Possessive Doctor

by Hamel, B. B.

  “And this must be Amber.” Dave gives me a sidelong look. “Pretty girl. I think Michael will be pleased.”

  I feel a shiver run down my spine but I shove my hand out after Dad glares at me. “Nice to meet you,” I say.

  He shakes, a little too hard, and grins. “Sure, I bet. Well, come in. Let’s go talk.”

  We follow him down a short hallway. The decorations are all Texas ranch classics. Deer antlers, bear skins, moose heads, horseshoes, pictures of horses, paintings of horses, and a couple cattle prods. It’s all very western and actually a little over the top.

  We step into a large living room and kitchen open plan area. A young man is sitting at the island, reading the newspaper. He gets up and smiles. He’s not bad looking, a little plain, with choppy dark hair, glasses, and a simple denim shirt and black jeans combo. He’s maybe a few pounds heavy, definitely not all that in shape, but not too bad, either. He might even be handsome if he worked out a little bit.

  “Hi,” he says. “I’m Michael.”

  “Michael, I’m Samuel. This is my daughter, Amber. She’s real excited to meet you. Right, Amber?”

  “Hey,” I say.

  He smiles warmly. “Good to meet you.”

  “Well, you two are hitting it off already,” Dave says. “My god, look at that.”

  Michael just keeps smiling and I force myself to smile back.

  “Well,” Dad says. “Should we get talking? We’ve got a lot to go over.”

  “Of course, of course. Hey, why don’t you two kids go sit on the back porch and get to know each other? We’ll settle up in here, how’s that sound?”

  “Sure, Dad,” Michael says. “Come on. I’ll show you the back.”

  I glance at my dad but he’s already sitting down, ignoring me completely. I follow Michael, even though I don’t want to. He leads me through a back door and onto a nice screened-in porch with more porch leading beyond through a little screen door.

  “So, this is weird,” Michael says.

  I smile a little. “Yeah. It really is.”

  He drifts over to a little chair and sits down heavily. I hesitate before sitting on a nearby wicker couch.

  “Look, just so you know, none of this was my idea.”

  “I didn’t think it was.”

  “I mean, you’re a total stranger.” He smiles, a little bit shy. “What’s the deal with the cane, by the way?”

  I shrug. “Got in an accident and broke my leg.”

  “Damn. Sucks.”

  “Yeah. But I should heal.”

  “Good.” He laughs a little bit. “So uh, how much did your dad tell you about all this?”

  “Only as much as he thinks I need to know.”

  He snorts. “My dad tried that shit too.”

  “But?”

  “I told him I’d cut my dick off before I let him marry me off. That got his attention.”

  I laugh a little. “I wish I had a dick to cut off.”

  “I’m glad you don’t.” He smiles at me again. “Anyway, I know it’s weird. I’m just saying, I’m glad you’re… you know. I thought you might be, like… fat and ugly or something.”

  I shiver a little bit. “Would that have mattered? I mean, we’re not doing this for love or whatever.”

  “I guess not. But it’s a real fucking bonus that you’re so… hot.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  He grins and stares at me. I look away and shiver again. I can see some of his father in his face, though he’s softer and rounder. He’ll be bald one day, with a huge mustache. I can almost see it, one day in the future, that man stalking around our house, talking about how he’s happy I’m not fat or ugly or something insane.

  “So look. Like I said, I know this is weird, and I didn’t choose it… but people get married for worse reasons, right? I figure, we might not love or like each other now, but our kids will be set for life financially.”

  “Kids?”

  He hesitates. “Yeah. I mean. We’ll have kids. Which means we’ll have to… you know.”

  “Have sex?”

  He blushes. “Yeah. Right. I mean, eventually, maybe. One day.”

  “Sure. That’s how kids happen.”

  “So anyway, the money is totally worth it, and we can come to like each other, right? Lots of arranged marriages work out. I think they actually have a lower divorce rate? I don’t know, I did some quick googling last night.”

  I smile at him but my mind’s whirling. I didn’t really think any of this was going to happen. I know my dad’s been talking about it, we’ve been fighting about it, but this is the first time I’m actually meeting the guy I’m supposed to marry.

  And he’s fine. He’s a little awkward, a little uncomfortable, and maybe kind of a dick, but he’s not terrible.

  I’m not attracted to him in the slightest and I don’t want to marry him at all.

  But he seems down with the idea. And based on the way he keeps looking at me, I think he’s actually excited for it.

  He starts talking more about arranged marriages. I take out my phone and pull up Brent’s number.

  Me: You ever have a meeting so boring you want to just melt your own face, Indiana Jones-style?

  Brent: Absolutely. Those are face-melters. Although I think face-melting is like a good thing if you’re a Heavy Metal band?

  Me: Fortunately, neither of us are in a heavy metal band. Seriously though, I want to run away from this.

  Brent: If it helps at all, I’m stuck doing paperwork for the rest of the day. Running a clinic takes a ton of typing.

  Me: I’m literally jealous of that.

  Brent: Come on over and help.

  Me: You’d like that.

  Brent: I would. Although I doubt you’d be much help.

  Me: Why not? I’m great at typing. I’m doing it right now.

  Brent: I just suspect you’d be more of a distraction than anything else.

  I smile a little bit and come back to the conversation when Michael says my name.

  “Sorry, Amber, did you hear me?”

  “What? Oh, uh, yeah.”

  He grins. “So you agree then. We’ll push for concessions from our dads to make this happen. We might as well get something out of the deal instead of them just profiting off our situation.”

  “Uh,” I say, not even sure how to put my reaction to that into words.

  “Great.” He jumps up. “I’m so glad we met, Amber. And I’m really glad you’re hot.” He laughs, an oddly high-pitched giggle. “Seriously, if you were ugly, I would’ve been out.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  He swoops inside, leaving me alone for a second. I hesitate before struggling up to my feet. Of course he didn’t stay behind to help me up.

  That asshole isn’t going to think about anyone but himself. He’s so worried that his potential future wife is going to be ugly that he doesn’t stop to consider whether he’s a catch himself or not.

  And he’s not, not at all.

  I limp back inside. Our dads are sitting at the island, talking to each other, drinking some whiskey. They laugh loudly, Michael included, as I approach. Michael winks at me and puts a finger to his mouth and I smile back weakly.

  “Well, kids, you two get along?” Dave asks.

  “I hope so,” Dad says, giving me a stern look.

  “She’s great,” Michael says. “Very practical.”

  “That sounds like a good quality,” Dave says. “Practical can help build a family. Help build a life for a very long time.”

  I smile at them and all I want to do is scream.

  “That’s my girl,” Dad says. “Real practical and smart. She’s an asset, I’ll tell you what.”

  “Oh, I agree. She’s an asset.” Michael grins at me and I very nearly do scream.

  This whole thing is completely insane.

  “So then. The kids get married, we bind our families together, and you let us drill on your land. We profit split from there, make sure we’re all take
n care of.” Dad cocks his head at Dave. “That about sum it up?”

  “That about does it,” Dave agrees. “We’ll work out the finer details, but I think that’s the plan.”

  Michael just smiles stupidly and I want to ask them if anyone’s wondering whether I’m going along with this shit or not. I mean, I never once said I was going through with any of this. Dad just assumes I will, just bullies me into it, and gets angry if I don’t. He shoves me and—

  I shut my eyes. I don’t let myself go there.

  When I open them again, Dad’s hustling us out. I limp along, practically being dragged by him. My leg aches as he makes me move faster than I want to.

  “Y’all stop by again soon then,” Dave says at the door. “Okay?”

  “Sounds good,” Dad says.

  “Bye, Amber.” Michael gives me his goofy smile and I feel his eyes drift down to my legs.

  Dad drags me away. I haven’t said a word since I came back inside and now he practically shoves me into the truck.

  “That went good,” he says as we drive off. “That went really good. You were nice to that boy? He seems okay, Amber. He really does. I think you might even like him, yeah?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Well, okay, you’ll get there. It’s okay. I think this is going to work out. Dave’s a reasonable man and there’s a lot of oil on this land. If I can tap into it… Amber, we’ll be rich. Do you hear me? Richer than you can even guess.”

  “I bet,” I say, although the words catch in my throat.

  I still want to scream.

  My phone vibrates.

  Brent: How’s your pain today?

  Me: Not too bad. You know, nobody asks me that?

  Brent: They should.

  Me: Thanks. I’m just grumpy. Maybe I will stop by the clinic. I could use a little stretching.

  Brent: I’m sure. You’re just trying to get free medical treatment.

  Me: Can you call what you do to me “medical treatment?”

  Brent: Yes.

  Brent: Mostly.

  Brent: Although the stuff I want to do… well, that’s different.

  Me: You’re a pig.

  Brent: Please. You like it. You’re sitting there, smiling like a moron.

  Me: No way, asshole.

  Except he’s right. I am grinning like a moron.

  Dad glances at me and shakes his head. “You gotta get off that damn phone, girl. That’s all you do. Stare at your phone and smile at it like a moron. You need to be pretty for that boy, you hear? Make him like you. Marry him, give him babies, and we’ll be set. We’ll be rich. I’ll make sure you get taken care of, Amber, you hear me? You do this, you’ll be taken care of. You’ll get anything you want. Anything at all.”

  I barely hear him. My blood’s rushing through my body in big pulsing beats. I can’t believe this is really happening and it’s really happening now. I look back at my texts from Brent but I can’t keep it up right now.

  Dad gives me another suspicious glance, frowning at my phone, but then concentrates on the road ahead.

  It’s nice, flirting with Brent. He seems to actually care about my well-being, unlike my father, unlike everyone in my life. Right now, I’m just some pawn in his little game. He wants to marry me off like this is the Middle Ages or something like that. He’ll marry me off to that random boy and he’ll roll in his money.

  That’s all he cares about. Making money and making as much as possible.

  And I’m stuck. Especially with this injury, I’m stuck. I don’t know what to do, don’t know where to go. Even if I could run, I don’t know how to get away.

  I’m trapped. And if I don’t figure it out, I’m going to be trapped for the rest of my life, until death do I part from those assholes.

  4

  Brent

  I wake up early and make some coffee. I check my phone and smile at the text from Amber.

  Amber: Morning. Been thinking about me today?

  Me: Could’ve been. I think I had a dream.

  Amber: Yeah? Tell me all about it.

  Me: It was dirty. I don’t know if you want to hear it.

  Amber: Dirty? Please. That’s the only kind I want to hear about.

  Me: Well, we were in the gym together. You were naked and we were doing our stretches… except we were fucking too. You were moaning my name over and over again, breathing hard, sweating a little bit. But we got interrupted, I forget why.

  Amber: Damn. Interrupted. Of course.

  Me: I wonder what it means. Even my brain’s trying to cock block.

  Amber: Maybe that’s your sense of ethics getting in the way?

  Me: Nah. Doubt it.

  I make my breakfast and eat alone in my kitchen, feet up on a chair. I smile and text back and forth with Amber all morning before I have to go into the clinic.

  It’s been going like this for days. It’s strange, going back and forth via text. All I want to do is see her, kiss her, fuck her, taste her. But I know I can’t do any of that the next time we meet.

  She’s still a client. Flirting the way I am is a huge ethical violation and I know it. Taking it to the next level would be way worse.

  Still, I don’t mean to take advantage. I think she needs my help for real and I’m going to find out how.

  It’s just a nice little bonus that I want to fuck her tight, gorgeous little body.

  The day drags. I check my phone for texts and one pops up around noon.

  Amber: You know, it’s going to be weird when I come in tomorrow, right?

  Me: Why would it be?

  Amber: Because we’ve been texting…

  Me: So what? I don’t mind if you don’t.

  Amber: It’s not that I mind. But you’re my doctor.

  Me: I’m also a person, you know.

  Amber: Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean, that makes it worse.

  Me: Okay, look. We’ll just pretend like we haven’t been texting, okay? We won’t mention it. I’ll be thinking about it, but I won’t say anything.

  Amber: Yeah? I could do that.

  Me: Good.

  Amber: But you’ll be thinking about it… how?

  Me: Oh, you know. All those filthy messages you’ve been sending.

  Amber: I haven’t sent any filthy messages!

  Me: Are you sure? I think you sent me a few yesterday. There was begging involved.

  Amber: I did not beg.

  Me: But you will.

  Amber: You are such an asshole.

  Me: And you love it.

  I head back to my next client with a smile on my face. The day rushes by and I go home still grinning to myself. We don’t text for the rest of the night and in the morning there’s only one thing in my mind: seeing her.

  It’s weird. I’m excited to see her in a way I’ve never felt before. I want to see her, touch her, kiss her. I can’t do that stuff, at least nothing beyond being professional. I’m going to pretend like we haven’t been texting, because I know it’s what she wants.

  But there’s still the mystery of her injury that I have to solve. Even if I won’t talk about the texting, I’m not dropping that.

  She shows up a little early. I smile when I see her. She’s wearing the same outfit, dark yoga pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt. But I swear, this time she’s wearing a little makeup and her hair’s in a cute messy bun on her head thing. She looks really fucking sexy but I keep myself under control.

  “Blood pressure looks good,” I say.

  “Of course it does.”

  “You have the best blood pressure I’ve ever seen.”

  She laughs. “Obviously.”

  I sit down and wheel myself over. I touch her leg, pressing in a few places, flexing it. “Pain?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good. How’s it been lately?”

  “Not bad. Worst in the morning and when I stand and sit.”

  “That won’t change for a while. Are you doing the exercises.”

&
nbsp; She hesitates. “Mostly.”

  “Amber.”

  “I’m doing them. But they’re hard. I get tired.”

  “Do as much as you can. So long as you do it every day, it’ll help.”

  She nods. “I’m doing it every day. Just not every one.”

  “Which moves give you trouble?”

  “Squats, mostly. Some of the stretching I can’t do.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re flexible.”

  “Please. You know that’s a lie.”

  “I bet I could split you in half right now.” My hand lingers on her leg and she meets my gaze. We both feel it in that moment but I pull my hand away, letting it pass. “Anyway, speaking of stretching, let’s go get to work.”

  “Right. Sure.”

  I help her down and we head into the gym. We go right at it, doing the same stretching routine as the last two times. I try not to think about her body, the way she’d feel if I sank my cock deep between her legs. I try not to picture her writhing on my bed, pressing her breasts together, begging me to get her off.

  I try and fucking fail.

  I move away from her for a second, gathering myself. “Everything okay?” she asks.

  “Oh, yeah, fine.” I look back. “All good.”

  “Doctor. Are you getting…” She trails off.

  I raise an eyebrow. “I swear to god, don’t finish that sentence.”

  We stare at each other than both burst out laughing.

  The session goes easier from there. The tension is broken. We do the stretching, even laugh and make a few jokes. We’re both still thinking about the texts but it doesn’t feel like a weight anymore.

  We do the exercises and end at the massage table. I touch her body all over, being a little more lenient with myself than I normally would with another client. Nothing anyone would notice, but my hands linger on her inner thigh a little longer, my fingers press close to her ass. When I’m finished, we end up sitting with our backs against the wall again.

  She stretches her leg out. “I have to say. You’re really good with those hands.”