probably have more fun with you anyway,” I said. “Jeremy wasn’t exactly Mr. Romance. His idea of a romantic date was running his fingers through my hair while I was giving him oral.”
“Gross,” Anna shivered on the other end of the line. “I did not need that visual.”
“Men suck,” I groaned. Rolling over onto my belly and burying my head into the pillow, I inhaled deeply, savoring the vanilla scent.
“Hashtag not all men,” Anna teased.
I groaned even louder at her terrible joke.
At least I had a nice hotel room to hang out in. If only I didn’t have to go anywhere to do my job. I’d be glad to just hole myself up in my room and avoid any and all reminders of my failed romance. Being in one of the most romantic cities in the world -- alone -- only a couple months after a breakup was tough. Finding out that he’d been screwing other girls while we were together made it even worse. It was going to be really hard to trust anyone after that.
“No, seriously, Hope. You’re still bitter, but it’s been what, two months now?” she chirped. “Why are you still pouting over Jeremy? Maybe it’s time you got yourself a new man. It’d be easy for a sexy thing like you.”
“I’m not ready for a new man,” I said. “And the reason I’m still pouting is because Jeremy and I made plans for the future, Anna. Our future. Plans that included marriage in the next year, kids after that, and all of that is gone now. Poof. All gone. And I’m not getting any younger.”
“You’re twenty-nine, Hope. Not eighty,” Anna laughed.
“Yeah, but my child-bearing years are quickly coming to an end.”
“Oh hush, you’ve got plenty of time,” she said. “Besides, you’re not even sure --”
She stopped before she finished her sentence, but I silently filled in the blanks for her. I knew where she was going with that thought.
“Hope, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said, quickly realizing her mistake.
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I lied. I sat up in the bed and looked at the clock.
It was almost five in the evening there and since Los Angeles was nine hours behind Paris, it meant it was closing in on eight in the morning for her. And it was a Monday, which meant she had to head into work soon.
I didn’t want to drag the drama out any more and risk her being late. Especially for a conversation we’d already had many times over. Her boss was a stickler, and she was already under a lot of stress. As her best friend, I didn’t want to add to it. Especially since there wasn’t anything she could do to help.
“You need to get to work, don’t you?” I reminded her.
“Soon, yeah,” she mumbled. “But I don’t want to leave you hangin.”
“I’m okay, seriously. I’m just being whiney. You’re right, I’m in Paris. I should enjoy it and find a way to salvage this article one way or another.”
“Like maybe going out and meeting someone?” she asked.
“Meet someone? Are you nuts woman?”
“Why not? You’re in a beautiful city with sexy, foreign men,” she said. “Maybe take that angle for your article? Paris isn’t just for lovers, but also for singles? Or something like that. I’m not the writer, so I’ll leave that up to you. But I think it could be a fun angle.”
“I don’t know,” I said, nibbling my lower lip, though the thought rattled around in my head.
“Think about it, okay? And promise me you won’t stay locked in your room,” she pleaded with me. “Enjoy the city and let me and the rest of the stiffs live vicariously through your Instagram, please?”
“I’ll try, Anna, but seriously, you need to get to work,” I said, checking the time again. “I’m going to hang up now.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said. “Now go.”
I hung up the phone, and as soon as I did, I let out a long sigh. I’d told her I was fine, that everything was okay, but I didn’t feel fine. I felt about as far from fine as you could get. But I wasn’t going to send her off by telling her I felt that way. She had enough on her plate as it was.
It was still early enough in the day that I should leave the hotel and go see some of the sights. I’d been to Paris once before, but it had been a while back and had only been a short visit to write an article on an art exhibit at the Louvre. That was pretty much all I’d gotten to see besides the traditional touristy spots. You couldn’t go to Paris without taking a selfie in front of the Eiffel Tower, now could you? I loved my job, not many people got to travel the world and write
about the different locales, but sometimes, it was lonely.
My stomach growled, reminding me that the last thing I’d eaten was some crappy airplane food; a stale and bland sandwich about three hours before we landed. I had all kinds of delightful little cafes around my hotel to choose from if I wanted to grab a bite. My editor had actually suggested the place because it was central to Paris, and in an area that was thriving.
My editor, Kayla, had given me the same advice Anna had when I broke the news to her about Jeremy and me. She said to just meet someone while I was here, to write about dating in Paris as a single woman meeting exotic men. Easier said than done. It had been a couple months, sure, but after spending years together, I still feared I wasn’t ready.
Mainly because I wasn’t ready to give my heart away again. If a two-year relationship could go sour so fast and easily, and be based completely around lies and betrayals, how could I ever trust that someone I’d just met wasn’t going to turn out to be a lying, cheating scumbag?
The answer was, I couldn’t.
Groaning, I pushed myself off the bed and decided to at least grab some dinner. One little baby step outside. And after a good night’s rest, I could decide on the approach to the article I was going to take.
Maybe Kayla and Anna were right about it all. Maybe I just needed to find someone local -- or a few someones -- and just go with the flow. Maybe a romantic and passionate night in the City of Lights would be just the thing I needed -- both personally and professionally.
I had to write something, and since it was an article about experiencing romance in Paris, I had to find a way to make it happen. I didn’t know if hooking up with a hot French guy was the way to go or not, but it was a solid idea. It was my only idea. And if I didn’t get the piece written, I wouldn’t get paid. And if I didn’t get paid, I’d have to shell out all the expenses for the trip myself. On my salary, that would hurt. A lot.
Doctor Daddy Page 1