Good Time Doctor

by Penny Wylder

  Jason kisses my temple. It’s not until he does that that I realize the backs of my eyes are stinging. “So what you’re saying is you’re dealing with a case of heartbreak as well as that head injury, hmm?” he asks, his voice soft and low beside my cheek.

  I turn to meet his gaze, those deep, dark gray eyes of his that I could get lost in every time, and I find myself smiling again. “Actually, I don’t think so. It’s more like… wounded pride.” I laugh a little, under my breath. “Which, I guess means I definitely got married for the wrong reasons, huh? If I’m not even crushed about it ending.”

  “Probably,” he agrees. “But it sounds like you’re on the right path now, getting out of that situation.” He leans in to kiss me, and a shiver runs from the top of my head all the way down to my toes as our lips meet.

  I lift my arm to wrap around his neck, and savor the way he tastes, warm and just a little salty and sweet, as his lips part and his tongue slides around mine. When we break to catch our breath, I catch him watching me intently, and I smile up at him. “Oh, I’m definitely on the right path now,” I murmur. Then I lean in and kiss him again, harder this time.

  His hands slide down to my waist, holding me gently. He kisses down my jawline to the soft spot below my ear, nipping at the skin there, just hard enough to make me gasp, my head tilting back to grant him access. His lips trace the line of my neck right under my chin, all the way down to my clavicle, where his tongue darts against my skin, tasting me in a way that makes my toes curl. He draws back and smiles at me. “You know, Ms. Jorden, I do believe it’s time for your follow-up examination.”

  My breath catches, just imagining him in the lab coat he was wearing earlier today, in the examination room. My eyes sparkle as I hold his gaze. “Where do you want me, Dr. Robinson?”

  “Everywhere,” he says, and it makes my belly clench against the butterflies exploding inside it. “But let’s try the bed first.” He nods toward it, and I rise, conscious of the way his gaze follows my every movement, tracing over my body like he can’t get enough of watching me.

  It makes me feel scorching hot, and sexy as hell, to know this doctor still can’t keep his hands—or his eyes—off me. I walk toward the bed, making sure to check over my shoulder when I reach it and smiling at him.

  “Lie down,” he says, walking toward me. It makes my pulse race as he does, but I obey and lie down on the bed, not taking my eyes from his as I do. He reaches the bedside and gazes down at me, drinking in every inch of my body. I shiver, feeling exposed already even though I haven’t taken off any clothes. “Now, Ms. Jordan.” His voice has gone deeper, steadier, as he reaches down to slide his hands over my shoulders. “I’m going to examine you… thoroughly.” His hands dig into my shoulder muscles, and a little sigh of pleasure escapes as he starts to knead the muscles there.

  I didn’t realize how tense I’ve been all day, ever since the accident earlier. Even with all the relaxing I’d tried to do, I was still carrying my shoulders practically up around my ears. It’s not until he starts touching me that I realize how tense I am. Now, I relax into his touch, sighing again as his hands shift down one arm at a time, and he massages out tight kinks I didn’t even realize were there.

  “When was the last time you had a massage, Naomi?” His gaze drifts to mine, amused. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt knots like these.” He traces all the way down to my hands, and even massages them, one after the next, pressing on spots that make my fingers curl involuntarily around his.

  Wow. I figured doctors would be good with their hands—and I certainly knew he was experienced with his—but this is next level. “Um…” I furrow my brow, trying to think. In response, he moves his hands to run them up each side of my neck, pressing there, making my face relax again, my brow unfurrowing at his soothing touch. “I… don’t know that I’ve ever had a massage like this one.”

  “Well now, that can’t stand.” His hands slide back down to my shoulders, and then start down my chest. He makes sure to knead gently but firmly the whole time, tracing lines of muscles that feel tight, but which I hadn’t even realized could be tight. His hands reach my breasts, and he gently cups each one, his thumbs pressed against my nipples as his fingers work around each breast, making me sigh again, my eyes fluttering shut as I sink into the pleasure of the sensation. “I’m going to have to prescribe you at least one of these massages a week,” he murmurs, and I can hear rather than see the grin in his voice.

  “At least?” I ask, arching a brow, and peeking out from under my eyelashes at him.

  His grin widens. “Preferably more often. One every night would be ideal, if you can find a doctor to perform them. Luckily, you have a ready and willing one right here…” He tightens his press against my nipple then, just a little, firmly enough to make me moan softly this time, squirming against the bed, resisting the urge to arch my back up into his hands. The pleasure builds as he strokes my nipples, but then, all at once, he shifts his hands away, and I sink back down against the bed, biting the inside of my lip, frustrated but knowing his teasing will only grow worse if I let the frustration show.

  I remember how he made me beg last time, and it sends another shiver through me. I can already feel myself starting to get wet at the thought—not to mention at his touch—and I clench my thighs together a little tighter, reflexively.

  His hands have reached my waist now, and the way he’s kneading and pressing at the sides of my belly make it flutter even worse now. “You know, normally most patients find a massage relaxing,” Jason points out, eying me. “But you, my dear, seem to be growing more… excited, instead, the longer I touch you.” One of his hands slides over the smooth plane of my stomach slowly, down, down, tracing over the silky fabric of my nightgown, which only adds an extra layer of pleasure to how good his warm, strong hands feel against my skin. His hand reaches my mound, slips lower, digging between my thighs so his fingers can grip my pussy, just tightly enough to make me gasp. “What do you have to say for yourself, Ms. Jordan?” He tilts his head, eyes alight with amusement as his fingers stroke the outside of my pussy lips lightly, back and forth, just enough to elicit little pants of anticipation from me.

  “I… must admit, Doctor.” My eyes flash back to his, also bright, I’m sure, with heat. I want him. So fucking badly right now. “The way you’re touching me right now has been giving me… impure thoughts.”

  “That much I gathered.” His hand slides back and forth against my crotch, just a little, an inch at a time. But it’s enough to make me buck up against him, my hips moving of their own accord. “So tell me. What do you think is the treatment for such thoughts, Ms. Jordan?”

  I lick my lips, suddenly nervous that if I say the wrong thing, he’ll stop touching me and go back to teasing. And god, I don’t ever want him to stop touching me. “I’m… not sure. You’re the doctor, after all.” My eyes flash. “What do you want to do to me?”

  “Mm. I want to help you relax. But I fear that will be impossible, what with how excited you’ve become. So we’ll probably need to do something about that.” With that, he uses his other hand, the one still hovering around my waist, massaging my side, to hitch up my nightgown. His other hand, the one cupped around my pussy, stills for a second as he takes in the lacy little thong I’ve worn. His smile widens in appreciation. “You know, back in the old days…” He slips his hand underneath the thong.

  I gasp a little at the contact of his bare skin against mine. His hand feels warm and smooth and strong, especially as his fingers inch down over my freshly shaved mound. They part around my clit, without quite touching it, but even just the pressure of him touching near it is enough to make my heart start to pound, and my nerve endings tingle in anticipation.

  “Doctors used to think that women’s orgasms could cure their hysteria.” He grins at me. “Well, they also used to think hysteria was a thing at all, which is ridiculous, but…” He slides a finger between my lower lips, and strokes slowly back and forth along my slit, coa
ting his finger in my juices. I’m already soaking wet. He grins the moment he feels it, and swirls his finger against my entrance lightly, teasing, before he goes back to stroking the slit instead, back and forth, slow enough to drive me wild. “I think there might be something to the idea that you should give a woman as many orgasms as possible,” he says, leaning down toward me.

  I tilt my face toward his, my eyelids fluttering half closed. “Do… you?” I manage a faint, distracted smile, especially once he slides a single finger into me, smoothly but firmly, all at once, burying his finger up to the knuckle. I gasp and buck up toward him. His other hand, still at my waist, tightens around my hips, to hold me firm against the mattress.

  “We can always try an experiment now, Ms. Jordan.” His eyes sparkle with amusement. He’s enjoying himself, this sexy roleplay of his.

  So am I.

  “What experiment did you… have in mind?” I manage to ask, my breath only hitching once, as he curls his finger inside of me and starts to inch it down along my inner walls, making sure to press hard enough for me to feel his finger glide across my G-spot. I shiver, the sensation shooting all the way down to my toes, and fight the urge to arch up into his hand once again.

  “I’m going to see how many times I can make you come,” he says, leaning in to catch my earlobe between his teeth, his tongue toying with my earring gently. He nips the sensitive skin there lightly, before he draws back, just far enough so his breath is hot against my throat when he adds, “As long as you’re all right with this procedure, of course, Ms. Jordan.”

  “God yes,” I breathe, and he chuckles, his breath searing hot against my skin, before he dips his mouth to mine. We kiss, his tongue parting my lips to claim my mouth, hot and heavy. I surrender, let him have complete control over every inch of my body. His free hand slides back up, underneath my nightgown this time, to cup my breasts, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, slowly making it harden, as his finger continues to stroke in and out of me in a slow, steady rhythm.

  Without warning, he adds a second finger, and I arch up into him, gasping, my whole body trembling with the sensation. “Have I mentioned yet today that you’re perfect, Naomi?” he murmurs, kissing me again, softer this time. My pussy tightens around his fingers as he strokes with both of them now, the tips still gently curved upward to drag along my inner front wall, right over my G-spot, with each stroke.

  “Mm… you haven’t mentioned that yet,” I reply, grinning.

  “Shame on me,” he replies. “I ought to tell you at least half a dozen times a day.” The pressure starts to build, deep behind my navel. My hips buck up against him, but he doesn’t stop me this time. He just keeps stroking me, in and out, not any faster or harder with time. Keeping me right there, driving me wild.

  My mouth falls open, and I breathe harder, my whole body starting to tremble as I creep toward the peak of my pleasure.

  Then, with a grin that tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing, he thrusts a third finger inside my tight pussy. I cry out this time, and he starts to finger me faster, driving his fingers deep into me with each thrust. His other hand tightens around my breast. “Come for me, Naomi,” he murmurs, and that’s all he needs to say, just that one simple request, because I’m already right there on the edge.

  I cry out a second time, my head falling back against the mattress, my hair wild around my face, as the orgasm sweeps through me. My pussy tightens around his fingers, convulsing. But he doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop. He just keeps stroking those fingers in and out of me, dragging me right back into the rhythm.

  “That’s it, you naughty girl.” He’s staring at me, eyes hot with lust. I can see the bulge in his pants from here, and without thinking, I reach out to grab his crotch with one hand, drawing him closer to the bed. He makes a soft little groaning sound as I cup him, his hips bucking against me. But I can’t concentrate, because his fingers are still buried in me, stroking me, right over that sweet spot every time.

  Then he gently presses his thumb down against my clit, and I cry his name as a second orgasm sweeps through me, leaving me trembling. He draws his fingers out of me then, and I think he’s finished. I’m still breathing hard, my pulse pounding in my throat, eager to undo his jeans and touch his cock again.

  But then he climbs onto the bed between my legs and spreads them. “That was only two,” he tells me, grinning. “I want to get at least three out of you tonight.” Then he dips his head down, and soon his mouth is pressed against my pussy. He doesn’t tease me this time. He doesn’t need to. His tongue feels white hot against me as he laps at my pussy, sliding up and down my slit, coating his tongue in my juices, groaning with pleasure as he tastes me. Then he starts to lick and suck at my clit. Slowly, intermittently licking and sucking at first, before he settles in to start dragging his tongue along my clit, over and over, flattened like a blade and pressing hard enough that every nerve ending in my body seems to flare at once.

  “Oh god, yes,” I gasp, and buck up against his face, reaching down to bury both of my hands in his hair. He slides his hands beneath me to grip my ass, and pulls my hips up against him, spreading my legs wider to give himself better access as he does.

  “Right there, fuck, fuck…” I don’t even hear what I’m saying, my mouth running without permission from my brain. I’m too far gone in the pleasure, calling out his name, as his tongue lashes me again and again until I can’t take it any longer.

  I scream with pleasure as the third orgasm rocks through me, leaving every nerve ending tingling, making it hard to catch my breath. I fall back against the sheets with a sigh.

  “Hmm. Had enough?” Jason arches an eyebrow at me, gazing up at me along the length of my body.

  “Of you?” I look down at him, shivering at the sight of his sexy grin, the way his face looks between my thighs. “Hell no.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” He smirks and then he kisses his way up my body, his mouth tracing my hips, then my belly, his tongue dipping into my navel, before he licks and gently bites his way up over my stomach to my breasts. He tongues each nipple, one at a time, circling them with his tongue to get them nice and hard before he kisses his way farther up, to my collarbone, my neck, my jawline, and then finally my mouth.

  He kisses me hard and deep, and I can taste myself on his lips. It makes me hot all over again. I wrap both arms around his neck and drag him down against me, until his whole body is flush with mine. Although there’s still the annoying problem of his clothing in our way.

  We break the kiss, and he tilts his head, gazing down at me as he smooths my hair back from my forehead. “How does the patient feel now?” he asks, with a grin. “I’m worried we might have overexerted you. Turns out you get pretty hysterical when you come after all…”

  I free a hand to swat at his side lightly. “Your fault,” I point out. “Some doctor you are, overexciting your patient… again and again and again.”

  “If I recall correctly, she did request the treatment. And begged me not to stop it, in fact.”

  “Well…. Perhaps you’ll just have to try it again.” My eyes flash as they meet his. “After all, you did say the treatment for hysteria was… what, more orgasms?”

  He laughs and bends to kiss the edge of my jawline. “Hmm, let’s try taking it easy for the rest of the night, and see about that second treatment in the morning, huh? I wouldn’t want to tax your nerves too much.” He says it lightly, but I can tell from the slight hint of concern in his gaze as he studies me again, that he really is worried about me.

  And then I remember—because I’d pretty much forgotten everything including my own name when he was making me come over and over—that I was in a car accident today. I press my lips together, sighing. “Mm, I guess that would be smart, huh?”

  “I think so.” He rolls off of me and pulls me against his side. “But don’t worry, Naomi.” He kisses my shoulder, as I curl up in front of him like the little spoon, feeling safe and cocooned with his
arms around me. “Tomorrow, I promise we’ll test out this theory again.” With that, he tugs the covers up and over us, and I turn to kiss him softly, just once, before I snuggle against his side and drift into sleep.

  True to his word, we do retest the theory in the morning. Or rather, I wake up feeling his hard morning wood, and grind my hips back against him until he wakes, too, and spins me around underneath him, sliding on top of me as he licks his way back down my body.

  He gets me off just once this time, before I beg him to fuck me. Then he slides back up my body and parts my legs, reaching for a condom on the bedside table first. I wrap them around his waist as he plunges into me, and god, if this is what I got as medical treatment every time I was in a car accident, I would crash into a lot more poles. He doesn’t finish until he makes me come first, at least twice again this time. I lose track of everything, of time and any other worries lingering in the back of my mind. All I can think about is him, his body, his mouth on mine, his thick cock buried deep inside me, filling me with every stroke.

  When we finish, he holds me again, cuddling me into his chest until my alarm goes off to wake up for the morning, and we both reluctantly roll out of bed to face the day.

  Though not before we take a long, hot shower together. A shower in which he soaps me up and gets me dirty all over again, pinning me against the wall to finger me until I scream so loudly I’m worried my neighbor in the next room over might hear, what with the acoustics in this bathroom.

  But it’s as we’re dressing to face the world once more that reality finally floods back in. I catch myself watching him dress, eying his washboard abs and the chiseled chest I spent all night curled against, sleeping more deeply than I have maybe in my entire life, because I felt so safe in his arms.

  Shit, Naomi, I realize. I actually like this guy. I really like this guy.

  This guy who I met in a bathroom stall—but who turned out to be my doctor, and not an escort like I thought. Except, all I can think about now is my conversation with Monica yesterday. Be careful, she warned me. Don’t jump in too quickly again. Not like you did last time.