Page 16 of Dr. Damaged Protector

My aunt had told me to guide my heart from being emotionally invested in any man I met. But one glance and I could tell that he wasn't like the other men. His big, strong hands told me they were capable of saving lives in more ways than one.

His voice calmed me, and his scent…God. I spent two years trying to find the cologne he wore. Just like my heart had done a lot of times before, I became emotionally and sexually attached to him for that night. It was different: my pussy welcomed him with ease. My walls tightened with each of his thrusts.

His tongue in my mouth sent my brain into a downward spiral of pleasure. The same tongue made my body shudder when in contact with my ear. My protruding nipples hurt just from recalling how he had gone down and heavy on them.

My hips, usually moved involuntarily whenever I was with any other man, started moving wildly when he held me. I didn't have to fake anything. He saw through me; every spot that would bring me under his control was at his command.

Perfect. I didn't feel dirty…he didn't feel dirty. His hand on my neck as he fucked me into absolute submission made me envious of the many women he had touched in operating rooms, and the like.

My orgasm was of the kind that I had only felt once. As I watched the stranger sleep peacefully, I was convinced that he was an angel sent to lead me back on the right path.

I started to feel a little guilty. I had never let a stranger get their hands on me, and most of my clients would have to wait days. But this man whispered words of encouragement, drew me into his arms, and gave me a night I was sure I was never going to forget in a long, long time.

"It's not a tall dream, huh?" I touched his face.

When did I stop dreaming and let what I didn't like to become my only way out? That day, I found a new conviction. I wanted to see more of the stranger, but at the same time, I was still a little scared that he'd wake up and come to his senses.

He wasn't a bad guy, but maybe all he needed was only temporary.

"Thank you for giving me hope," I kissed his forehead, and he groaned in his sleep.

His reaction put a warm smile on my face.

****

I put everything behind me. Every gift from all my past clients was returned. I took out a loan and returned most of the money I was gifted. It was a small loan, as I rarely spent the money they gave me.

I looked for a small motel and applied to work as a receptionist. It was awkward as I saw some of my old clients there, but I was bored with it. Within the space of two years, I learned new skills and even started working at pharmacies and small medical centers, bookkeeping and helping organize themselves.

Part of it was because I was inspired by the medical doctor I met at the bar. The other reason was that I was helping improve people's lives. I had no medical experience, and thank goodness, I didn't have to attend to any of the patients. The pay was small, and I still felt pressured by my past.

I wanted to change, but Chicago needed to make it easier. Then, a way out showed itself.

****

"You're getting married?" I blinked twice, staring at the massive engagement ring on her finger.

"Yes." Kate's eyes glimmered with excitement.

"I don't get it. I didn't know you were dating anyone," I remarked, turning my attention to freelancing opportunities online.

I had to stop working at physical locations; it felt like each place I went, my past would always seem to connect to it somehow.

Kate had announced her engagement, and my surprise was justified. Just like me and my aunt, she had clients, except she hadn't stopped. We met through a mutual friend and became close afterward. I left that path and hoped that she would at least try something else, but my words fell on deaf ears.

"You remember Mr. Hills?" she asked.

"Theclient?'" I asked. "Wait…don't tell me…"

"Yes," she squealed, "he proposed."

Instantly, memories of clients who had promised me a happily ever after like that came flashing before my eyes.

I shook my head negatively and asked, "Is he married?"

"Divorced," she answered like she expected the question.

"Kids?"

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