CHAPTER 3; THE CEO'S PRIVATE PATIENT

Richard’s POV

Grandpa had sprained his leg that morning, and Mum had been on my case ever since, her voice tight with that particular mix of concern and calculation I had learned to recognise years ago. Go see him, she said. Spend time with the family. As if I didn’t already know exactly what they were up to.

Ever since the family took over the hospitals, the conversation at every gathering had narrowed to one theme: the next generation. Grandchildren had become the new expansion plan—another acquisition, another branch of the empire. Subtle questions about my calendar, not-so-subtle reminders about marriage, the occasional pointed glance at whatever woman happened to be standing near me. They wanted heirs the way other families wanted quarterly growth.

Unfortunately for them, I still had businesses to run, deals to close, and an empire that did not pause for romance or babies. Neither was on my agenda.

On my way out of the hospital I stopped by the gynaecology department to see my older sister, Nora.

“Hello, Spider,” I teased, leaning against the doorframe.

She didn’t even look up, eyes locked on a stack of reports. I reached over and plucked them from her hands just to watch her scowl. I wasn’t expecting to see Chloe’s name—William’s wife—printed neatly at the top of the next appointment. Why the hell would she book an appointment here?

Curiosity got the best of me. I decided to find out.

“Are you hungry?” Nora asked, already standing and stretching. “I’m heading down to grab a few things. Tell the next patient to wait for me.”

“Okay,” I said. I already had other plans. I was going to fill in for her.

The day Chloe met William, I had been standing right behind her. I had seen her first—the quiet way she held herself, the soft curve of her mouth when she smiled at something on her phone. I had chosen to step back. Respect what they were building. That choice had tasted like ash ever since the rumours about William and Rachel started circulating.

Now she was here, in my sister’s chair, and the moment my gloved fingers slid inside her the heat that surged through me was almost painful. She was tight, soft, and so wet it made my jaw clench. I still couldn’t believe William had never touched her in all these years. That only confirmed every ugly rumour.

She moaned the second I pushed deeper. That look on her face—eyes fluttering, lips parting, a flush climbing her throat—nearly undid me. The image of fucking her right there on the exam chair flooded my mind so vividly I had to force myself to breathe through it. Clinical. Controlled. I composed myself as I finished the procedure, watching her climax around my fingers. It was beautiful. Honest. Nothing like the polite, distant version of herself she wore in public.

“Doctor… can I go now?” she asked, voice small, nervous.

I could sense the tremor under the words, but I couldn’t help thinking about how she would take the surprise tomorrow. I only nodded, watching as she practically fled the room. A quiet chuckle escaped me once the door closed.

The cocktail party unfolded exactly as I had expected—executives from several major companies circulating under soft lights and polished conversation, the air thick with expensive perfume and the clink of crystal. Yet my mind kept drifting back to the remote-controlled vibrator I had slipped inside Chloe earlier, a private lesson meant just for her. The sleek black device was still nestled deep, waiting.

“Wait here for me, darling,” I said, flashing her a mischievous smirk before I was pulled aside by one of the Sinclair heirs, our longstanding rivals in the medical field. Reluctantly I left Chloe alone at our table. Moments later I spotted a young man approaching her, leaning in with easy confidence, the kind of smile that assumed he had already won something. A sharp flicker of jealousy cut through me—hot, unexpected, and entirely unwelcome. Without hesitation I pressed the button on the remote in my pocket.

Across the room I watched her stiffen. Her lips parted, but whatever she was about to say died before it could leave her mouth when the sudden vibration caught her attention. She tried desperately to compose herself, but the flushed cheeks, the tight smile, the way her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass gave her away.

I found her struggle to maintain that perfect composure far more entertaining than anything anyone else in the room had to say.

My gaze remained fixed on her from across the room, the remote still warm against my palm. Sinclair’s heir kept talking, all polished smiles and corporate bullshit, but my attention never left Chloe. The young man at our table was leaning closer now, saying something that made her force another polite smile. That was enough.

I thumbed the dial up.

Her spine went rigid. The glass in her hand trembled slightly as she pressed her thighs together beneath the tablecloth, her lips parting on a sharp, silent inhale. The man beside her continued talking, completely oblivious, while Chloe’s cheeks grew redder by the second. She tried to respond, but the words came out thin and unsteady.

I turned it higher.

A soft, strangled sound escaped her before she could stop it. Her free hand shot under the table, gripping the edge of the chair so tightly her knuckles went white. She shot me a desperate look across the room—pleading, furious, helpless. I just smiled and gave the dial another slow click.

“Gosh, I just want to see her lose herself to me,” I whispered under my breath, the words tasting like possession.

She was squirming now, trying to keep her composure while the toy buzzed relentlessly inside her. Every time she shifted I could see it hit her harder—the way her shoulders tensed, the slight parting of her lips, the flush that had spread down her throat. The guy finally noticed something was off and asked if she was all right. Chloe managed a tight nod, voice barely steady.

I left it running just like that—high enough to keep her on the edge, low enough that she couldn’t risk making a scene. Then I turned back to Sinclair’s heir like nothing was happening, still watching her from the corner of my eye as she sat there, flushed and trembling, fighting for every breath.

“I’d love to get to know you better,” the young man said.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, offering him a brief smile before turning and walking away.

She bolted from the table the second she could. I followed right behind her, keeping a measured distance as we moved through the quieter halls toward the restrooms. The remote stayed warm in my pocket; I didn’t turn it off.

We hadn’t gone far when I stopped dead.

Ahead of us, partially hidden by an open doorway, stood her husband. His mouth was locked on her sister Rachel’s, one hand already under her dress. Their formal clothes lay scattered across the carpet just inside the room—his jacket, her heels, her blouse—clear evidence of how little time they’d wasted. They were already stepping backward into the suite, too absorbed in each other to notice anyone in the hall.

“William…” I heard Chloe whisper, her voice breaking as she stared at the sight before her.

Her breath left her in a sharp, broken sound. I came up beside her, close enough to feel the fine tremor running through her body, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume mixed with the heat of her skin. The remote was still warm in my pocket. I didn’t turn it off.

We slipped into the restroom, and I locked the door behind us with a soft click. The fluorescent light was harsh; the air smelled of soap and clean tile.

“Please… take it out,” she whispered, voice already shaky, eyes bright with something that looked like fury and shame and need all tangled together.

I smiled against her ear, letting my breath brush the sensitive skin there. “That depends on how well you behave. Don’t you want to get back at that cheap husband of yours?”

Before she could answer I nosed along the side of her neck, breathing her in—warm skin, a trace of the perfume she had worn to the party, the faint salt of nerves. Then I pressed open-mouthed kisses to the place just below her ear. She tilted her head with a quiet gasp. Our mouths found each other again, the kiss deepening by the second—slow, hungry, full of everything we weren’t saying out loud. She tasted like champagne and the sharp edge of betrayal.

I kept kissing her until her hands were fisting the front of my shirt, until the fine tremor in her body had turned into something hungrier. When I finally pulled back just enough to speak, my voice was low against her lips.

“Turn around.”

She hesitated only a second—long enough for me to see the war in her eyes—then she obeyed, bracing her hands on the edge of the sink. I stepped in close behind her, letting her feel exactly how hard I already was. My hands slid under the hem of her dress, pushing the soft fabric up over her hips. The thin lace of her panties was already damp when my fingers brushed over them; the heat of her made my pulse kick hard.

“Please,” she breathed again, looking at me in the mirror, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and dragged the panties down her thighs, letting them drop to her ankles. She stepped out of them without being told. I freed myself, the head of my cock already slick, and rubbed it slowly up and down her wet folds, teasing her entrance without pushing in yet. The heat of her, the slickness, the way she pushed back just slightly against me—every detail burned itself into my mind.

“You want this?” I asked, voice rough. “You want me to fuck you right here while your husband is waiting outside?”

She nodded, biting her lip hard. “Yes… please.”

I lined up and sank into her in one steady thrust, burying myself to the hilt. A sharp, broken moan escaped her. I covered her mouth with one hand and started moving—deep, deliberate strokes that made the soft wet sound of our bodies fill the small room. She was tight, hot, still fluttering around the toy that remained nestled inside her alongside me. The dual sensation made her thighs shake.

After a few more thrusts I reached down between her legs, found the base of the vibrator, and slowly pulled the slick toy free. The sudden emptiness made her moan—louder than she meant to, the sound slipping past my fingers for just a second.

Outside the door, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Chloe? Is that you?”

Her body went rigid against me. Footsteps approached. Her husband’s voice came again, closer this time, followed by the low murmur of other people. They must have finished whatever they were doing and decided to head this way.

I didn’t waste a second. I pulled out of her, the loss of her heat almost painful, yanked her panties back up, and smoothed her dress down with quick, precise hands. Then I grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the second exit at the far end of the restroom—the one that led straight out to the side alley.

We slipped through the door just as the handle began to turn. By the time her husband pushed it open, the restroom was completely empty. No one. Nothing to give us away.

Meanwhile I already had Chloe in the passenger seat of my car. The engine was running as I pulled out of the lot, leaving the building and the party and her husband behind us. Her heart was still racing—I could see the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. The lingering taste of her kiss on my tongue, the memory of how tightly she had clenched around me, made it impossible to forget what had just happened.

I glanced sideways at her as the city lights smeared past the windows. She was still flushed, still trembling faintly, still fighting the aftershocks of everything I had done to her tonight. And I was already thinking about the next lesson.