So they are finally “official”. How are you feeling about this??
BethThe movie’s still playing, but I couldn’t tell you what it’s about. Something with car chases. Or spies. Or both. I’m not really paying attention.Not with Tommy’s hand between my thighs under the blanket, slow and possessive like he owns the real estate. I shift against the cushions, trying to play it cool, but his palm flattens and slides, dragging over my inner thigh with maddening precision.“You’re squirming,” he murmurs, voice low in my ear. “That mean you’re ready for more?”I bite my lip.He shifts beside me and lifts the blanket slightly. “Why don’t you come get on top of me and ride this cock like you want to.”Heat floods every part of me. I glance toward the open blinds. “Right here?”His mouth curves into that cocky half-smile. “You weren’t so concerned about the windows the other day when I fully raised the blinds and fucked you against the window.” He draws a breath and continues, “Here on the couch with the slats of the blinds open is hardly a comparison.”I hesit
BethThe office was quiet in that end-of-day way—soft clacks of keyboards slowing, phones ringing less frequently, the hum of fluorescent lights louder than usual.I shut down my laptop and slid it into my bag, still riding the afterglow of a successful meeting. The contract was locked. The campaign was greenlit. And I somehow managed to get through lunch with Dr. Cole without jumping him across the conference table.Barely.“Hey, rockstar.”I glanced up as Brian leaned against my office doorframe, holding a half-empty coffee cup and wearing his usual late-day smirk.“Oh God, please don’t call me that,” I said, laughing as I zipped my bag. “You’ll jinx it.”He stepped inside, sipping his drink. “Just wanted to say congrats again. That contract’s no joke—it’s not a one-and-done campaign. That’s a long-term deal, full retainer. You basically just guaranteed us six months of monthly checks.”I paused, my hands stilling on the edge of the desk. “Wait—seriously?”Brian nodded. “Dr. Cole si
BethI hit save on the proposal draft and lean back in my chair, eyes bleary from staring at the screen too long. The layout is clean. The campaign strategy is airtight. The slide deck even has a fucking animated intro.In short: I nailed it.I chew the edge of my thumb for a second, then grab my phone and scroll through my recent calls.His name is still just listed as Dr. Cole.My thumb hovers for a beat too long before I hit call.It only rings once.“Dr. Cole.”“Hi—hi. It’s Beth Monroe,” I say quickly. “I just wanted to confirm a time for you to review the proposal?”A pause. I can hear him shifting on the other end of the line.“I’ve got my lunch hour free,” he says, calm as ever. “And the hour after lunch just opened up. Will two hours be enough?”“Plenty,” I reply, trying to sound breezy. “That’s more than enough time.”“I’ll come to your office then. No need for you to pack everything up.”“Oh—okay. Yeah. Great.”We hang up, and I immediately get up to straighten my desk like
Dr. ColeMonday mornings are usually a mess of overbooked patients and paperwork.Not today.I stand in front of the oversized wall calendar in the break room, coffee in hand, trying not to think too hard. It’s a slow day. Just two morning patients—one of which already blindsided me—and a pharma rep visit. Madison.I rub the back of my neck. She must’ve called ahead and scheduled something official. Probably wants to talk about the new migraine injectable or whatever the latest patent-pending bullshit is.She’ll be here in fifteen minutes.I check my watch, then head back to my office and shut the door behind me.The silence presses in.Elizabeth was here. In this building. Sitting in that exam room like any other patient.Asking for emergency contraception.I didn’t look at the name on the chart first. Rookie move. I wasn’t prepared—seeing her there, fidgeting on the edge of the table, wearing guilt like perfume.It shouldn’t bother me.We’re not together. Hell, we’re barely even any
Dr. ColeMy office smells like eucalyptus and sterile cotton.The scent of control.Of cleanliness.Of everything I’ve built—order, precision, boundaries I never cross.I adjust my cuff as the morning light filters through the blinds. Another day. Another lineup of patients who expect answers, comfort, maybe even a bit of charm. And I’ll give it to them. I always do.But my mind isn’t in this room.It’s still wrapped around last night.The dark edges of the club.The taste of her skin.The way she whispered “I want you to.”I should’ve walked away the moment I recognized her. Hell, I should’ve never followed her into that corner. But there was something about the way she touched me—soft, deliberate, like she already knew me. Like her body remembered mine.And maybe it did.The silk of her blouse sliding under my fingers.The press of her chest against my hand.The sound she made—barely a whimper—but it lit something under my skin that’s been dormant for years.And the feel of her puss
BethThe blinds are still up.I’m still on my knees.The air smells like sex and wine, the only sound my own slow breath and the faint mechanical hum of the building settling around me. I blink, trying to collect myself, hands planted against the cool hardwood floor. My knees ache a little. My throat even more.I push up slowly. My top is still crumpled on the floor beside me. I grab it, slide it on, and tug the hem down as I stand—half-dazed, half-sore, and very, very exposed.Tommy’s already zipping up when I turn around. He offers his hand like we just finished a trust fall, not a full-on exhibitionist sex against a window.I take it.He pulls me to him, and I stumble a bit on unsteady legs. He catches me easily, steadying me with a laugh.“You wanna go for round two in the bedroom?” I ask, breathless but hopeful.Tommy smiles—too smooth. “I’d love to, but I gotta run. Early flight.”“Really?” I blink. “Where to?”He shrugs. “Just a quick thing for work.”Before I can ask more, he