by Lund, S. E.
It would likely be a huge mistake so I tried to push the encounter out of my mind as I took the stairs leading out of the pub to the street where my car was parked.
I might have to ask the blonde about her if I saw her again at the hospital. I knew it was a mistake to do so, but there was something about the pretty brunette that attracted me.
In truth, I couldn't get her out of my mind.
I drove to Ethan's apartment on Park Avenue, taking the elevator to the penthouse suite where the fundraiser was being held and put on my best game face, prepared to raise money for my foundation and donate some to Doctors Without Borders so I could help make Ethan's event a success. After getting a drink from the bar in the living room, I stood at the edge of a group of people discussing the latest antics of some politician they all loved to hate.
"Oh, Drake, I want you to meet someone." Peter, one of Judge McDermott's lackeys, pulled me away from the group. "Has his own foundation. You might know him – Nigel Benson. Sir Nigel. Recently Knighted by her Majesty for his work on the West Africa famine."
Peter led me over to one of the tallest men in the room, a heavyset fellow with a smiling face and a shock of grey hair that seemed to fall perpetually into his eyes so that he was always brushing it back. He spoke with a thick British accent, which I could hear all the way across the room.
"Nigel, this is Drake Morgan. Chairman of the Liam Morgan Memorial Foundation. Careful with his hands," Peter joked. "Neurosurgeon."
Nigel extended a huge meaty hand to me and we shook, his grip crushing. "I've already had the pleasure," Nigel said, giving me a knowing smile. "Drake."
We’d met at a dungeon party he attended with his partner. It was only later, when we’d both been at a Doctors Without Borders fundraiser that we realized we shared a mutual friend in Ethan McDermott. I had to rely on his discretion not to out me to Ethan, but then again, that would out Nigel to him as well.
"Nigel," I said, smiling back. “Always good to see you.”
"Good to see you again, as well," Nigel said, smiling distractedly. "How's brain surgery? Keeping you out of trouble, I presume…"
I laughed, knowing exactly what he meant by that. "Always," I said, noting the saucy twinkle in Nigel's eye. "I really enjoyed Travels with Nigel." Nigel's latest episode of his travel show had aired on PBS on one of the few nights I stayed awake long enough to watch a repeat.
"Oh, yes," Nigel said, turning away. "Oh, there's Elaine. Excuse me," he said and nodded to me. "Nice talking to you again."
"You as well," I said, amused that Nigel had barely spoken more than two words to me. He was a social butterfly and flitted off to speak with Ethan's wife, Elaine.
I took the moment to find another group to join, listen in to what all the people were talking about. My world was so constrained – surgery, more surgery, playing with my cover band at small gigs, occasionally tying women up and fucking them senseless, more surgery. It was good to get out and mingle.
I put my drink on the table and made my way to the washroom. On my way out, I was shocked to encounter the pretty woman from the bar and for a moment, I was speechless. Before I could say something, she saw me and turned and tried to hop away , holding the pair of leather heels she'd been wearing at the bar in one hand while she steadied herself against the wall with the other. She'd obviously fallen, her knees scraped and bloody, her palms scuffed.
Her cheeks reddened when I approached her and I knew she was embarrassed that I found her in her current condition.
“You're hurt,” I said as I went to her, looking at the heels she held. “Those shoes again?”
"Yes," she responded quietly. "I fell outside in the alley. The heel of my shoe broke."
"Here," I said and put my arm under hers so I could pick her up and carry her into the bedroom.
"Whoa," she said, her body resisting. "You don’t have to pick me up."
"Don't worry. You're light as a feather." I glanced down her body to her feet. Her hose were ripped, her ankle and knees bloody as well, bits of dirt and gravel in the wound. "You've probably sprained your ankle."
Her hands went around my neck and I carried her down the hall to a bedroom at the rear of the apartment. I placed her on the bed, and sat across from her. In the process, her dress had hiked up, the tops of her sheer black stockings and black lace garters on display. Despite the awkward situation, I couldn't help but respond to the sight of her sprawled on the bed, her legs slightly open. The vision sent a jolt to my dick, which throbbed in appreciation.
When she realized she was exposed, she quickly pulled her dress down to cover herself.
"Oh, I'm sorry…" she said, her cheeks blazing.
I smiled. "Don't worry." I took her injured foot and examined it, noting the abrasions to the skin. "I'm a doctor."
She removed her coat and covered her lap with it as if in protection from my gaze. "Still, you shouldn't have to see that."
"Oh, I don't mind." I grinned without meeting her eyes as I checked her ankle for dislocation but it looked fine. "I don't mind at all." Seeing her garters and the fact she wore stockings made me a little giddy. She was a little thing, but I suspected she was also adventurous, given her garters. I wondered if she would be adventurous enough to let me tie her up with my soft leather bindings and make her come three times in a row without stopping. At that moment, there was nothing else in the world I wanted more.
"Ouch!" she said when I moved her ankle to the left, testing to see if there was any tissue damage.
I glanced up at her. "That hurts?"
She nodded.
"What about this way?" I twisted it the other way, gently this time.
"Not as much."
Besides some abrasions on both her knees and palms, she was otherwise fine. "Don't think it's broken," I said and sat up. "You might as well take off those nylons. I'll have to treat those lacerations."
"Oh, yeah."
She hesitated for a moment and then I realized why. She didn’t want me to watch her remove her nylons.
"Oh." I glanced away, unable to stop from smiling guiltily.
I was a doctor, yes. Most of the time, when faced with a patient in distress, I was able to put on my doctor cap and stethoscope and be completely professional, even when dealing with a beautiful young woman. I was able to shut off the man almost completely.
But to her I was only a man claiming to be a doctor – a man who only seconds earlier had thought of her naked and helpless body in a scene that involved bondage and dominance…
I wondered what she would think if she knew my thoughts. Would she run away from me in horror? Would she be too curious and take a chance?
That way was dangerous, as I had learned with my ex-wife. It was very difficult to introduce the idea of kink to a woman you barely knew, let alone one you thought you knew inside and out.
I turned my head, folding my hands on my lap, trying to appear as harmless as possible while she unfastened the garters and rolled down the nylons. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, unable to resist peeking, but she caught me.
She cleared her throat. "Excuse me?"
"Sorry." I turned my head away again, grinning widely. "Just don’t get to see real garters very often."
"My best friend made me wear them," she said, her voice amused. "Now she'll be pissed that I ruined her nylons."
"It's a shame they were destroyed," I said, trying to sound serious but failing utterly to hide my amusement. "I especially like the ones with the seam up the back. Really retro."
Once her nylons were off and she repositioned herself so that her thighs were covered by her coat and dress, I examined her calves, looking for any sign of a fracture. I checked her kneecaps, but they were fine was well.
"Calves and knees look great." I bit my lip to keep from grinning widely and left her on the bed, going to the en-suite bathroom to look for some supplies. I checked in the cabinets and drawers for something to clean her wounds and found a bottle of peroxide and so
me cotton balls, gauze and bandages. I wet a washcloth and brought everything back to the bed, using the cloth to clean off the dirt, the hydrogen peroxide to clean the wounds.
"What kind of doctor are you?" she asked, her voice light.
"Neurosurgeon."
"So you cut up brains?"
I laughed. "Something like that," I said, amused at the way the public thought of neurosurgeons. "I don’t cut them up as much as fix them. Robotically-assisted electrophysiology is my specialty. Using electrodes to treat disorders like Parkinson's and epilepsy. You're thinking pathologist. But don’t worry," I said as I washed her cuts. "We also learned to look after superficial wounds. And I have a truckload of insurance, just in case you're wondering…"
I finished tending her, conscious of her gaze on me, and when I glanced up, she looked away, her cheeks reddening once more. She was a shy little thing but so pretty with the soft golden brown hair, full lips, small youthful features. She bent forward to hold her dress and coat over her lap and I couldn’t help but notice her ample cleavage once more.
Delicious.
I wished once more that she were submissive…
"You'll be fine," I said finally, as I finished taping up her cuts. "Don't need stitches. Just a bit of antibiotic ointment and a few bandages. But you should rest your ankle." I stood up and regarded her. "Are you going to stay or do you need a ride home?"
"I better stay," she said, her voice soft. "Do you know who Elaine is? Can you ask her to come and speak to me?"
I nodded. "Sure. If that ankle doesn't get markedly better in a couple of days, you might want to get an x-ray. Can't do anything for a broken bone in your foot but rest it. You could probably use some crutches."
I smiled and left her on the bed, but what I really wanted to do was push her down on it and run my hands over every inch of her from head to foot, slipping one beneath her skirt to feel the garters, and her panties. I wanted to pull down her bodice and push my face between her breasts, bite her nipples softly to hardness and suck on them until she moaned with delight.
But discretion is the better part of valor…
CHAPTER SIX
I ran a hand over my groin to ensure that my semi was flagging before returning to the party. I found Elaine, Ethan’s wife, standing with a small group of donors by the huge window in the living room. She was a decade or more younger than Ethan and pretty in an elegant way, everything perfectly in place and expensive. Ethan was a lucky man.
"There's a young woman in the back bedroom who asked for you. She fell outside and hurt her knees."
"Who?" Elaine said, frowning.
"I didn't catch her name," I said. "Sorry."
I was surprised that I'd been so unprofessional, but I was caught between being a physician and a man and she was such a delicious morsel of a woman, I'd been thrown off my game. That was completely unlike me, but the compromising position I'd found her in and her obvious embarrassment made me reluctant to pry any deeper.
I found Dave Mills, the manager of my father’s foundation, standing in the living room with a couple of men and joined his group. We shook hands and he introduced me to two donors from some tech company. I barely caught their names, still thinking of the pretty young woman with garters and nice breasts, wondering who she was.
When she entered the room, I was aware of her right away.
She stood just inside the doorway, her arm on Elaine’s shoulder, as if she was reluctant to be there. Once more, I was struck with how pretty she was in an innocent way. Long straight golden brown hair. Light green eyes fringed with thick dark lashes. Clear fair skin. A little sleeveless black lace dress to her knee. She was wearing black slippers and bare legs, her bandages obvious.
"There you are my girl," Nigel said, his voice booming above the chatter, so that everyone in the room turned at the sound. He pushed through the people standing around him to get to her. She blushed, her cheeks reddening but she smiled when she saw him. She opened her arms wide and Nigel picked her up, holding her up in the air as if she were weightless.
The contrast between the two was amusing. Nigel was close to three hundred pounds and six foot six, and she was all of five foot three, and probably one hundred and twenty. He placed her back down on the ground and kissed both her cheeks in the Continental manner before putting a huge arm around her shoulder, escorting her into the crowd. I watched with envy as he introduced her to all the lawyer-types and businessmen in several-thousand dollar suits.
Dave stood beside me.
"Hey, Drake. Did you meet Nathaniel Graham?"
I was too busy watching Nigel with the pretty young woman to care.
"Who?"
"I told you about him. His agency works with relief organizations to outfit field hospitals in war zones. You should come over and say hello."
"Sure," I said, watching as Peter, Ethan McDermott's chief of staff pulled the pretty woman away from Nigel, escorting her around the room. She smiled at one of the men she was speaking to and her smile transformed her face from merely sweet to full out lovely. She looked wistful when she smiled like that.
Innocent.
That innocent look did something to me and inside of me, two forces collided. I loved how young she looked, how fresh. Part of me wanted to protect her. To be her champion. The other part of me – the darker part – longed to see her on her knees before me, waiting on my every word, completely under my control. How much I'd like to be the one to corrupt her and turn her into a wanton woman for my personal use. How much I'd love to see that sweet face filled with lust, her eyes heavy with desire.
Peter turned to us and brought her over before Dave could drag me away.
When Dave saw them approach, he stood straighter, adjusting his jacket.
I put my drink down and watched her expectantly. I was glad to meet her formally, having felt an immediate and intense attraction to her. There was just something in her bearing that brought out the Dom in me. Despite my usual reluctance to seduce a vanilla woman, I was already thinking of ways to approach her, become her lover, and then, when I felt secure in her openness to it, introduce her to D/s and bondage.
"Drake, Dave, may I introduce—"
Before Peter could introduce her, Dave stepped forward. "Ahh, the lovely Miss Bennet," he said in an affected British accent. "Um, I mean the lovely Kate needs no introduction."
Kate. The pretty young woman I wanted to eat like a delicacy finally had a name.
She glanced at Dave and then to me. When our eyes met briefly, she smiled. Then she turned back to Dave.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a good fortune must write out a check and make a donation to the cause," she said in an equally affected British accent, keeping with the Pride and Prejudice reference.
Dave laughed. "Well played, Ms. McDermott, well played."
It was then I made the connection. Kate.
Katherine…
A shock went through me. The pretty young woman I had imagined ravishing only moments earlier was none other than Ethan's beloved daughter.
"You're Katherine…" I blurted out like a smitten schoolboy.
"Oh, this is Kate McDermott," Dave said, gesturing to Kate. "Kate, this is Dr. Drake Morgan, brain surgeon, bass player, philanthropist. I assumed you already knew each other."
"I met, but didn’t really formally meet, Ms. McDermott," I said, a surge of something indescribable flowing through me. "I've known you by reputation for years. My apologies for not introducing myself."
"By reputation?"
"Your father told me about you, and I read your articles on Mangaize."
She smiled briefly, and then turned away as if still embarrassed by our encounter.
Dave turned to her. "Dr. Morgan's father Liam fought with your father in Vietnam. Drake volunteers with Doctors Without Borders," he said, sounding officious. "I run his foundation, which donates surgical equipment. Drake goes to war zones where civilians have experienced brain tra
uma and fixes them up."
She turned to me and her pretty green eyes widened. "My father's spoken of you before. It was Dr. Morgan this, Dr. Morgan that. He thinks you're practically a saint."
I smiled, enjoying how easily she blushed. She couldn't hide her emotions and that was something I highly valued in a sexual partner. So Ethan thought I was a saint? Little did he know… And if he knew how I was lusting after his baby girl, how I wanted to blindfold and gag her, tie her up and fuck her over and over again, he'd probably hire a hit man to take me out.
"Sorry, I didn't introduce myself earlier," she said, her cheeks and neck covered in a flush. "I was in kind of injured mode."
"Nice to finally meet Ethan's beloved daughter." I extended my hand. "Your father told me so much about you. I should have known it was you by your eyes, but I was in slightly caddish doctor with bad bedside manner mode and not my charming and gracious guest mode."
I kissed her knuckles and glanced in her eyes as I did, noting how once more she blushed, her cheeks red.
I had to have her. It was that simple.
"I'll leave her with you then," Peter. Then, Dave stepped forward as if trying to get in between us.
"So, Ms. Bennet, how have you been since our last meeting?"
They made some small talk about Jane Austen, and I watched as Dave tried to push himself on her, standing very close to her, shaking her hand and smiling at her in an attempt to monopolize her. She smiled, but I could tell by how she stiffened that she didn’t enjoy his overly-obvious attention. She pulled her hand out of his and stepped back.
"My father warned me about men like you, Mr. Mills," she said, sneaking a glance at me. "Suave. Charming. Devastatingly handsome…"
"Oh, that's riiight. Your father The Hangin' Judge… Does he keep a shotgun under his bed to keep away your suitors? I take it you only go for the nerds? The dorks? The ones who don’t have a clue what to say or how to treat a woman? Some of us do know."
"I don't know why I'd be of much interest to you," she said, as if trying to change the subject. "I'm looking for donations. Care to donate to Nigel's foundation?"