Bad Boy, M.D. Page 12

  Lauren smiled up at me and when she knew I was watching she swirled my cum over her still hard nipple. "Let me know when you're ready to go again, old man," she laughed, sucking her finger into her mouth.

  I grinned. "I just have to put some cookie dough and ice cream away in the freezer."

  She frowned. "Cookie dough and ice cream?"

  I shook my head. "It's a long story."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lauren

  I’d never been fucked harder.

  It was wild and feral and greedy and I loved it. I needed all of him, he needed all of me, and we each gave it. All of it. He fucked me like it was going to be the last fuck of his entire life and I came like it was my last orgasm.

  Of course, then there were the other three orgasms he gave me later that night, but that’s not the point. I’d had my brains fucked out and as I walked through the halls of the hospital I wondered whether I looked bow legged or whether people knew exactly why I kept smiling so much or that people could still smell his sweat and musk and come on my body. But in that post coital bliss, I frankly didn’t give a fuck.

  I knew I would later. For the next two weeks, life was perfect.

  I’d catch glimpses of Ryan from across the nurse’s station and we’d catch each other’s eye. A small smile from each of us, that was it. But that was enough. Ryan would make any excuse to come get my take on a patient’s chart or medical history or treatment plan and he would stand close as he pointed to this or that. I could feel his breath on my neck and every time it shot shivers down my spine.

  I’d call him into my office so we could discreetly play footsie under the desk before I forgot again, silly me, what I called him in there to discuss in the first place. I’d remember fifteen minutes later. And then promptly forget.

  “I’ll call you back in if I remember,” I said loudly enough that the staff could hear me through the half open door.

  He’d wink, eyes twinkling mischievously, and say, “I hope you do.”

  Ryan would text me ‘North stairwell’ and I’d excuse myself from Marcus’s office or my meeting with a pharmacy rep and try not to sprint there. We’d hold our hands over our mouths to stop our giggles from echoing all up and down each floor before quickly pressing a kiss to the lips, the throat, the back of the ear, the nose. Just little pecks and lingering gazes and then I’d go up a floor and he’d go down one and I’d longingly listen to his last steps until his door closed and only then did I open mine.

  Around the staff and nurses and patients it was always ‘Dr. Castle’ and ‘Dr. Decker’, but in an abandoned hall or a lonely elevator ride or an empty patient room it was ‘Ryan’ and ‘Lauren’, ‘baby’ and ‘dear’, ‘lover’ and ‘sweet thing’ whispered in hushed, desperate tones.

  We fucked at night at his place. We fucked in the morning at mine. We fucked in the shower, we fucked in his car, we fucked on the roof after blocking the door with a rusted bench. I felt new and different and changed. Life was exciting. Ryan was exciting. It was a secret and it was our secret.

  We also talked a lot. Ryan confirmed he was going to accept the chief residency position at Graton’s so long as it was offered to him, which of course it would be. I knew I’d at some point have to deal with the hospital and probably some less than enthusiastic human resource people. Probably lots of paperwork. Hopefully nothing more. But that all seemed insignificant, far away, unimportant and inconsequential during those first few days we gave ourselves to each other.

  Even the constant ringing of my phone from Samuel’s number did little to interrupt the happiness I felt with Ryan. I should have known that the calls would keep coming. I should have known at some point I would have to answer.

  “Dr. Decker?”

  Ryan was updating me on a patient who returned for a check up after a bypass last month. We were standing closer than we should have been, closer than two work colleagues would stand. His eyes were glancing up at me from the chart he read from and I'd smile as he lost his train of thought, lost his place on the page, lost his ability to form words.

  He'd clear his throat and start over each time and we'd been there leaning against the counter at the nurse's station for ten minutes and hadn't gotten past the patient's vitals. He couldn't talk when he looked at me and I kept getting lost in the softness of his eyelashes, the dark stumble on his strong jawline, his tongue moving over his lips every time he caught my eye.

  "Dr. Decker?"

  I turned around and was almost startled to find myself standing on white linoleum on the third floor of the hospital and not sitting on my couch with my legs draped across Ryan's lap with only a single lamp on late into the night. Shaking my head, I smiled at Sanchez.

  "What's up?"

  "Call for you on Line 3."

  The intern was on the phone at the desk where I stood with Ryan so I told her I'd take it in my office. As I moved to leave, Ryan's pinky skimmed the side of my hand and I had to exert all the self control I had to not look back at him as I crossed the small distance to my office door.

  Too revved up to sit, I brushed my hair from my flushed face and put the phone on speaker on Line 3.

  "Dr. Decker here."

  "Lauren."

  I stopped in my pacing and stared down at the caller ID for the first time. 'Fuck', I mouthed. It was Samuel.

  "Samuel, hi. I'm sorry I've been busy with our new transfer resident getting him up to speed and all." Not a lie. "Is everything alright?"

  "Were you ignoring me, Lauren?"

  "No, I—"

  "Because I thought we were making progress."

  I rubbed my eyes and quickly shut the door to my office. I caught Ryan's concerned look just briefly before I leaned wearily against the door, trying to figure out how to deal with this.

  "Lauren?"

  I sagged into my chair and rested my elbows on the table.

  "Yeah, I'm here," I said. "Look Samuel, the other night, it was... nice. It really was. But, well, I can't go backwards."

  There was a half hidden scoff on the other line.

  "That's what you see me as then? Backwards?"

  "No," I insisted, shaking my head. "No, I'm not saying this right. It's just that--"

  Samuel's voice increased in volume. "What you're too good for me now?"

  "Samuel, please—"

  "You found someone else to fuck and now you don't need me like you've always needed me. What was it you said that night? You could fuck your pick of young guys. A bank clerk? A grocery boy? A stripper? A young resident? Which one is it, Lauren?”

  My knuckles were white where they were gripped on the edge of my desk.

  "I will not be spoken to this way," I said, my voice almost shaking from anger. "Do you understand me?"

  Samuel sighed and I gave him the time as there was silence over the line for him to calm down. I didn't wish ill on Samuel. At least not anymore. And I wanted him to understand. But I wasn't the person who would allow myself to be mistreated anymore.

  "I am different," I said finally when I could hear his breathing even out and imagine less steam fuming from his ears. "I'm not the person anymore who you fell in love with, who you married, who you knew. That person will always love you, Samuel. But I am not that person. And I can't ever go back to being that person."

  Samuel was silent. Then, "What happens when this guy dumps you, huh? What happens when you're all alone again?"

  "Samuel."

  "You think you're different, Lauren, but you're not. You need me." His voice again rose in volume.

  Mine was calm. "I don't."

  "You'll need my attention and affection when you're by yourself again, and you will be by yourself again."

  "You need to stop."

  "You'll need me when I get Marcus's job as chief surgeon and you want to keep your fucking job. I’ve just scheduled my final interview. It’s between three of us now. You know they’ll choose me.”

  No, I wouldn’t believe that. Yes, Samuel was a brilliant
surgeon, but he was an ass. His ego rivaled that of most surgeons and that was saying something. Marcus had to know how bad Samuel’s personality would be for morale.

  “What’s his name?”

  “What’s whose name?”

  “The guy you’ve ruined our relationship with?”

  I laughed because I couldn’t stop myself. I’m the one now who was ruining the relationship? Me? Me?

  “Samuel,” I said, incredulous. “There is no relationship. There hasn’t been a relationship for a very, very long time. You know that.”

  “What’s his name?”

  I couldn’t believe it.

  "You're making a fool out of yourself, Samuel."

  He was angry now."No, you're the fool, Lauren. You're the fool to think you don't need me. Me and my fucking cock you loved to suck so fucking mu—"

  I hung up and watched my hands quiver where they rested on my desk.

  I knew, deep down, he wasn’t mad that I wasn’t his anymore, that I wouldn’t be his anymore. His pride was simply hurt, that I would dare replace the irreplaceable Samuel Decker with another man.

  It will be alright, I told myself again. Don’t let it worry you. Samuel won’t get Marcus’s job. Life couldn’t be that cruel to me. Not when I was just starting to be so happy with Ryan.

  But what if he did get it? a voice whispered in my ear.

  What could he do, not just to my career, but to Ryan’s if he found out about our relationship?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ryan

  "Who's Jefferson?"

  Lauren opened one eye and stared at me from across the couch. We were lying opposite one another as I massaged her feet lazily while music played softly over the speakers in my apartment.

  "What?" she asked.

  "Jefferson Airplane," I said, kissing each toe in turn. "Who is Jefferson and why does he have an airplane?"

  She stretched against the armrest of the couch and I spied her red thong as the hem of my sweatshirt she was wearing rode up along her stomach.

  "I don't know," she said with a yawn. "What does Desiigner design and what does that have to do with pandas?"

  I laughed and playfully tickled her foot. It'd started a week ago after we'd fucked and lain breathless in bed with just the sounds of our panting to fill the cool summer night. We'd been at Lauren's place and she'd slipped out of bed and pressed a button on a speaker system she kept in her room. I'd laughed when The Police came on.

  "Don't say a word," she'd said, climbing back into bed and stroking her hand against my bare chest.

  And so we'd started taking turns playing our favorite music: music our parents loved, music we lost our virginity to, music we danced to at prom, music we couldn't help but cry to, music we liked to fuck to, music that defined our childhood, our teenage years, our adulthood.

  Lauren would tease me for being too young to 'get' Prince and I'd tease her for being too old to 'get' A$AP Rocky. But it was a way to get to know one another. I'd watch her face light up as a particular song from her memory played and I'd listen in rapt attention as she told me the story that went along with it.

  Tonight was her night, but she'd been particularly quiet throughout. After she'd taken that call in her office, her mood had been more reserved, more withdrawn. I texted her, as I usually did, to meet in the stairwell for a quick, hidden kiss and that day was the first time that I received a 'no'.

  Meeting in five. Can't, sorry.

  Over dinner she'd pushed her bite of steak around her plate and every attempt I made to make eye contact was shot down as she made some lame attempt of talking about the weather or the traffic in Denver or the construction to the south parking lot at Graton's Gift.

  The album we'd been listening to reached the end and as silence fell back in Lauren made no move to go change it to the next one on her list. I rubbed her feet and watched her as she stared out into space.

  "Hey," I said.

  She turned her head to smile softly at me, but then lay her head again on the arm rest and said nothing.

  "Lauren."

  "Ryan," she said with the same inflection.

  Something was wrong. Something upset her in that office and she wasn't talking to me about it. I gently set her feet next to me on the couch and slipped from under her bare legs.

  "I'll be right back," I said to which I didn't get a response.

  My feet slapped against the wood floor as I walked to my room and started rummaging through the stuff I'd jammed haphazardly into the left side of my closet. On the third dented and caved in box, I found what I was looking for: my old medical bag from school.

  Grinning, I returned to the living room and stopped to knock on the wall by the floor lamp. Lauren opened her eyes in confusion and stared at me, having not moved an inch from the couch.

  "Ms. Decker, are you ready for me?"

  She frowned and looked me up and down. I stood there with a stethoscope around my neck, a medical bag in my hand, and nothing but boxers on my body.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, slowly.

  "May I come in?"

  She sat up and I smiled at how cute she looked in my sweatshirt with one side of her head a ruffled mess of hair.

  "I don't get what you're doing," she said.

  "Wonderful," I ignored her. "My name is Dr. Castle and I'll be checking you over today."

  "Checking me over?" A second after the words left her mouth, realization dawned in her eyes and her lips tilted into a smile.

  Perfect.

  "Yes, yes. It is clear something is terribly, terribly wrong with you. I'm glad I could get here so soon. It may have been fatal otherwise. Fatal."

  I sat on the coffee table in front of the couch and spread open my bag beside me.

  "Ryan—"

  "Dr. Castle. Now, how are you feeling right now, Ms. Decker?"

  She bit her lip. "You want to know how I'm feeling right now?"

  I nodded.

  "To be honest, I wasn’t feeling very good. But in the last minute I…” She smiled softly. “I’m beginning to feel better.”

  “Are you? Well, that’s good. Very good. But I think we should go ahead with our exam just to be sure. Let's start with your temperature," I said, holding up two thermometers. "Preference?"

  She actually laughed, and the sound made me want to laugh, too. God, it felt good to be here with her, to know that even when she was stressed and in a bad mood—even if I didn’t know why—I could bring some lightness to her life.

  "You're not getting anywhere near my ass,” she said.

  "Oral it is." I held the thermometer up to her mouth. “Personally, that’s always a favorite of mine, and I know it’s one of yours.” I rested the back of my hand against her forehead. “Now open up.”

  She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. I plopped in the thermometer and tapped her chin for her to close her mouth. She watched as I returned to search through my bag.

  "If you would just go ahead and tell me what's wrong, I wouldn't have to do all of this, you know," I said, eyeing her as I grabbed the plexor.

  "There's nothing wrong," she mumbled around the thermometer.

  I shifted so my knees were on either side of her legs and tapped the plexor gently against her knee. Her foot jerked forward and I nodded as if this were a real wellness exam and I was pleased to see my patient's reflexes were in order. I repeated the step on the other knee with the same result.

  "All good there," I said, putting the plexor away. I pulled the thermometer from her mouth, set it aside, then placed my hand on her thigh and kneaded her flesh with my thumb.

  "Follow my finger," I said, voice hushed. She lowered her hand to cover my own, and followed my finger with her eyes, up, down, over, around.

  Back and forth I ghosted my thumb across the baby soft skin of her inner thigh as I watched the light against her eye. I sensed the tensed muscle relax just the slightest amount as I switched hands to check her other eye.

  Slowly I lowere
d the light and we sat there close to one another in silence.

  “Do I need to check your heart?" I asked.

  She hesitated, then she nodded.

  I leaned forward to press two chaste kisses to each of her cheeks. I unwrapped the stethoscope from my neck and breathed hot air against it to warm the cold metal. I skimmed my hand against her leg till I reached the thick hem of my grey New York Metro hospital sweatshirt. I looked up at Lauren.

  "May I?"

  “Please."

  I parted her legs and slipped down onto my knees between them on the floor. I lifted the sweatshirt just enough to move the head of the stethoscope underneath.

  I splayed one hand on her stomach and felt her muscles fluttering nervously as I grazed my knuckles between her breasts and rested the head of the stethoscope over her heart. I skimmed my fingers just inside the silky material of her thong before adjusting the ear pieces.

  Lauren watched me as I listened to the sound of her heart. As I shifted the head of the stethoscope, my wrist swiped across her nipple under my sweatshirt and her heart rate jumped at the contact. I brushed my thumb across her pussy through her underwear and Lauren squirmed as I heard her heart thud. I closed my eyes and just listened to her as I touched her, judging my movements by the reaction in her heart. Beneath my fingers I felt her growing wet and I opened my eyes to find her grinding down on the couch, lip between her teeth, and eyes closed.

  Watching her, I grazed my teeth along her inner thigh just below her wet pussy and her back arched. I kissed along her quivering skin and licked a line along her stained thong. The pace of her heart rate thundered on as I sucked and licked and kissed through the silk that was wet from her, wet from me.

  I felt the bulge in my boxers growing and I quickly palmed at my dick to relieve the pressure. I wanted this to be all about Lauren, all about her pleasure, all about her healing. My hand still on the head of the stethoscope slipped back underneath my sweatshirt she was wearing and I ghosted my fingers along her side.

  Her nipple was hard and I bit back a groan of my own knowing I'd made it hard without even touching it. I tugged the rough material of my sweatshirt back and forth along the peaked bud as I continued to lick her through her panties.