“Zach… I…”
I hold up my hand. “Don’t. It’s ok. At least people will be talking about you this year and not me. Last year I think I heard every rumour in the book about my love life.” I pause and glance at Harper. “Or lack thereof.”
She grins and sighs again, shaking her head. “Well don’t worry, I’ve got the gossip covered this year.” She glances at the tree, which is now upright and more than a little crooked. There’s a few snapped branches littered on the floor. “I just had to get the biggest tree I could find, didn’t I.”
“Sixteen feet tall!” I breathe in mock amazement. I glance over and see that smile spread across her face. She chuckles silently and then takes a sip of wine, looking at me over the edge of her glass.
Something stirs inside me as her eyes flick to mine. I never noticed the light in them before. I clear my throat and glance back at my wine, filling up both our glasses up and clinking mine against hers.
Somehow the air seems thicker than before. I can sense every move that Harper is making and the way her eyes are burning into me is making my cock stir in my pants. I shift in my seat and clear my throat again before taking another sip of wine.
Chapter 5 - Harper
I’ve never spent this much time with him. Usually Zach is in and out of the office and it’s all business with him. He spends his time doing who knows what with clients - networking, I guess - and leaves the actual operation of the business to us. I watch the way he’s reclining on the chair, bringing the plastic wine glass to his red lips. I wonder what his lips would taste like?
I glance away and try to shake the thought from my head. This wine must be getting to me, or maybe it was the adrenaline of the fall. This is my boss! Not only that, this is the CEO of the whole company!! It’s probably inappropriate for me to be here alone drinking with him. It’s definitely inappropriate for me to be thinking about kissing him.
Still, there’s something exciting about it. My eyes dart back to him and a thrill rushes down my spine when I see he’s looking at me. Why did I have to wear this stupid sweatshirt?? As if reading my mind, Zach asks me:
“Where’d you get your sweater? It’s very… unique.” He grins and raises an eyebrow. I look down and gently touch the twinkling LEDs on my torso.
“I got it at a Goodwill. It was three dollars.”
“Wow, what a bargain,” he responds. I nod, grinning proudly.
“Didn’t even have to buy any batteries for it!” This time he laughs, a deep belly laugh that makes his shoulders shake. I notice the way his smile lights his whole face up and his eyes close as he tilts his head back to laugh. He has perfect teeth. His laugh sends a wave of heat through me and I can’t help but giggle along. It feels good to be here with him, like this.
Zach’s laugh dies down and he grins at me. “I never knew this side of you.” He’s staring at me intently, as if he’s looking through me or into me, trying to figure me out. “You always seem so serious and professional.” I resist the urge to squirm. Instead, I turn to the fallen tree.
“What, this side of me?” I ask, sweeping my arm towards the mess of snacks and drinks and upturned furniture. “Now that you see it, are you impressed? Personally I think clumsiness is irresistible.”
I bring the the wine glass up to my lips and raise my eyebrow, watching his face as I take a sip. My heart is thumping as he watches me, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
“Irresistible is one word for it,” he responds in a low voice. I can feel the rumble of his voice in my bones, like it traveled straight through me. It doesn’t sound like he’s joking. A warmth starts spreading in my centre and I desperately want to reach over and touch him, grab him, feel his hand or his arm or anything. I want to feel his arms around me and breathe in his smell.
Instead I stay rooted to my chair. We watch each other without moving. The tension is palpable, and I can hardly breathe for fear of breaking the spell that’s cast over us. Zach looks towards the fallen table and slowly gets up. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his sinewy forearms. I lick my lips. I watch as he walks towards the mess, his crisp white shirt tucked into his pinstriped trousers. His back looks wide and strong, and I can see the outline of his shoulders through the thin white fabric. I watch him crouch down and pick up the table, setting it back upright.
I get up and follow him over. I start a few feet away from him, picking up boxes and cookies and cakes that have fallen on the floor. We work in silence for a few minutes. I stand up after picking up the millionth item off the floor, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. I grab my heavy sweater and pull it off over my head, letting out a sigh.
“It’s hot in here!” I exclaim, and then I see Zach’s eyes on me. His eyes are roaming over me and suddenly I feel like I’m wearing nothing at all. I pull down the hem of my thin camisole. I wasn’t intending on taking off my sweater. I blush and turn back to the mess on the floor to hide my embarrassment. I bend over to pick up a stack of plastic plates and when I stand up he’s right beside me, his arm brushing against mine. He turns towards me so that his chest is inches from mine.
I place the plates down gently on the table and try to slow down the thumping in my chest. Zach is so close to me I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. He smells sweet and spicy at the same time and I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself down. As soon as his scent hits my nostrils it has the opposite effect. My body goes into overdrive and all I can think of is putting my hands on his body.
We’re inches apart. Slowly, I drag my eyes up his chest to his jaw, watch his lips as he opens them gently and finally let my eyes drift up to his. They look so dark, like bottomless pools of brown staring back at me.
My heart is going wild. I can feel it beating against my ribcage as we stand there, transfixed. I can’t tear my eyes away from his. I don’t want to.
Ever so slowly, Zach brings his hand up and gently brushes the edge of my hip with his fingertips. I shiver, closing my eyes gently and relishing his touch. He’s barely touching me but it feels more intense than I could imagine. It’s like his fingers have a direct line to my centre, sending wave after wave of heat towards my core.
His fingers drift from my hip towards my navel, ever so gently brushing the fabric of my camisole. The blood is rushing between my legs and desire floods my veins with every heartbeat banging against my ribcage. I open my eyes and glance back at him. His eyes are half-closed. I can see him looking at me and the intensity of his gaze sends another wave of heat through me. I know my eyes have the same look of pure desire as his. I raise my hand and hesitate, then place it gently on his chest. He’s warm, and hard, his smooth muscles rippling under his shirt. I can feel his heart beating as well and it gives me a surge of confidence. My other hand flies up to his chest and I run it up towards his neck.
The second my fingers touch the bare skin of his neck it’s like something explodes between us. My skin touches his and it sizzles, sending sparks through my entire body. He grips my waist and pulls me into him.
This is so wrong. This is my boss! Zach Lockwood! I shouldn’t be doing this.
But then his lips crush against mine and all thought disappears from my head. He tastes sweet, his lips soft against mine as they part and kiss me. His hand grips my neck, tangling into the hair at the nape of my neck and pulling my head in towards his. My hands are gripping his shoulders, his neck, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into me.
He’s pressing me into the table and I lean back, loving the way his body feels strong and muscular as he crushes it into me. His lips press against my neck, trailing kisses down my collarbone as his hands grab the small of my back and pull me into him. I’m panting, trying to keep my feet on the ground as my body goes into overdrive. The pleasure and desire is exploding through my entire body and I can feel my wetness pooling between my legs.
I want him. I don’t care that he’s my boss, or the CEO, or that we’re at the office. I want him more than
I’ve ever wanted anyone before.

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Doctor O:
A Modern Romance
Lilian Monroe
Copyright Ⓒ 2017 All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author except for short quotations used for the purpose of reviews.
Chapter 1 - Valerie
I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling for the thousandth time. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on my hand as it moves down and over my mound, savouring the electric warmth that ripples with every movement of my fingers. I concentrate hard, trying to think of something sexy. Abs, or… muscles. Hands gripping me. The touch of a man’s tongue over me. Umm… throbbing… members?
There’s a warmth growing inside me and I move my fingers faster, travelling up and down between my lips. My brow furrows as my fingers move faster, circling around my clit with more intensity. I’m holding my breath.
It’s going to happen, I can feel it. I’m going to feel the shockwaves course through my body and the anticipation is making my heart hammer in my chest. I concentrate harder, moving my hand faster with the excitement.
And then all of a sudden, nothing.
It’s gone. My orgasm slips away into oblivion, just like it does every single other time I’ve ever tried. I sigh.
This isn’t going to happen. Not this time, not ever.
I let my hand fall to my side and open my eyes back up, looking up at the ceiling again. Every single time I feel something, anything close to an orgasm it somehow escapes me. Maybe I’m thinking too hard, or I don’t know how to touch myself properly.
It’s even worse when someone else tries to give me one. I tense up or think too much about what I’m doing or what I look like or what they’re thinking.
Even when I am able to relax into the moment somehow it always seems to slip away at the last second. I can be completely in the mood and excited but for some reason I’ve just never gone over the edge. I’ve never felt the fireworks that everyone describes. The back arching, leg shaking, head melting feeling of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Not once, and it kills me.
My ex boyfriend gave up trying in the end. He’d play with me until I was wet enough for him to enter me and then take his own orgasm without any worry about my own pleasure. I broke it off with him three months ago and since then, like every month and year before that, I’ve been unable to get myself off.
When I broke it off with my ex, my best friend Emma was there to pick up the pieces. We were out at our local cocktail lounge and I’d had two or three glasses of wine, just enough to be a bit giddy. I remember looking at her and blurting it out:
“I’ve never orgasmed.”
She’d nearly spat out her drink and looked at me in shock. Her mess of brown curls bounced around her face as she turned to look at me. She was wearing her signature bright red lipstick and her mouth hung open.
“You mean in the four years you spent with that idiot he was never able to make you come?!”
I’d looked around, worried she was being too loud. We were in our favourite booth in the back corner, with a perfect view of everyone in the bar but shielded from any unwelcome attention. I glanced around to make sure no one had heard her outburst.
She didn’t care, as usual. She never seemed to be self conscious or insecure. She walked into any room like she owned it, swaying her hips and walking in with purpose. All eyes were on her, always. Her figure was a perfect hourglass and she had the attitude to match.
Where she is all curls and curves, I'm wavy-haired, blonde, lanky. I always seem to feel a bit awkward when men talk to me, like somehow they’re making fun of me, or they’re just passing the time until they get their turn with her. She’s the centre of attention and I’m her sidekick wherever we go. I don’t mind, not really. I love her to bits. She’s my rock, my best friend, my confidante. I couldn’t imagine my life without her by my side. She’s been there for me through thick and thin.
The past three months she’s helped me move into my new apartment, made me laugh, brought me ice cream when I needed it. We’d moved to New York five years ago together and would not have survived without each other. She is the best friend I’ve ever had, and it felt good to open up to her about my orgasm-less existence.
I couldn’t help but smile at the horror on her face when I told her my secret.
“No, I mean I’ve never had an orgasm.. Ever. Like, not just with Bryce. Never.”
Emma put down her glass of wine and brought her hands to her temples. This seemed to be difficult for her to understand. She stared at the table intently, processing what I’d just told her.
“Never. As in… Ever? Not once?”
She looked up at me, searching my face. I shrugged, not knowing what to tell her.
“I mean, I’ve tried. Don’t get me wrong.”
I looked at her sheepishly.
“Val, girl. You need to sort this out. I’m telling you this as your oldest and dearest friend, and as someone who has had many mind blowing orgasms. This is a very, very important part of any woman’s life. Did Bryce know? What did he do to try to get you off?”
I’d felt the tears welling up in my eyes when she mentioned him. I didn’t want to tell her how bad our sex life had gotten, how selfish he’d been in bed. How selfish he’d been in general!
She’d understood without me saying anything, as usual. She’d just waived the waiter over and dramatically ordered another round of drinks for us and then turned and winked at me. I’d laughed and the constriction in my throat had disappeared.
I smile as I think back on that conversation. She’d been so concerned, so intent on helping me. She’d given me tips, she described her most intense orgasms, the way they rushed from her centre outwards in waves of warmth and pleasure.
She had been so open and candid with me, talking about the way her back arched and her legs trembled. How her partners had actually enjoyed giving her pleasure, it wasn’t a chore to them at all. I’d listened to her describing her experiences and wished I could feel the same. I’d tried the tricks that she’d told me and tried to relax into it.
It just seems like I… can’t. I can’t do it. No matter how hard I try I still haven’t felt an orgasm rip through my body. I haven’t been with anyone since Bryce but I can’t bring myself to go through that again. To explain that it won’t happen, it’s not them, it’s me. To see the disappointment in the guy’s face as he tries and tries to get me to climax only to ultimately fail.
Some guys take it on like a challenge but it only makes me feel worse when it doesn’t work. I’ve learned to live with it, sort of. I’ve thrown myself into my career and most days it feels like that’s enough.
I lay in bed wondering if maybe there’s something wrong with me, and it makes me not able to orgasm. When the thought crosses my mind, I turn and reach for my phone. I pull up Google and within a millisecond I’m presented with ten thousand reasons that I’m not able to get off. I start clicking through the top few results.
Maybe there really is something wrong with me. Doctor Google certainly seems to think so. Apparently I need to relax more, but the next article tells me to tense my leg muscles. I just need to try masturbating, duh, as if I haven’t tried that a million times!
I sigh as I click from one result to another. Hormonal dysfunction, chronic illnes
s, nerve damage, there seem to be countless things that might be wrong. I feel the familiar frustration bubbling up inside me as I keep reading. All I want is to feel what everyone else can feel! I want that for myself and I want that connection with someone else.
I don’t think that’s too much to ask. It’s a basic human biological function.
I can feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I don’t want to cry, not again. I’ve been crying for three months. I take a deep breath and gather my resolve. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow for a medical, maybe I’ll ask the doctor if there’s something wrong with me. My cheeks burn at the thought of asking that, of admitting once again that I’ve never felt the rush of an orgasm through my body. To make matters worse, I’ve just changed doctors and I haven’t met this one yet.
I look at my email confirmation from the doctor’s office and see the name: Doctor O’Neill. I hope it’s a woman, and I don’t have to embarrass myself in front of yet another man. I let my phone fall beside me and look up once again at the ceiling. It’ll drive me nuts to keep thinking like this.
I can endure a few minutes of embarrassment if it means I get an answer. I’ll ask the doctor tomorrow. Male or female, it doesn’t matter. Doctors have heard worse, I tell myself. All I want is a simple little orgasm, is that too much to ask? It doesn’t need to be earth shattering. I’ll settle for a regular old, middle of the week Wednesday-style routine orgasm. That’s a thing, right?
I feel the familiar stubbornness growing inside me. When I set my mind to something, nothing can stop me. I’ll get my answer tomorrow.
Knocked Up by the Single Dad Page 19