Page 29 of Detention with Daddies

Olivia sits straighter in her chair, pushing out those gorgeous breasts at me. Fuck, it takes everything inside or me not to stare at them, although I swear I can see those little buds hardening under her shirt.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, I glance at the paperwork on my desk, calming my thoughts. Redirecting myself.

“Okay. We start at three thirty, but most of them arrive about thirty minutes early to change and chat.”

I nod, watching her pull her confident mask back in place. Most of it is genuine. She’s smart. She knows what she wants and how to accomplish it.

It’s me that makes her nervous.

I don’t blame her. She’s completely wrecked me already.

“I’ll do my best to remain unobtrusive.” I stand, and she follows my lead.

Walking her to the door, I chance a small touch at the small of her back, and a spark drives up my arm, zapping me in my guts.

Breathing her in is pushing my luck, but she’s sweet and citrusy, and I want to drink her in like a mojito.

Once she’s gone, I close my door and sink back into the daydreams I haven’t been able to shake. What would her mouth taste like? Would her skin be as sugary as her scent?

How would her mouth feel on my skin? Around my cock?

I allow myself the fantasy of those rosy lips closing around my length, color bright and high on her cheeks as she peers up at me. As she swallows me all the way down. Tears streaming from the corners of her eyes as I fuck her throat.

And she doesn’t let a single drop of cum go to waste.

I’ve never had such depraved thoughts. Not that my sex life hasn’t been adventurous, but I’ve never been all that rough with the women I’ve had in my bed.

Fuck, would she let me take her right here in my office?

Or the one I have in the center?

In the storage closet? Or the lab table?

Shaking my head, I break myself out of the cycle again. I need a distraction.

Lunch has me walking to the center to grab food. I usually bring something with me since I pay for a meal service—it’s easier to get the custom macros for my diet that way—but I didn’t have the bandwidth to remember today.

As I check out, I spot Olivia sitting and laughing with Nick Salazar, and a small pang of jealousy hits me at how comfortable she is with him. But he’s her professor too.

Could I sit with them and have her be as easygoing with me there? Probably not.

I don’t give off an easygoing energy. I’m strict. Ruthless. Hard to please.

Would she be able to handle that?

Instead of interrupting them, I take my lunch to my office in the building. It’s smaller and more medically focused, but it’s a quiet reprieve to eat and distract myself with patient files.

A few appointments keep me from overthinking so that I feel more stable by the time I enter Olivia’s studio a little after three. A few people from her group have arrived already, so I tuck myself quietly in the corner by the door.

Olivia glances at me with a smile and a nod and chats with her subjects. The passion and care in her features reflects in theirs. Her energy is contagious. And her mere belief in them seems to make them want to prove her right.

Watching her has my view of her shifting, developing, deepening. Olivia is one hell of a woman, and I can’t believe I’d dismissed her as another big girl with a chip on her shoulder.

When she takes her place up front, she acknowledges the glances her group keeps sending my way. “Don’t worry about Dr. Wright. He’s here to judge me. Not you.”

The softness of her features and her gentle smile make the comment light and disarming. They’re used to her joking with them.

Most importantly, she glows like an angel in front of them. As they start moving, it only gets brighter. It’s hard to tear my gaze away from her.

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