Doctor L: A Second Chance Fake Marriage Romance (Doctor's Orders Book 3)

by Lilian Monroe

  “It’s a prescription for a vibrator.” I answer drily.

  Emma’s laugh bubbles over through the phone. I can’t help but smile along with her.

  “Em, I wish you’d been there. It was just my luck that my doctor is quite possibly the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He’s tall and has these eyes, they just pierced through me. And his voice is all husky. I couldn’t focus. He did a full physical and honest to goodness I feel like my orgasm problems were almost solve then and there.”

  She’s still cackling and I join in.

  “It was probably the worst possible scenario I could have imagined. I’m all hot and bothered and then I have to tell this guy that I can’t come! There was this moment, where he told me to open my mouth for that whole tongue depressor thing and honestly I thought it was the start of a porno or something.”

  Emma hasn’t stopped laughing, and I finally feel like I can relax. The stress and awkwardness of the situation dissolve and I laugh with her.

  “What do they even look at with that tongue depressor?” She asks between giggles.

  “I have no idea, but when your doctor is stupidly sexy, it’s very uncomfortable.”

  We laugh some more and I feel much better.

  “So are you going to get a vibe? What did he recommend? Haven’t I been telling you to get one?!”

  “Yeah well I guess it just took a sexy stranger doctor to convince me,” I laugh. “I’ll look them up this afternoon and order one. I guess then it’s just a matter of seeing what the hormone test shows.”

  “Well maybe just think of him when you test out your new toy, he seems to have had a positive effect on you. I haven’t heard you this excited in months!” She’s laughing, and I’m eternally grateful to have her as a friend.

  Otherwise I know I’d be replaying that appointment over and over in my head and probably convince myself not to order any of the vibrators. I change the subject.

  “What about you, any developments after your escapades last night?”

  “Nah, it’s only been a few hours since I left this morning. I gave him my phone number so I guess it’s just a matter of waiting to see if he texts. I’ve just been laying in bed in and out of sleep, trying to recover. I’m going to be sore for days.”

  I laugh. She’s definitely not shy with her words. I love it though, she’s gotten me out of my shell many times. I used to be almost cripplingly shy and I don’t think I’d have been as successful at work if she hadn’t helped me open up.

  “Did you get his information? Maybe you can text him later.”

  “No, I just left my number with him as I was leaving this morning. I’m not too worried, after a night like that I don’t see how he couldn’t want more!!”

  I smile. I’d love to have her unshakeable confidence. We hang up the phone and I get in my car and drive to my favourite coffee shop. I deserve a nice coffee and a fresh pastry after a morning like that.

  I sit at a table in the sun outside the cafe and order a latte and a fresh danish. The barista brings them out and smiles at me. I lean back in my chair and relax, sipping the hot drink and closing my eyes. Maybe things aren’t so bad, and I’ll be able to find a solution to this problem.

  That’s the first time I’ve been attracted to anyone since my breakup, so that must mean I’m moving on.

  I pull up my phone and start looking up the products that Doctor O’Neill wrote down for me. All of a sudden my screen flashes with what look like huge purple penises. In shock I lock my phone reflexively and slam it on the table.

  I breathe in and try to angle my phone away from anyone that might be walking by. I glance around before unlocking my phone again. I scroll through slowly, looking at different options.

  He wrote down four toys for me.

  The first three look huge, and seem to have a million settings. I can’t imagine using that on myself. They have bells and whistles and bits hanging off them, and it sounds like the move in circles and vibrate and do a thousand things at once.

  That’s too much for me. At least it’s too much for my first one.

  I need something a bit less… intimidating. I don’t think a big purple vibrating dildo is sexy, and I doubt it’ll help me have my first orgasm.

  The fourth option is a bit slimmer. It isn’t shaped like a penis, it’s just a smooth curve with a white handle. I read the reviews and am pleased to see it’s highly recommended. It has a few different settings but seems simple enough. Before I know it I’m entering my credit card information. My heart is beating fast again, I’m excited. I tick the option for overnight shipping. If it gets me off, it’s worth the extra $14.99.

  Chapter 8 - Clay

  I get home and collapse onto my bed. I can’t stop thinking about her. Valerie. Val. She’d been so unintentionally sexy in the way she moved and talked. And then I saw the fire in her eyes right before she asked the question that must have been plaguing her for years.

  I can’t help but wonder if she’s ordering one of the vibrators I suggested. If she’s playing with herself. My mind wanders with that image, thinking of her laying down with her new vibrator. Maybe she’s thinking of me, I know she was thinking the same as me when she opened her mouth and slid out that sexy tongue.

  I’d do anything for the chance to give her an orgasm. There’s no way she’d be able to resist. She was already like putty under my hands, and my skin hadn’t even touched hers. The most I’d done was palpate her abdomen for all of ten seconds.

  I think about those ten seconds, the way my hands moved over her flat stomach, and the way she just stared up at the ceiling. Her small, perky breasts fell back to either side of her chest and I fought the impulse to stare at them, to memorise their shape. I wanted her to make eye contact with me but I was glad when she didn’t.

  I need to stop thinking about her. This doesn’t happen. This isn’t me. I need a cold shower. I stand up and empty my pockets onto my side table.

  There’s a paper there, with some scribbles on it. I pick it up and remember this morning, when the curly haired girl with the big red lips gave her my number. She wrote her name, Emma, with a little heart after her number.

  I crumple the paper with one hand and toss it into my garbage can. I most definitely will not be calling her. It was fun but I’ve got no desire to see her again.

  I think of the last few women I’ve been with, the women I’ve picked up at bars and clubs and even the grocery store. I can’t imagine sleeping with any of them. Something seems different inside me.

  I take off my clothes and jump in the shower with the intention of going straight to bed once I’m clean. I need to sleep. I need to get this girl out of my head and I need to focus on myself.

  On my career. On my goals.

  Today was a blip, a mistake. I can’t let myself get carried away like that. Getting a hard-on at work is so unprofessional it’s not even funny.

  The water washes over me and I stand under the showerhead with my eyes closed. I’ve had so many gorgeous women practically throw themselves at me in my office and I’ve never been anything less than professional. I don’t understand why this one is different. Even the way she moves and walks seems so fluid and natural.

  I can’t understand how she’s never had an orgasm because every pore of hers seems to exude sex. I think of the way she looked at me when she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. She had to have been thinking the same thing as me, had to have been. Her eyes left nothing to the imagination.

  The minute I think of her open mouth my cock gets hard. The water from the shower is running down my chest, down my abs and dripping off the end of my half-hard cock. I shouldn’t do this but I can’t stop myself.

  I think of her eyes, her lips, the way her lips parted and her tongue slid out slightly for me. Maybe she’d do that for me, on her knees in front of me. I grab my cock and it’s already harder than rock. I start stroking myself, putting my other hand on the shower wall for balance. The water is running down my back as I stroke
myself faster and faster.

  I remember the way her smell filled my nostrils when I was next to her. I want to smell that again, to be surrounded by her scent. I think of how she looked when she sat on the edge of the examination table and told me she’d never come. The look in her eyes that was pure determination and stubbornness and fire.

  All I wanted to do was rip her tight jeans off and shove my face between her legs right then and there. I want to be the one to make her come. I want to show her how good it can feel. I want to hear what her sexy little voice sounds like when she’s screaming my name, or what it feels like to have her hands threaded into my hair, pushing my face into her slit.

  I bet she’s never had someone who truly enjoys the taste of her pussy. She must taste so good. The thought of her juices on my tongue makes my balls tighten up towards my shaft. I feel my orgasm start in the pit of my stomach and all of a sudden it’s ripping through me and I can’t help the guttural scream I make as I come.

  I feel every inch of my body twitch and tingle as my orgasm grows and fades. I’m breathing heavily, water still running all over my body. I close my eyes and let the water wash over me. I don’t remember the last time I came that hard, and that was just at the thought of her.

  I open my eyes and know that I can’t see her again. If she makes another appointment I’ll have to pass her on to another doctor. There’s no way I can be in the same room as her if I want to be a true professional.

  It’s the only way.

  I clean myself up and step out of the shower. I walk to my bed and lay down, hoping that sleep will take me far, far away from Valerie Brooks. One night only with women, and no sex anywhere near my work. I have these rules for a reason, and I know she’s not worth the trouble.

  I close my eyes and Valerie Brooks’ face is painted on my eyelids. Mouth open, tongue out, eyes on fire.

  Chapter 9 - Valerie

  It’s Sunday, and I wake up and practically jump out of bed. My package should be arriving today, since I paid for the overnight delivery. I try to keep the thought out of my mind. When I think about my new toy I think about Doctor O’Neill, and that’s not a road I want to go down. Yesterday was too embarrassing, I’m not used to not being in control of my emotions or my body that way.

  I get up and make myself a cup of coffee. I need to distract myself. I know I’ll have at least thirty to forty email to catch up on. Saturdays are big viewing days and are usually one of the busiest days of the week. Taking the day off yesterday was nice, as eventful and stressful as it was, but I need to use today to catch up on work otherwise Monday will be a nightmare.

  I fire up my laptop and open my emails. Sure enough, I have 42 unread emails. I start at the bottom, working my way up chronologically. I click on the first email and my eyes glaze over immediately as I glance at a reminder that the fridges at the office are emptied weekly on Friday evenings. I quickly click the delete button as my thoughts flick to yesterday.

  To Doctor O’Neill.

  He was so manly, so raw. I remember the way the cloth from his shirt brushed against my skin when he put the stethoscope on my back. It was like fire trailing in a line down my spine. I wanted to feel his hands, feel the warmth of his skin against mine. I wanted to know what his body looked like under those clothes.

  I shake my head. No. He’s my new doctor, I absolutely cannot be having these thoughts. He was nothing but professional for the entire consultation. It was me who was a puddle of desire. He heard my heart hammering in my chest and saw my cheeks blushing whenever I looked at him.

  He could probably read me like a book, and was probably laughing at me right now. The orgasm-less girl who can’t control herself around an attractive man.

  I get up and pace across my kitchen. I’m not usually like this. When I sell a million-dollar house to some big shot, I’m never intimidated by them. I can close any deal. I’ve had countless rich, attractive men try their luck with me but I’m always unfazed. My colleagues have gone as far as to call me a shark!

  I don’t understand why this was different, why I had so little control over myself. Maybe it was because he caught me at my most vulnerable, but he’s my doctor, for crying out loud. If I can’t tell him what’s wrong with my then who would I talk to?! It doesn’t matter that his eyelashes perfectly frame his eyes and he has this dark, brooding look about him. Every time he looked at me I just wanted to press my lips against his and see what he tasted like.

  I go back to my computer. When I throw myself in my work I can get anything out of my mind. I click on an email with an interesting subject line: “Leads you might be interested in.” It’s from another agent I get along well with. I open the email up and read through quickly. There are a few attached photos of a beautiful SoHo loft, not yet on the market. If it goes on the market it’ll be gone within two or three days, judging by the photos and the location.

  He says if I know of any buyers, the sale is mine. I check the address listed in the email and grab my car keys. I always do a drive-by of any property, just to be sure there aren’t any glaring problems. It would probably be faster to take the subway, but I know a drive will distract me.

  I hop in my car and head towards the address. It’s such a beautiful part of Manhattan and I always love when I get to sell there. I drive through the busy streets and wind my way through the city.

  As usual, it’s abuzz with life. I make it to the address and see a beautiful old building that’s been restored to perfection. I park up across the street and check my phone. Apparently the place is a huge loft with one bedroom, worth upwards of 3 million.

  I have a walk around the block to see some of the amenities nearby. I’m happy to see shops, restaurants, galleries, a school all within walking distance. I spend thirty minutes wandering around, getting to know the area so I can sell it when the time comes. I always like to be prepared, but if I’m honest this thing will sell itself.

  I stop in at a coffee shop on the opposite corner from the building and order a latte. I take a sip as I step outside. It’s good. Just another little perk of coming back here to sell this place. Satisfied, I jump back in my car and head towards home.

  I can feel the excitement of an impending sale. This is what I’m good at. I love the hum of a sale and the rush I get from closing a deal. This property is in a gorgeous location, perfect for a number of the rich young professionals I deal with. I have a buyer in mind already, and I can’t wait to show it. I feel like myself again as I drive back home, composing my response to my colleague in my head as I drive.

  I practically run up the stairs to my tiny apartment and almost trip over the box placed at the front door.

  I look down, confused for a second until the last 24 hours come rushing back to me. I pick up the small box and am surprised at how light it is.

  It’s my new toy, or “aid” as the doctor called it.

  I think of Doctor O’Neill, and how he’d looked at me right before sticking the tongue depressor in my mouth. The heat between my legs erupts all of a sudden at the thought of his dark eyes drilling into me. All of a sudden the clarity of my drive is gone and I’m nervous again. I hate this feeling.

  I won’t let myself be dragged down like this! I square my shoulders and walk into my apartment, closing the door behind me. I am a confident, successful young woman and I can do this. Most women have vibrators and most women have orgasms! I tear open the brown packing box and look at the sleek packaging for my new vibrator. It’s black with silver indented lettering on it.

  “Girl’s Best Friend”

  The top of the box lifts off and my heart beats a bit faster. It’s smoother than I imagined, almost soft when I lift it out. It’s about six inches long with a plastic white handle. The rest of it is a bright pink colour. It doesn’t look like the other vibrators I’ve seen, it’s a lot less intimidating. I press one of the buttons and it starts vibrating in my hand. I panic, pressing another button to make it stop.

  I giggle and press the button again
, three times this time to see how hard the vibrations get. They travel up my arm and down my core until I can almost feel them in my centre. I drop my bag and head to my bedroom, ready to see if it really is a Girl’s Best Friend.

  Chapter 10 - Clay

  I’m going crazy. I just woke up and looked out my window and could have sworn I saw Valerie Brooks walking out of my local cafe and into a car. I know from her file that she lives nowhere near SoHo, so either she was on the opposite end of town for some strange reason or I’m seeing visions of her.

  I’m guessing it’s visions. It must have been another leggy blonde. I couldn’t even see her face, how could I know it was her! I’m obviously reeling from yesterday. I shouldn’t have thought of her in the shower like that, it only made her front and centre in my mind.

  But that girl at the coffee shop moved as gracefully and fluidly as Valerie had yesterday. What if it was her? Maybe I’ll run into her outside the office, and if I pass her onto another doctor, then technically my golden rule wouldn’t be broken….

  I take a deep breath. Just because I wouldn’t be breaking my rules on a technicality doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.

  I’m dreaming anyways! Why would Valerie Brooks be buying coffee from my local cafe! There are eight and a half million people in New York, there’s no way she would be buying coffee from my neighbourhood cafe on a Sunday morning.

  I need to get this girl out of my head and focus on my rules. Nothing gets in the way of work, especially not women.

  I turn away from the window and run my fingers through my hair. Last night is the first Saturday night in months that I haven’t brought a girl home. I look at my empty bed and take a deep breath. I need to clear my head, this has already gone on too long.

  I slip on my gym shorts and a t-shirt and head downstairs. Running will clear my head. I put my headphones on and walk out into the Sunday morning sun. It’s actually pretty nice to be up a bit earlier and not have to kick a girl out of my bed. There aren’t any scribbled phone numbers to chuck out this morning.