The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your discomfort?” As he asked it, the pads of his fingertips massaged my clit, and I clenched my teeth so hard, I wondered if I’d split my jaw.

“Eleven,” I groaned.

“Well, that’s definitely a problem.” His gaze flowed down my bare body and zeroed in on his hand that stroked tiny circles where I was impossibly wet. When my hips flexed, rolling in time with his manipulations, he set the palm of his free hand flat on my belly and pressed down, pinning me to the mattress. “I can help alleviate your symptoms, but you have to hold still. Understood?”

I breathed out the words. “Yes, Dr. Lowe.”

It was a million degrees in the room, and a bead of sweat trickled down my hairline. Staying motionless while I was essentially naked and he was fully clothed was a challenge, and it became a thousand percent worse as his hand increased both pressure and speed. I balled my fists into the open shirt at my sides, squeezing until my hands ached.

The sensation built with each stroke of his fingers, and I threatened to fly apart. It felt so good. Whimpers leaked from my mouth. I tried my hardest to stay still, but Greg obliterated that option when he sank his middle finger deep inside me, all the way to the last knuckle.

“Fuck,” I whispered, bowing up off the bed.

Only for his strict hand on my belly to shove me back down. His gaze locked onto mine and his expression was firm. “Quit squirming,” his eyes said. But I couldn’t help it. As he pumped his thick finger in and out of me, growing slicker with each decadent thrust, my hips undulated to match his movement. It was uncontrollable. My body was in command, and I was merely a slave to it. A passenger along for the crazed, exquisite ride.

And the view. God, he looked amazing. So professional in his fitted doctor’s coat and tie. He looked like a man who’d finish surgery and then enjoy eighteen holes of golf. Instead, he’d come home to a naked nineteen-year-old girl waiting in his bed for him to fuck her senseless.

As long as I was disobeying him and not being a good ‘patient,’ I figured I’d cross the line completely. My hand shot out a second time and I skated my palm over the thick line of his erection, caressing and stroking the hard muscle beneath the fly of his pants.

His expression went razor-sharp, and it squeezed the air from my lungs. But instead of pulling away, his hand came off my stomach and ripped at his belt, trying to undo his pants one-handed. “You want to behave inappropriately? Let me give you a lesson in how it’s done.”

My pussy clenched down on his finger as he freed his hard dick from his pants, pushing the sides of his underwear down and out of our way. He had to hold his shirt and the end of his tie up, flattening it against his defined stomach with a hand. I barely got a chance to swallow a breath before the head of his cock was in my face, pressing against my mouth and demanding entrance.

He shivered as I parted my lips and welcomed him inside. A second finger from him pushed into me, stretching my body and moving at just the right speed to send quivers along my spine. The way his rough fingers fucked me mirrored the way he did it to my mouth. Our scene together was rapidly devolving, but I was swept up in the urgency. My fantasy wasn’t breaking down—it was simply changing. Morphing into something unexpected and exciting.

I swirled my tongue over the hard column of flesh filling my mouth, using the tip to trace each protruding vein. He groaned in satisfaction, and heat swelled low in my back, rising upward as I neared an orgasm. His thumb flicked over my clit, strumming me as he jammed his fingers deep inside.

He could touch me a million times and I was sure I’d never get used to it. It’d always feel this amazing. It’d always cause my toes to curl and my heart to beat wildly.

Going down on him was like drowning, only in a way you enjoyed losing the battle. The struggle to breathe, the desperate movement to keep up. I wanted to push myself and see how much I could take. I opened the back of my throat and let him drive further—all the way until my eyes watered and a horrible choking sound ripped from the back of my throat.

Greg retreated in an instant, withdrawing completely. As he pulled away, I was left feeling impossibly empty, hanging right on the edge. My eyes went wide, and I reached for him, but his expression froze me in place.