Dr. Orgasm (A Holiday Romance Collection Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  I can hear Leticia clucking at me in my head, ‘Don’t overthink things, Petra!’

  My attention is taken as a knock comes at the door off the bedroom that goes into the living area. “Petra, are you in there?” comes a woman’s cheery voice.

  “I am,” I say and go to meet my first visitor.

  The door opens and in walks a young woman with her hair in a tight braid. She’s wearing the white uniform all the staff wear. Her identification badge has her name on it: Pat.

  Handing me a folded piece of paper, she says, “Read this, and then I’ll get you ready for you owner. Oh, would you like something to drink? You know, to calm your nerves.”

  “No thank you. I’d probably puke if I put any alcohol in my stomach right now.”

  I take the note and open it to find he’s written me something in his own handwriting. Immediately, I think about keeping this letter as a keepsake of the time I lost my mind and did unthinkable things with a complete stranger.

  Petra,

  First, let me say how happy I am that I’ve won you. I’ve liked you since I first saw your picture on the club’s website. That said, let me get down to business.

  I’m not into emotionally connecting with you. Please try your best not to take that personally. This is a release for me. That’s why I’ve paid for your company.

  You will be bound and blindfolded before I come to you each time. I prefer not to be talked to while I’m doing what I do to you. If I ask you something, you may answer, but nothing else. Some women don’t like the use of a gag and I won’t use it on you if you can keep your mouth shut. I also don’t like to hear moaning. I’m aware that sounds crass, but I’m in this for me, not you.

  Here are the rules. You have to stay inside of the apartment. There are hidden cameras all over the place. I will know what you’re doing at all times, even though I won’t be there. You can call room service for all your meals. I will allow you one alcoholic beverage a day. No more than that, as I detest drunks.

  I may add to the rules as we go along. I want you to enjoy your time alone. There’s a television and an e-reader for your entertainment. Feel free to do whatever you want within the confines of your new summer home.

  Respectfully,

  Sir

  Looking back up at Pat, I ask, “Will I ever get to know his name?”

  Shaking her head, she walks away from me toward the bathroom. “Probably not. Don’t ask either. It might irritate him. If you keep him happy, you might get …”

  I interrupt her, “A big bonus. Yes, I’ve heard.”

  She comes back with a red robe. “He said to tell you to put this on and nothing else.” I take it from her and go to the bathroom to change out of the dress and put on the silk robe.

  I can’t look at myself in the mirror as I change, then leave the room. Pat’s waiting for me at the end of the bed. She’s holding the monoglove and is smiling at me. “Here we go, Petra.”

  Turning my back to her, I place my arms behind my back and they’re bound by the tight-fitting glove. My heart begins to pound, as I know I can’t get out of it if I want to. “Will he be letting me out of this thing?”

  “Um, I think he’ll most likely send someone in to do that. That’s what he’s done with the others,” she tells me. “Take a seat on the end of the bed and let me cuff your ankles and secure your feet to the floor.”

  I do as she’s says and then asks, “Do you know how many others he’s had?”

  She looks up at me as fear fills her expression. “Shit, Petra! I shouldn’t have said anything about him or what he’s done. I’m sorry. Please don’t rat me out!”

  With an understanding nod, I let her know her secret is safe with me. I don’t want her getting punished for telling me the little she knows.

  My ankles are cuffed to two hooks on the wood floor, and then she picks up the blindfold. “See you later,” I say as I look into her eyes. Her light green eyes will also be forever etched in my memory. The last set of eyes I saw before he came to me.

  Pat places the blindfold over my eyes as she says, “Everything is going to be okay. You’ll see. He’s not a bad man at all. He’s never hurt any of his former bottoms. We’ve had no complaints about him. Don’t tell him I told you that. I shouldn’t be telling you anything, but you look so nervous that I felt I needed to help calm you down. He’s a good man, Petra. Don’t worry.” I hear her heels click as she walks to the bedroom door. “Bye. He’ll be here when he’s ready.”

  So now I sit and wait. For how long, I don’t know. I suppose this is part of his thing—making someone wait for him. This isn’t so bad. He’ll come in, screw me, then leave, and I get paid for that.

  Hell, that’s what my high school boyfriend used to do all the time and I didn’t get shit out of it!

  I hear the front door close and then the bedroom door opens. Before I can stop myself from talking, the way he said he wanted, I ask, “Are you my new owner?”

  “I am,” comes his deep sexy voice.

  “Glad to meet you.”

  “And you as well.” I hear him moving around. It sounds like he’s taking off his clothes.

  “Um, you won’t be staying here with me is what I understood from your letter. Is that right?”

  “I have a place in town. You’ll be alone here most of the time. I’m not sure how often I’ll stop by.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say as I turn my head to where I heard his voice come from. “Why buy me if you don’t want much to do with me?”

  “To fuck you when I want.” He says flatly. “I’m on vacation and will be doing things I want to do. When I want you, you’ll be right where I left you.”

  Not enthused and somewhat disappointed too, I ask, “What kind of things will you be doing to me? I didn’t see any whips or chains.”

  “I don’t ever hit my bottoms, if that’s what you mean. It’s mindless fucking. Nothing to worry about or fear. I just need a tight little pussy to get off in and want no ties to that. Affection from you is unnecessary and unwanted. You will never see me. I want no terms of endearment. You call me ‘sir’ when I allow you to speak. Most of the time, you’ll be gagged while I have my way with you. I can see you’re a talker. You don’t seem to have much control over that, do you?”

  I ignore his comment and ask, “How am I to never see you if you have to come in and prepare me and let me out of my restraints before you leave?”

  “Some member of the staff will do those things for me. Not to worry. You won’t be left in the bonds you’re put in after I’m gone. You’ll be comfortable most of the time. Only when I need a release will I burden you with my needs.”

  I want to know the man behind that sexy voice and it’s kind of making me nuts that we’re bound together, but he wants so little to do with me. “But I’m here for you in any way you need me for the next three months. I don’t know what you paid for me, but you can have so much more. I can accompany you places. I’m great company. And love to do all sorts of things. I can be a great companion to you. If you’re unattractive, I don’t mind. I won’t act in any way like I think less of you. You can let me see you and touch you. You might like it—who knows? We can spend time together if you want.”

  He cuts me off with his finger to my lips. “Hush. You’re breaking a rule and I despise punishing. Speak when I ask you something. Other than that, remain quiet and listen to me. I’ll take all that I want to from you. All I want is mindless sex. Sorry if I’m boring you with that. But you are mine to bore if that’s what I want to do. The television has all the channels. You have a Kindle on the bedside table and can get all the books you want to read. Spend your time any way you want, as long as it’s within this dwelling I’ve rented for you.”

  With a nod, I sigh, “Yes, sir.”

  He could be worse and I know that. I think I’ll shut up, let him do what he wants, and reap my reward at the end of this thing that’s not anything like I thought it’d be.

  But damn, his voice ha
s me hot for him. I just wish I could see the man behind that voice.

  “Petra, I know I wrote it all in the letter, but I want to be sure you understand that this isn’t personal. Please,” he says, then I feel the back of his hand as he runs it over my cheek. “Don’t take anything I do to heart. This isn’t about you or your fault in any way.”

  His touch is making me wet, and his voice is beginning to sound familiar. But I keep that to myself as I say the words he wants to hear, “Yes, sir.”

  To Be Continued

  Click here to continue reading “Doctor’s Demands”

  Winter

  A Billionaire MFM Romantic Suspense

  When two handsome identical twin brothers, Raffaelo and Tommaso Winter, move to her little corner of the Pacific Northwest, beautiful local businesswoman Inca Sardee has no idea that when she meets them, her life will be changed forever.

  Raised in Italy by their Italian mother, but heirs to the billion-dollar fortune their American property magnate father had built, the two brothers could not be more different. Tommaso is friendly and outgoing, while Raffaelo is a distant, brooding bad-boy who keeps himself to himself.

  Soon Inca finds herself caught between a sibling rivalry as both brothers stake their claims for her heart and her body and, despite her history, she begins a romantic affair with one of them

  When people begin to die, however, the entire scene changes. And when a family member is found dead, Inca begins to wonder if the two brothers have brought more than just their good looks and wealth to the small town she calls her home…

  Snowfall #1

  Inca pulled her coat around her tighter as she ran from the truck to the inviting warmth of the coffee shop. The squall, which had blown in from the Sound overnight, brought with it searing cold winds and fine rain which invaded clothing relentlessly. The door blew open just as Inca reached it and she dived in, grateful that it pulsed with heat—someone had turned up the heating way too high—thank God, she thought—and smiled at Nancy behind the counter.

  “Hey kiddo.” Her adoptive mother offered her a towel to dry her hair. “How goes things?”

  It had been two days since the attack in the city parking lot, and although Inca had been thoroughly interrogated by Scarlett, she’d also sworn her to secrecy.

  “I just want to forget it. And the fewer people who know, the better. I don’t want Tyler and Nancy to worry.”

  Scarlett hadn’t been happy, but something in Inca’s face had made her agree.

  Now Inca smiled at her mom. “Good, thanks.”

  Nancy watched her hang her coat up. “Really?”

  Inca didn’t answer her for a moment and, when she turned back to Nancy, her voice was strained. “I’m fine, Nancy.”

  But she knew she couldn’t keep the truth from Nancy for long—especially after last night, when, tormented by nightmares, Inca had suffered a full-blown panic attack and called her adoptive mother at three a.m., sobbing and incoherent.

  Inca waited until the teahouse was empty, then asked Nancy to sit down with her. In a halting voice, she told her what had happened.

  Inca had spent her day off in Seattle, happily avoiding the rain by ducking in and out of bookshops and coffee shops. Busman’s holiday, she grinned to herself, trying not to compare this coffee house with her own small teahouse in the small town just outside Seattle. Overlooking the Bay, the little Japanese-influenced gathering place had been Inca’s dream when she was studying business at college. With the help of Nancy and Tyler, she’d opened it five years previously, not knowing what the people of small-town America would think; the Sakura teahouse was about as far from Starbucks as they could imagine but they loved it.

  Even the grizzled old mountain men came to drink her specialist brews and chat with their friends. Inca lived in the small apartment above the teahouse but whenever she had a day off, she would escape, either to hike along mountain trails or into the city to find new reading material.

  Two days ago had been the latter. She’d finished the pile of books on her nightstand and, although there was still a couple of other piles of unread books in her living room, she told herself there was always a good reason to buy more. Books were her drug of choice. Hours of browsing and reading relaxed her into an almost soporific state and she simply did not consider the fact that, by the time she left the bookstore and headed back to the parking garage, it was already dark outside.

  She didn’t hear him behind her until the last second and then, as her assailant grabbed her, she went into survival mode. Adrenaline flooded her system and she fought back as he attempted to wrestle her to the ground. Inca Sardee was no pushover, despite her diminutive height of five foot two inches. She’d studied self-defense martial arts and she used her body to unbalance her attacker, elbowing him rapidly and firmly in the solar plexus, then turning and ramming her thumbs into his eyes. The attacker, a young guy with dirty blond hair and a pock-marked face, yelped and staggered away, cussing her out. Inca quickly got into her car and banged down the locks.

  She drove out of the parking garage and it wasn’t until much later, at home, that she began to feel the post-traumatic effects. She practiced deep breathing to calm down. She tried to stop her body trembling. She thought it had worked until the moment, almost an entire day later, she awoke screaming at 3 a.m. and crawled downstairs to call Nancy.

  Nancy had her hand on her chest, her face pale. “Oh, good grief, Inca … why didn’t you tell me?”

  Inca looked guilty. “I didn’t want you to worry. I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”

  Nancy looked disapproving. “Have you told Olly?”

  Olly Rosenbaum was the town’s police chief and Inca’s (very amicable) ex-boyfriend. Inca shrugged. Although she and Olly were still close friends, she still felt the pain of the break-up initiated by Olly a few months ago.

  “It’s not that I don’t love you,” he’d said gently, “it’s just … I think we both need more than just being good friends. But you are my best friend, Inca; you always will be.”

  And he’d kept true to his word; he still came by the teahouse every day and they hung out all the time. Inca hated to admit it, but, in fact, once the constraint of a “relationship’ had been removed from them, they seemed closer than ever.

  She shook her head now. “Olly has enough to do, and it was no big deal. I told Knox yesterday, and he agreed with me.”

  Knox Westerwick was the town’s deputy chief of police and local lothario. Inca thought he was funny, but she also knew to keep well away from his type. Knox never gave up though, and Inca had warmed to him lately. Underneath all the bullshit, he was a decent guy—not that she’d ever let him near her heart—or her bed.

  “You told Knox that?” Nancy’s voice was hard, and Inca looked at her curiously.

  “What’s up, Nance? You and Knox have a fight?”

  “Not exactly. I just gave him the Mom Speech.”

  Inca giggled, feeling her mood lift. “The ‘Mom’ Speech?”

  Nancy swatted her with a towel. “Less of your sass, Inca. Seriously though, kiddo, I got your back. It’s what happens when your kid calls you at three in the morning in tears.”

  Inca’s smile faded. “Sorry about that. I guess I just panicked.”

  Nancy frowned and opened her mouth to speak but just then the door opened and a wave of customers came in. For the next couple of hours, they barely had a chance to exchange words and it was only when Scarlett greeted them noisily that Inca looked up from her work.

  “Yo, yo, yo, you old crumblies. Still alive? Good.”

  Nancy rolled her eyes and Inca laughed. Scarlett Moyer might be nineteen years old and a

  brutally confident young woman, but they still loved her. She was bright, funny, and didn’t stand for any nonsense, but she had a big heart. Dressed, as always, in her short skirt with Doc Martins and a T-shirt that read Smile Muthaf*cka, she snapped her gum and gave them both a cheesy grin. Inca studied her apparel.

  �
�That T-shirt needs a comma,” she said thoughtfully and Scarlett laughed.

  “Only you, Inkyminx, would be more offended by a grammatical error than by foul language.” She grabbed a Sharpie from the counter and added the missing comma after Smile. “Happy?’

  “Definitely. Now, get to work, slave.” Inca grinned at her young friend. There might have been nine years between them, but they’d clicked the minute Scarlett had walked into the teahouse two years ago. Scarlett, an undergraduate at the University of Washington, was wise beyond her years, and Inca trusted her implicitly.

  Now Scarlett slipped her apron around her tiny waist. “I have gossip,” she said, as she began to stack cups in the sink. “Someone, or rather, someones, have bought the old Fletcher mansion.”

  Inca’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? After all this time?”

  “Yup. And you’re never going to believe who.”

  Nancy rolled her eyes impatiently. “Just spill it, Scarlett.”

  Scarlett grinned. “If I said the name Winter to you, who would you think?”

  Both Inca and Nancy looked blank and Scarlett gave a hiss of frustration. “God, Grandmas …”

  She grabbed Inca’s iPad from the counter and quickly pulled up a photograph and newspaper article. “Tommaso and Raffaelo Winter. Look at them.”

  Inca glanced quickly at the photograph. She saw two young men with identical, dark curly hair and intense green eyes. “I have no idea who they are,” she said, turning back to her work. Nancy took the iPad from Scarlett and read the article aloud.

  “The Winter Twins, heirs to the Winter Property fortune, are billionaires in their own right. The brothers, thirty-five, decided to relocate from their native Italy to Washington State to pursue their respective careers. Tommaso Winter is working with the US government to promote clean energy in the Pacific Northwest, whereas Raffaelo Winter is the owner of the international club franchise, Zensual, that will be opening a new club in Seattle at the end of the month. Widely considered the two most eligible men on the planet, the Winters will have the pick of the Seattle social elite to choose from when they arrive in the State. The twins are still reeling from the death of their Italian mother, Silvana, who lost her battle with cancer earlier this month. Silvana Winter was divorced from the boy’s father, Edgar Winter.”