“I know,” she whispers.
“I want to watch you take my profession by storm.”
“I know that, too. But you can’t have it. You can only have me.” She reaches between us and starts to unbutton her blouse. “If you can do that, I’ll dare you to…”
“What?” I ask hoarsely, watching her reveal the softest skin in existence, the twin swells of her tits, pushed up in a black satin bra. “Tell me.”
Her shyness is made obvious by the flush climbing her cheeks. Finished unbuttoning her blouse, she trails a finger down the center of the opening, over the front clasp of her bra. “Kiss me…here.” She adds in a whisper, “Please?”
Need is pumping roughly in my balls, my dick like iron against my fly. This is not how I pictured myself fucking her the first time. On the floor of my office. But nothing with this girl goes according to plan. I’m too captivated by her to do anything but follow the whims of my body. My heart. “You’re daring me to take off your bra, Charlotte? To kiss and lick those little nipples I’ve made so stiff?” My fingers go to the clasp, preparing to twist it open. “But if I do that, I’m agreeing to drop the subject of money. And medical school. Is that right?”
She nods, watching my face closely.
I’m damning myself. I know it. I’m not a man who concedes anything. Ever. There is no limit to what I would do to have Charlotte Beck, though. At this moment, looking down into her beautifully flushed face, the hem of her skirt halfway up her thighs, I would sell my fucking soul to be inside of her. It’s that simple. I can’t go another day without listening to her cry out in pleasure and know I’m the reason. I can’t keep this powerful hunger contained. It’s growing more impossible by the second.
How long will I be able to endure the hell of her being broke, though? When I have so much to give her? It’s going to drive me insane, that lack of control—
That’s when I realize she’s right. At least partially. I want her to succeed professionally, more than my next breath. But I also want to put a claim on her. So very badly. Supporting her financially was one of the ways I’d planned to make Charlotte mine. Permanently. I’ve never had a serious relationship. My skill in the operating room is what defines me. Money is what I have to offer, but she’s rejecting it—possibly very wisely, since I’m now realizing my intensions aren’t totally pure.
But I can’t deny the animal instinct to lay claim to her.
It beats inside of me like a second heart, awoken only by her.
Pounding. Making demands.
Without money as an avenue to being her man, I find another way. A way to conquer. My gut is telling me this is something we both want, too. Although she might not yet realize she wants to be physically dominated, she’s given me the signals. I’ve never felt the need to rule anyone’s body. Never felt this kind of possessiveness. Ferociousness.
If she can grow accustomed to being taken care of physically, to give me that trust, maybe I’ll eventually convince her to trust my intentions outside of bed.
Maybe eventually she’ll allow me to pay for school.
“Very well,” I say, snapping open the front of her bra, making her breath catch. “The subject of tuition money is off the table.”
For now.
I pull aside the satin cups to reveal two very perky tits, raspberry-colored nipples standing at attention in the center of each pale globe. Heaving. Needy. Jesus Christ. My mouth waters at the sight of them—and I can’t deny myself a lick of each bud, my desire heightening at her reaction. At the shuddering arch of her back, her lips forming an O.
“You called me ‘sir’ earlier, Charlotte…” I suck her nipples lightly, smoothing my thumb over the damp peak while her breath begins sawing in and out. “Have you ever dreamed of calling me that while I’m nine inches deep?”
Four
Charlotte
Did I hear him correctly?
You called me “sir” earlier, Charlotte… Have you ever dreamed of calling me that while I’m nine inches deep?
That’s an understatement. I’ve fantasized about this man for years while lying in my bed at home. I’ve imagined myself walking into his office, him looking up at me from behind a desk, pausing in the act of making notes in a medical file. Sunlight spilling over the shoulders of his white coat. I imagined him being struck dumb by the sight of me, because we both know right away there’s something magical between us. He would strip me, pin me down.
Rule me.
Hard.
Like he’s in charge and I have to follow the rules.
These fantasies are a hard pill to swallow, since I’ve sworn never to be kept under a man’s thumb. But the shame only makes me want to revel deeper in those terribly wonderful dreams. They’re a departure from the standards to which I hold myself. An escape.