Not Daddy Material: Billionaire Contract Series

by Violet Paige

  “Wes!” Stubbs jumped over the couch with a beer in his hand.

  I cracked the lid and took a sip. “These fuckers did a pretty good job.” I observed the girls in lingerie handing out drinks.

  “They’ve got a special surprise for you.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But I can’t say what.”

  “Really?” I finished off the beer.

  One of my linemen walked over. “Dude, this is epic.” There was a brunette wearing a sheer bra and panties wrapped around him.

  “I can see that.” I eyed her tits, which were basically exposed. She batted her eyelashes at me.

  “So where’s my gift?” If Bruno had this girl, I could only imagine what they had lined up for me.

  Sam Hickson strolled over. He was by far the best tight end I had ever played with. And he had become the unnamed spokesman for this year’s rookie class. I liked the guy. He was solid on the field and didn’t let his personal shit interfere with the game.

  He tossed me my second beer. “We’ve got a space waiting for you.”

  My eyebrows rose. “You do?”

  “Come on, man.” He led me through the girls and the impromptu dance floor that had just started.

  Sam opened the French doors to the balcony, and I grinned when I saw what he had in store.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  I walked toward the table and sat in one of the velvet chairs. “What’s the buy in?”

  “We thought fifty K would be a good start.”

  I felt the surge of adrenaline shoot through me. I felt the chips roll through my fingers before I stacked them back in place.

  “Who’s playing?” I asked.

  “Me and a few of the other guys.” Sam sat next to me. Soon the table was full.

  One of the guys, I didn’t even know his name, pulled out a box of Cubans and placed them on the table.”

  “Nice.” I smiled, lighting one.

  The doors opened, and a waitress appeared with a bottle of scotch and five glasses. She leaned in front of me, wafting her perfume in front of my nose, along with a good look at her nipples. She smiled at me while she poured my drink. I slapped her on the ass as she turned back for the suite.

  I looked around the table. “You bastards have managed to not fuck up the DEAN. Good job.” I took a puff of the cigar and looked at the cards in my hand.

  Sam tried to put on a poker face before we started. “And the night’s not even over.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, it better not be.”

  I loved poker. I loved money. I loved expensive scotch and cigars. But I also loved to fuck, and this night wasn’t going to end without me taking one of these girls to the master suite. I leaned back in my chair like a king. Yeah, this was turning out to be one hell of a night.

  I didn’t check the time, but after I raked in another fifty thousand, I was ready for the second half of my gift. The girl who kept bringing me drinks eyed me like a lollipop she was ready to suck each time she came to the table.

  “Well, fellas, you think you’re ready to call it?” I looked at the group.

  They nodded. “Yeah, I don’t get a bonus until we win the next game so I’m out.”

  “All right.” I pushed back from the table.

  Sam stood up. “Why don’t you head to the master suite?”

  I kicked back the scotch, and twisted the end of my cigar in the dish. “See you boys later.”

  They laughed as I left the poker table. “Enjoy,” they called behind me.

  I let myself into the suite, closing the door behind me.

  Out of nowhere walked a redhead wearing a nurse’s uniform. I chuckled.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered, flattening her hands against my chest. She bit on her lower lip, dragging it slowly under her teeth.

  “Is that so?” I looked down into her brown eyes, wide with lust. This girl was getting paid. I knew that, but she was also ready and willing to do anything I wanted. I could see it.

  She nodded. “I want to take care of you. Any way you want.” Her eyes lit up wickedly.

  I loosened the buckle on my jeans and let my pants slide to the floor. I sat on the bed as I freed my cock from my boxer briefs.

  I didn’t have to say a word. She lowered herself to the floor, her tits bobbing through the flimsy nurse costume, and wrapped her lips around my dick.

  “That’s it, baby,” I encouraged her as she began a slow, rhythmic motion, her tongue swirling, her lips massaging up and down as I pushed deeper in her mouth. I wanted to come in her throat with her on her knees. I reached for her button, pulling the flimsy shirt off her shoulders. She had round breasts that weren’t natural. They were almost too big, but I watched them bounce up and down anyway as she sucked harder. One of her hands cupped my balls while the other pinched and twirled her nipple.

  “That’s it.” I fucked her mouth harder until I could feel the tightening in my gut.

  She groaned as I filled her with my release. She looked up at me, licking her lips.

  “I can’t believe I just gave Wes Blakefield a blowjob.” She giggled.

  I lay back on the bed. The scotch was making my head fuzzy, and the exhaustion of being sucked off like that was enough to knock me out. She was good.

  “Want me to do it again?” she purred.

  “No, you can go.”

  “What?” She sounded alarmed.

  “Yeah, we’re done.” I barely opened my eyes to look at her while she fastened the costume back together.

  “But I thought you’d want to fuck.” Her disappointment was clear. Her hand slid over my cock, still wet from her mouth. It had a mind of its own as it started to grow hard again as she rubbed over the silky skin. “I was told I couldn’t leave until you were completely happy.”

  I looked at her pouty lips and the lust in her eyes. This was my present, after all. Who was I to turn her down?

  “Do you know what you’re getting into, sweetheart?” I looked at her sternly.

  She nodded. “I know you’re into dirty stuff.”

  “And who told you that?”

  She shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it? Shouldn’t matter as long as I like it too, right?”

  The girl had a point. I thought I was too exhausted and maybe a little too satisfied, but she had my dick hard again, and I wasn’t going to be able to sleep like that.

  “Get on the bed,” I ordered, pulling my T-shirt over my head.

  She started to unbutton her costume again. “No, leave it on.” I looked at the lacy garters running from her ass down her thighs. “I’ve never fucked a nurse.” I bit on my lip.

  She climbed toward me.

  “I want you on all fours.”

  She did as I asked. I ran my hand over her bottom, shoving the edge of the uniform out of the way. I snapped the garter, making it pop against her ass.

  “Ow,” she moaned, but she stayed in position.

  “You sure?” I asked again.

  She nodded. “Oh yeah, I said I like dirty.”

  I grinned, knowing this little nurse had no idea what she was in for.

  2

  Lennon

  I looked up at the glass building. Ten floors of sickness, life, death, research, and wellness loomed in front of me. I had only been in San Antonio a month, but this wasn’t the first time I questioned why I had moved here.

  The hospital had everything I said I wanted in a program. I could practice medicine, I could oversee long-term patient care, and I could be involved in the research that had always been my passion. But every time I walked through those doors, I felt lonely.

  I was the new kid. The rookie doctor who finally had the training wheels off. The one who didn’t know her way around San Antonio, and still didn’t know if she was ready to move out of temporary housing into a permanent apartment.

  I liked the city, but it wasn’t home yet. I still felt like a tourist who marveled at the Alamo, or thought about going to Sea World on a free day off. I couldn’t bring
myself to accept that my life was here now, not D.C.

  When I moved, I wanted to leave behind my failed relationship and all the memories that came with it. But the harder I tried to forget Ben, the more he was a part of what I was doing here. I questioned everything, and that simply wasn’t me.

  There was more uncertainty in my life now than there had ever been.

  I entered through the sliding doors, carrying my thermos, and nodded at the security officers as if they knew me and I knew them. I couldn’t have told you a single name in this place, other than the doctors who worked on my floor.

  I took the elevator to the fourth floor and headed to the doctor’s lounge where I could change for the day. I had a twelve-hour shift ahead of me.

  “Good morning, Dr. Ashworth.”

  “Good morning, Dr…” I could never remember her name. I tried to play the game in my head where I made something about her physical features trigger an association. Oh yeah, she had pointy elf ears. “Peers.” I smiled, glad I had only mildly stumbled.

  “Are you headed home?” I asked

  She slammed her locker. “Yes, just ended my twelve, really it was thirteen. But who’s counting?”

  “Right.” I laughed. “Have a good day.” I knew she was going home to sleep off what was a long night.

  I was glad this week I was on days. Night shifts were always the hardest to bounce back from.

  I grabbed my stethoscope from my locker and looped it around my neck. I clipped my hospital ID badge to my pocket. It wasn’t my best picture. I had pulled my blond hair back in a ponytail that day, and my eyes looked glazed over from lack of sleep.

  I locked my small cabinet to see my first patient of the day. I liked to check in with my existing patients before taking on anyone new. Arriving as early as I did, I had plenty of time to peek in on everyone and say hello.

  The nurses were swapping muffins and bagels as I walked past the station. One of the pharmacy reps had dropped off breakfast this morning.

  “Oh, Dr. Ashworth, do you have a minute?”

  I stopped and spun on my heels. “What’s up?” I quickly looked at her nametag. “Joanna.”

  “It’s the patient in 405. He was complaining all night about his knee pain.”

  “Did you up his pain meds?” I asked.

  “No. We thought we’d ask you when you came in.”

  “You could have paged me or called my on-call number. He just came out of surgery.” I was irritated. I had given strict instructions that if his pain level rose, I was to be contacted.

  I rushed off to check on him before scolding the nurse any further.

  I pushed open the door. “Mr. Hamlin, I heard you had a rough night.”

  He winced before I even made it to the bed. “I didn’t sleep at all. And those nurses wouldn’t give me anything other than the original prescription.”

  I carefully examined his knee and pulled the bandages away from his skin. The incision was a small one. It was amazing what we could do with surgery, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt like a bitch.

  “Well, I was hoping the swelling would have gone down a little more.” I looked at the man, clearly uncomfortable, even with icepacks and pillows cushioning his leg. “How about we up the pain killers today just a bit, and then we’ll back off them slowly tomorrow to get you to a manageable dose? I don’t want you to be too loopy, but it’s not worth not getting any sleep either. Agreed?”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll take anything at this point.”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll have the nurses bring it in right away.” I smiled. “Get some rest.”

  I walked out, closing the door behind me, and sought out the nurse to administer the higher level of medication. This was exactly the type of situation that irritated me. The man needed sleep to heal, and for whatever reason, no one thought to call me or consult Dr. Peers last night. Now he was miserable and sleep-deprived. The last thing he needed after having knee replacement surgery. I marched toward the nurses’ station ready to tear off some heads.

  “Bagel, Dr. Ashworth?” One of the assistants held up a box of pastries in my direction.

  “No,” I barked. “I want to know why Mr. Hamlin didn’t get the medication he needed last night.” I slammed my patient files on the desk. “He hasn’t been out of surgery twenty-four hours.”

  Everyone stopped eating and looked at me. “I-I wasn’t here last night,” the girl stammered.

  “Well, find someone who was,” I snapped at her. “I’ll wait.” I eyed her as she scurried away from the baked goods and started asking nurses who was responsible for Mr. Hamlin.

  I tapped my pen on the counter, waiting for an excuse. I wrote up the changes for his medication and handed them to the nurse administrator to update his patient information while I waited.

  I pointed at her. “And make sure that says urgent.”

  She nodded. “I will.”

  I knew she wasn’t the one in charge of medication, but there were too many cracks in this system. I was livid.

  As I waited, I heard my name paged over the intercom at the same time my pager started beeping in my pocket.

  “Dr. Ashworth, you are needed in OR four, stat.”

  I took off down the hall and punched in the second floor where the surgery bays were located.

  I ran toward the surgery desk. “I’m Dr. Ashworth. I had a page.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here.” The surgical administrative attendant looked panicked, and I began to wonder if it was a member of her family that had the emergency.

  “What happened? What’s going on?” I asked.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s Wes Blakefield.”

  I blinked. I knew I was bad at names, but if this one was supposed to mean something, I was really screwed.

  “You know, the quarterback for the San Antonio Wranglers? The Wes Blakefield.”

  I stared dumbly. “Yes, of course. What’s the emergency?” I still had no idea who he was other than that he was an athlete.

  A nurse tapped me on the shoulder. “Dr. Ashworth, come with me. We’re prepping him for surgery for you.”

  I shook my head. These people were acting like the president was in here. I hadn’t even examined the patient or seen a chart or a damn x-ray.

  I put up my hands. “Everyone needs to take a deep breath and slow down. I need some information before I perform any surgery.” I walked with the nurse down the hall and through the door next to the operating room.

  “Here.” She flipped on the lights, projecting an x-ray onto the screen.

  I looked at the hand. There were two bones distinctly out of place, and as I stepped closer, I could see a small hairline fracture on a third.

  “Where did these come from?” I asked.

  The resolution was perfect. Our equipment was excellent, but I’d never seen scans so clear.

  “The Wranglers sent them with him,” she answered.

  “And why is this an emergency?” I questioned her. Sure, it was an uncomfortable injury, but standard procedure would be to discuss options with the patient, book an OR, and then perform surgery.

  “The playoffs. This is Wes Blakefield’s right hand.” She looked at me as if I were supposed to realize the significance, which I did not. “His throwing hand.”

  “So?” I crossed my arms. “I can see that it’s a right hand.”

  “The Super Bowl,” she emphasized. “This may be the Wranglers’ only chance. You have to repair his hand and get him back on the field immediately.”

  “But I haven’t even spoken to him. And it’s not my job to help him reinjure himself. He’s going to have to heal after this. He’ll need rehab, physical therapy.”

  “We already prepped him. He said to do whatever it takes. The coach says the same thing.” She stared at me, then whispered. “He’s here in the waiting room. Coach Howell.”

  “Good Lord.” I threw my hands in the air. “This is not the Pope or the
Queen. It’s a quarterback? You all are acting like lunatics over a quarterback?”

  “He’s the quarterback, Dr. Ashworth. And you’re the best surgeon. He wanted the best. The Wranglers wanted the best.”

  I smiled at that, but the Wranglers meant nothing to me. When I lived in D.C., I knew Ben loved to watch the Sharks play football, but I never got into it. I couldn’t name a single player. To be honest, I had forgotten San Antonio even had a team. All of this meant nothing to me.

  “I guess I should at least speak to the coach before I go in there. Any other relatives? Next of kin present?”

  The nurse shook her head. “No, but they’re anxious for you to get started.”

  “Well, they’re going to have to wait a minute. I’m not going into surgery rushed like this for a non-emergency. Let me take a breath.” My heart was racing as if this was a life or death situation. I needed to calm the environment around me.

  I brushed past her and walked toward the waiting room. It wasn’t hard to recognize the coach. He was wearing a visor and a polo. He had an athletic look about him, even with a paunch belly.

  “Coach?”

  “Are you the surgeon?” He looked at me skeptically.

  “Yes, I am. I have had a chance to review Mr. Blakefield’s x-rays and it looks like it will be a rather simple surgery.”

  He scowled. “There’s nothing simple about putting my star quarterback under the knife.”

  “I can understand your hesitation. But I assure you, I’ve performed this same type of procedure before and I expect it will be fairly smooth.”

  “When can he play again?”

  I stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Play. When can I get him back in practice?”

  “He has a fracture that will have to heal on its own, and moving bones back into place is going to also add to the healing process. I’d say with physical therapy and cooperation from the patient, he’s probably looking at eight weeks. That’s optimistic.”

  “Eight weeks! We don’t have eight damn weeks.” The man’s cheeks turned bright red, and for an instant, I thought he might pick up one of the expired magazines and throw it across the room.