***
I plow through my day, listening to Vivian's incessant ramblings about what happened on the latest episode of a crime drama that hasn't seen a production schedule in more than a decade. I should really tell her to Google that entire episode guide to save her the endless hours she'll stay glued to her laptop, watching a handsome, fit detective solve a crime, without any strings attached, in less than an hour.
"Were you seriously hurt?"
I turn abruptly to face the voice asking the almost-too-personal question. "I'm fine."
It's Vivian. The concern in her tone is masking the unusually high lilt in her voice. "I was worried when a doctor called."
"I was concerned about missing work," I offer in response. "I wanted to be here. I'm sorry I couldn't be."
"I'm shocked you're here today." She takes a step closer to me and I swear I see actual compassion in her eyes. "It sounds like it was a pretty hard fall."
"I was clumsy," I chuckle. "I need to get better at walking in heels."
"He sounded nice," she begins before she takes a short breath. "I mean the doctor that called about you, he sounded really nice."
"He was helpful." My words are clipped. I don’t want to delve into the personal details of my relationship with Ben.
She taps her hand on the edge of my desk. "Is he accepting new patients?"
I purse my lips together. I have to wonder if she's asking because she's nursing a pain or a stubborn cough that won't go away or if her interest in Ben falls beyond the scope of what he can offer in his office. "I have no idea."
"What's his name again?" She skims her finger across the screen of her smart phone.
"Dr. Foster," I say slowly. "His name is Dr. Ben Foster."
She taps something into her phone before she turns to walk away. "Thanks, Kayla. I'll give him a call."
As I watch her walk away my mind instantly wanders to thoughts about how many other women search Ben out to find out exactly how thorough his bedside manner is.
Chapter 12
"How often do you fuck your patients?" The words sound less hostile coming out through a moan. This isn't the time to talk about this. I shouldn't be thinking of any other woman. I shouldn't be…
"Kayla," he spits my name out between heavy thrusts. "I'm fucking you."
He is fucking me. It's hard and slow. I'm on my back, his large frame hovering above me as he leisurely slides his cock into me, over and over again.
"Harder," I beg.
The friction is pushing me to the edge quickly. He ate me as soon as I let him into my apartment. He was on his knees, my back splayed against the door, my skirt a twisted mess around my waist as he buried his tongue inside of me, pulling my lust from within, pouring it onto his tongue.
"You're so tight." He growls the words into my neck. His tongue is tearing a path across my flesh. "Your cunt is so wet."
My hips buck involuntarily at the words. He's so direct and uninhibited. His body owns his pleasure and he's not afraid to take what he wants. I've never been with a man who is so commanding in bed. I've never felt my desire heightened to this extreme. This is a man made to fuck women, hard and senseless.
"I'm going to come again," I spit the words out into his shoulder. "It feels too good."
"It's so good." He pumps harder. His cock plunges deep with each lunge.
I cry out as I feel my body tense. I hold steady to his shoulders, knowing that if I let go, my body will betray me. I'll flail helplessly. I won't be able to control its instinctive reaction. I'll be lost and I'll miss my chance to enjoy his release.
He watches my face intently as I come. His lips part slightly, his tongue darts over them. "You're so beautiful when you come."
I stare at him, challenging him with a deep movement of my hips. "Come, Ben."
"Not yet." The movement of his head mirrors his words. "I don't want it to end."