Doctor's Demands: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  “Noor?”

  She opened her eyes and smiled wanly at her physician. “Sorry.”

  “Maybe some more counseling would help?”

  “Maybe.”

  The doctor sighed. “Okay, well, I’ll take some blood and I’ll give you a few night’s sleeping tablets, just so you can catch up. I do recommend you take a few days off work.”

  At work, Farah was very understanding. “Girl, you do what you need to do. We’re covered here, and you haven’t taken any days in a couple of years. Go, relax, and do things you want to do. I got this.”

  Noor stood at her front door, looking out over the woods behind her property. To one side was the Columbia River. The house itself wasn’t huge—only three beds and two baths, but Noor loved it. The downstairs was an open plan and her kitchen was well-stocked. She loved being in it. Cooking was her passion and she loved to spend time in the kitchen. Greg being there hadn’t cramped her style—apart from the three-a.m. music blasting—in fact, she liked having someone to talk to and the company when they watched the television in the evening. She liked having someone to test her new recipes on.

  Greg was a music teacher at the local high school. He’d left college and traveled around the world for years, periodically checking in with Noor, his best friend from college. Noor credited Greg with getting her through the assault. He was kind, attentive, and the best guard dog she’d ever had.

  Now, she sat down on the porch swing and enjoyed the warm Oregon evening. She could hear the rush of the river and the evening bird song. Peace. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wooden porch swing’s headrest.

  The crunch of twigs made her eyes fly open, and sense of being watched shot through her. She looked around, but could see no one—no human or animal. The paranoia didn’t abate though. Out here, isolated from the small main street of her town, no one could help her or Greg if they were attacked.

  “Norry?”

  She looked up to see Greg at the door. He was smiling. “Hey, you.” The screaming panic inside her abated a little. “Hey, did you see anyone around the house or property. I have this feeling …”

  “No.” He came and sat next to her. “Feeling a little jumpy?”

  She nodded, feeling sheepish. “A little.”

  Greg put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. He pressed his lips to her temple. “No one’s out here, boo. I swear.”

  Still, when they finally went inside to eat dinner, Noor double-locked the door.

  Noor had slept well for a change, and when, at eight a.m., someone knocked at her front door, she was already up, dressed, and making breakfast.

  She unlocked the door, remembering that she had double-locked it last night, and remembering why. She frowned, and it was with this expression that she opened the door to their visitor and couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped her.

  It was the man from the coffee shop. Her lover. He said nothing—just stared at her. Taken aback, Noor shook herself.

  “It’s you.” It came out harder than she had intended, such was her shock at seeing him again, but a moment later she didn’t regret her tone. The man just stood there. He smiled at her.

  “It’s me.” He didn’t say anything more, but Noor noticed that Italian accent had gone. What the hell was going on?

  Irritated now, Noor got snippy. “What do you want?”

  That smile again. “Gregory Yates. Is he here?”

  Noor blinked, taken aback. “Greg? Yes, he’s …what do you want with him? Who are you?”

  The smile disappeared. “Gregory Yates.” He stepped closer, a subtle intimidation, “I’d like to speak with him, please.”

  Noor stood her ground. “Look, if you won’t tell me who …”

  “I’m Greg Yates.”

  Greg moved beside her. She felt a calming hand on the small of her back; the other hand across his chest, an introduction.

  For a long moment, the man stared at Greg—Greg glanced at Noor, his eyebrows raised, confused. The man thrust his hand out.

  “Mr. Yates, hello. I’m sorry to ambush you like this, but my name is Orin Meyer, and according to the records I’ve obtained, I have recently discovered I’m your brother. May I please come in?”

  Noor closed the door behind the two men. She lingered there, listening to their conversation as Greg led Orin Meyer into the kitchen, offering him a drink, coffee cups clinking. Greg’s brother. His brother. She knew the shock she felt was shared by her friend; his boyish face had frozen at Orin’s words, and even though he had invited this man into their home, he still seemed …sledge-hammered, thought Noor. That’s the only word for it.

  She followed the men into the living room. Greg was waving Orin into a chair; she sat down next to her friend, her hand resting on his arm. He smiled at her gratefully and she knew he appreciated her support. She watched as he turned to Orin.

  “So …”

  “I’m sorry to have blurted it out like that, but honestly, I couldn’t think of a way to dress it up. Our parents—our birth parents—gave us both up when we were born.” Orin stopped. “You did know you were adopted?”

  Greg nodded. Noor squeezed his hand and Greg wound his fingers between hers. Orin glanced at their interlaced fingers—did she see a faint look of annoyance?

  “A little over a month ago, I was contacted by a lawyer from New Orleans. My ...our …birth mother had just died, and as it turned out, I was the main recipient of her will—along with my younger brother.”

  Orin leaned towards Greg. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know you even existed, but when I found out …well.” He sat back in the chair, his manner relaxed, “I had to find you, didn’t I?”

  Greg smiled at him, but Noor could see the questions forming in his mind.

  “Do you have any identification? I’m sorry to ask, but you know how it is.”

  Orin held his hand up, then reached inside his jacket. He pulled a sheaf of papers out and handed them to Greg.

  Greg held the papers so Noor could read with him. Everything was there—birth certificates, adoption papers, and legal papers. And all of it backed up what Orin was saying. She looked up. Orin returned her look, his eyes narrowed and challenging. She looked away, her stomach giving a small lurch. He hates me, she realized. This man hates me. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself sharply. He doesn’t even know you.

  She looked at Greg to see if she could see any resemblance. He was a little shorter than Orin and his face was less structured, almost doughy. She had never noticed before that his mouth was a hard, thin line or that his eyes were quick and suspicious. His hair was cropped close to his head, a light mousy brown. Maybe it was just that his brother, Orin, was so gloriously handsome, but she couldn’t see the resemblance at all.

  She couldn’t help but be amazed that this was the same man with whom she’d spent that sensual, erotic night, being fucked by him over and over until she was almost sobbing. The only man she’d ever slept with that she’d given herself over to entirely.

  Orin Meyer met her gaze and she saw something flicker in his eyes. He somehow knew she would say nothing about their assignation, but she couldn’t read his expression.

  What the hell was going on?

  Orin looked back at Greg. “I know. I know it’s a lot to take in. I don’t want to steamroll you.”

  He leaned forward in the chair. “Look, I don’t want to disrupt your life, but I couldn’t let this …opportunity pass me by. I would like us to be a part of each other’s lives …to be a family.”

  Greg smiled a tentative acceptance. “Well,” He glanced down at Noor. “I would like that …once I get used to the idea. How do we do this?”

  “You get to know each other,” Noor said. “Are you married, Orin?” Her tone was a little snippy.

  He didn’t look at her. “No. I say we just get together a few times—just talk. I’d like to know you.” He addressed his remarks directly to Greg. Noor felt slighted and flushed.

/>   “Hey, well.” Greg stood. “Let’s start by showing you around. Where are you staying? Portland?”

  “No, I’m on the island.” He named the bed & breakfast place on Main Street and Greg nodded.

  “Well, you’re always welcome here,” he said, smiling at Orin.

  Behind him, Noor could not help feeling a little sick. She let the two men walk out of the room, Greg telling Orin about the area. She picked up the papers again and scanned through them. There was no doubt Orin Meyer was telling the truth …so why did she think he was hiding something? It was his voice. That accent—the one she had heard—she knew in her heart was his true voice. So why was he hiding the fact he was from overseas?

  She stood and followed the men out through the kitchen. Pushing open the screen door, she stepped onto the porch. The two men stood, talking, just by the little copse of trees. Noor took her time walking over to them, not wanting to intrude—rather, not wanting to be made to feel as if she was intruding.

  Greg smiled at her as she came up to them. His face was alive, energy flowing from every pore, and she could see in him the delight and wonder he felt at meeting his blood family. He’d always been sad about being adopted young and never knowing his family. She couldn’t deny him that. She wouldn’t deny him. Fresh start, she thought. Give Orin another chance.

  She smiled at him. “Would you like to stay for lunch, Orin?” He looked surprised.

  “Yes, stay,” Greg encouraged, eager now for more time, for more information, for …more.

  Orin hesitated, then nodded, giving them a small smile. “I’d like that.”

  Greg relaxed, and Noor could see in him the relief …and the need. She was shocked by his easy acceptance of this man into their lives. Noor knew already he was a liar—what else could be? Greg clapped his hand on Orin’s back.

  “Hey, come back inside. We got a lot to talk about.”

  Greg followed Orin into the house. As Orin passed, he smiled down at Noor—again that look of knowing amusement. Irritation made her stomach jerk. She returned his gaze with an equally insincere smile of her own. Two can play at that game, Orin.

  She glanced at the clock—too early for lunch. The eggs from breakfast had congealed into a smelly, rubbery mess. She dumped them in the trash and filled the bowl with hot water and soap. She made coffee, balancing the cups gingerly as she joined the men in the living room.

  “Oh.” Orin reached into his jacket and pulled out a fresh set of papers. He paused before unfolding them.

  “I mentioned earlier the fact that our birth mother died recently?”

  Greg nodded “Our father?”

  Orin gave a humorless snort. “Long gone—he died just after you were born, apparently.” Greg gave a little wince, which Orin missed, but Noor caught. She squeezed his hand.

  “What can you tell me about our mother?”

  “Her name was Amelia Hall; her family was old money from New Orleans. She married our father, a Swedish immigrant called Urs Meyer, despite the disapproval of her parents, blah, blah, blah. Our family’s history is riddled with cliché.” His tone was dismissive.

  Noor sensed he did not want to linger on the details of his parents’ marriage. It’s all lies. All of it. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him unfold the paper in his hand and hand it to Greg.

  Greg read the letter. “It’s from my mom,” he said. “A letter to my dad, saying she regretted giving up her beloved son.” He seemed choked up and he looked up to see Orin nodding at him.

  “You understand now?”

  “I understand.”

  It took until Greg excused himself to use the bathroom before Noor could challenge Orin Meyer, but she didn’t waste a moment. “What the fuck are you playing at?” she hissed as soon as she heard the bathroom door closed. “Who are you? You’re not even American, so drop the act.”

  Orin got up and came toward her. Noor backed up in alarm, until she was pressed against the pantry door. Orin trapped her in the cage of his arms. “Noor …” He bent his head and kissed her, and for a moment, she responded, such was the sweetness of his embrace. Then she saw sense and pushed him away.

  “Answer me, goddamn it, or I’ll go straight upstairs and tell Greg you’re full of shit.”

  Orin’s eyes turned dark, then dangerous. “No, you won’t. Noor, please trust me on this. I can’t tell you what’s going on, but please know …it’s all to help you.”

  Noor shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  They heard the toilet flush and the water running upstairs. Orin looked back at her. “Meet me tonight at the coffeehouse—after hours. I’ll tell you as much as I’m able then.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why should I?”

  He didn’t get the time to answer, as they heard Greg on the stairs. Noor turned away from the men, not wanting Greg to see the turmoil in her face. What the hell was going on?

  Noor knew, without a doubt, that she would keep that date with Orin Meyer tonight, even if it meant putting herself in danger.

  She told Greg she was going to see Farah, and although he expressed surprise at the lateness of the hour, he didn’t seem suspicious. Noor drove into town, then parked down the block from the coffeehouse, waiting for Farah to leave. When she saw her friend lock the doors and walk down to her own car, Noor slipped out and along the block. She opened the backdoor and went inside, leaving it open. Inside, she flicked on the light, and with a slight thrill of fear, she opened one of the drawers and took out a small knife. She slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans.

  She was about to sit down when the door opened and Orin Meyer walked into the room. He stopped when he saw her and gave her a half-smile. “Hello, beautiful.”

  Noor gritted her teeth. “Don’t fucking ‘beautiful’ me, asshole. Who the fuck are you and why are you messing with Greg? Are you really his brother? Why the hell did you screw me and then disappear?”

  She hated that her voice broke at the end of her rant and she looked away from him, her entire body trembling. Orin—or whatever his name was—saw her, and in a flash, he was pulling her into his arms. She fought with him for a moment, but he was too strong.

  “Ssh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

  His arms were tight around her and Noor gave up her struggle. She felt his lips on her forehead, the warm scent of him enveloping her, and she could do nothing but slump against him. “What the hell is going on?”

  Her voice was a whisper and she looked up at him. His green eyes were troubled, but to her surprise, they were soft as he gazed down at her. It was the most natural thing when he bent his head and kissed her tenderly. His lips moved against hers and Noor could not sense any other reason than desire in him. She kissed him back, sighing into the embrace, and when Orin slid his hands under her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, she didn’t fight it.

  When they were both naked, Orin laid her back on the couch and moved his body on top of hers. Noor, although annoyed with herself for not sticking to her plan, couldn’t resist the feel of him as he kissed her body from her throat down to her navel. He looked up at her and smiled.

  “Beautiful, I told you I would tell you as much as I could, and I will, but I cannot help myself …I want you.”

  As he moved back to kiss her lips, she could feel his thick, diamond-hard cock pressing against her sex and her legs wound around him as he entered her. God, this was utter bliss. Being fucked by this man was like nothing she had every experienced. As they moved together, Noor forgot everything but the way her body was reacting to him. His arms, so thickly muscled and strong, cradled her as they fucked; Noor squeezed her thighs around his waist as his cock plunged in and out of her. He made her come again and again, and when, finally, they collapsed, exhausted, Noor caught her breath.

  Orin stroked her long, dark hair away from her face. “You really are exquisite, you know?”

  Noor flushed. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of this by flattering me.”

  “Not
flattering. Just telling the truth. And, just so you know, I will tell you the truth as much as I can from now on. But if the truth puts you in danger, then, baby, expect me to clam up.”

  Noor sat up, confusion flooding through her. “Then start. Are you really Greg’s brother?”

  Orin hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

  “Are you trying to con him?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Noor chewed her lip. “Are you here for him? Has he done something wrong?”

  Orin tilted his head to one side. “I’m here for you, Noor.”

  She couldn’t help but grin at his cheesy smile. “Loser. No, seriously, Orin—or whatever your name is—please. What’s going on?”

  Orin sighed. “Something happened a while ago, and we are looking into Gregory Yates.”

  “Who’s we?”

  He was silent and Noor suddenly got it. “Oh my god …are you the Feds?”

  “I can’t tell you. I shouldn’t have told you anything. If my bosses found out …”

  Noor got up and started to tug her clothes on. “Jesus Christ.”

  Orin stood and went to her. “Don’t leave.”

  She sighed. “I’m not leaving. But I can’t discuss something, whatever this is, when I’m naked. Or when you’re naked. Get dressed. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  Orin was pulling his sweater over his head when she brought the mugs of coffee to the table. “Thanks. Look, Noor, I want you to know. This isn’t part of the investigation, this thing with you and me.”

  Noor sipped her coffee. “You say that, but I bet you won’t tell me your real name.”

  “No. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “So, is this ‘thing’ really any more than great sex?”

  He didn’t answer and instead studied her. Noor Tamblyn was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. No, scratch that. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Café-au-lait skin and dark brown hair that fell in soft waves to the middle of her back. Curvaceous body and full breasts. When he was inside her, he lost himself in her. Since their first tryst, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else.