Daring the Doctor
“Uh-huh,” I push through tingling lips, my eyelids heavy, all of me pulsing hotly. “Please. Please.”
Dean guides his shaft between my legs, shoving aside my panties and impaling me with one rough drive, making me scream with a closed mouth, my eyes tearing from the sheer completeness of him inside me. There’s no pause between his first thrust and the next. I’m quite simply having my brains fucked out on the very edge of his desk, my bottom squeaking up and back on the polished wood, my high heels dropping to the floor one at a time.
This is not the carefully controlled surgeon from the operating room.
He’s an aroused predator and I’m his prey.
His medical degree from Harvard is the last thing I see before my head falls back, eyes closing, back arched. I whimper when he yanks down the bodice of my dress, allowing my breasts to bounce free for his enjoyment. And somehow, at the appearance of my bare breasts, he goes harder. Faster. Rougher. Snarling into kisses and bites of my neck. I’m going to have marks all over me and I don’t even care.
“I want them. Mark me,” I whine. “Hurt me, Daddy.”
And he does. So sweetly. So perfectly.
He jerks me off the desk, turns me around. Pushes me face down, yanks me up onto my tiptoes and reenters me from behind. After one groaning pump, he kicks my ankles wider and goes for broke, pounding me into the desk. He rakes his teeth down my neck and back up. He bruises my hips with those world-renowned fingertips. He changes me from the inside out, my heart flying, soaring, alive for the first time. Pounding with intimate understanding of this man while my body pays homage.
“Do you know what it does to me? Knowing my girlfriend’s wet, horny cunt is halfway across town where I can’t tend to it?” He shoves a hand beneath my hips, finding my clit with his middle and ring finger, stroking the bud with breathtaking precision. With such accuracy that my eyesight wavers, breath clogging in my throat. Oh God. My legs are already trembling with the approaching release. It’s going to kill me this time. It’s going to decimate me. “The sooner you are here with me the better, Charlotte. The tuition will be handled. I’ll find a special internship. Make sure you’re close to me all through medical school. I can’t stand being away from you. I need you here at all times. You obsess me. You and this tight pussy make Daddy crazy. Can’t you see that?”
As he says these words, he bucks in and out of me, his touch intoxicating on my bundle of nerves, drugging me, narrowing my thoughts down to finishing. That’s all I can think about, despite the tingle of warning on the back of my neck. I just need to dull the lust. Now, now, now. Or it’s going to slash me to ribbons.
I grip the edge of the desk and sob his name, the almighty ripples finally starting in my lower stomach and spreading like wildfire, choking off my air, tensing my muscles, on again, off again, my body trembling like a leaf. I drip around the shaft that continues to tunnel in and out of me, a squelch echoing in the room when Dean drives deep one last time, grinding upward and flooding me with liquid fire, both of us moaning through our climaxes, hands groping and grasping and clutching for purchase.
“Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte,” he chants into my neck, eventually drawing me off the desk, my back to his chest, his strong arms wrapped around me. I’m still coming down from the enormous height he propelled me to, but his words come back to me in pieces, tensing my muscles for a totally different reason.
The sooner you are here with me the better, Charlotte. The tuition will be handled. I’ll find a special internship. Make sure you’re close to me all through medical school. I can’t take being away from you. I need you here at all times.
Instead of treasured inside of his arms, I’m inflicted with the sensation of being trapped. On purpose. And indignation, hurt, betrayal speed through my vulnerable system, cutting me off at the knees. This whole time, he’s only been pretending to respect my aspirations of earning the money for medical school on my own. He never really intended to put up with my reticence forever, though. Did he?
“You know…” I tug my dress back into place, knocking his arms free. “You can play God with your patients, but not with me, Dean.”
He turns me around, his expression turning wary. “What are you talking about?”
“What you said. About the tuition being handled. Me being here sooner than later.” I stare at him through a veil of tears. “Were you just pretending to care about my wishes?”