Good Time Doctor

by Penny Wylder

  His smile widens. “Say it, Naomi. Ask me for it.”

  “Please put your cock inside me. Fuck me raw, Jason.”

  He slides the tip of his cock back up my thigh to part my lips, inching back and forth along my slit, just the tip of his cock inside me now. Already I can feel my juices coating his tip. Damn, I am so fucking wet. He always does this to me. Leaves me soaking wet, so damn eager for him. My knees tremble, and it’s all I can do to grip the sink tightly enough to keep myself upright and standing.

  He arches his hips forward, sliding his cock up to my entrance, the tip poised right at the edge. “Ask me again, Naomi.”

  “Please, fuck me,” I repeat.

  “Louder,” he says, grinning.

  My heart skips a beat. I know there could be people outside the bathroom who might hear us. They’d know we’re locked in here, and exactly what we’re doing inside. But he’s right. Somehow, the thought of that, of someone overhearing, does make it hotter. “Fuck me, Jason, please fuck me, right here.” I’m still speaking when he thrusts his hips forward, driving his cock into me, my lips spreading wide to take him in. My voice turns to a soft cry, as he grips my hips tightly in his fists and uses them to hold himself steady as he rocks back, pitches forward again, a few times, until his cock is buried deep inside me, stretching my walls around him.

  “God you feel fucking amazing,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

  “So do you,” I moan, reaching back with one hand to grip his ass tightly, trying to pull him farther forward, deeper into me. I moan again as he starts to withdraw, already missing that sensation, longing to feel it again, how stuffed and full I am when he’s inside me. I don’t have to wait long. He thrusts back into me, then pulls out again, thrusts in once more. Slowly, he starts to build up a rhythm.

  I give as good as I get, arching my back to thrust my hips back into his, my hands tight around the sink, my moans getting louder, faster, as I near a peak. He starts to breathe harder, gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks with his fingers as he drives into me again and again.

  “Fuck, Naomi,” he groans, through gritted teeth. “Come for me, dirty girl, come for me.”

  “I’m so close,” I gasp, arching my back, driving back against him, trying to obey. He angles his cock down inside me, and I moan at the shift, the way it adds pressure inside me. It doesn’t take long before I’m right at the edge, trembling. “Fuck, fuck, I’m going to come,” I hear myself practically shouting this time, but I don’t care. I cry out with sheer pleasure as the orgasm hits, my whole body shaking.

  Jason just keeps fucking me, hard and fast, his body tensing. I know him well enough by now to sense the tremble in his hips, the jump of his cock inside me. I clench my pussy hard around him and I’m rewarded when he groans, low and harsh against my ear, the sound almost a growl, as he comes inside me. There’s a warm rush as his cum coats the inside of my pussy, and another rush as he pulls out of me, and our mingled juices drip down my leg.

  He spins me in his arms, pulls me against him to kiss me, slow and deep, then slides his mouth down the side of my neck, kissing me everywhere he can reach, his arms tight around me, his hands roaming everywhere. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, catching one another’s eyes with laughter in our gazes.

  Just then, we hear the knock at the door, and we both freeze.

  “Just to let you know, these walls are not completely sound-proof,” comes a voice I recognize. The concierge. We exchange embarrassed grins, my cheeks flushed bright red, and I let out a little huff of laughter.

  “Sorry,” I blurt, at the same moment that Jason says, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  So much for subtle. My whole face flames now. He smirks at me, as I speedily get dressed. When we open the door, I speed past the concierge, my head down, face burning, as I beeline for the elevator and press the call button.

  But when I turn around to see if Jason is following me, I notice the concierge smiling good-naturedly, watching us with a knowing grin, even as Jason tucks a hefty tip into his palm. We barely manage to wait until the elevator doors slide shut behind us, before we burst into laughter, and Jason sweeps me into his arms, lifting me off my feet to spin me around.

  “Next time,” he promises with a kiss on the top of my head as he deposits me back on my feet. “We’re going to have to get you a gag.”

  I snort and arch an eyebrow at the same moment. “I’m sorry. Next time?” I shake my head, grinning. But I can’t deny the fission of pleasure that shoots through me, all the way down to my toes that curl in my shoes, thinking about it. Next time. I like the way he said that, so easy, so casual. We aren’t rushing into anything—I know Monica is right, and that I need to be careful about diving into anything serious too soon too fast this time. But it’s nice to have that easy reassurance. There will be a next time. And, hopefully, a time after that, and another one after that. As for the rest of it? Well, we’ll figure it out as we go.

  Now that we’ve cleared Jason’s and his sister’s names, and now that I know the full truth behind him and how this whole mess began, well… Now we’ve got all the time in the world.

  16

  JASON

  One Year Later

  I hide the flowers behind my back as I take the steps two at a time. Up to the little brownstone house that she moved into just a few weeks after we started dating, when she finally decided she was sick of staying cramped in that little hotel room—although, not going to lie, we made a lot of good memories in that hotel room.

  And in that hotel lobby bathroom. And in the hotel pool, which we snuck into late at night. And on the roof, which a security guard left unlocked one night… And that’s not even mentioning the hotel bar, where we tucked ourselves into a dark, cozy little corner with a long tablecloth concealing it, and I fingered her until she begged me to let her come. I wound up having to break a wine glass to cover up the sound of her cry, and even then, to judge by the smirks the bartender shot our way, I’m not entirely sure nobody noticed.

  When we finally sat down to talk, pretty soon after all the bullshit went down with Mrs. Randall—after we realized this was more than just a hookup, and both of us felt there was a lot more between us than just a good time—we’ve been moving slow. No rushing into anything headlong. Naomi asked me if I was all right with that, and of course I understood why. After her last relationship, Naomi got burned. She’s smart to want to take things slower this time around and see how things develop naturally.

  That’s just how it’s felt, this whole time. Completely natural. From the moment we met, I knew there was something different about Naomi, something I didn’t want to lose hold of. Apparently, despite her misgivings about the timing, us meeting right after her divorce, not to mention the circumstances of our meeting, which were weird enough that they would have given anyone a long pause… Naomi saw something unique here with me, too. And I’ve spent every day in the last year since we met trying to prove to her that she’s right. This is unique, special. Worth fighting for.

  Which is why I spent most of the morning sneaking into the back of the flower shop with Monica, Naomi’s best friend, who helped me pick out the perfect bouquet for her. Monica knows every single flower Naomi loves, even the expensive, rare ones that the shop is hardly ever able to keep in stock for long. She set aside a special pile for me, and then Monica even helped me make up the bouquet for Naomi myself—with a little help from Becca, of course.

  A pile of Chinese takeout food from our favorite spot, and some of Naomi’s favorite cupcakes for dessert round out the whole effect. Now, it’s just time to sneak in and set things up before she gets home from work. Monica promised she’d stall Naomi at the shop and keep her as late as she possibly can, which definitely helps.

  It also helps that a couple of months ago, Naomi gave me a copy of her keys. “It seems silly to have to coordinate every time you want to come over,” she said, and I couldn’t agree more. After all, I’d already given
her a set to my apartment, a tiny little space near the hospital, months earlier. But my apartment wasn’t our favorite spot. It was a real bachelor pad, honestly—when I bought it, I hadn’t envisioned meeting someone like Naomi.

  Then again, how could I possibly have prepared myself for meeting her? I never really imagined I would meet a girl like this, who I can’t keep out of my thoughts, who I want nothing more than to spoil and tease for the rest of my life. Even now, a year after we started dating, she still occupies my every fantasy—plenty of which we’ve had the chance to act out by now, since she has almost as filthy a mind as I do.

  But it’s more than just our chemistry or the smoking hot sex. It’s also the way we can stay up all night talking about nothing and everything all at once. Sharing our deepest fears and our biggest dreams for the future. She tells me all about her crappy family, and I tell her about mine—well, all of them except Angel, who I obviously adore. Naomi does too. The two of them get along great, and wind up ganging up against me more often than not these days. Somehow, I don’t mind.

  They’re my two soft spots in life.

  Naomi and I also talk about the future. Not in specific terms, not yet. It’s early days for that yet, and as much as I want to leap straight in with her, to go all in right off the bat, I respect her decision to take things slower. But we’ve daydreamed about the kind of house we eventually want—a big house in the countryside with a white picket fence, a couple of dogs, more than a couple of kids. The whole nine yards. I’d always thought, abstractly, that I’d want kids someday, but I’d never pictured a whole life with anybody before. Not until I met Naomi. Because before I met her, I couldn’t imagine a future like this, a future filled with everything I could ever ask for.

  I slide my key into her door now and knock softly, listening for any signs of life inside. So far, the coast seems clear. I turn the knob and push my way inside, calling out as I do. “Naomi?” Just in case something went wrong with the plan, in case Monica wasn’t able to stall her for long enough.

  But from the empty silence within, it seems like the coast is clear. So I get to work quickly, setting everything up. First, I lay out the Chinese food, a reminder of that first “date” we had together, if you can call it a real date. I’ve taken her on plenty since then, out to dinners at fancy restaurants in town and hiking in the countryside, boating in the pond downtown in summer. We even went on a ski trip this winter, and out to the beach with some friends for New Year’s Eve. But this first date is what I always remember when I think about how we first began. It was so simple, and yet, I had one of the best nights of my life cuddling on the couch with this beautiful girl, getting to know her, picking her brain, finding out who she was, a few jokes and samples of Chinese food at a time.

  With the food laid out, I start on the flowers. I set up the main bouquet in the center of the table—lilacs, lilies, pure white roses and gardenias, all of her favorites, as Monica assured me, along with a few white orchids mixed in for exotic flavor. It looks beautiful. I add the card I wrote beside it, just a heartfelt expression of everything I feel for her.

  Then I sneak upstairs to add the finishing touches. A new lacy set of white lingerie I bought her, along with a pair of sexy dice, for playing with later. And, of course, when I return to the kitchen, I have to line up our Netflix queue to her favorite cheesy reality show. Our favorite cheesy reality show, honestly.

  I just finish doing that when the key turns in the front door, and Naomi crosses the threshold. I meet her in the doorway before she even steps foot inside, and clasp my hands over her eyes. “No peeking yet.”

  She laughs softly, a breathy sound that even now, a year later, I can’t get enough of. “Am I being robbed?” she jokes, one hand on her hip. She holds out a bag at her side. “Can I at least set my stuff down?”

  “Nope.” I pluck it from her fingers to set it aside.

  “Now it definitely seems like I’m being robbed,” she responds, snickering.

  “I’m just relieving you of some burdens, like a good boyfriend.”

  She laughs louder, though she follows as I lead her toward the kitchen. “I see. So you’re going to start taking over my chores for the day, is that it?”

  “If you’d like me to.” I lean down to kiss her cheek. “Today is all about what you want, Naomi.” With that, I let my hands drop. She gasps a little, as she sees the flowers and the Chinese food. “Happy anniversary,” I whisper, as she spins around to face me, her face lighting up with a huge grin that I’d give anything to wake up to every single day. I catch her as she jumps toward me, and claim her mouth in a long, slow, searing kiss. When we break apart, my arms are tight around her waist, and I can already feel the stirring in my groin, as all the heat in my body floods south, the way it always does whenever I’m touching her.

  “I love you, Naomi,” I murmur against her lips. We said it for the first time six months in, even though I’d longed to say it from the very first day I woke up with her cradled in my arms, shifting against me that way she does in her sleep, her body sliding against mine until I was hard all over again just holding her.

  She smiles against my mouth. “I love you, Jason.” When she kisses me again, it’s softer this time. Sweeter. Then we pull apart, and she reaches out for the bags I took from her. “I got you something, too.”

  “You didn’t have to.” I grin at her. “You’re enough for me, Naomi.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Well, presents are still nice too, silly.” As if to emphasize the point, as she takes her bags and sets them on the counter to root around for whatever it is, she pauses to take a deep breath of the flowers I set out. “Mm. My favorites.”

  “I know.” I grin.

  She smirks at me. “You pay a little too much attention sometimes, you know that?” She takes whatever her gift is out of her bag and holds it behind her back. “Okay, eyes closed.”

  I obey.

  I feel her cup my hands gently, and place something in my upturned palms. It feels lightweight, smooth, a little damp. A flower? I peek one eye open, but she swats my shoulder.

  “No peeking yet.” She clears her throat. “I have to explain the rules, first.”

  I arch one eyebrow, eyes still tightly shut. “There are rules to my gift? Sounds exciting already.”

  “No sarcasm either,” she replies, though I can hear the smile in her voice. “What I got you is a question. But you don’t have to answer it right away, okay? You can take a while, think about it. We’re going slow, remember?”

  “Trust me, I remember.” I grin. “Can I look now?”

  Her voice moves a little further away, almost like she’s too nervous to stand near me and watch this. “Okay, go for it,” she says.

  I open my eyes. In my hands is a single white flower. A lily of the valley, I realize. I’m starting to recognize the types from her shop. Curled around its stem is a single slip of paper. I unroll it slowly, noticing my name written across the back in Naomi’s careful script—nothing like my messy doctor’s scrawl. Some things are a stereotype for a reason.

  I turn the note over, and a smile starts to spread across my face, right away.

  “Like I said,” she butts in, clearly still nervous. “You don’t have to answer right away…”

  “Yes, Naomi,” I tell her. I set the piece of paper on the counter top between us, where her words will be visible to us both. For a good time, move in with me? it says.

  We’ve brought the subject up before. But I respected her pace. I didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for. Now, though…

  “You have to be sure,” she says again, but I’m already crossing the kitchen to her, scooping her back into my arms, and shaking my head at the same time.

  “Of course I’m sure,” I tell her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Grinning, I kiss her again, harder this time. And as she curls her legs around me and I prop her ass onto the kitchen counter top, pulling her body closer to mine, I realize I have never been surer of anyt
hing in my life.

  She slides her hands between me, eager as ever, and slips them beneath the waistband of my jeans. “Happy to see me, I take it,” Naomi says with a grin in her tone.

  “Always,” I reassure her in a whisper, even as I arch up into her palms, savoring the touch of her soft hands on my thick cock, already hard, but growing even harder at her deft touch. She wraps both hands around me, starts to stroke my length, and I reach up to brush her hair back from her shoulder, leaning in to kiss the soft skin there, at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, savoring the way she shivers at my touch.

  God, could she be any more perfect? As if she’s reading my mind, the moment I think that, she slides off the counter in front of me and reaches for the belt of my jeans.

  “I didn’t finish giving you your present,” she says. She unhooks the sweater she has looped around her waist and tosses it at her feet, onto the cool tile of the kitchen floor. Then, before I can say another word, she kneels in front of me, and at the same time, finishes unzipping my jeans. She tugs them down slowly, until they’re past my knees and they drop to the floor. I step out of them, standing there in my boxers before her, but as she reaches for me again, I catch her hands, and draw them up over her head, to wrap my hands around each wrist.

  Then I arch an eyebrow at her, smiling. “Let’s try it with your mouth instead,” I say, and she grins up at me, always one to rise to a challenge.

  With her hands still caught in mine, she leans in to bite the fabric of my boxers and tug them lightly down. It takes her a couple of tries, but she eventually manages to draw them down far enough that my cock springs free. Then it just takes a nudge from her chin, and they slide off. As for her, her mouth is already back to work, as she licks her way along my inner thighs.

  “God, I love that filthy mouth of yours,” I murmur, as I spread my legs a little to grant her easier access.

  Her tongue darts between my thighs and along my balls, before she tilts her head to suck my balls into her mouth, her tongue toying with them as she sucks. A groan escapes the back of my throat, but I can’t take my eyes off of her. Watching as she leans back to trail her tongue up one side of my cock and then the next, tracing every inch of my thick, veined shaft with the pointed tip of her tongue. She feels fucking incredible, soft and hot at the same time. When she draws her tongue back to blow a quick breath of air over the cool spots where she just licked. It makes my nerve endings tense, and I curse softly under my breath, still watching her, loving the way she cocks her head to one side to meet my gaze as she goes back to licking me.