Page 14 of Naughty Desires

Chapter Five

Lily

Chris lays me on stiff white sheets and looks around the room. I tried to give it a cold, clinical feel, although it wasn’t easy with the rich, dark furniture we bought after our wedding. Hospitals don’t usually have four-poster beds or soft cream carpet, nightstands with modern silver lamps or chairs full of pillows. I cleared off our dressers, putting away the pictures and knickknacks, the receipts and small change, and placed a silver serving tray on the night table to hold Dr. Steadman’s erotic toys.

“We need some light.” He flips on the overhead lights and turns on the bedside lamps. I cringe under the glare. Although I’m not embarrassed about my body, we’ve always turned the lights down in bed and I feel uncomfortably exposed.

“I’m going to examine you now, Nurse Taylor. Lie still.” He sits on the bed beside me, his gaze drifting down my body. He is so fully into the role play, I tremble under his scrutiny.

He starts at the top, sifting through my hair before he cups my head gently in his broad hands. His thumbs trace the circumference of my face, my ears, my cheekbones, and my lips. It’s almost like the first time we were together, when he wanted to memorize me with his hands as much as he wanted to know me inside.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Releasing my head, he continues his downward journey, the tips of his fingers skimming down my neck to rest at the pulse at the base of my throat.

“Rapid pulse.”

“You have that effect on me.”

“Hmmm.” He runs his finger over the crescents of my breasts, then gently lifts them from the cups of the corset. “Time for a breast exam.”

My cheeks burn ever so slightly, but it is nothing compared to the heat that floods my body when he squeezes and massages my breasts. His hands are callused now and excitingly rough on my soft skin.

“Slight swelling.”

“Maybe you could kiss them better?”

“I’m a professional, Nurse Taylor.” He rolls my nipples between his thumb and forefinger until I arch up on the bed.

“Very sensitive.”

God, his slightly detached, cool demeanor is doing something to my head. Before Chris was laid off, our lovemaking had a pattern, a familiar, easy rhythm that gave us both satisfaction. But this is something else. New and exciting and oh so erotic.

“I can treat that right now.” He draws one nipple into his mouth and a moan escapes my lips. It feels so good, so right, and I want more. More hot, wet mouth. More Dr. Taylor.

“Stay still. This might hurt a bit, but you’ll feel so much better when I’m done.” He holds me down with a firm hand against my hips and sucks and nips, squeezes and licks until my nipples are taut and my breasts are deliciously sore and swollen. I writhe on the bed, wet and aching to have him inside me.

“Please . . .”

Chris sighs. “You are not a very good patient. Far too wiggly.” He reaches for the handcuffs and holds them above me, his eyes never leaving mine. “We’d better secure you so I can examine you properly.”

My body goes entirely still. Chris has never restrained me before. Although we’ve had sex in many ways and many places, he was never interested in using toys or taking our encounters beyond the same positions in the same places.

As if sensing my hesitation, he leans down until his lips are almost against mine, his breath hot on my skin. “Do you trust me not to hurt you?”

He did hurt me. For over a year he checked out of our marriage. I’ve never felt lonelier than when we were in the house together with an unbridgeable gap between us. But that was emotional pain. I know he would never harm me physically.

“Yes.” I tip back my head, trying to close the distance between us, longing for a taste of his sensual mouth. When he backs away, I move to wrap my arms around him, but he catches my wrists and lifts my hands to the head of the bed.

“Naughty nurses don’t get to touch.” He snaps the cuffs around my wrists, and I instinctively pull against the fuzzy red padding.

God, what have I done?

Chris gives a satisfied grunt when it’s clear I can’t get free. He runs his hands over my ribs and stomach, in and out my curves, as if my restraint has loosened his own.

“I approve of this uniform.” His fingers follow the garter straps one at a time down to the tops of my stockings. I rock my hips, trying to get his fingers where I need them to go.

“Unfortunately,” he continues, tugging on my thong, “we will have to remove this to finish the exam.” With a quick yank, he tears it away, and I suck in a shocked breath.

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