The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

Fantasy after fantasy played through my mind, each one dirtier and darker than the last, and as I closed in on my orgasm, I stilled my hand just in time, edging myself. My body was primed, buzzing and clamoring for release, but I continued to tease until sweat dampened the roots of my hair at my temples and my heart beat like a furious drum.

I slid one finger inside where I was hot and wet, and sighed at the sensation. Then, I went for two, and imagined they were his fingers fucking me. It felt good, but not enough to make me come, and prolonged the session.

I tried my best to make it last, but when I couldn’t hold back any longer, I frantically rubbed myself until a moan tore from my lungs and I arched up off the bed. Heat washed through me, scorching and searing, and I shuddered as the pleasure came, wave after wave.

It passed slowly, and I collapsed back on the mattress, drained. I was satisfied, but not satiated. The feeling was temporary—my self-induced orgasm was a Band-Aid, not a real fix.

Only Dr. Lowe could make it better.

I finished the wine and checked my phone, and although I’d taken my time, he’d probably be another hour. Which meant if I wanted to spend any time with him, I’d likely miss my curfew.

Cassidy: I’m crashing at Lilith’s tonight. Okay?

Mom: That’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.

Lying to my mom made me feel awful, but there wasn’t an alternative. She was cool about a lot of things, but sleeping over at a guy’s house wasn’t one of them, and I couldn’t imagine how she’d feel about me with Greg. The only true adult who knew about us was Judy, and that had gone over like a lead balloon.

My mom had met Greg a few times over the years. She was always friendly and polite, and had never said anything to me about it, but I had the strange feeling she didn’t particularly like him. I’d caught her giving him side-eye more than once, and suspected she judged him for not being in Preston’s life during the early years. She had baggage, and I got why she might have lumped him into the same category as my father.

I put the phone down on the nightstand and looked at the empty glass. The wine had been nice, and I could have another half glass before Greg got home. But I wasn’t about to walk around his house naked. Lord knew Judy had seen plenty of me already.

His button-up shirts hung neatly in the walk-in closet off his bathroom, and I ran my hand along the sleeves absentmindedly. Would he mind if I wore one of them? He’d told me to take off my clothes, but he hadn’t specifically told me to stay naked . . .

There was a simple white button-up shirt at the end that looked older and softer than the others. It probably wasn’t in rotation anymore, and I took it off the hanger, slipping my arms into the sleeves. It was too big and yet just right. The shirttails ended at mid-thigh on me, and after I did up the bottom few buttons, I rolled the sleeves back onto my forearms.

Was it weird and narcissistic to think I looked good like this? I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My dark hair was tousled from my session in his bed, and my cheeks were stained pink from the wine and the intense heat simmering inside me. The shirt was thin, and if I stared hard enough, I could make out the faint dark circles of my nipples through the fabric. I oozed sex. It was fucking empowering.

I smiled to myself as I poured a new glass of wine and hoped I’d get a text from him soon. I went back to his bed, drank the wine, and scrolled through Instagram for a while.

It was either boredom or the environment, but I couldn’t stay focused for long. The itch was back. The dark craving for Greg grew enormous in a small amount of time, and my mind went back to the fantasies from earlier.

He’d told me to make the sheets smell like me, and there was no way I was going to fail him. I pressed the luxurious fabric between my legs and touched myself, stirring my fingertips over the sheet until it was damp with my arousal. In my mind, what I was doing was fucking filthy, and undeniably hot.

Like last time, the fantasies escalated. I imagined him fucking me in every position, talking dirty the whole time as his body pounded into me. He’d make me beg for my orgasm. He’d shove his dick in my mouth and order me to swallow as he came down my throat. And he’d take pictures of all of it.