Dr. Ohhh - A Steamy Doctor Romance

by Ana Sparks

  The windows looked equally untended. They were full of spider webs and wouldn’t open. I banged on the one over the couch, the one big enough for me to crawl out of—the one between me and freedom. With both bound hands, I yanked up on its handle and banged on the glass with my hands. Then the water stopped. I froze as the creak of the door sounded. I raced back to the couch and sat down, trying to look unsuspicious as footsteps thudded above and then behind me.

  I turned to see Jake stopped at the first window I had tried, grinning at me.

  “Hey, you cleaned my windows. Thanks.”

  He was shirtless, little beads of water still clinging to the wolf tattoo on his right pec.

  Sitting beside me, he patted my face again and grinned as I twisted away.

  “Poor princess. Even if you got out, don’t you know there’s nowhere to go?”

  I searched his face.

  “What do you mean?”

  Jake strode over to the door and, in one swift motion, shoved the stove away.

  Then he opened the door and gestured me over.

  “You see?” he said, throwing his arm out at the expanse of trees in the rectangle of the doorway. “We’re in the middle of the forest. There’s nowhere for you to run.”

  Faced with the spread of tree after mocking tree, I was frozen for a minute.

  “Then why did you put the stove in front of the door?” I asked.

  He gave another shrug, his face twisting with laughter.

  “Thought it would be funny.”

  I raised my bound hands, and he grabbed them. With his other hand, he patted my cheek.

  “Careful.”

  I ripped myself free and stormed back to the couch. As soon as I flopped down, my belly let out an angry roar.

  Jake closed the door and glanced at me.

  “You hungry?”

  I kept my gaze on the wood-slatted ceiling and said nothing.

  “Well?”

  He walked over and then his still-smirking face was blocking my ceiling view. I turned my gaze away and down to the floor.

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Okay, princess.”

  He leaned down to pat my face again, and I jerked away.

  We struggled and I fell onto the floor.

  “What is your problem?” I burst out as I scrambled away.

  Jake froze.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you doing this? Why do you hate me?”

  He looked away, back to the door.

  “I already told you. And I don’t hate you.”

  “Yes, you do. You hate me and my father and people like us. It’s obvious in how you sneer whenever you talk to me.”

  “I don’t,” he said softly.

  “You do,” I shot back, and he rounded on me, his green eyes wild.

  “And so what if I do? What’s not to hate about pampered people who haven’t done shit all their lives and are rewarded for it? What’s to like about pompous assholes who cheat their way to the top and screw people over to stay there? What’s so great about entitled shitheads who treat anyone who doesn’t have as fat of a bank account as they do as lesser creatures not worthy of respect?”

  As he spoke, he advanced, fingers of both hands spread and tensed into open claws.

  “You don’t know anything about me,” I hissed.

  He smiled.

  “You’re right; I don’t.”

  As he left, I continued. “You’re wrong about me and my father. We’re good people, not stuck up at all. You don’t know anything about us.”

  At the fridge, his hand was clenched on the handle. He sighed and didn’t look at me when he said, “Whatever you say, princess.”

  Chapter Four

  Jake

  Whaddya know, the princess liked grilled cheese. I had made it just to piss her off, just to prove that her whole “oh, I’m just a regular old nobody like everyone else” was full of shit.

  But after I’d grilled the two slices of white bread with the slab of cheddar between, as I’d carried it over to her on my cracked porcelain plate, her face had lit up.

  And now there she was on the couch, face still delighted, trying to lift the slightly burned thing to her mouth. After a few tries, she finally dropped it onto the couch.

  So, picking it up, I lifted it to her lips. After a long suspicious look, she dipped her head down and took a big bite. She swallowed and then licked some crumbs off her soft lower lip.

  “Thanks.”

  I looked away.

  “No problem.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “What is what?”

  “Why were you looking at me like that?”

  I lifted the grilled cheese again, but she shook her head.

  “Oh, it was nothing,” I said. “Just…there’s crumbs on your lower lip.”

  She pouted, lifted her hands, sighed, and then flicked out her tongue again. Still, however, a few crumbs persisted.

  “Here, I’ll get ‘em.”

  As I brushed them away, I glanced up and caught her eye. Her gaze was locked on my lips.

  I lifted the bread again and she took another bite, chewed, and then swallowed. When I lifted the now half-finished sandwich, she advanced and then paused.

  “It would be easier if you just untied me.”

  I shook my head.

  “Sorry. Orders are orders.”

  She responded by taking an extra big bite and groaning as crumbs fell on her wedding dress.

  “Could you at least let me wear something different? I don’t know how much longer I can stand being in this stupid thing.”

  In spite of myself, I smiled.

  “Don’t girls love their wedding dresses?”

  She shrugged.

  “I didn’t even choose this or ninety percent of what was going to happen at my own damn wedding.”

  I chuckled.

  “Sounds like I did you a favor.”

  Falling silent, she scowled. Finally, after another minute, she flicked her gaze down at her dress and then back up at me.

  “Well?” she said.

  “Finish the grilled cheese. Then we’ll see.”

  In two swift bites, the sandwich was gone and her expectant look was back.

  “Well?”

  I rose.

  “Damn. You really want out of that thing, huh?”

  Such a desolate look passed over her face that I almost regretted saying it.

  “Isn’t it enough that my wedding was ruined without me having to wear a reminder of it?”

  Flopped there in her glistening ivory and gold dress, her lashes lowered, her lips drawn together, she looked so sad I almost wanted to sit down there beside her, take her in my arms, and comfort her. But instead I headed for the stairs.

  “Fine. I’ll see what I can find.”

  Lucky for her, in the bottom of my closet there were some forgotten sweats that had shrunk in the wash.

  Tossing them over the railing down to the first floor, I called, “You can wear these.”

  Silence. When I got down there, Alice was glaring at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “How am I supposed to get into them?”

  “I’ll help you,” I answered, patting her rosy cheek as she scrambled back.

  “I don’t want your help,” she said.

  “Fine. Have it your way.”

  I turned on my heel and walked to the stairs. Once I was on the top stair, however, she whispered my name.

  “Jake?”

  She was standing now, looking straight at me.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes. Please help me.”

  I intended to wait there on the top step for a bit, maybe see if I could get her to grovel. But she looked so helpless all tied up that I ended up going back down the stairs right away.

  “First we’ll get you out of the dress,” I said, walking around her as I looked at the insanely intricate thing.<
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  “What?” Alice asked after another minute of my motionless silence.

  “How do you get out of this thing?”

  She laughed and jerked her head toward the back.

  “It’s got a zipper.”

  I gripped the zipper and pulled down. I meant to go fast, but the zipper didn’t want to budge. It would only consent to be slowly, painstakingly lowered down. So down the little white metal the thing swooped, revealing a sequined bra strap and then, farther down, an ivory white back with the odd freckle here and there. Then, once it got to her lower back, it stopped. I pulled and I pulled, but it wouldn’t move.

  Alice groaned.

  “It’s stuck, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah…” I tugged on it again. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just keep pulling. You have to. I’ve tried getting out of this thing with the zipper partly undone, and it doesn’t work.”

  So I did. I tried everything. I pulled the zipper back up and then down. I tried reaching in and feeling around for the cause of the jam. Nothing worked. Finally, in exasperation, I yanked the zipper as hard as I could, pulling it through the jammed-up part and down so hard that I took her whole dress and her sequined white underwear with it.

  For a second, I was frozen in shock, transfixed by the sight of the most beautiful ivory ass I had ever seen.

  Next thing I knew, Alice was scrambling away, trying in vain to grab at the fallen panties and dress.

  “What the hell!”

  At the front door, she turned around and glared at me. The front view of her sequined white bra was just as hot as the back had suggested. Dipping in the front, the two cups were joined with a gem in the center, supporting two small but milky white, beautifully shaped breasts.

  “Asshole.”

  “Sorry,” I said with a not-very-sorry smirk.

  As I advanced, she shrank into the corner.

  “Chill,” I said. “I’ll pull them back on and get you into the sweats.”

  Still, however, she wouldn’t turn around.

  “Promise?” she asked quietly, looking at me over her shoulder, her eyes pleading.

  I nodded, shifting my gaze to the stove in the other corner.

  “I promise.”

  So I took one last look at that beautiful butt and then pulled up her underwear. Helping her out of the giant poof of a dress required that she get on the ground and I practically yank her out, but we pulled it off.

  Afterward, lying on her back on the floor, she grinned at me.

  “Thanks.”

  I nodded, my eyes running over her body. God, I could just lean over, put my knees beside that heaving chest, my mouth to those parted lips. I could just take her, right here, right now.

  “You gonna get the sweats?”

  I looked down to see her glaring at me, evidently having read my thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just enjoying the view.”

  When I returned with the pants, she had wriggled herself upright.

  “Enjoy less and help more,” she said.

  “Yes, princess.”

  I patted her cheek and she turned away.

  “Hold out your legs,” I said.

  As she did so, I slid one leg through one leg hole and then the other through the other leg hole.

  She sat up and, looking down, paused. Taking in the insanely too-big sweats, she burst out laughing.

  “Perfect fit,” I said, not able to resist cracking up myself.

  I tightened the drawstring and then tied it in a bow.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “We’re not done yet,” I said.

  When I came back with a sweatshirt, Alice was looking at me oddly.

  “What?” I asked.

  But when my eyes met hers, she looked away.

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay ‘nothing,’ can you lift your arms so I can get this sweatshirt on?”

  She did as instructed, and I slid her arms through one armhole. Then, zipping up the hoodie, I took one look at her half-filled sweatshirt ridiculousness and cracked up again.

  Glancing down, Alice soon joined me, both of us on our backs, laughing our heads off.

  At one point, Alice rolled against my chest. We both fell silent.

  Alice was on her back, looking at me.

  “Here,” I said, crawling onto her, my knees around her torso, my hand on her sweatshirt zipper. “I’ll zip this up for you.”

  And so, ever so slowly, I did. As our breaths flowed together and our lips neared, I pulled the zipper up and up and up. When it was at the top and I was at her lips, right before they touched, I looked into her eyes.

  I froze. There was want there; it was unmistakable. And yet, there was something else too, something that wouldn’t let me continue. There was fear.

  “Sorry, sorry,” I said, backing away.

  She closed her eyes, and when they opened, there was only accusation in them.

  “I expected as much,” she said.

  I stood up and leaned down, addressing her defiant face.

  “Yeah well, you know your whole ‘you don’t know me’ thing? Guess what, princess—it goes both ways. You have no fucking clue who I am.”

  I strode to the door and left.

  Chapter Five

  Alice

  The quiet was great for reflection. Not so great if the last thing you wanted to do was think about how you may have just made the second biggest mistake of your life. Jake was my enemy, and my rashness may have just alienated him completely. Why did I keep forgetting my composure with him, forgetting that he was a dangerous, evil man—my kidnapper?

  I glanced down at the zipper and then away. To think that I had been ready to…

  I stood up and walked to the door. It didn’t matter now. There was no point in beating myself up about it, though there was definitely something to be said for trying to get out of there.

  I put my bound hands on the doorknob and pulled. Gazing out into the endless forest before me, I started walking.

  Even if Jake was right and there was no getting out of there, I could at least enjoy a nice walk. Anything was better than that cabin, stifled with the day’s events and my own strange reactions.

  I had only been walking for a few minutes, and already my head was quieter, calmer. The air was liquid clarity, while the trees provided shade from everything I didn’t want to think about. The birds celebrated my arrival with sweet songs, and a toad started accompanying me after a few minutes.

  It was fat, forest green, and determined, hopping at a constant pace until it reached me, stopping whenever I did, and ribbiting every so often as if to remind me he was there.

  I dubbed him Gerald and enjoyed his loyal presence. It was a good thing Randolph wasn’t here. I could see it now, his eyes bulged out of his head, his floppy ears standing straight up, his buck teeth bared even more. He’d gallop after poor little Gerald, all barks and scampering and no actual catching. I didn’t think Randolph had caught any creature—cat, mouse, squirrel—in his entire life. And yet that had never stopped him from trying.

  I stopped and sat down on a big log, the moss on which provided a nice cushion for my butt.

  What was Randolph doing now? How was he? Was he curled into that sad little ball of fluff he assumed whenever I hadn’t paid attention to him for over an hour? Were he and Papa curled together into one sad ring of sorrow? What was Paul doing? Was Cynthia horrified or pissed off? Lux was probably canvasing the streets at this very moment, as she’d always been an activist.

  How would it be to go back? Would I ever go back?

  I stared into the trees, and Gerald hopped up beside me.

  My present circumstances were so unbelievable that I couldn’t picture my homecoming at all. I didn’t know if Papa would cry tears of joy or curse and swear that he would find the man who had done this and punish him. And would Paul demand we be married within the week or agree that maybe some more time would be a good idea?

 
; I stared into the pine trees, watched the wind wiggle every little pine needle, and thought that maybe this, all of this, wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

  Even being here, now, I felt different. Good. Good like I hadn’t felt in ages. Maybe it had just been too long since I’d been in nature. Or maybe this kidnapping, as terrifying and dangerous as it was, had provided just the break I needed to think about things, to think about everything.

  Gerald let out a hearty ribbit, and I glanced down at him. For some reason, I was reminded of Paul. Of how, as he had proposed to me on Mizuna’s lit-up patio, as I’d looked down on the man asking to be my husband, instead of feeling joy, excitement, or bliss, I’d only thought of how it all seemed like a movie scene. Paul had gotten the proposing thing down to a science: the beautiful, big shining ring, the speech about my great qualities (which I hadn’t even been sure I’d had), and the sparkle of tears in his eyes.

  Donna, my therapist, always hinted that my lack of belief in Paul, in anyone, stemmed from a lack of belief in myself. That I was “emotionally unavailable” and that any suspicion about this faultless specimen of a man should be questioned.

  The little woman with the big moon spectacles had never said anything of the sort outright, of course. But it was always the impression I was left with as I shuffled out of there, tired and no closer to solving anything than I had been before. But solving things had never really been the point.

  No, after Mama’s death, Papa’s orders had been to “go to a therapist.” And, after a swath of nothing-faced bobble heads who fired off statements disguised as questions and let my problems run over them as smooth as milk, by the time I got to statements-as-questions, uncaring-about-problems Donna, I had just been tired of the whole merry-go-round of it all. I had just wanted Papa to be happy, whether Donna was actually helping me or not.

  I grinned at Gerald.

  “Wonder what Donna would think of all this?”