by Kara Liane
I could hear a slight gasp, almost like a whisper of a little kitten. But it was a sexy sound. Her head popped up and she took a few calming breaths.
I could barely hear her say to herself, “Calm down. You’re fine, just calm down.”
It seemed like an eternity before she turned around. When she did, I was practically brought to my knees by the sight of her. Fuck! Did she have to be so breathtaking? She was more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. She had the face of an angel. The first thing I noticed was her eyes. I thought mine were sparkly and blue, but I couldn’t hold a candle to her. Her eyes I could get lost in. They were the brightest sapphire-blue with deep, soulful windows. They were round and huge. She also had the thickest, darkest lashes I had ever seen. The flecks of oceanesque colors swirling in her irises drew me in deeper. Her eyes were so big they captured me instantly.
I have never been so transfixed by someone like this. Even with the rims around her eyes being a little red and swollen and her face tear-stained, she was gorgeous. Her face was heavenly. I could stand there all day and look at her. I felt privileged to even be in the same room with her. High cheek bones and a petite nose added to her allure, like she was a fairy princess or something; she just seemed so otherworldly. She had pouty, full lips I could easily see without breaking my stare into her eyes. Her lips parted slightly as she let out a little breath when she locked gazes with me.
God, that little sound she made again was driving me crazy.
I could feel something in me stir as we both looked at each other. It was a strong pull. It was electric, and a pulsating feeling coming from one another. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. There was an unspoken connection. I couldn’t be imagining it, could I? My erection was once again in full spirit and ready for action. Normally my loose scrubs hid everything, but I don’t know if there was any chance of hiding the almost painful tent I was pitching.
I didn’t want to break eye contact, but I desperately needed to see the rest of her. As I looked her up and down greedily and hungrily devouring her with my gaze, I became even more erect.
Shit, don’t let the seams of my pants burst!
Oh Christ, why does she have to be so damn attractive? No! Attractive doesn’t even cover it. She is perfection. I can’t explain it, she’s not even my type, but I know perfection when I see it. Her cream colored three-quarter sleeve top was fitted, but not super tight. Thank God for that because if I could make out anymore of her curves, then I’d never make it to surgery after all.
I could easily see the soft mounds of her breasts. They were full, round, and looked like they would fit perfectly in my hands. Whether she was chilly or just as aroused as me, I could see the slight peek of her nipples straining against the material. God, what do her nipples look like? Are they big and take up half her breast? Or are they small and petite like she is? I want them in my mouth. I imagine they look and taste like the tips of ripened strawberries.
She had a tiny waist, and I was dead right about her skin. Seeing the front of her I could tell her silky skin was stunning everywhere. God give me strength, I want her. I want to throw her down right now on this cold, white, clinical tile. I want to have those lips on my dick, and I want to slide that skirt up and see her pussy. I imagine it’s lusciously pink, tight, and ready for me. I could picture her riding me, going up and down and bouncing everywhere. But Jesus, she’s so tiny, I’d have to be careful with her.
Inwardly I groaned because I knew I couldn’t be careful with her. I would have to conjure the most potent dose of self-control of my life. With how I’m feeling right now, I want to fuck her brains out. I know I’m a powerhouse, so I just hoped she would survive it. She’s tiny but doesn’t look too breakable, or am I just trying to convince myself of that? She’s also curvy, which is a departure from the sticks I usually go for. Fuck, I would palm her breasts and suckle them until she cried out that beautiful sound she makes.
Thankfully she looks old enough to be in her twenties, I just pray she is. I pray this little angel was sent here for me. She might get sick though if she knew what I wanted to do to her. Luckily my thoughts are private because I’d have her running for the hills before I ever got to introduce myself. She just stood there staring at me, and I just stood there staring back at her. Her eyes though were pleading with me. To do what? It’s like she was trying to convey a message, but I didn’t know what it was.
I forgot I even asked her a question and that she didn’t answer, so I asked again. “Are you alright?”
She put her head down, and I wanted to grab her and hold her to my chest. This angel was breaking my heart. She began to softly weep again, and I couldn’t stand the distance between us. It pained me to see her like this, even though I didn’t know her. I gently pulled her to me. She was so small I didn’t have to tuck her head under my chin because she didn’t even stand that tall. She fit perfectly in my arms though and I enveloped her, practically swallowing her whole. I rhythmically stroked her back.
Holy shit, what the fuck am I doing? I can’t believe I’m touching her.
My dick twitched because it had other plans for me, but I knew I couldn’t be such a bastard and bed her before she even spoke her name. She felt so good to hold. I never hold a woman, well not like this anyway.
She smelled heavenly too, like vanilla and cream. She was my own little cream-sickle. Hmm, I wonder if that’s what she tastes like too? Fuck! There I go again with my dirty thoughts. Will I ever change? Males typically have their minds in the gutter, so maybe I shouldn’t beat myself up, right? Why is she making me question myself? I struggle with these thoughts because I’m a raging hard on 24/7 with no fulfillment in sight of ever finding “the one.” I thought my libido would wane the older I got, but it just seems like it’s getting worse, and more intense.
I felt some of her tears soak into my top, and it was an amazing feeling. It was like proof she was there in my arms. I practically had to strain my neck and back to rest my chin on her head, but I did it. I wanted her to feel secure and comforted. I thought it was a nice gesture, and I don’t know what came over me because it’s so alien to me. But for some reason it felt natural with her.
Why was she in my arms? Did she trust me because I am a doctor? Did she think I was there in the breakroom to see her because something bad happened to someone she loves, and she’s waiting on the news? Oh shit, is she married? I didn’t even check for a ring! After a good few minutes, she stopped crying.
We both jumped when an announcement came over the PA system, “Dr. Graham to the O.R. stat. Dr. Graham to the O.R. stat.” Fuck! That’s me. I don’t want to leave her, but I know if have to go.
“Err, that page was for me,” I said in a low, resigned voice.
My normal MO is to be seductive and turn up the sex, so I can’t believe I’m even being so careful with her. I gently held her away from my body and searched her eyes.
She blew out a slight breath and in a whisper replied, “I’m sorry.”
I was so taken aback. What was she apologizing for? This little angel would never need to apologize to me for anything. God, I am so torn. I want to stay with her, but I know I’m obligated to be elsewhere. I get this feeling that she needs me here, though. I am burning and itching to know what has caused her so much pain. I want to soothe her. I want to kiss away all those tears one at a time. I want to hold her against the length of my body again. I want her hands sliding up my torso and hugging me back.
Silently pleading to myself I thought, “Dear God little angel, please speak to me again.”
She opened her mouth to speak again, and then quickly closed it. It was as if she was debating something and struggling to come to terms with whatever was plaguing her.
I decided I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “Miss, my name is Alexi. Is there anything I can do for you?”
She just stared straight ahead almost mechanical. She extended her small hand to me. She had the most elegant, lady-like fingers, and oh
God that skin. I delicately took it in my own and shook it lightly.
The angel finally spoke. “My name is Caylan Peters. It’s nice to meet you.”
She looked down again for a moment as she hung her head, almost in shame, and then picked it back up. She met my gaze once more, and I knew she was about to change my world. This little angel was sent to me.
Why? I had no idea, but I was damn sure going to find out.
Chapter 2: Doctor’s Orders
Alexi
“Caylan…” I breathed out, sounding like a love-struck fool.
I couldn’t help myself, she knocked me for a loop. I know my breath was hot and caressed her face because she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, as if she was savoring my heat and closeness. She let out a tiny sigh, and it washed over me like a tidal wave igniting my libido even further. I was just about to ask her for her phone number—as cheesy and cliché as it was—but unfortunately I was interrupted.
“There you are!” a girl exclaimed as she came bolting through the door like a bat out of hell.
“I’ve been worried sick. I’ve been roaming up and down the halls looking for you. Your mom needs us back in the room, so let’s go!” the interrupter spoke.
The woman looked to be about Caylan’s age. She was a little taller and more plump with messy, shoulder-length, light brown hair. I wasn’t attracted to her by any means, but I could appreciate her kind face. Her green eyes stood out because of the contrasting purple plastic eye frames she donned. She wore ill-fitting light blue jeans, and a Temple University sweatshirt. Right away I thought, poor girl probably doesn’t get laid much. She seemed the nerdy book-worm type.
She pulled me from my thoughts and assessment of her when she grabbed Caylan’s hand, and practically dragged her out the door. Caylan turned her head in my direction as she was exiting. She looked at me with those eyes, and they were filled with even more sadness. For a fleeting moment, I could have sworn she was telling me with her eyes to stop her and not let her go. I didn’t want her to go, but I didn’t stop her either. I just stood there. Maybe it was shock over what Caylan made me feel in just a few minutes? This angel made me feel alive. She made me feel in a few minutes of being in her company, what the dozens of women I’d been with over the last seventeen years couldn’t.
I was a coward for not grabbing her hand and pulling her back to me. It’s too late now. She’s gone. Or is she? I lunged forward as fast as I could. My legs felt like lead, and my heart was beating fast. I chuckled to myself at the thought of my heart beating for any woman—I was the walking definition of irony. I exited the breakroom and looked left first, with no sign of her in sight amongst the hurried staff and visitors. I looked right, and the hall was completely and utterly empty—just like how I felt inside. Why the hell didn’t I grab her when I had the chance? Just then, my cell phone rang. I pulled out my smartphone in exasperation.
“Dr. Graham here,” I answered a little gruffer than I would have normally reacted.
“Dr. Graham, it’s Liz. We’re all scrubbed and ready, the patient is prepped and anesthesia is here. Are you ready, sir?” she questioned in a rush.
Liz was a cool chick, my favorite RN actually. Very down to earth, but Jesus she never shut up! I could never get a word in edge-wise with her. She was in her early forties, mother of three, with an alcoholic husband. She loved to come to work to escape her troubled home. So she was my best nurse since she genuinely wanted to be here, and cared for her colleagues and patients.
I let out a frustrated sigh and told her, “Yeah Liz. I’ll be up in a minute. I was taking care of another patient.”
Before she could question me further, I hit “end” on the phone, and shoved it back in my pocket. I didn’t even feel like drinking my coffee now. I knew it wouldn’t have any flavor, or go down well since my stomach was in knots. I threw it in the nearest waste receptacle in the hall, squared my shoulders, and headed for the bank of elevators.
My footsteps were heavy and echoed loudly—I felt like I was walking with a ton of bricks on my shoulders. I was weighed down by the world, and nothing was making sense to me. I tried to replay the last ten minutes in my head, and it was all a blur. The only thing that was crystal clear to me, is the way Caylan looked and felt in my arms. I swear I could still smell her on my scrubs. I hit the arrow button to go up to the third floor where the operating rooms were located. Thankfully, no one got in the elevator car with me. The doors closed, and it was all I could do to keep from ripping off my clothes and rolling around on the floor to get out all my pent up sexual frustration and anxiety. Okay, I need therapy, I admit it. When a guy wants to fuck his clothes, then clearly he is beyond help. In my professional, medical opinion, I needed to check myself in to the psych ward on the fifth floor—stat!
I let out a good hearty laugh at my own insanity. I couldn’t help but think of the pun doctor’s orders, to check myself in. I punched the elevator wall and growled to myself. I needed to get my shit together, and get it together quick. I am the best in my field, and I have a patient to work on. I need to put Caylan out of my mind. Before I put my game face on, I sniffed my top and let out a long, calming breath when I smelled her. The bell dinged for the third floor.
Showtime! I said to myself as the doors opened.
I walked down the corridor, scanned my badge for the double doors to open, and went to the scrub room. I got to the sink and immediately went to work lathering my hands and beginning my tedious cleaning ritual. I let my mind drift though, back to thoughts of my angel.
How the hell will I find her? Could I page her over the loud speaker? Could I violate patient rights and look up her last name in our system to see if there’s a “Peters” in the hospital?
I know I could bribe the admin, Gloria, into giving me the patient info. I just had to look in Gloria’s direction and she would fan herself from flames of ecstasy. I knew I was an object of her obsession, and I’m sure I starred in every one of her fantasies.
I would just have to tuck my thoughts away for now. My patient laid on the table a room away, and he was waiting for me. Max was an elderly man needing a triple bypass. I needed to bring my A-Game since I’d already promised his wife in the consultation that, “I’m the best.”
Oh Caylan, what have you done to me today?
I held my hands up, and was careful not to touch anything. I backed out the door with my ass and into the O.R. Liz came right over to me and put on my mask, glasses, and gloves. She knew something was up with me, but I gave her the look of, “Don’t fucking ask.” So she nodded in acceptance, and walked over to the other side of the room. I took a deep, steadying breath, looked at my team, and told the other nurse to hit the play button on my music system. I had to operate to Linkin Park; they’re my favorite band. As soon as the music started pulsing and pounding, I gave Max a reassuring squeeze on the hand, even though he was out cold. I grabbed the scalpel. I started to make the first cut and work my magic—or miracle—as I like to think of it. Here goes!
***
I was still brooding when I got back to my office. The six-hour surgery went perfectly. As they say, “It was textbook.” Max’s wife cried into my shoulder when I told her that it went smoothly. She thanked me profusely and told me that I have healing hands. I guess it’s no surprise that I would become a surgeon. My father, Randolph, was a top plastic surgeon, and it was in my veins to become a doctor. My father was a brilliant surgeon too, and was requested by many celebrities before his retirement. He practiced for over forty years in New York City. He lives more than comfortably because of his A-list celebrity masterpieces that still grace the covers and silver screens to this day.
My parents had me later in life. They were determined to enjoy years of parties first. My mom, Juliet, was a trophy wife. She is still just as beautiful as the day my dad married her. He spoiled her rotten over the years, and she let him. She’s very clingy and needy though, and it was hard for her all those decades to share my dad with his first lov
e—which is his work. He was barely around when I was a kid, consumed by his works of art. But I knew he was doing what he loved, and that brought me immense satisfaction. However, there is still some bitterness and jealousy there on my part that I will admit to.
On the rare occasions we got father-son time, I enjoyed every second. We usually went to the lake. He purchased a lake house for those father-son bonding times. I always wondered why he didn’t sell it though when I went off to college. My father and mother were the perfect couple, minus a certain indiscretion on my mother’s part when I was fourteen, but I’ll shove that memory so far back in my head and keep it there! Overall, he was a great dad, and he did the best he could. My mom was the perfect cookie-baking, social butterfly with nanny in tow when I was growing up. I thought, though, that if I ever had kids I would make it a point to be more involved in their upbringing.
Despite Mom’s clinginess, and despite my dad’s lack of affection, I was looking forward to having dinner with my folks this weekend. I would drive out to their place in the Hamptons. They always stayed there from March until October, and then they retreated back to their penthouse in the city. With it being the late spring, it would be a beautiful drive on the way up. I’d put the top down on my black BMW M6 series convertible, and watch all the girls swoon as I drove by. I am a sex magnet. Yup, that’s me, Dr. Stud, I thought sarcastically.
I was frustrated with myself at the moment. I’m so up and down today. One minute I’m exuding confidence and baring my cock to the mirror, and the next I’m unhinged and falling all over a girl that’s probably much too young for me. Hopefully she’s legal because I can’t risk anything on some underage jail-bate!
No! I’m going to stop thinking about her because I won’t torment myself any further today.
I pulled out my smartphone and texted Britney. I needed to escape my thoughts and sexting with that hot piece of ass would do the trick. So I began to type: