Two Weeks of Sin

“Gavin, have I told you lately that your brain is the sexiest thing about you?” she purred, pursing those perfectly pouty lips as she stared down at me.

I reclined on my bed, quite comfortable in the knowledge that I was a good-looking man, but I was also no Tyler McAdams, winger for the San Jose Sharks. McAdams was the hottest athlete of the moment; a real game changer, they said – even though he'd torn an MCL and had been relegated to the sidelines for a while.

Still, I'd like to think Tracy saw something in me other than my brains and medical degree. I pulled down my boxers, showcasing my hard cock and watched as her eyes bulged in their sockets as she drank me in. I'd never grow tired of seeing that look on a woman's face. Even though she'd experienced that cock several times the night before, she hadn't seen it by the light of day and shamelessly displayed as it was now.

“Still think my brain is the sexiest part of me?” I teased.

Tracy dropped down to her knees on the bed, spreading my legs wide as she moved up the length of my body. God, I was so fucking hard for her, wanting nothing more than to go another round with the blonde bombshell. But my alarm went off over an hour ago and I was running the risk of being late. Very late.

“I thought you were getting ready to head out?” I said, stopping her from kissing me.

“That was before I saw how hard you were for me,” she cooed.

“Tracy, as much as I'd love to fuck you again, I really have to get to work,” I said.

“We have time for a quickie,” she said.

I looked over at the clock and cursed silently to myself. “No, I'm afraid not,” I said, pushing her long hair out of my face. “I have appointments this morning, and I'm already late.”

My balls were aching, and I knew I’d pay for that later.

“Are you seeing Tyler today?” she asked, her face growing serious.

“Actually, I am,” I said. “We have to talk about his upcoming surgery.”

“Can you fuck it up for me?” she said. And for a moment, I thought she was serious – until she laughed, rolling her eyes. “I'm just joking. I wouldn't wish that, even on my cheating soon-to-be ex-husband.”

I could see in her eyes that she wasn't joking about tanking his surgery though.. Good thing I took my job seriously. Too many vengeful ex-girlfriends and wives had hopped into my bed and had asked for something very similar.

But I only made their dreams come true in the bedroom, not in the operating room. I enjoyed the hell out of the sex with them, but not enough to jeopardize my career over it.

Tracy got up off me, her expression sour, the mood now ruined. She dressed quickly, putting on the dress she'd been wearing the night before.

“Will you do one thing for me at least?” she asked. “When you see Tyler, that is?”

“What's that?” I asked, pulling my boxers back in place and mentally apologizing to my aching balls in the process.

“Tell him Tracy sends her regards,” she said. “Oh, and remind him how good I am in bed.”

“Sure,” I said, chuckling as I kissed her goodbye.

Like hell I would pass along that message – but she didn't need to know that. I couldn't let the men know I was fucking their ex's before they went under my knife. It wouldn't be good for business. Besides, I wasn't petty enough for all that.

They were, after all, paying me very handsomely. And they were also the reason I had a revolving door of hot women coming and going from my apartment.

No way I was going to fuck that up. Not for Tracy. Not for anyone.

***

“Good morning, Lila,” I said, rushing into my office, coffee in hand.

But the moment I stepped into my private office, I knew something was different. There was a tension I sensed straight away. Sure, my receptionist, Lila, was there, as usual, but I then noticed that she wasn't alone.

A curvy brunette with the most intense green eyes I'd ever seen stared back at me. As if acting on reflex, my gaze moved down the length of her body, admiring her assets. She wore dress slacks and a button-up shirt, which didn't do her any favors, although, I could tell she had a marvelous figure, even underneath the business attire. Her chestnut colored hair was pulled back in a French twist with a few strands stylishly loose and framing her face. Thick framed glasses sat upon her nose, making her look intelligent. Serious. Almost like the sexy librarian many men fantasized about.

The woman stood up and reached for my hand. “Hi Dr. Pierce,” she said. “I'm Morgan Brooks.”

Morgan Brooks? Why did that name ring a bell?