Possessive Doctor

Instead, I take a hot shower. When I get out, she’s wearing a cute navy-blue dress and flats.

“How’s this?” she asks.

“Very good.”

She gives me a little curtsy. “Thanks. I can be cute when I try.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re always cute.”

“Of course.”

I head over to my clothes, pick some stuff out, and put it on. After I pull my boxer briefs on, I realize that she’s staring at me, her mouth hanging open, her cheeks bright red.

“What?” I ask.

“You just… got naked.”

“I have to put clothes on.”

“But… I’m right here.”

I laugh and stand up, my body covered only with my boxer briefs. I like the way she’s looking at me, her cheeks red and fire in her eyes.

“I couldn’t care less if you see me naked,” I say, cocking my head. “In fact, I think I want you to. Clearly, you like it.”

She snaps her jaw shut and glares at me. “That’s not true.”

I step toward her. “I think I know how to find out.”

“Don’t.”

I laugh and get dressed. I put on a decent white shirt and black slacks. I put on my expensive shoes and consider a tie, but decide against it.

“You look good,” she says, fussing with herself in the mirror.

“Damn right I do.” I stand behind her, pretending to look at myself, but really looking at her.

She catches my eyes. “Quit it,” she says.

“Quit what?”

“I see.”

I smirk and step closer. I push her forward against the sink and lift her dress up.

She’s wearing black panties. I press my cock against her and squeeze her ass. She lets out a little moan as I lean forward to whisper in her ear.

“You wouldn’t stop me, even if you wanted to. You can’t help yourself, little Amber.”

“Brent,” she lets out.

I step back, pulse racing. “We should go soon.”

I leave the bathroom. Staying any longer would lead to something very bad…. Or very good, depending on whether we were late for dinner or not.

She joins me a few minutes later. She gives me a little glare and I gesture at the door. “Shall we?”

We walk out together. “Dinner will be in the formal dining room,” I say. “There are like… five dining rooms here.”

“Why so many?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think just to show off that we can afford to have more than we’d ever need.”

“That’s so…. Wasteful.”

“I know.” I shake my head. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

We get to some steps and I help her down, mostly carrying her. We reach the bottom floor and I lead her through a few more rooms until I spot Archie standing outside of a door, his hands behind his back.

“Are they here already?” I ask him.

He nods. “Wanted to be early.”

“That’s unlike them.”

He cracks the slightest smile. “I suppose.”

“They want to meet Amber.”

“They’re very… curious.” He glances at her. “This is your first lady guest.”

“It’s not like—” I stop myself. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He nods and opens the door for us. I let Amber enter first. Her limp is a little more pronounced as she steps into the room and she’s leaning on the cane a little more than she normally does. I think it’s probably from nerves, but I don’t have time to stop and ask.

My parents are sitting at the head of a large, oak dining room table. It can seat twelve comfortably and I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of antique from a European royal family. My father is wearing a suit and tie, like always. His hair is dark but receding, and he’s wearing a pair of fine circular glasses. My mother is almost his opposite. She’s pale and willowy, her blonde hair tied up. She’s wearing a simple sweater and jeans, and she stands when we enter.

“There he is,” she says. “And you brought a guest.”

“Hello, mother, father.” I walk over and kiss my mother on the cheek then turn to Amber. “This is Amber.”

“Nice to meet you, dear,” my mother says, shaking her hand. Sylvia Lofthouse gives her a dour smile, the kind of look you’d give to a servant that you’re forced to speak with for the first time ever.

“Same to you,” Amber says.

My father stands. “Hello, hello. I’m Edward, my wife’s name is Sylvia, since my son is too rude to introduce us properly.” He shakes her hand and gives her a once-over. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes, nice to meet you too,” she manages.

“Well, sit, sit,” my father says. “Ron and Louise will be joining us very soon.”

I help Amber get situated as my mother floats down into her chair. She has that stupid fake smile plastered on her face and I wish I could tell her to stop, but it would only cause problems.

“So, Amber,” mother says. “Where are you from?”

“Texas,” Amber says. “I grew up where Brent has his clinic.”

Mother glances at me. “Is that so?”