Is there any detail this guy overlooks?
Unlikely. Very, very unlikely.
He walks out of the bedroom and it gives me a moment to myself. How long I don’t know, but I do know the peacefulness of the music and the darkness of the room provide the ultimate after sex experience to try and understand what just happened and allow my body to take it in and come down a bit from my high.
But that’s not the case. My heart rates is still higher than normal, although not nearly as much as when his tongue or cock were inside me.
Just when I try and make heads and tails of how this has all come to be so fast and where it might go he reenters the room with something in his hand.
I hear the strike of a match and realize it’s a matchbook. But why?
Why? Because he’s got candles in the room that I couldn’t see before. Apparently this is a blackout room for the perfect sleeping experience…not that that’s going to happen anytime soon.
“How’s the sound?” he asks.
“Absolutely perfect.”
“You know those egg crate looking foam things you see in radio stations?”
“Yes.”
“I installed them in the walls thinking it would give me the ultimate in sleep. Complete silence.”
“I sense a but coming.”
“But it’s actually so quiet that you can hear your heart beating. It’s eerie actually.”
“So you took them out?”
“I considered that, but tried ambient sound and light therapy first.”
“Light therapy?”
“Yes. Certain shades of light help you fall asleep while other shades help you wake up. A lot of it has to do with circadian rhythm and mimicking the color and temperature of natural sunlight.”
“Temperature of light?”
“Photographically speaking.”
“You do photography too?”
“Usually just when I travel, but I’m trying to make more time for it.”
“So that’s why the candles are a certain color?”
“Yes, but I’m not lighting the sleeping ones,” he says.
“Circadian rhythm, right?” I joke.
He turns and smirks at me. Oh my God. Just when I thought he couldn’t surprise me with any more sexiness.
“I was thinking of a different kind of rhythm.”
He waves his hand in the air extinguishing the match before he places it in the flute that held the champagne. A simple match mixed with a drop or two of nearly two-hundred-year-old champagne pulled from the bottom of the Atlantic.
It couldn’t fit him any more perfectly.
He’s that man that’s so rare and valuable that someone would actually risk it all just to find him, no matter the time or cost.
But his desires and the way he communicates are so simple it just makes you want to get in line and follow him. To do what he says and to realize there’s no bullshit to him. He’s honest, straightforward, and complete as a person.
And part of that honesty is not trying to get me drunk. A welcome relief from what seemingly every other man in the world tries to do.
He told me we didn’t want to dilute our senses in order to water down the entirety of tonight’s experience. Yes, he referred to it as tonight’s experience like he’s some sort of performer.
By the way he’s got me wrapped around his little finger right now I’d certainly go with magician.
So we each enjoyed two glasses over the course of the last couple hours. At least I would guess it’s been a couple hours, but I really have no idea. The last thing I’m thinking about right now is time, nor would I want to. I never want this to end. I want this to last forever.
And the scariest part is I think I’m going to need it to last forever.
He said he was completely addicted?
I’m way past that. I could already imagine being taken from the front of his building by security as I’m kicking and screaming demanding just to see him.
I can imagine him moving because I stock him asking for just one more night…one more kiss.
Even if I have all of him it will never be enough.
I’ve never been a possessive or jealous person, but I realize now that’s because there was simply nothing I wanted in life like this. Like him.
He walks over to the side of the massive bed and slides up and on top of me.
He’s completely dominant in this position, not that he wasn’t already, and all I can think about is laying here doing nothing but being taken.
As he kisses my neck I close my eyes and imagine this happening forever.
But then I open my eyes quickly remembering how he said we don’t want to dilute our senses which will water down the experience.
He’s right.
And for the next hour I watch as he kisses me, caresses me, and adores me in every way before he slowly, sweetly, and passionately makes love to me for the first time.
He comes inside me yet again as we climax simultaneously and then eases himself onto his back next to me.
I’ve now made love with exactly one man in my entire life. And I’ve also had sex, been fucked, and been eaten out by one man too. And it all started out with my first blowjob.
And I may be inexperienced in this part of life but I’m wise enough to know there’s not many people alive lucky enough to have shared so many of their firsts with the same partner.
And especially not over the course of one night.
“I want to massage you now,” he says.
Oh, and there’s that too. My first massages, as in plural.
Because he can’t keep his hands off me.
And how will I ever get him off my mind?
Whether I have him or not.
Either way…he’s going to be the death of me.
CHAPTER 15
Doctor Church
Three months later
“Are you okay, doctor?”
“Don’t you ever question me!” I point my finger at the nurse I hired after the last one quit. “You haven’t even been here two week and you’ve got the nerve to second guess me? You want to have a job after you come back from your lunch break you shut your mouth and do what you’re told,” I say.
Candice walks off with her tail between her legs as she should.
Fuck! What happened in there just now?
I almost lost a patient for the first time ever. It was such a simple procedure, at least for me that is. My head wasn’t in the game. I didn’t prepare like I normally do. I just thought I could waltz in there and save the day like always.
And I did, but not without too many tense moments that needn’t have occurred.
I’ve just been a different person since that night with Matilda. My head’s not in the game at all. I can’t eat. I can’t think. I can’t focus.
Except when it comes to her.
She consumes every second of my existence. I think back to the two of us lying in bed while I ran a single fingertip over her body and we talked about everything from passion to art to travel and even the future.
And the future has arrived as it always does, but she’s gone. Long gone.
And I can’t find her. That’s the part I can’t understand.
It shouldn't be hard. I know her first and I know she’s abroad with a non-profit. I even know she’s in Togo! How can I not find her?
I mean the odds are well over fifty percent that she’s with Doctors Without Borders but I’ve called them countless times only to get the same answer. I’ve even changed my voice and used an alias just to see if they were denying me information, or even worse if she’s denying me.
But that makes no sense.
Everything was perfect. I treated her with complete respect from start to finish. The afternoon following our night together I had a surgery which I couldn’t postpone. I took her to collect her things and even drove her to the airport. I was a complete gentleman in that regard, and a complete animal in others…but only when the time called for it.
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Her WhatsApp account had gone dark, showing that she hadn’t logged in since the day we met.
Had she had such an incredible experience that she wiped everything from her past clean? Just deleted her contacts and went off to a new country to start fresh?
I know people do that sometimes, but it seems out of character for her.
It makes no sense.
We can’t let what we had end this way. I want more. I need more. I need her.
And not just for one night this time. I need her every day and every night for all the memories we still have to make.
I sit down at my desk glad to have miraculously maintained my perfect surgical success record.
But I’m already thinking past that. What was minutes ago is long forgotten.
Could she have used a fake name?
I gave her the vaccination and signed and stamped all the documents but did Jane actually check her ID? It was a hectic day that day and Jane was ready to go home when she walked in. We all were.
Maybe she pulled a fast one over on us. For all I know she could be a reporter looking for a story. Maybe even a pharmaceutical rep looking for a way in. I wouldn’t put it past some of the reps I’ve met.
But that’s not her. That’s not who she is at her core.
The time we spent was brief, but real.
I know she’s not like that.
And I know I can’t keep living like this.
I’ve got enough money to last through multiple lifetimes of extravagance, not that I need that kind of life.
As a matter of fact that’s exactly what I don’t need. I need to unwind and get back to basics. To try and unplug from this life and unplug my brain from all the thoughts of her that are hardwired in my skull.
And there’s only one way to do that.
It’s drastic, but it’s my only hope.
I pull up my schedule on my computer, blocking out the next year starting with next week.
I shoot an email over to my real estate broker to list both my penthouse and the clinic.
And finally I call an all hands on deck meeting for five o’clock today.
I’ll give the news at closing time. Starting next week everyone goes on one year paid leave. They’re free to take a new job or do whatever they want. Doesn’t matter, I’ll still pay them right on schedule. Even the new ones.
I’m out of here. I need a complete overhaul. A change of pace. New scenery. The smell of saltwater in the air and the feeling of sand beneath my toes.
I have no idea how a Type A will be able to handle that, but I’ll soon figure out.
And if I get bored enough I can always do plastic surgery or something else that focuses on my high-end clientele. Most of my New York clients have separate residences and pursuits down in Miami anyways. I’ll hit the ground with plenty of contacts, not that I plan on working again or even need to.
But if I can’t get her off my mind I’ll need to do something.
If not I’m going to go absolutely crazy, if I’m not already.
And I definitely am crazy in one way right now. Crazy for her.
CHAPTER 16
Matilda
One month later
I curl up in the fetal position, hugging one of my old nearly flattened pillows and using another to smother out my cries.
After another exhausting day I should be falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow but sleeping is the last thing on my mind.
All I can think about is him.
And what he did to me.
He showed me what’s really possible in life and in a man, and I know there’s no going back. I want him so bad, but there’s no way to get in touch with him here. We have a single satellite phone which is beyond expensive, not to mention I’m not high enough up the food chain to be permitted to use it, plus my regular cell phone got stolen somewhere in town right away. I want to believe I just dropped it, but unfortunately I’m pretty sure it was the work of a pickpocket.
But having my phone stolen is one thing. Having my heart stolen is entirely another.
I’ve looked for an email address for his clinic, but one doesn’t exist. I’ve spent hours on the dial up connections in the Internet cafes here trying to track him down, but to no avail. I’m just a volunteer and I’m not being paid. I have to be careful with my money so there’s not a lot to do until I leave the country…which might be sooner rather than later.
I was able to “borrow” a test from one of the other doctors down here…one that I don’t normally work with to tip him off as to what I was doing.
We run tests on the people here all the time…except they usually aren’t pregnancy tests.
When it came back positive I was stunned, although I can’t say I was surprised.
What a fool I was to think a man who was that dominate, strong, and full of so much vitality wouldn’t have the same kind of reproductive powers.
I’ve tried to hide the pregnancy as best as I can, but now I’m just starting to really show. I can’t pass it off as just overeating because I’m away from home and lonely. That’s not going to fly.
And speaking of flying I’m going to have to fly out of here at some point, likely sooner rather than later.
I’ll have a black mark on my record for quitting the program early and I’ll need money to change the departure date on my ticket, but at least I’ll be able to deliver my baby in a first world country. I don’t want to sound pretentious, but it’s just too risky to attempt a delivery here.
Plus this is his baby we’re talking about. I’ll never be with a man like him again, and by definition never have a chance to have a child from someone of his status and strength.
But there was so much more to him than the visual. He was such a deep thinker. He was a man who put others first.
I can’t believe I’m speaking about him in the past tense. I’ve subconsciously already given up, like there’s no way I’ll ever find him again. No way I’ll ever have those piercing blue eyes look at me so intensely it’s like they’re looking through me.
But I can’t give up. I mustn’t.
There’s only one thing to do and there’s no more time to waste.
CHAPTER 17
Doctor Church
One week later
“There goes another one, bro!”
“Look at that one!”
“That ass! Aye mami!”
I turn and look at the two clowns sitting next to me who are watching scantily clad hoochies walk by. I didn’t even notice them.
I don’t notice much these days. Those girls could be naked for all I care. I wouldn’t even look up from my magazine, not that I remember a single word of what I just read.
It’s just another travel magazine full of destinations I hope might make me forget about her. But I know if I keep running from my past it will only make matters worse.
But I’ve tried hobbies since I arrived. Polo. Surfing. Golfing. They should be providing me with a rush, mental and visual stimulation that “gets me out of my own head” but they don’t work. I’m still focused on one thing and one thing only.
Her.
“Una mas cerveza, señor?” the waitress teases.
“Sí,” I say, trying to be cordial.
“You know,” she says. “It’s more fun when you don’t drink alone.”
“Probably so,” I say.
“Well, if you’re not busy my friends and I have rented a boat tomorrow.”
“Weather is supposed to be nice. I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” I say.
“Yeah. It’s supposed to be hot tomorrow. Hot and really sunny. You know what that means?”
“That sunscreen will be a good idea.”
“You’re so funny,” she says, as she playfully slaps my arm. It’s too obvious and I wish she wouldn’t touch me, but at least she doesn’t leave her hand on my arm. If she did I’d have to ask her to move it away. Thankfully that didn’t happen and I don’t have to embarrass her or cause a scen
e.
“No silly,” she continues. “Those little triangle tops we wear will be too uncomfortable and they’ll leave tan lines we won’t be able to get rid of.”
Doctor Bad Boy's Secret Baby: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 42) Page 6