Page 52 of City of Wind and Lies

I gasp, “Thank you, sir.”

The sound of skin slapping reverberates around us and by the time we get to number five, I’m panting, squirming in place and dripping with desire, desperate to have him inside of me. His hands instantly caress my cheeks to try and soothe the burn. A sheen of sweat covers my skin as he hovers closer, praising me and placing a kiss on my shoulder blade.

“Bowie?” I ask breathlessly.

“Yes?” he replies, his voice softening.

“Please,” I whimper, reaching my hand behind me. My palm grazes the hard ridges outlining his dick through his slacks as my fingers tug at his belt buckle.

Bowie chuckles lowly, undoing his belt and lowering his zipper before the sofa dips, his knees denting the cushion beside mine as he lines his head at my entrance. A satisfied moan falls from his lips as he snaps his hips forward, burying himself deep inside me. He bands an arm around my waist, blanketing my body with his as he pumps in and out of my soaked center. My leggings bind my thighs closer together, making him feel even larger with each shallow thrust. My eyes roll back into my head and I lose myself to the pleasure, melting in his embrace as he chases his own release.

Flipping my head upside down, I gather the wet tendrils of my hair together in one hand and tie the scrunchie around it with the other. With the impromptu role-play session, I barely had time for a shower, let alone to blow dry my hair, too. I adjust the messy bun on top of my head, turning to examine the extent of my “punishment” in the bathroom mirror. A hand-shaped pink welt adorns my right ass cheek, a blush creeping across my face and my heart fluttering at the sight.

It hurt a lot more than I expected. After the third strike, I was biting back tears and ready to ask him to stop. We’ve never explicitly discussed boundaries- something we probably should do- but I know Bowie would have stopped the moment I asked. He’s spanked me before, but not quite like this, and after trying it, I’m wondering what else I can do to earn a punishment.

Wrapping the towel around my body, I step into the bedroom and head into the master closet. There was a whole dresser in there that wasn’t being used, and it was more than enough space for my suitcase of clothes. I grab a new black thong and sports bra, because who wears a real bra unless they have to? Pulling those on, I sift through the drawers for my Northwestern shirt and fresh leggings. The material is soft, but I still hiss through my teeth as it grazes Bowie’s brand on my ass.

I can hear voices coming from the living room when I twist the door handle open and start down the hall. Bowie is sitting and chatting to a man with slicked back salt and pepper hair on the sofa when I turn the corner.

The sofa he just spanked and fucked me on.

My face heats in embarrassment at the thought. Thank god we didn’t make a mess.

“Ah, there she is now,” Bowie drawls as he pushes to his feet and extends his arm out toward me as I draw closer. Draping an arm around my shoulders, he tucks me into his side. “Doctor Marino, this is my girlfriend, Wren.”

My stomach swoops hearing him use that term. He asked me about it last week when we were watching some indie rom-com after dinner, and it was kinda cute to see his stoic face a little flustered as he stumbled over his words in a nervous way I’d never seen before. As if I’d actually have said no.

“Wren, Doctor Marino is an old family friend. He and my father have been friends for decades.”

On cue, he sticks his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Wren.”

Offering him a smile, I return the gesture, and I can’t help but notice how much he looks like Joe Pesci in Home Alone. I stifle a giggle at the thought of this pinned-up doctor breaking into a sneaky kid’s booby-trapped house.

“Bowie sent over all the forms you filled out earlier, so unless you have any questions for me, we can get started,” he says as he places a cliché black leather medical bag on the coffee table.

“I don’t have any,” I reply, taking a step forward. “So where do you want me?”.

He points to one of the charcoal gray wingback chairs opposite the sofa as he snaps on a pair of latex gloves.

Taking a seat, I watch as he opens various medical supplies and lays them out on light blue cloth beside his bag. He drapes another cloth over the arm of the chair before he grabs my wrist, turning and inspecting it. Once he seems satisfied, he ties rubber tubing around my bicep and swipes a cool sterilizing wipe across the crook of my elbow.

As soon as he grabs the needle, I turn my head. I just can’t with needles. I was fine when I got the simple heart tattoo on the outside of my wrist or the matching sun and moon on my ankle with Drea, because after I dealt with those needles, I was left with something that made it worth it. But he’s taking my blood, and I don’t care how much that doesn’t make sense to you, it does to me.

“All done,” he says, placing a cotton ball and bandaid on the spot as he folds my wrist to my shoulder. He turns toward Bowie. “I’ll have the results to you in a couple of days, was-”

Bowie’s phone rings and he holds up a finger as he excuses himself and walks towards the kitchen muttering in Italian.

Doctor Marino makes small talk with me about the pregnancy while he seals the tubes of blood in little biohazard baggies and deposits them in a specially marked container.

“Wren, did you want me to do a physical exam today, or-”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Bowie interjects, returning from the kitchen and sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Family friend or not, I will be the only man to look between her legs.”

The doctor pales as he swallows harshly and nods, muttering, “Of course sir, I understand.”

I sit there in awkward silence as he quickly packs up the rest of his stuff while Bowie’s intense gaze practically bores holes into his head. Then he hurries toward the door, repeating his timeline for the results as he steps into the hall.

“You didn’t have to scare the poor man,” I scold as I pass Bowie on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. “What are you going to do about the doctors at the hospital when I give birth?”

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