Doctor Clause (Doctors of Eastport General)

Chapter Eleven

Stephen

Not a single word. He never heard hide nor hair from her for the entire day and he’d been waiting so patiently.

Maybe the deal was off, if that was possible at this point. He’d already watched quite the show. But he hadn’t touched her, yet. The part of him twitching in his pants wasn’t content with leaving things like that. He wanted her. There was no doubt about it. What started out as a joke was now the very fantasy he’d been deep down inside hoping for.

Still, there were so many morally grey areas involved in this relationship.

He paused briefly at the hotel’s main entrance before heading in.

Was this a relationship? If not, what was it? How long would it continue? How far would they go? After the photos were taken, was she going to dump him?

One foot tapped on the tiled floor. A prickly sensation ran up his spine. What if she was there? His heart hammered in his chest. What if she wasn’t?

There was only one way to find out.

Ding.

The elevator ride was longer than he remembered it being. Anticipation flip-flopped between a sense of urgency and one of pure dread. Not knowing was slowly eating away at him. The moment the ride was finished, there was a mad dash to the suite, stopping only for a moment to catch his breath before entering.

“You’re here,” he said, cracking a smile.

“I am,” she replied, standing in the same spot from the previous evening, this time wearing one of the lacy outfits he’d left on the coffee table. “I assumed this was for me.”

“You assumed correctly,” he said. “Where were you today?”

“I had some errands to run,” she replied. “And my car broke down. Things became unhinged a bit after that.”

“You should have called,” he said, pulling off his tie. “I might have been able to help.”

“I don’t have your number.” A slight grin formed in the corners of her lips. “I didn’t want to use the hospital line. That’s for your work.”

“I am allowed personal calls too,” he argued. “Especially emergency ones.” What was done, was done. There was no point in pushing the idea of asking for help after the fact. Hopefully, next time, if there was one, she would. “That looks lovely on you.”

“I’ve never worn anything like this before,” she said, shifting weight between her legs. “I never thought about lingerie.”

“And?” The buttons on his shirt were already undone, the front open. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” she admitted, her nipples stiffening under the material, almost threatening to poke through. “I’m starting to realize the value of spending a bit of money on a few pretty things like this. How much do I owe you?”

He waved her off. “It’s a gift. They all are.”

“But why?”

“It’s all part of setting the stage,” he explained. “A sexual experience is heightened by knowing what we want and making it happen. Part of that is our choice in outfits. Think of how you want to feel... how you want your partner to feel... what would make achieving those desires easiest.”

“That’s all?” she asked.

“Seeing you like this benefits me, as well,” he said, a sly smile forming in the corners of his lips. “I can instantly spot how that outfit makes you feel. Erogenous zones can become quite sensitive, just grazing one of those areas can be stimulating. The tightness of lace against your nipples is turning you on, without me doing a thing.”

“Ah!” she groaned. “But they want more. They want your touch.”

He moved closer, hands lightly caressing her waist, bottom, back. Teasing, but not fulfilling her request.

“Please!” she begged. “Please, show me everything. I want you to teach me.”

“Teach,” he echoed. That in itself was a fantasy. To have an attractive woman asking him to show her what pleasure was all about was a dream come true. From that moment forward, there was no holding back.

He swiftly moved to face her, breath matching breath, heartbeat matching heartbeat. Memories of his first kiss flooded back with the taste of her candy-floss-flavoured lip gloss. He was a teen again, but this time with experience under his belt. This wasn’t a sloppy kiss, wet yes, but messy no. It was a well-crafted sensual experience—lesson number one—show don’t tell.

The tip of his tongue gently stroked her lips, before pushing its way inside to tickle the roof of her mouth.

Lesson number two was in tongue play. The two intertwined, sharing a dance similar to a musicless version of the tango. When the final dip was over, it was time for a bit of sucking and a light nibble or two.

“Mmm,” she moaned, breathless from their kisses. “Please,” she begged again. “Show me more.”

There was no refusing such a passionate request. Still, at the back of his mind, the dreaded shoot awaited.

Leeona was living up to all his expectations, there was no way of reneging on the deal after the fact. The only problem was, a calendar, albeit only useful for one year, was forever. If nothing was done, their play dates were coming to an end.