The O Doctor

by Brandy Ayers

  That primitive side of me I never knew existed until Marci surges to live inside me. Demanding I take, I claim, I treasure.

  Who am I to deny him?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marci

  I should go home.

  The note asked for him to meet me at the photo shoot in three days. I should give him three days to think over everything. One magazine article and a note doesn’t magically fix all the issues that come with me.

  “Go home. Just go home. This is stupid. You shouldn’t be pacing up and down the sidewalk outside his apartment building talking to yourself.” A little old woman with a mini dog of some sort passes by, giving me a wide berth. “Great, now I’m scaring little old ladies with ugly dogs. I should just go home.”

  “Or you could come inside with me.” Oh God. That voice. That deep voice that I keep hearing in my dreams telling me to ride his cock.

  My feet freeze in the midst of wearing a grove in the sidewalk. Gaze glued to the pavement, I can’t bring myself to turn towards him. “You want to talk?”

  “I want to do a whole hell of a lot more than talk.” Closer now, almost on top of me. How does a man that larger than life move so quietly? “But yeah, we can start with talking.”

  I steel my nerves, glance up to meet his gaze. What I see there knocks all the air right back out of my lungs. Heat. Not just lust, but the warm glow of affection, maybe even love. But I can’t possibly hope for that yet, right?

  “Hi.”

  He laughs, then leans down to press his lips gently against mine. Not the earth-shattering lust driven kisses we’d experience before, just lips fitting together. It still makes my knees weak.

  “Hey. How’d you get my address?” A wrinkle forms between his eyebrows, and I reach up to smooth it with my fingers before I can think to doubt my natural urge to comfort.

  “I stopped by the bar. Hoped I’d catch you there. Or the messenger, so I could take back the package. But you weren’t there. Pete gave me some liquid courage and your address written on a napkin.”

  “For once, I’m glad my uncle can’t keep his damn nose out of my business.” He takes a step closer. Close enough that his masculine scent washes over me, his heat warms me. “Saves me the trouble of having to find a cab at this hour.” Glancing around, Micah’s brow furrows even deeper. “Actually, I don’t like the idea of you walking around by yourself at this hour of the morning. I’ll have a talk with Pete about that.”

  “Don’t bother, boy.” Pete emerges from the shadows between buildings and throws me a little wink. Despite my nerves, I have to laugh. “I followed her down here to make sure she made it safe. Now that I know you aren’t going to be a self-destructive idiot any more, I think it is safe for me to head home.”

  Micah shakes his head, amusement sparkling in his eyes as Pete continues down the sidewalk the way I’d walked earlier. “Get a life, old man.”

  Eyes locked, Micah cradles my face in his large hands, not letting me hide anything from him. “I’m so sorry.” I blurt the words out inelegantly, a sob blundering the end of my apology.

  “You don’t have to keep saying that. But I do.” Bending to place his forehead against mine, Micah drops his voice to a near whisper. “Turns out, I’m not as good at diagnosing my own issues as I am my client’s. It’s hard for me to trust. Hard for me to forgive. But I do trust you. I should have stuck around and talked things out with you, instead of running. Pete pointed some things out to me, and well, don’t tell him, but that man knows what he’s talking about. Will you forgive me for not trying harder? For not giving you the benefit of the doubt?”

  “Of course.”

  Micah’s responding smile is so heart-breakingly relieved, every muscle in my body relaxes, knowing he truly has put this behind us.

  “That article was incredible. You are incredible. I want to say I won’t do anything like this again, but I have some of my own issues to work through.” His thumbs trace up and down my cheekbones, the intensity of his focus on me making my knees turn to jello. “I want to do that with you though. I want us to find each other. Together.”

  Uncertainty wars with the need to take any piece of this man and horde it away like a lady with a house full of cats. “What if, while working through our issues, we figure out we aren’t right for each other?”

  “You want to know how I know that won’t happen?”

  I nod vigorously, desperate to hear how he can be so confident when the first two weeks we’ve known each other have been one big giant clusterfuck of misunderstandings and miscommunications.

  “Because when I look at you, I want to be better. For both of us. Even when I pushed you away, I felt more sick to my stomach, more loneliness then after every single of my three previous relationships ended. And I’ve known you a fraction of the time.” Keeping his hold on my face, Micah backs up slightly. “Our souls, our bodies, know they’ve found their match. We just have to get our brains in line too. Trust me.”

  There is that word again. Trust. He is handing his over to me. I can do the same. We can do this. I feel it deep down to the very center of my being. It doesn’t erase the fear coursing through me, but it makes it easier to categorize that fear as irrational and set it to the side. Put it in its place and move on.

  “I do. I trust you.” Some giddy part of me squeals internally at the idea of saying I do to this man. Imagining those same small words with the big meanings behind them in a different time and place.

  “Good. Now, I’d like to take you upstairs and run some trust exercises with you. Against the wall. On the floor. In my bed.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Micah flips me over his shoulder and spins toward his building. At the elevator, he refuses to put me down, instead letting his hands wander over my lower half as the small car jerks up to his floor. Once inside his apartment, I’m shocked to find it's just as small as mine. Maybe smaller. But it doesn’t matter, because the place is so perfectly Micah. It is all earth tones and solid wood furniture. Leather and cotton. It’s a strange combination of neat and messy. Books stacked everywhere, a blanket half falling off the couch, his shoes kicked off haphazardly in a corner. But there are no dishes in the sink, and his rugs have obviously been vacuumed in the not so distant past.

  I observe all this while hanging upside down as he stomps back through a narrow hallway and to a bedroom that is almost entirely taken up by bed. One tiny strip of floor is left between the bed and window, another at the foot of the bed, and the other side is pressed against a wall. The thing is covered in lush pillows and blankets that immediately give me the urge to burrow down inside with the man carrying me.

  The room swirls around me as Micah tosses me onto the bed and starts stripping before I can even stop bouncing.

  The bed totally envelopes me. My body, tense from days of anxiety over the article and whether Micah would give me another shot, gradually relaxes and forms to the decadence of the place he sleeps.

  “I’m gonna need you to get naked. Immediately.” Micah pulls his shoes from his feet, tossing them into a small closet behind him.

  “But I think the bed has rendered me partially unconscious. I’m just going to lay here and watch.” I stretch my arms out and fold them behind my head, wiggling my butt even further down into the cloud of awesome.

  “You want to watch, huh?” He flicks open the button on his jeans, then pulls down the zipper to separate the metal teeth in the world’s slowest striptease. Or that’s how it seems. That powerful appendage between his legs swells out of the opening, still held back by his grey boxer briefs. The man is positively drool worthy. Thick muscles and a dark trail of hair leading to the promised land. A dark spot grows larger at the very tip of him, giving away how truly turned on he is. The strong hands I’ve admired in class grip his cotton encased cock, stroking it in slow slides. “How’s the show so far?”

  Once the question leaves his mouth, I realize my chest is heaving with the effort it takes to pull air into m
y lungs. “I want to see more.”

  Micah smirks, the little upturn at the corner of his mouth giving him an almost evil look. “Greedy girl.”

  But he doesn’t hesitate to push his pants and underwear to the floor, his cock bobbing up and down as he steps from the last of his clothes. His hand returns to the heavy flesh, jerking himself off at a slightly faster pace now as he takes me in.

  “You know, even when I was pissed, even when I thought there would never be a way we could be together, I still laid in this bed every night from the day we met and made myself come to images of you here with me.” Micah climbs onto the bed, on his knees, he straddles my calves resting back until his butt rests on his heels. Still stroking that part of him that I’ve been craving since he walked out of my apartment. “After our night together, I’d get myself off to memories of you covered in my cum until my dick was practically screaming for mercy. And even then, it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough without you.”

  I can’t take it anymore. Sitting up, I pull my shirt over my head, not giving a shit that it sends my hair into complete disarray. “Enough. I need you inside me.”

  “No. You said you wanted to watch. So, you’re going to watch.” He pushes me back down against the bed and scoots forward so that he sits over my waist and arms, essentially pinning me to the bed with some of his weight. No matter how much I squirm and buck, I can’t throw him. Through it all, he just kneels there, pulling on his cock until the muscles in his thighs are twitching and his balls pull up tight beneath him.

  “Micah, please.” Jesus, I’m so wet, the fabric of my jeans are obviously soaked as I shift my thighs together, desperate to relieve the tension watching this huge man pleasure himself over me brings.

  “Please, what, sweetheart? Please come on your tits? Please ruin this pretty, pink, lace bra by spilling my seed all over it?” Micah falls forward, one hand planted beside my face. The tip of his cock is just out of my mouth’s reach, no matter how much I arch my neck to try and taste him. “Oh, please come on your tongue? Is that what you were asking for, my little cum slut?”

  Fuck, I love this. Love the filthy language he uses with me. I should be offended by that name, I know it goes against every feminist philosophy that we both believe in. But just like that first night, the first time he used the name on me as he bathed my body in his hot juices, it doesn’t offend in anyway. It arouses. It ignites.

  “Oh god, yes. I want your cum in my mouth. Then in my pussy. Pleasepleaseplease.” I continue to beg him for it with my eyes as I hold my mouth open, sticking out my tongue for his offering.

  “Who’s cum do you crave?”

  “Yours, Micah. Only yours.” It’s the truth, I’ve never wanted this with anyone else. No man has inspired this level of obsession to possess every single drop of them. To have it sink into my skin, fill my pussy and my belly. The depravity of my desire amps up my already crazed need for him to fuck me. This taboo game we’re playing making every inch between my thighs throb with painful urgency.

  “Say it again.” The growled demand gritted out between his teeth is so damn sexy I almost come without him even touching me.

  “I’m your cum slut. Only yours. Give it all to me, Micah.”

  The whimpered words trigger his orgasm, and hot spurt after hot spurt pours from him, landing on my lips and outstretched tongue. Straining my neck, I take the very tip of him into my mouth and suck him dry until he has to pull himself away from my overly attentive lips.

  “Jesus. God you are so perfect. I’m the luckiest fucking man on this earth that I have a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman who craves the same unmentionable things I do.” Micah slides back down to my feet, pulling off my jeans and underwear in one swift jerk. “Now my cum slut needs a reward for taking everything I had for her.”

  Roughly, Micah parts my legs, holding them firmly against the bed so that I’m spread open for him.

  “Yes, yes, need your mouth.” I lick the last of his salty taste from my lips as he devours my pussy, licking, sucking and nibbling until I’m a useless mess of sweet and nonsensical words.

  “Missed this delicious cunt. Never again going to bed a day of my life without your taste on my tongue.” Micah lifts his head away from me, hitting me with the full strength of his powerful glare. “You’re going to let me eat this pussy every night for forever, aren't you?”

  I can only nod, hoping he’ll return to his work.

  “Say it.” His palm slaps my pussy just hard enough to sting, but light enough that it instantly turns into warm pleasure radiating through my core.

  “Yes, you can have it whenever you want.”

  His mouth descends once again, two fingers spearing into my weeping channel. It doesn’t take long before I’m twisting the sheets in my fists, twitching with the zaps of electric arousal before my climax bursts. The world disappears. All that exists is Micah’s mouth, Micah’s fingers. Micah. I come until my voice goes hoarse and my body falls limp onto the bed.

  “I think we woke some neighbors.”

  I try to giggle, but don’t even have the strength for humor.

  Micah rolls us onto our sides, legs tangled together, his arms wrapped around me. “I wish I could let you rest, but I need inside you. Need that connection after the week without you. Because the best part of us is that we can be filthy and sweet together. I need both sides of the coin.” Micah uses his top leg to spread me open again, lowers his hand to his once again hard cock, positioning it at my entrance. “Will you let me in?”

  “You don’t even have to ask.” The smooth glide of heated flesh against heated flesh makes us both gasp. Our gazes stay locked together. The frenzy of earlier has calmed into serenity.

  “I’ll always ask. Always make sure you're okay. No matter how rough we like it, how many degrading names we like to use, I’ll always make sure it's still what you want. Your happiness is everything to me. I’ll never lose sight of that again.”

  There is no rush now. The climb to our next release is methodical, but no less intense then the absolute lust-craze from before. Our hands wander over each inch of skin, but always return to wrap tight around each other. He spreads kisses down my neck, up my throat, on both my eyelids. Then our mouths join, hips shift faster and faster until we reach that high together. There are no dirty names, no filthy talk, no spanking. Just bodies melded together.

  My heart feels as if it is cracking in two and mending at the same time. Or maybe I gave half of mine to him, and he gave me half of his, and now they’re stitched together.

  Now, we’re one.

  Epilogue One

  One Year Later

  Micah

  We’re late again. It’s a common occurrence, and people have come to expect it from us. But every time I watch my fiancé get dressed, I just have to get her all messed up again. Don’t ask me why. I’ve stopped trying to figure out why we want the things we want.

  Hand in hand, we run to the entrance of 30 Rockefeller Center, headed to the Rainbow Room where two of our good friends are celebrating their own engagement. Or at least, that’s what she thinks.

  As always, Marci looks gorgeous. She’s wearing the dress I proposed to her in, a soft green strapless thing that goes to her knees and has a loose, swinging skirt which flutters as she walks. Another pair of those dangerously high heels adorn her feet, and the only jewelry she’s wearing are pieces I gave her; the necklace of my mother’s that I gave Marci for her birthday three months ago. And the ring I gave to her that same night when I asked her to be my wife.

  Skidding into the elevator just before the doors close, we collapse against each other in the corner, laughing at our mad dash. People look at us, and we laugh even harder. It’s a long ride up to the 65th floor and our destination. I lean against the back wall of the elevator car and pull Marci into a hug, so our chests are pressed together.

  I might fear for her safety when she wears these impractical heels, but I must admit, they have their advantages. Lik
e being able to kiss her without having to stoop so low I’m practically bent in half. So, I do just that, pressing my lips to hers in a sweet kiss, then nuzzling my way around so my lips rest just under her ear.

  “Is my cum still dripping out of you?” I keep my voice low, quiet enough that the conversations of the people around us and the classical music being played covers my words.

  Her breath hitches in her throat, and those delicious tits of hers squirm against my chest. Already, my cock is growing to half-mast. Jesus, I just had her a half hour ago, not to mention two hours before that, and three times the night before. Yet here I am, standing in an elevator, craving the taste of Marci’s pussy and the silken feel of her walls strangling my throbbing cock.

  Marci arches up so her mouth reaches my ear. “You know it is. Thank god I decided to wear panties. Though I’m not sure if they’re soaked because of your cum or my excitement.”

  Fuck. This woman undoes me in the best way possible. Reaching between us, I slip my fingers under the hem of her dress, tracing her smooth thigh until I encounter the edge of her satin panties. She glances around, nervous someone will see. But if there is one truth about people in elevators, it’s that they’re in their own little world. Mostly noses in phones. At almost every floor the doors slide open and more people file in and out, barely paying attention to us. Besides, if anyone does look our way, it will just look like we’re embracing.

  I dip my fingers under the elastic around her legs and slide them along her pussy lips. She’s a soaked, sticky mess. A mess I made. I’m not just half hard anymore. My cock has roared to life with a vengeance. Marci’s delicate hand grips me through my slacks, slowly pumping up and down, careful not to make too much noise and too obvious a movement.

  We don’t say a word, just tease each other and enjoy the moment. I know there is no way I could bring her to orgasm in an elevator full of people, my girl is much too loud for that. Even when she tries to be quiet, she fails miserably. Just ask our neighbors.