Page 5 of Doctor’s Orders

Wes’s voice echoes through my head with each step I take away from him.

What am I doing? This is crazy. I shouldn’t be here, and he shouldn’t be here, and we definitely shouldn’t be here together.

But seeing him sit across from me was like a breath of fresh air. Having him touch me sent tingles across my skin. Here, I’m not his patient - I’m something else.

Something new.

Drawing a breath, I turn around and face him, blocking out the other patrons and couples on the floor. It’s only me and him, I tell myself.

Just the two of us.

I don’t know the song, but I let the beat vibrate through my body and start swaying my hips to the undertones. Captured under Wes’s gaze, I move only for him. I’m not even sure what I do or how I move my arms or what I do with my feet, but I let the music guide me an I let muscle memory take over.

His eyes never leave mine, and adrenaline pumps through my veins at how thrilling it is to be watched. I’ve known he was there all along - a part of me knew, at least. But now I have proof. Now I can’t tell myself that it was all a dream.

It’s really happening. He’shere. I have a feeling he’s been here with me a long time now.

The song ends quickly and the couples around me rotate out. I stay put, unsure if he wants me to return to him or dance to the next song. When he doesn’t move, neither do I, and as the next song picks up so do my feet.

It’s faster, and I remember a quick step I used to do. Spinning on the balls of my feet, I laugh as the room turns round and round, my heart rate pumping louder as I start to work up a sweat.

I haven’t done this in years. I’vemissedthis.

The next time I turn around, I close my eyes and let the music guide me. I’m not sure how much time passes, but the song ends and I open my eyes to show Wes how much I love this. It’s not dancing on tabletops with people cheering me on - it feels more intimate knowing that I’m only dancing for him and for myself.

When I train my eyes on the booth, I immediately notice that Wes is gone. My smile falters as I scan the room for him. He’s nowhere to be seen.

The next song starts and someone comes up behind me, setting their hands on my hips and pulling my back against their chest. I gasp, and the deep chuckle at my ear is familiar.

It’s not a stranger trying to get some action,it’s Wes.

“You looked too good to dance alone,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my ear. “Mind if I join you?”

I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. I’ve always wanted to feel him, and I finally have the chance.

He groans, and it’s then that I realize the hard thing poking my ass isn’t his belt buckle -it’s his dick.

“I’ve thought about this a hundred times,” he rasps, pulling my hair from my neck and kissing a trail down to my shoulder. “The first moment I’d touch you. Where it would be. How you would feel.”

Sharp pain makes me gasp as he bites down, and the sensation goes straight to my clit. He soothes the sting with his tongue before breathing harshly in my ear.

“Dance for me, Lacy. Don’t stop now.”

Ourdanceis little more than a grind, his hands holding me firmly to his hips as I rotate mine and cling to him anywhere I can. My hand wraps around his while the other claws at the back of his neck.

“You make me ache for you, Lacy,” he whispers harshly in my ear. “I’ve come so many times to the thought of you touching me. I’ve come inside your house, did you know that?”

I whimper as he nips my earlobe. “Yes,” I gasp. “I’ve seen you in my bedroom before.”

He starts thrusting his hips against mine slowly, wedging his cock as deep against my ass as it can go. It hurts, but I’m desperate for his touch and will take anything I can get.

“What did you see me do?”

Heat spreads from my face down to my toes as I recall the night I found him standing over my bed shirtless, his pants slung low over his hips as he palms his hard cock. “You were— you were touching yourself.” My heart pounds widely in my chest at the memory. I thought I’d dreamt it and wondered why the dream didn’t go any father - why he hadn’t climbed on top of me and kissed me senseless, torn off my comforter, and rut against my sopping wet slit.

“You touched yourself too, didn’t you?”

I bite back a moan. That’s right,I did touch myself. My thighs spread and my hands slipped between them, imagining Wes jerking off for me.

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