Submitting to the Doctor (Cowboy Doms 7)

Turning her face up again, she shook her hair out of her eyes. “Told you I wasn’t afraid. Now, don’t I get a reward?” She pressed her pelvis down, against the finger he refused to move again.

Shaking his head, a rueful smile tugged at his lips. “You are so not what I expected.” With his eyes pinned on hers, he thrust inside her.

“Oh, God.” Hiding her face again, Lillian lifted into Mitchell’s next deep stroke, the press of his palm and thumb against her sore cheek igniting the warmth and emphasizing the continuing throbbing. Lillian shivered as he circled her clit and then groaned with his sharp tug on that tender nub. Small contractions convulsed her swollen inner muscles and increased with each, tormenting yank of her clit.

“Now, pet. Come on my finger.”

The order grated but there was no ignoring the erotic demand. A mortifying whimper slipped past her tightened lips as she arched into his now pummeling fingers, squeezing them with her inner muscles as a climax burst in a fanfare of bright sparks and sweat-inducing pleasure. Her head whirled and buzzed as her entire body went up in a blaze of ecstasy. By the time she floated down from the incredible high and realized she was lying

over his knees in a quivering, sated heap, her chest heaving as Mitchell calmed her with slow, almost casual strokes inside her, a different kind of mortification took over.

Lillian stiffened, rolled off his lap and got to her feet. Keeping her face averted, she pulled up her panties, grousing, “I told you not to call me pet.” Dropping her skirt, she looked at him as he rose and she noticed he still wore his coat. For some reason, that added to the humiliation of succumbing to him as easily as she imagined the women at his club did.

“I keep forgetting. I’ll try to do better.”

He looked serious, as if he meant it, but she doubted it. “See that you do. I have to get back to work.”

Without arguing, Mitchell strode to the door, tossing over his shoulder, “Monday morning, 9:00 at the clinic.”

After he shut the door behind him, Lillian mimicked in a mock voice, “Monday morning, 9:00 at the clinic. That man is way too domineering for my tastes.” But as she settled on the seat behind her easel and moaned from the pressure on her still sensitive butt, she couldn’t prevent a grin of satisfaction. “Bossy, yes, but boy, can he deliver.”

“How was your getaway week?”

Mitchell glanced at his friend, Kurt Wilcox, as the rancher took the bar stool next to him. Soft cries following the snap of leather against bare skin resonated down from the loft above them where a few couples were enjoying the BDSM equipment of their private club, The Barn. Behind the bar, others were gyrating to the beat of the music on the dance floor. The smile tugging at the corners of Kurt’s mouth hinted he had heard about his guest and distracted him from watching Master Brett grip his wife’s bare ass under her short skirt as they ground their pelvises together while dancing.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Wilcox. It went just fine.”

“Yeah, sounds like it. Nothing like a bruised, stranded young woman to liven up your week off work.” Kurt turned serious with a frown. “She wasn’t hurt too bad?”

“Bad enough since her injuries were caused by her ex. At least she walked away and wasn’t making excuses for him. That was a refreshing change from the cases that came into the hospital back home.” And was just one of Lillian’s admirable traits that kept him thinking about her. “Where’s Leslie? I’m surprised you let her out of your sight. Aren’t you still driving her into school every day?”

“After I kept her bound on the fucking swing for an hour, I thought she could use a long soak in the hot tub with Kelsey. And yes, I’m taking her into work despite her arguments every morning. It’s going to take me longer to get over the scare of almost losing her than it has her.” Kurt shifted his black gaze out the back glass sliding door where they could both make out the girls’ heads and bobbing breasts above the rim of the bubbling spa.

Mitchell reached out and squeezed Kurt’s shoulder. Fear of losing that one person who completes you is something he could sympathize with. The heart-shattering pain of those first months following Abbie’s death might have eased into a dull ache after two years, but he would never stop missing her, or what they had together. Lillian’s grief-stricken face as she’d stood in the yellow/orange glow of the blazing fire popped into his head, followed by her bright eyes lit with humor as she wiggled on his lap. His abdomen cramped, as if thinking about Lillian betrayed his wife’s memory.

Gritting his teeth, he replied, “Yeah, I get that,” before changing the subject. “I was proud of your dad for working so hard while you and Leslie spent most of her semester break with her sister in Canada. I never expected him to recover to such a degree following his stroke. His determination, when he finally got around to applying himself, really paid off.”

“I’m proud of him too, but let’s get back to discussing this redhead I’ve heard about. Did you really offer her your garage apartment?”

Mitchell couldn’t fault Kurt for the disbelief coloring his tone. The simple gesture of letting Lillian use the room above the garage was the first time he’d reached out to anyone in the last eight months of living in Willow Springs. He’d met Kurt when he’d become Leland Wilcox’s doctor following the older man’s stroke. Through him, he’d become acquainted with the owners of The Barn and its members. He enjoyed the new friendships and the weekend nights he spent with willing partners who desired dominant sexual control, but had refrained from expanding on any relationship outside the renovated barn’s walls beyond a casual dinner at the diner once in a while.

He’d found it harder to move on by starting over in a new place, with a new, less stressful job than he’d imagined. And then he’d met Lillian, who was the complete opposite of what he always looked for in a suitable sexual partner.

“Yes,” he finally answered, twirling the amber liquor in his glass. “That space has sat empty since I bought the place. It didn’t make sense to let her pay for a much smaller motel room for weeks when she could stay there. Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he warned his friend. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like I invited her to move in with me.”

“And yet you haven’t been here the last two weekends and there you sit, disappointing the subs you’ve turned away the last two hours,” Kurt drawled as Grayson, who was bartending, strolled up from behind the mahogany bar top.

Plunking down a cold brew in front of Kurt, the sheriff pinned Mitchell with his gray/green gaze. “We hear enough complaints from them about the dwindling number of uncommitted Doms to see to their needs without you turning them away.”

Last Saturday, after seeing Lillian again, he’d returned home for a quiet night contemplating his stupidity in inviting her to stay on his property after he’d sworn he was glad when Grayson had taken her off his hands. The woman had played havoc with his emotions and his intentions since he’d first clapped eyes on her bruised, defiant face. He didn’t have a reason for turning away the subs that had approached him in the last two hours other than he refused to do a scene with one of them when his mind was on someone else.

“There are still several single members to take care of their needs.” Sipping his whiskey, a strident yelp drew his gaze to the occupied spanking bench on the other side of the bar and the bright red ass trying to shift away from the descending paddle. He recalled Lillian’s cushiony cheeks turning pink under his hand, the way she went from struggling to staying put to lifting for the next swat, and his cock stirred for the first time that night.

He cut his eyes back to his friends. “Besides, the night isn’t over, now is it?”

Kurt held up a placating hand. “Okay, don’t get pissed. On a different note, will you be at Caden’s Friday night for their chili dinner? I know he’s already talked to you about it.”

“Yes, I told him to plan on me.” He smiled at the surprise reflected on both men’s faces. It wasn’t the first time Mitchell had been invited to a social gathering outside of the club by one of its owners or members, but it was the first one he had accepted. He looked forward to attending, which gave him hope he was working his way past mourning and into acceptance. Tossing back the last swallow of his drink, he nodded toward the back doors where Avery joined Leslie and Kelsey as they came in. “I think your subs need your attention more than my personal life does.”