Page 53 of Dr. Fellow

Hope you have lube.

It might feel weird at first, but I know you’ll like it.

I feel my jaw clench even though I know she’s doing this on purpose.

You’re not as funny as you think you are.

Her response comes through instantly.

I’m not joking.

RIP to your asshole.

I should have known it wouldn’t be a quiet evening with her.

Morgan.

I hope she reads my message with a warning tone because that’s exactly how it’s intended.

Uh, oh. You only call me that when I’m in trouble.

My lips twitch again as I type back a reply.

You are in trouble.

Right on cue, she presses the dislike button on my text.

I’m quaking in my shoes.

(at your front door)

By the time I reach her, my heart feels like it’s going to pound its way through my chest. She knows exactly how to get a reaction out of me, and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a terrifying one. I take a steadying breath before opening the door to let her in.

Morgan’s shiny brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, dark wisps framing her amused face. My eyes travel down the length of her body, taking in the skin-tight black leggings that show off her juicy ass. A matching top clings to her torso, pushing her tits so high that it looks like they might spill out of the stretchy material.

“You look nice,” she says, slowly drawing her eyes over my body the same way I am.

“Better than the tux?”

I can tell that she likes my fitted black T-shirt by the way her gaze snags on my arms, though I doubt there’s anything she loves more than the monkey suit.

“Nothing’s better than the tux,” she answers predictably. “Not even your gray sweats.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I won’t be in a tux again until the wedding in June.”

Her lips quirk into a smirk. “Role play isn’t one of your kinks? Not interested in pretending to be a sick billionaire with me as your slutty nurse?”

“You already are my slutty nurse.”

Her smile transforms into a grin as we stand in the door frame, locked in a silent battle of restraint. A hailstorm of emotion is pounding into me, conflicting desires fighting for my attention. I want to ravish her, to punish her, to cherish her—and I can’t decide what I should do first.

“I missed you, little devil,” I admit, stepping aside to let her in. As soon as she’s through the door, I pull her into my arms and bury my nose into her hair. She smells like the beach, warm and refreshing after a long day, and I have a hard time wanting to let her go.

“Of course you did,” she teases, dropping her purse to the floor. Her face shines with delight as she asks, “How did the conference go? Did you big-dick them so hard?”

Even though we’ve been texting back and forth all week, we didn’t talk about work once. At first, I was kind of pissed that she didn’t ask about it, but then I got my shit together and realized that it means she sees me as more than a physician. And as someone who has always felt like they were nothing more than their job, it was surprisingly freeing.

I step forward, crowding Morgan’s petite body against the front door. Her back hits the painted white wood, and I reach out to cup her face in my hand. “I’m gonna big-dick you so hard.”

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