The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood, #1)

by Nikki Sloane

“I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

“Do you want to stop?” His voice was strained with need. “Because I want something I shouldn’t.” Our foreheads pressed together. “It’s all I want whenever you’re around.”

I’d always done the right thing. I’d been the selfless one in the relationship with Preston. For once, I was going to do what I wanted, and what I wanted was Greg.

“Cassidy.” He whispered it at the base of my neck. “I want to feel you all around me, even if it’s just for a few seconds. Is that okay?”

He took the heat of his body away as he straightened, leaned over to the side, and tugged open a drawer on the nightstand. Were his hands shaking? No, I had to have imagined it. He dealt with life and death situations every day on his operating table and had a steady hand there. There was no way fooling around with me could affect him like that.

“Have you thought about this?” I asked abruptly. No idea where the question came from. He slowed. His expression clouded with hesitation, or maybe shame, and then disappeared. “All the time.” His measured gaze worked along the length of my bare body, lingering over my nakedness. I felt flushed and breathless. “Jesus, Cassidy,” he continued. “After that day I saw you and Preston on the lounge chair . . . I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Tell me,” he pleaded. “Tell me what you thought about.”

kissed.” A second finger joined the first and I moaned, clenching fistfuls of my hair. “Oh, God, every night.” His sigh was heavy. “Did you touch yourself?” “Yes.” I moved my hips to match his lazy tempo. His expression was indescribable. If I’d had to label it, I’d have said he looked fucking thrilled. “Did you get off thinking about me?”

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he whispered, yet it sounded like he was thinking out loud. Saying it more to himself than to me. “No fucking clue how much I want this, even when I shouldn’t.” His fingers pumped deeper and faster. “But you want it too?” “Yes.”

“I’m not supposed to,” he murmured, delivering a brutal kiss. “Just for a second. Just so I know what it would feel like with you.”

“Fuck,” he uttered so quietly, it was a ghost of a word. His slow push kept going. Deeper, wider, harder. I whimpered as it felt even better and more uncomfortable. I’d only been with one other person before, and even though Greg had done his best to prepare me, it still was a tight fit. I’d never felt so full.

He pulled out completely, and panic swept me away like a rogue wave. “Again,” I gasped. The single word wracked his body with a visible shudder. He repeated my command, tinged with hope. “Again?” “Oh, shit, Greg,” I whined. “Again.”

“Again.” He grunted like I was killing him, but he loved it. “I shouldn’t.” It was a hollow statement, because he pushed inside me, and quicker this time too. “We shouldn’t.” His uneven breath fell in the crook of my neck as his body continued to move. “Doing this is wrong—” I grasped his shoulders, like I could keep him right there. “It feels too good to be wrong.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he uttered between hurried breaths. His gaze wandered appreciatively over my breasts and moved up to settle on my lips. “You’re so fucking young and gorgeous.”

And as his pace increased, so did the feeling of another orgasm. Was it possible? I’d never come from sex before, but Greg was obviously experienced. He’d mastered my body more in one short afternoon than Preston had done in three years.

He shifted so he was standing upright, locked a hand on each of my hips, and drove into me. The new angle threatened to make my eyes roll back in my head, and I gasped with satisfaction. His lips turned up at the corner in an impish smile, and I could read the question reflected in his eyes. “That’s the spot, huh?”

Moans drifted from me, too loud to contain, and the smile on his face faded somewhat. I was loud. Too loud. If someone decided to come up from the basement, they might hear us. He slowed his tempo, but I was greedy and frantic. “I can be quiet,” I said, “but, please don’t stop.” He looked conflicted. “I lov...

“You want to know the first time I thought about you like this?” he asked quietly. His dick plunged and retreated endlessly, hitting a spot that made the rest of the world fade away. “When he took you to prom. The green dress you wore . . . You looked ten years older. After you left, I thought about all sorts of things. Bad things.” Pressure was building, bubbling under a lid, and dangerously close to release. I wanted to ask him about these thoughts, but his hand was over my lips, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find my voice, either. My expression must have made it clear, because he kept going. “I was jealous of him.” Greg’s eyes were hesitant. This was something he was nervous to reveal. “I was so fucking jealous. I knew after the dance was over, he was the one who got to kiss you. Touch you. Put his hands up your skirt and find out if you were wearing anything underneath it or not.” Whoa. My moan bled through his fingers, and my head spun with even more lust. “Were you?” His tone was playful and seductive. I nodded underneath his hand. I’d worn a pair of black panties that were silk in the front and delicate lace in the back. He strived to match the tone, but it faltered a little. He both did and didn’t want to know. “Did he fuck you in that dress?” I slowly shook my head, keeping my eyes glued to his. Preston and I had barely messed around that night. We’d gone to an afterparty at Colin’s house, and Preston had so much to drink, he couldn’t keep it up later when I at...

“I love it,” he murmured. “Seeing this and feeling you wrapped around me. Whatever happens, you were worth it.”

“This is weird, right?” I whispered. Cuddling. But I needed it. “If it is, I don’t care.” He used a fingertip to trace my hairline, pushing a lock of hair back from my flushed face, giving me a serious look. “It’s what I want to do.”

“Stay,” he said. A sliver of panic ran through me. “Overnight?” Because there was no way in a million years I could, no matter how much the idea excited me. He skewed his face, maybe realizing how impractical the request was. “Just for a little while.” I took no convincing. I was tired, and warm, and happy right where I was. I let out a deep breath. “Yes.”

This afternoon might have been wrong, but it wasn’t a mistake, and if he woke up with regret in his eyes, I couldn’t bear to see it. It was better to slip away and not ruin what we had.

“I did it,” I said this morning, using a flat mop to clean the exam room floor. “I called him, and we talked . . . I guess. He definitely got the message that we’re over.” My friend grinned her approval. “Finally. How’d he take it?” “He acted like it wasn’t a big deal.” I shrugged. “Like he thinks I’m going to come crawling back to him within a week.” “Please.” She rolled her eyes as she flipped the sign on the door to let the rest of the staff know the room was clean and ready for use. “I can’t wait for you to hook up with someone with actual dick game.” My hesitation was short, but just a fraction too long, and more than enough time for my new friend to catch on. Her pretty blue eyes widened. “Cassidy,” she accused. I feigned innocence. “What?” She hustled me across the hall and behind the stacks of prescription dog food, so we were out of earshot of anyone in the waiting area. Her voice fell to an urgent but excited hush. “Already?” Her smile was evil . . . and a little proud. “Who was he? Was it good? Shit, tell me everything.” It wasn’t a trust issue that made me cautious. I knew Lilith would keep my secret. We’d had plenty of in-depth conversations after the animal hospital closed for the day, talking about boys and sex while we’d cleaned cages and done laundry. But this secret was huge, and worse—Lilith knew Dr. Lowe. After college, she’d moved into the converted pool house behind her parents’ home, which was in the same wealthy neighborhood, just up the street from...

“How was it?” “It?” I played dumb. She shot me a pointed look. “The sex.” Now my face burned a thousand degrees. “It was . . .” Unbelievable. Magnificent. “Um, great.” She gave a half-laugh, and her expression said she didn’t believe me. “Just great?” I scowled. “It was fucking amazing, okay? But . . . I can’t believe I did that.” “Dumped your boyfriend and banged his dad right after? Yeah, me neither.” Her amusement seemed to have no limits. “You’re a bad girl, Cassidy. I never would have guessed.”

“Are you mad at me?” My voice had been small, but his was light. “For what? Leaving without saying goodbye the other day?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but the words were. I pinched my face together with discomfort. “I’m sorry. It was about to start storming outside, and you looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.” “I would have appreciated it,” he said softly, “if you had.”

“I didn’t wake you up because I was scared,” I announced. “I didn’t know how to say goodbye to you after we . . . and I didn’t want to.” His posture straightened, and finally an emotion I could read splashed on his expression. Surprise. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “When I woke up and you were gone, I didn’t know what to think. I worried maybe you were freaking out.” Guilt coasted through me. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. “No.” I took a step closer, wanting him near. “That came later.” I rounded the island, so it was no longer between us, and stared up at him. “I don’t regret what happened. I mean, I know I should, but I just don’t.” I pressed my lips together and drew in a breath through my nose, struggling to find the courage to ask. “Do you?” A crease developed on his forehead. He looked conflicted, and my heart sank to my toes. His hesitation was torture. “No, I don’t regret it,” he said finally, “but that makes me the worst father in the world, right? A terrible person, at least.” “No—” “Yes, it does. Especially when I want to do it again.” Anxiety released its hold on my shoulders, and I sagged against the counter. His eyes heated. The air between us shifted and stretched, growing from tension into something else, which tasted a lot like anticipation. I’d never been more aware of him, or the idea that we were alone in his house. “But we can’t do it again,” I said, my words tight and unsteady. Jesus, I couldn’t believe I’d just said it. I hadn’t meant it one bit—I’d issue...

“I’m tired of telling myself I don’t want this. Yeah, you’re supposed to be off-limits, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about you all the damn time.” His eyes sharpened, making it impossible to look away. “I can’t stop thinking about the things I’d like to do to you, or things you’d do to me, or the way we looked together in my mirror.”

“Tell me,” I asked eagerly, as he sucked on a sensitive spot below my ear, “what you want to do to me.” “You want to hear about my fantasies, Cassidy? Because there are a lot, and they are very, very bad.” Just like me.

“Tell me. I bet I want to do them all.”

“This dress—” I said, my voice wavering, “—is the one you said made you think bad things.” “Jesus, I remember.” His eyes were so wide, it had to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “This was so fucking stupid. I’ll change.” It was as sharp as a scalpel. “No.”

“What was the plan?” He might have looked pissed, but his voice wasn’t cold or angry. “Plan?” Greg stalked over. “Why are you wearing this dress?” My gaze dropped to my bare feet. “Because of what you said.” “So, you wanted to give me bad thoughts?” He grasped my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing my attention up to his face. “Because it’s fucking working.”

“Go on, then,” he said. “Show me.” I tripped over the confusion in my head. “Show you—?” “What you’re wearing under your dress.”

“Show me.” His command was rushed and uneven. “Show me what you do when you’re thinking about me.” My mouth fell open, and I clenched my fists on the fabric, tightening them into hard balls. What was he asking? He wanted to watch me? “Put your hand between your legs.” I straightened, and embarrassment drove my gaze away from him. No one had seen me do that, and I couldn’t with an audience. My skirt fell with a swish to brush my toes and cover my legs. “Uh . . .” Greg stood, went to the nightstand, and dropped off his half-full glass of wine. As he moved back to his spot on the edge of the bed, he popped the button on his jeans and dropped his zipper. “This is what I did last time you had that dress on.” Oh my God. I began to sweat as I watched him dig a hand in the front of his undone pants and begin to stroke himself. “It’s what I do any time I’m thinking about you, Cassidy.”

“Show me,” he commanded again. “You put on that dress, so I’m not the only one with bad thoughts.”

When I was alone, touching myself felt good, but it wasn’t close to the same when he watched me do it. Didn’t remotely compare.

“Look at you.” His voice was like velvet. “Teasing me like this. You’re so bad.” His fist stroked faster, pumping on his cock. “You know it, don’t you?” The answer didn’t require thought. “Yes.” “You’re a bad girl.”

“Is this your fantasy, or mine?” he asked quietly. I edged forward, setting my lips against his firm column of flesh. “It’s ours,” I whispered.

If I could give him one-tenth of the pleasure he’d given me, it’d be worth it.

“I shouldn’t have let you do that. You’re such a bad girl.”

“Say it,” he commanded. Every muscle in my body tightened with excitement, and I squeezed the words out. “I’m a bad girl.” “Yeah, you are.” The back of my dress began to lift. Up the fabric dragged, leaving the backs of my thighs cool in the open air. “Making me want you, when I can’t. When I shouldn’t.” He seemed to be grumbling to himself. “Making me feel guilty when I jerk off thinking about you.”

“But I can’t stop,”

“What happens to bad girls, Cassidy?”

“They get punished,” I breathed.

“You deserved that,” Greg said in a seductive tone, “didn’t you?” “Yes,” I panted.

Only I had to wait a lifetime in agony before he delivered the blow. Finally, it came. A whimper of pain escaped from me and was followed by a sob. “Again,” I pleaded. “This is . . . fucked up,” he said, but then his palm seared across my ass with a loud slap. And another.

“Whose fantasy is this?” He exhaled loudly. “Ours.”

I might die from this man. It was an impossibly dramatic thought, but it felt real. Greg’s command over me was absolute, and I wondered . . . would I survive him?

He’d been having sex for at least twenty years, and he’d definitely learned a thing or two on how to do it.

“I’m not going to make a run for it,” I said, still struggling to catch my breath. “I can’t move.”