Page 39 of Scary In Love
“Because they turn me on, and you look fucking delicious in them.”
“Oh,” I gasp, then giggle. “That doesn’t seem like a very professional thing to say, Doctor.”
“Seems like you’re impossible to be professional around.”
He spreads his fingers beneath the strands, dragging his nails down my sensitive skin when he releases me.
When he moves to the head of the bed, I try to follow his face, but it disappears into the darkness above me. He taps my knee, and I put my legs back down, waiting for whatever comes next.
I hear him rummaging in his pockets, then the unmistakable sound of gloves snapping on.
“Open your mouth for me and say‘ahh’.”
23
Jenna
Basedonliterallyeverymedical interaction I’ve ever had, I expect him to use a flat tongue depressor, but he surprises me by sliding two fingers into my mouth, sweeping them around the inside of my cheeks like a swab.
I want to be a good patient, but with the size of his hands, it’s a struggle not to close my lips around them and suck. Mason keeps going, slipping right to the back of my throat.
“Swallow,” he says.
My eyes water, and I focus on my breathing, determined not to choke.
“Gag reflex is minimal,” he dictates. “Throat is well hydrated.”
That much is obvious when he removes his fingers, slick with my saliva. He smears it across my face, squeezing my cheeks until my lips open. His fingers slip inside and hook behind my bottom teeth, pulling my jaw wider.
He drags his hand lower and wraps it around my throat, pressing his thumb and fingers into the sides. He studies his wrist, counting off my thrumming pulse. I’m so busy wishing he’d press a little harder it takes a while for me to notice he’s not even wearing a watch.
“As expected, patient displays many of the common whore symptoms. Pulse rate is high, breath is rapid, pupils dilated. Investigations will continue.”
Shifting to my side, he squeezes up and down the length of my arms, lifting one, then the other, and letting them drop.
“Any other health concerns you want to make me aware of?”
Nothing comes to mind, then I remember we’re in a scene. This is not real life.
“I’ve been spending a lot of time in a dusty old house with a strange man,” I tell him in my sweetest, most concerned voice. “It’s been causing some terrible sensations.”
“What sort of sensations?”
“I’m embarrassed to say, Doctor. I know I have a sickness. Please don’t make me confess.”
He hums, tapping his fingers against the clipboard. “We should probably make sure all this dust hasn’t affected your lung capacity.”
Mason fetches a stethoscope from the trolley, and listens intently while pressing it into the top of my breasts, over the soft fabric of my sweater.
“Take a deep breath for me.”
There’s no way he knows how to accurately take patient observations, and I’m unable to fight the urge to tell him what he’s doing wrong.
“You’re meant to hold it against my skin, I think.”
Mason chuckles. “I’m aware, Miss. Do you think I’m a fake doctor or something?”
He reaches for something else, and the next thing I know, he’s slicing through my top and tearing it open with his hands. He shoves it roughly to the sides and listens again.
