by Amy Brent
“It’s nothing like that. I have a few companions I like to visit but it’s nothing serious.” It was time to turn things on her. “Are you afraid I’ll replace your mother?”
“No daddy. It’s been two years now and I’m hoping you’ll settle down a bit. But with a nice woman, not some gold digger.”
“I can assure you I’d know if someone was only using me for my money.” She didn’t need to know what they were using me for.
“People talk, Daddy.”
“Are people talking to you about me? Is that what this is all about? Perhaps if you tell me what they’re saying I can resolve the issue.” I’d asked her this before only to be faced with denial and from the silence on the other end I didn’t think she was going to enlighten me further on the possibility.
Her long breath sounded through the phone. “Daddy, if I suggested something would be open about it?”
“I like to think I’m a man with an open mind. Your mother always seemed to think so anyway.”
A half-hearted giggle escaped her throat. “She asked me to look out for you, you know.”
The words were like an arrow to my heart, killing all of the frustration and annoyance that had built up since I’d answered the phone. That was my girl, always making me break weak. “I know, as she did the same to me about you.”
“I want you to see a counselor. Someone who will listen to you and help you work out any issues.” The words spilled from her lips like that would keep me from refusing.
I raked my fingers through my hair and then scrubbed my face with my palm. I didn’t like the idea of counselors or therapy, but Halle knew I’d walk through fire for her. I’d always given her anything she’d asked for and I didn’t see any good reason to change that now. “I’ll consider it.”
“Daddy,” I closed my eyes and could see my daughter’s pleading face. “Let me make arrangements for you for one session. If you hate it, you can stop at any time. Please.”
“One session and I’ll take it a session at a time after that. No promises. Make the appointment for me and I’ll show up.” The squeal through the phone pierced my ear and I told her I loved her and hung up the phone before she could talk me into anything else.
Aside from the counseling thing, something else weighed on me. Someone was telling my daughter things about me. I thought through my list of companions and couldn’t think of a single connection. I refused to date young women her age, and I never dated any of her friends. The only person who could have said anything was Katie, and the only thing she’d seen was the episode on the veranda. I wasn’t convinced it was her. Things had been strange long before she moved in.
Mila from the golf course, the sweet thing with the oral fixation was a good six years older than my Halle and well below our class to be friends with her. Not that I’d ever felt we were better than anyone, but I didn’t think Mila had been to any private schools or colleges other than maybe a frat party or two in her day.
Then there were the women in the group; five in all and each with a special hunger and all in the same boat as me where discretion was everything. The only problem I’d had with any of them had been Sylvie, but she was only confused. Discretion meant everything to her considering her wealth and who her father was.
Other than that, I’d had a few one-nighters here and there, all willing and eager, but nothing I was interested in repeating. I couldn’t imagine anyone running their mouth to my daughter other than Katie, but I’d imagined she’d been so embarrassed she’d probably kept it to herself.
I wondered what her reaction had been. Given the length of time she’d watched, even after I stared up at her, she hadn’t been too repulsed by what she saw. I wondered how long she’d watched before that and if seeing me the act had turned her on. I remembered my cock twitching in response and wondered if her pussy had tingled. Too bad she was off-limits. Halle would never forgive me, which is why I made myself behave more often than not.
I’d had several younger women pursue me, but I’d always steered them away with a polite decline. It wasn’t that I couldn’t imagine myself fucking them, there was no problem with that, and since they were all of legal age, there was nothing much deviant about it, but I didn’t need anyone going to my daughter with anything.
The last who’d shown interest had been a girl named Willa who was more than willing with her bag of toys and daddy issues. She’d tried to seduce me with gadgets, but I’d never been much for that. The only tools I needed came attached. She was an interior designer and had started specializing in sex romp rooms. I had bought a few pieces of sex furniture from her catalog as well as some straps and cuffs. I hadn’t seen her in months, but the girl seemed to be level-headed about rejection.
I’d have to be more careful and make sure that Halle didn’t find out about my habits. I’d thought I’d done a pretty good job so far, but maybe she didn’t know anything and I was being paranoid. I’d go to this appointment and hope that she finds a therapist that wasn’t a quack or worse, someone she was dating. The last thing I needed was some asshole analyzing me to get in my daughter’s pants.
The thought that there were men out there like me with twisted fixations who she might fall prey to, had always scared me.
I placed the phone on my bed and scrubbed my face with my hands again. I’d dried enough to slip into some joggers and a clean t-shirt and with any luck I’d get to sleep without any more worry about my daughters concerns for me.
I buried my face into my pillow and reached my hand over to my wife’s side of the bed. I still did it knowing I’d never touch her again, but somehow the gesture made me feel close to her. Before the pain could take me, I took a deep breath, pulled my hand away and thought about Katie being right next door. I wondered if she’d stepped in front of that window since hoping to catch a peek. Somehow the idea of that piqued my interest.
* * *
End of Sneak Peek
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Ever heard of a billionaire fall for his therapist?
I attend all her sessions.
And then… I undress her with my eyes.
If only she could let me use my hands….and mouth…and…..
She is half my age and my daughter’s best friend.
I know it is wrong
And I still want her to call me ‘DADDY.’
After my wife’s death two years ago, I decided to drown myself in my two favorite passions – women and golf
And then my daughter found out about my addiction.
She wanted me to see a therapist.
Katie is gorgeous and has become my latest addiction.
I know she wants me too.
Why else would she give me those bedroom eyes session after session?
I just need to take the first step and help her break those rules.
Because rules are for good girls.
And she is gonna be bad for her Daddy!
Filthy Doctor (Sneak Peek)
PROLOG
Cole ordered the driver to take us to his penthouse, then raised the tinted glass behind the front seat so we could have a little privacy. We sat in the back seat making out like the two horny teenagers we once were.
His tongue hungrily probed my mouth as his warm hand slipped under my blouse and bra to massage my breast and roll my nipples. Little sparks of electricity shot through my body from head to toe, as if I’d touched an electric fence.
I could feel the intense flood gushing between my legs as my hand slid between his thighs and found his thick cock hard and ready, just like the old days. It felt magical beneath my hand, as if touching it had transported me back in time.
I moaned into his mouth when his hand slid down to my crotch. He rubbed the fabric between my legs until the heat was so intense I thought my slacks might catch fire.
“We’re here,” he sighed in my ear as the car rolled to a stop in front of his Manhattan penthouse. It was a
short ride that ended not a moment too soon. “Let’s continue this upstairs.”
“Yes, let’s,” I said, blowing out a long breath and adjusting my blouse as the doorman hurried across the sidewalk to open the car door.
“I have a huge boner,” Cole whispered with a boyish grin that I recognized from years ago. He took off his jacket to drape over his arm to cover his protruding cock. He slid out of the car and held out his free hand to me.
When I got out of the car I “accidentally” brushed his cock with my hand. He jumped and I giggled.
“Let’s go upstairs and I’ll take care of that for you, Dr. Walker,” I said. Without another word, he grabbed my hand and literally dragged me inside the building, across the marble foyer, into the gold-paneled elevator, and into his penthouse suite.
We attacked each other the moment the elevator doors closed.
CHAPTER ONE: Dr. Cole Walker
“You fucking cardiologists… You all think you’re gods or something,” Efram said bitterly, albeit it with a smile, as he stared at me from behind the cup of shitty coffee they served in the hospital cafeteria. Dr. Efram Schoenberg was the top anesthesiologist in the city. That’s why I brought him in for all my complex operations. Patients who died on the operating table rarely paid their bills. It was Efram’s job to keep them breathing while I cut open their chests to repair or replace their hearts. Efram was also one of my best friends and the biggest buster of my balls.
“We don’t think we’re gods,” I said with a smile. I picked up my cup of coffee and held it up in a toast. “Some of us are gods, Efram. And some of us might even be the God. So, watch what you say. I’d hate to waste a good lightning bolt on your ass.”
“Jesus, how do you carry the weight of that ego?’ he asked, rolling his eyes. “It must be a terrible burden.”
“It’s a burden I willingly bear for the good of mankind,” I said with a smile. I tapped my cup to his and settled back in the hard chair to stretch out my legs and let my eyes wander around the room. It was after four in the afternoon, but the Mercy General cafeteria was still bustling with staff and visitors eating the lousy hospital food left over from lunch because it was convenient and relatively cheap. The food was decent if you didn’t mind the abundance of grease and salt the kitchen used to give the food a semblance of flavor. I ate there only if I was desperately hungry. Otherwise, I choked down the coffee after long operations with Efram and that was it. I was Dr. Cole Walker, after all. I ate for free at five-star restaurants, not shitty hospital cafeterias.
Efram and I had just come out of a nine-hour heart surgery and admittedly, I was beat. The patient, a fifty-year-old construction worker with total blockage in all three major arteries, was lucky to be alive. Or perhaps I should say that he was lucky that I was in the hospital when the paramedics brought him into the ER after suffering a massive heart attack. No one expected him to live. No one but me, that is. I cracked his chest and manually massaged his heart as he was wheeled into the OR. I stinted his arteries and Efram kept him breathing until I was done. Now he was resting comfortably in ICU. I expected that he’d make a full recovery. How long he would live after that was totally up to him.
Like I said, in this hospital, I was God.
Nobody died on my watch.
Nobody.
If you asked most surgeons what the most difficult part of their job was they wouldn’t say that it was replacing a patient’s heart or resecting a bowel or reattaching a limb. That stuff a good surgeon could do in his sleep. The most difficult part was standing over a patient for hours at a time as the muscles in your legs and back tied into knots. Most of my peers had back problems after years of hovering over an operating table. I was only thirty-six and in peak physical condition, but today my back was killing me. I needed a nice deep tissue massage, preferably administered by a blonde with big tits and the willingness to finish it off with a happy ending. As if on cue, Monica Craft, one of the scrub nurses I serviced on a regular basis, i.e. fucked whenever the mood struck me, strolled into the cafeteria and headed my way. I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the pink scrub shirt she wore. And if history was any indication, she wasn’t wearing panties either.
“The patient is resting comfortably in recovery,” she said, sliding into the chair to my right. She picked up my coffee cup and took a drink, then made a sour face that wrinkled her cute nose. She smacked her lips and grinned me.
“Really?” Efram said, bouncing a frown between us. “Do I need to leave?”
“Nah, you’re good,” I said, winking at Monica. Efram shook his head and looked away. He knew I fucked Monica on a regular basis and that didn’t bother him. He fucked as many nurses as I did. Most doctors did. What bothered him was her air of familiarity. I might have had a God Complex, but Efram had a Class Complex. In his mind, doctors walked among the clouds while nurses, and everyone else, occupied the ground far below. Nurses were beneath doctors, no pun intended. Doctors should not sit or eat or socialize in public with nurses or hospital staff. It was okay for doctors to fuck as many nurses as they pleased, but it was not okay for a nurse to sit down with a doctor in public and sip from his cup. It didn’t matter that in a few minutes I’d be fucking Monica’s brains out in an empty hospital room or a broom closet.
“It’s okay to fuck them,” Efram would say. “But don’t date them or marry them. And certainly, don’t socialize with them in public. It will only cause trouble.”
“I’ll check on the patient before I leave,” I said with a sigh that signaled that I was ready to get the show on the road. I felt my cock twitch in my scrubs as I watched Monica licking the coffee from her lips. She gazed at me with her big blue eyes and let one eyebrow twitch, which was her signal that it was time to play. She was a cute redhead with big tits and thick nipples, and a bush of red curls that proved that the carpet did indeed match the drapes. She was petite and flexible, like a contortionist, and she loved to create new positions. I could literally pick her up and bend her this way and that, or she would climb up me like a kid on a monkey bar and impale her tight pink pussy on my big cock.
Her favorite position was clamping her fingers around my neck while I held on to her ass and swung her into me like a kid on a swing. She was small, but she somehow managed to take most of my ten inches inside her. Monica was a sexual marvel, but Efram was right. I would fuck her till her eyes bugged out behind closed doors, but that was where our relationship ended. Once we left the hospital, there was nothing between us. Monica understood that and said she was fine just having a good time. Besides, she was engaged to a guy who worked in accounting, Bob something or other. She didn’t want to marry me, she often said. She just liked fucking doctors.
I was glad Monica knew how the game was played. Again, I was Dr. Cole Walker, the world-renowned cardiologist who literally held life in my hands. I was not only successful and rich, I was also six-foot-two and two hundred pounds of lean muscle, thanks to my daily workouts and five-mile runs.
Call me arrogant, but I pride myself on my looks because they remind me of how far I’ve come. I was a tall, skinny, awkward kid with big glasses and bad skin. You wouldn’t recognize me in my high school yearbook. I blossomed at college, I guess you could say that. It was amazing what getting contacts and clearing up your skin can do for your confidence. I started running and working out and went from being invisible at parties to being the life of them. I went from being invisible to most girls to having my pick of them. Some nights I picked more than one. I fucked sorority girls, teaching assistants, cheerleaders, the little sisters of my frat brothers, and a couple of cougar professors, who taught me how to really please a woman. Ah… good times. I fucking loved college.
Now, I was married to my work, but that didn’t stop me from having a very active and very public social life. I had been voted one of New York City’s Most Eligible Bachelors five years in a row by New York Magazine. I dated high-profile models, actresses, heiresses and socialites, though none serious
ly. I was in it for the sex and the show, meaning I loved a tight pussy and I loved to show off.
If I was photographed leaving Nobu with a Victoria’s Secret model or some hot young actress on my arm, it didn’t do anything for my medical career, but it shot my Q-Rating through the roof.
Oh, I should explain what I mean. The Q-Rating is how television networks like World News Network judge how well the audience likes their on-air news talent. The higher the Q-Rating, the more popular the talent. And as I said, my Q-Ratings were through the roof.
What the hell I’m I talking about?
Okay, let me back up.
World News Network was a twenty-four-hour cable news channel headquartered in New York City and beamed around the globe. When the mayor had his heart attack two years ago, I was his cardiologist and the one who spoke at subsequent press conferences, giving the status of his health. Ed Quigley, the head of the news division at World News Network saw me and liked my looks and demeanor. As it happened, WNN was looking for a doctor to come on the air every Friday evening and answer medical questions submitted by viewers in a quick segment called “To Your Health”. Ed asked me to lunch, pitched me the concept, offered me a fat contract, and voila! The next week, and every Friday since, yours truly has been on TV in front of millions of viewers dispensing sound medical advice with a beaming smile. And building the Q-Rating, which could lead to a lucrative network syndication deal like Dr. Oz or Dr. Phil. Would I leave cardiology to host a TV show? No fucking way. I was a doctor first, a TV star second. However, would I be interested in doing both? Fucking A right, I would.
“So, Dr. Walker,” Monica said, giving me a quick sideways glance. She was rubbing her foot up and down the inside of my calf under the table. My cock was already chubbing up. She put her hand on my arm and cooed at me. “Shall we check on that patient?”
“We shall,” I said with a smile. The patient’s file was on the table. I was glad I’d brought it along. I’d need it to cover the bulge in my scrubs. I picked up the file and stuck out my right hand to Efram. “Great job keeping the patient asleep, Dr. Schoenberg.”