Submitting to the Doctor (Cowboy Doms Book 7)

by BJ Wane

  “What do you want to ask me, pet?” Mitchell looked up from his book and nailed her with one of those probing stares that never failed to shake loose something inside her.

  Ignoring the undesirable response, Lillian scowled. “Do you call me that just to annoy me?”

  “Partly. Now, ask.”

  She couldn’t fault him for being honest even if the continued use of the generic endearment grated on her nerves. “I was wondering about your age.” Waving a hand toward his head, she said, “Your hair color on a woman would make her look older, but on men it’s deceiving.”

  “I’m forty-two and the premature gray runs in my family.”

  Closing his book, he set it aside, pushed to his feet and stretched. Lillian admired his lean height, guessing he stood around six-four as she recalled what he looked like naked, his impressive, ripcord muscles and deceptive strength. Her blood flow heated, forcing her gaze away before he noticed her staring. The only explanation for her continued, strong responses must be stress, but regardless, she wasn’t in the market for another relationship. Not even a strictly physical one. She shut the notebook and went to dish out the chili thinking tomorrow and the snowplows couldn’t come soon enough.

  Like last night, Lillian donned his shirt and climbed into bed hours before Mitchell, staring into the fire until the heat and wavering flames lulled her to sleep. But unlike the previous night, tonight she wasn’t weighed down with exhaustion to keep the bad dreams at bay. Visions of happy times with her sister kept getting jumbled with the weeks she’d lived on edge under Brad’s roof.

  “Come on, sis. You can do it.” Lillian held her hand down from where she sat perched on the limb of the large oak tree in their front yard. “But hurry, before Mom sees us and makes us do chores.”

  “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things, Lil.” Liana grabbed her hand and swung up onto the branch next to her just as their mother popped her head out the back door and called for them.

  They both giggled, refusing to answer until they were threatened with getting grounded for a month.

  “I love you, but I’m not missing the eighth-grade dance just to get out of cleaning my room.” Liana delivered a playful punch to her arm and then jumped to the ground.

  Lillian groaned, clutched her arm and rolled over as Brad’s cold voice replaced her sister’s happy lilt.

  Gripping her upper arm as she entered the house, Brad swung her about with an angry glare. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  Her arm throbbed and Lillian pictured the new bruise already forming. Gritting her teeth, she ground out, “I told you I had an art class this evening.”

  Yanking her against him, his eyes bored into hers. “You better not be lying. One injection and Liana will suffer.” Releasing her arm, he delivered a punch to her stomach that doubled her over on a gasp. “Now come upstairs and make it up to me.” He hauled her up the stairs, Lillian cringing at the thought of him touching her again.

  She let her mind go blank as he stripped her, following his demands with feigned enthusiasm. He never hurt her in bed. On the contrary, he whispered words of apology, his touch gentle, his praise of her over the top. She went along, nodded her forgiveness and accepted his thrusts, all the while vowing revenge one day…

  With a quiet sob, Lillian slid out of the bed before she woke Mitchell. The extra warmth from the simmering embers beckoned and she padded across the wood planking to stand on the braided rug before the low, crackling flames. Her heart pounded and her body quaked from the conflicting emotions of sadness and fury, making her wonder which would eventually overtake the other. She’d always been the instigator of trouble and daring between her and Liana, her little stunts landing them in hot water nine times out of ten. She was used to accepting the blame and figured that was why she kept faulting herself for something neither of them could have seen coming. Her shame stemmed from being unable to find a way to defy Brad’s threats and keep Liana safe, and she needed to learn to live with her degrading compliance to his possession and painful punches.

  “Are you okay?”

  Lillian stiffened, anger rising to the surface with Mitchell’s intrusion. “I’m fine. Sorry I woke you,” she replied without turning around. Between sorrow pricking her eyes from missing Liana and bile lodged in her throat from recalling the distaste of Brad’s touch, she didn’t trust herself to remain bottled up if she faced him.

  Mitchell fisted his hands to keep from reaching for Lillian. Her soft moan of distress had woken him from a light sleep and he’d opened his eyes to see her walking to the fireplace. His shirt hung to her mid-thighs, leaving those long, slender legs bare. Need poured off her rigid body in waves as she looked down at the small, residual glow. For what, he didn’t know and shouldn’t care. So why was he standing behind her now, listening to her lie when she said she was fine? He swore he possessed no desire to get involved with her troubles, but the sob wrenched from her throat that had roused him shredded that resolve, the quiver in her voice just now tugging at his compassion.

  “Now, that’s a lie, pet,” he admonished, injecting a note of steel in his tone. He hated to ask but needed to know. “Were you raped?”

  She whirled on him so fast, he took a step back, those purple eyes blazing with hate and a hint of shame, her face red, either from the heat or anger, he couldn’t tell which. “No. I went to his bed willingly every time he bruised me. And if you think that makes me a pathetic moron, too stupid to live, I don’t give a damn.” Lillian poked a finger at his bare chest, the jab landing right between his pecs. “Quit calling me pet. I don’t like it.”

  Mitchell thanked his considerable control as he moved forward again, close enough his flannel shirt she wore brushed his abdomen. “I don’t think anything because that’s not the whole truth. There are all kinds of ways to coerce an unwilling woman. If you don’t want to tell me, fine by me. Since we will be parting ways tomorrow, you won’t have to hear me calling you pet again, which is good because I don’t take orders, I give them.”

  Her jaw tightened as she gave one jerky nod and spun around again, but not before he caught the same flash of despair in her eyes he’d glimpsed several times before, the same despondency that still pulled him down when he thought of Abbie.

  “Then there’s nothing else to say, is there?” The slight catch in Lillian’s whisper belied her stiff stance of peevish anger.

  No matter how much he did not want to involve himself, he couldn’t leave her hurting. Like he said, they would be going their separate ways within hours. What could it hurt if he gave her a better memory to think about when the bad ones intruded? It would sure help ease his conscience if he could send her on her way knowing he’d done what he could to help her cope with her demons.

  “How long has your sister been gone?”

  She sucked in a breath and whispered, “Come morning, five days.”

  Mitchell swore, sympathizing with her. The acute pain of his own loss had abated to a dull ache, but those first days of shocked grief were still too easy to recall. Before he could change his mind, he rested his hands on her shoulders and rubbed the tenseness out of them until she released her pent-up breath on a sigh. Then he slid his hands down her arms, circled her wrists and lifted her hands to the wooden mantel just above her head.

  Leaning his head down sideways, he rested his lips against her ear. “You’ve trusted me for two days. Trust me a little longer and leave your hands there until I give you permission to lower them.”

  Her back muscles went taut and this time, her whisper trembled. “Why? What are you going to do?”

  “Make you forget the bad for a short time. Give you a new, better memory to leave here with. Trust me to do that.”

  Mitchell kept his hands over hers and called on his patience as Lillian took her time answering. When she did, the relief and pleasure her reply sent rushing through him would bear deeper scrutiny later, much later.

  “Okay, yes, I’ll do that.”

&n
bsp; Chapter 4

  Lillian had washed out her bra and panties and left them drying in the bathroom before turning in, and now braced herself as Mitchell reached around her and unbuttoned the shirt, wondering what the heck she was doing. She was done taking orders from men, wasn’t she? He hadn’t asked for her trust, he’d insisted on it. The seductive promise interlaced with the deep voiced command had tugged at something inside her, an ache for what he was promising, and prompted her to agree just to see where this would go.

  She sucked in a deep breath as the shirt fell open and the warmth from the fireplace added to the instant heat of his nails scraping across her nipples. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to enjoy a man’s touch? Months, she figured, and hadn’t cared until now. One touch from Mitchell and she craved more.

  “Very good, Lillian. I like your body, so soft,” he cupped her breasts, “and dainty.” Her small fleshy mounds filled the palm of his hands. “And here,” he brushed her nipples with his thumbs, “so hard and quick to respond. You will tell me if I do anything that triggers a bad memory or response.”

  “Bossy,” she huffed on an exasperated laugh. “Have I mentioned I don’t like bossy men?”

  “A time or two.” Releasing her breasts, he gathered the sides of the shirt and pulled them back, doing some twists and tucks until the wadded material rested in a knot against her lower back.

  A shiver raced down Lillian’s spine as his fingers trailed across her exposed buttocks, drawing goosebumps and a new awareness of that part of her body. And then he slapped her cheek, nothing more than the bounce of his hand on her flesh, the minor sting quickly changing to a warm throb. She wanted to question him but didn’t trust her voice not to betray the odd quiver of embarrassing arousal that smack produced. Another light tap fell on her other buttock and she held her breath against the same response.

  “Mitchell,” she gasped as he slid one hand down between her cheeks, grazing her private rear orifice while cupping his other hand between her legs from the front.

  “You surprise me, in a good way, pet. I thought I would have to coax a response from you, and yet you’re already damp.” He pressed both hands against her sensitive flesh, the pressure drawing more of her cream.

  Shaken in more ways than one, she grumbled, “I thought I wouldn’t have to hear you call me pet again.”

  “I slipped. I’ll make it up to you.” Mitchell delivered another teasing swat to her vulnerable backside followed by a slow glide of one finger along her pussy seam, a tickle that distracted from the slight sting.

  Lillian had never experienced such focused foreplay or such attention to her butt. She didn’t know if she liked it so much because she needed the distraction from the emotional upheaval of the past six weeks or because it had been so long since she’d enjoyed the pleasures of a man’s touch that she would take anything she could get. She wanted to come back with a sharp retort, but he took that moment to part her labia and work two fingers into her sheath, taking his time to graze along sensitive nerve endings begging for attention.

  “Yes,” she groaned as he pulled back to circle her clit with one finger.

  “No bad moments?” Mitchell asked, pulling out of her to tease her pussy lips with his damp fingers.

  She shook her head, aching for more. “No, I’m fine.”

  “You’ll set yourself up for additional heartache if someone asks if you’re okay and you toss out that standard comeback when it’s not true,” he warned in a silky whisper, his lips brushing her earlobe.

  She blew out a frustrated breath as goosebumps popped up along her neck and arms. “But it is true now, and now is all that matters.” Pushing her hips back, she pled, “Please don’t make me wait.”

  “Damn if you’re not hard to resist, and I wouldn’t admit that to just anyone.”

  Any other time and place, that confession would stroke her ego, but the need to escape from the desolation that had consumed her for so long took precedence. Mitchell thrust back up inside her and Lillian exhaled on a relieved breath before he robbed her of it by finger-fucking her with deep, well-aimed strokes. He slid the hand nestled between her buttocks around her waist and up to her breasts to squeeze one round globe.

  Pleasure engulfed her body as he plucked at a nipple and her clit, the little squeezes zapping the tender buds with arousing heat. She tightened her hands on the edge of the mantel, grateful now for his order to keep them there. Bracing her locked arms aided in keeping her anchored, both physically and mentally, while she fought against giving in to her wobbly legs and degrading memories.

  “Let go if you’re ready, Lillian. I’m right here to catch you.”

  The promise, given in that toe-curling guttural tone, accompanied the steady milking of her swollen bundle of nerves. She quaked as arousal spiked out of control, the first pop of pleasure replacing the pain of her last encounter, the shock to her battered system wrenching a cry from her throat. A surge of pure delight rushed through her body as she bucked against his marauding hand and pushed against his hold on her breast. For a few blissful moments, she was swept away on a tidal wave of pleasure that drenched her body and drowned her sorrow.

  “Again,” he ordered while she was still relishing the ebbing smaller contractions of her orgasm. He went deep again, so deep, so fast and hard, the plunge brought her up on her toes.

  “I don’t think I can,” she moaned, but that didn’t stop her from arching back and accepting another twist of his wrist as he withdrew and then returned to continue to stoke the damp heat in her quivering pussy.

  “Yes, you can,” he insisted, and then set about proving it as he alternated thrusting with hard pressure against her clit and moved back and forth between her nipples, pinching, rolling and caressing the throbbing tips.

  “Oh, God.” Drenched in heated pleasure, Lillian embraced the sweeping wave of another climax, shaken by how fast his hands produced another one, longing for the pleasure to continue as she descended from the exultant high. Once it stopped completely, reality would rear its ugly head and she wanted to stave off facing her loss again for as long as possible. “Mitchell, don’t stop,” she pleaded without looking back at him, too mortified by the depth of her uncharacteristic degeneracy.

  Mitchell searched for his control as Lillian arched into his hands, her tortured plea cutting through his stoic resistance to sinking his cock between her silken folds. Her cum soaked his fingers, her slick walls still spasming around them as he soothed the pinches to her nipples with light caresses. The firelight bathed her pale, bowed body in a burnt orange glow, emphasizing the stark whiteness of her skin and the colored bruising around her ribs. He could see the side view of the soft fullness of her small breasts and feel the contrasting stiffness of the turgid tips against his fingertips.

  She presented a temptation he found hard to resist, more so after she’d willingly kept her hands where he had positioned them. He doubted a hidden core of submissiveness compelled her to obey that order; she hadn’t portrayed a hint of compliancy since he found her until now, so there must be another reason she hadn’t slipped from the pose.

  “I planned to spend the week alone, so I don’t have a condom.” With slow deliberation, he pulled out of her pussy, her low groan of disappointment mirroring what he felt.

  “I’m on the pill but haven’t taken them in two days since they’re still packed in my car.” She swiveled her head, her cascade of auburn hair swinging over her upper arm as she slowly lowered her hands.

  Mitchell loosened the knotted shirt, the forlornness in her eyes getting to him before she masked it with cool acceptance. He had never fucked bareback, not with anyone except Abbie. He enjoyed the wet clasp of a woman’s tight muscles massaging his bare flesh as much as any guy, but it was an intimacy he’d only shared with his wife. So why the prickle of regret for turning Lillian down now?

  The shirt fell down to her sides and she turned around, standing before him with unabashed concern as he raked his eyes over
her breasts and down her body. The neatly trimmed auburn curls between her legs offered just a peek at the still puffy folds he’d traced with his fingers, her frontal nakedness as enticing as her soft buttocks and long legs.

  Hoping to lighten the sudden tense silence, he said, “Maybe we can take this further next time. You should try to get some more sleep.”

  Without rising to the bait or saying anything else, Lillian walked around him, went into the bathroom for a few minutes and then got back into bed. Mitchell caught a glimpse of the edge of her pink panties and figured she needed to don as much armor against him and what he’d given her as she could. Given how badly he wanted to take that short scene further, or devise another one, it was a good thing they would go their separate ways later today. He wasn’t interested in another relationship, and coming off an abused one, he doubted she was either. Besides, vanilla and BDSM don’t mix well, regardless of his success in pulling her mind off her troubles for a short time by giving her a taste of the control he liked to exert during sex.

  The rescue crew couldn’t come soon enough, Mitchell thought as he settled in the recliner, shut his eyes and the first thing to pop up was Lillian’s flushed face, dark eyes and the tight clutch of her damp muscles around his fingers.

  “Thanks, Grayson. We’ll head over.” Mitchell clicked off the satellite phone and nodded at Lillian. “They’ve about got you dug out so I’ll walk you back.”

  For the first time since waking a few hours ago, Lillian’s tense muscles relaxed. She was more than ready to get going and put as much distance between her host and herself as she could. With her body still humming from his touch and her dreams of him smacking her butt even harder followed by driving his cock into her body over and over still way too vivid in her head, she needed alone time to get herself under control. “Great. I’ll get my coat.”