Page 121
Eden
Show your medical professionals just how much you appreciate them.
I’m still trembling when I slip into Jasper’s private room, my sensitive nipples needy and trapped and my panties too damp for decency.
The space is enormous, high-ceilinged, and I’m not sure how long it might take for it to feel commonplace, but I’ve been in here so few times that it still thrills me. The dark, heavy woods, the warm lights, and the sumptuous scent of well-kept leather are enveloping. Erotic.
Every item of Jasper’s custom furniture is at once intriguing and alarming, and the wall of display cabinets with all their carefully arranged items makes my heart speed up.
His four-poster bed sprawls along the far wall, obnoxiously large and swathed in luxuriant fabrics.
There are hooks and tethers notched all along the frame.
.. and the infamous cage is housed threateningly underneath it.
Between the bars, I can make out several pillows, a blanket, and a discarded pack of cards I imagine Lucky getting fed up with quickly.
Beau is standing beside a large, padded gynecologist’s chair.
It’s wide and thick and reclinable, with far more straps and cuffs and attachments than any normal doctor would ever require.
There’s a rolling, completely stocked medical cart sitting to one side, alongside a wheeled office chair that has the word “DOCTOR” stitched across the backrest.
Beau is bent over, retracting the chair’s stirrups to the side, but he looks up as I enter. And then his eyes lift higher behind me.
“Oh, now. See? That’s good work, Nurse Anderson. I told you—every difficult patient can be brought around when you have the right attitude.” Beau’s innocent smile is more than a little wicked. “Did he give you any trouble?”
I glance up at Dom to see him giving Beau a sardonic look.
“I told you. I’m no trouble,” he says, and I suppress a scoff.
I start walking over to Beau. “Well, actually , doctor, he?—”
“Sure you aren’t,” Doctor Bennett agrees caustically, ignoring me. “Come sit.”
Dom closes the door behind him with his back, but winces a little when it jolts his arm, and I purse my lips at the reminder.
It might be a game, but he is actually hurt.
But Dom just eyes the stirrups, his lips twitching again.
“I don’t think I have the right equipment for that chair, doc ,” Dom says, like we both just missed his flinch.
And Beau straightens, scowling. “Just shut up and get in the chair, idiot.”
Dom pushes off the door and comes over to sit down. Even his heavy frame sits comfortably in the padded monstrosity, and it’s wide enough around his hips and head that if we reclined it, I could...
Stop .
I’m a professional.
I don’t care how stupidly attractive my patient is.
“First I’m going to check his arm, and then we’ll change his dressings,” Beau tells me as he pulls the overhead surgical light around to shine on Dom’s arm. “I want a good look at his chest—I’m fairly confident that he’s not bleeding internally, but we’ll keep monitoring for symptoms.”
Beau sits in the doctor’s chair, wheeling it close to Dom.
I blink, glancing at him as he sanitizes his hands then pulls a pair of gloves off the medical cart.
Mesmerized, I watch him tug them on, remembering his clever, gloved fingers pushing inside me all those weeks ago, back when I was his “patient.”
One who got a decidedly different treatment from the one Dom is getting now.
“Wait, you’re really treating him?” I ask, and Beau pauses, giving me a look of such forced, indulgent patience that I know it’s Doctor Bennett looking at me right now.
“Well, of course. I told you he’s been difficult. I need you, little nurse, to make sure he stays still while I work,” he drawls. “Get in nice and close there. Why don’t you cut that shirt off him? Help me get him ready for his examination.”
Beau hands me a pair of scissors, and Dom’s head drops back against the padded head of the chair, resigned. I need to handle him .
Eyeing him breathlessly, I inch closer.
It puts me right in Beau’s path, too close to where he’s shining the light on Dom’s bandages, and I hesitate.
I’m about to move around the chair when Beau says, “Up you go, nurse. Climb on.”
I pause, glancing at Dom’s big, sprawled body, reclining in the chair. It’s a wide chair, but not wide enough for us to sit two across.
I would need to straddle him. Straddle his lap . Ride all up over his...
Stop! Be professional , Eden!
“Doctor, I’m not sure I should be sitting on top of patients like that,” I tell him throatily.
Dom snorts, amused, and secret delight tugs at me.
He’s actually having fun .
So I lower my voice and add primly, “He might get the wrong idea.”
Beau glances between us, his color high and hungry. I’m standing so close to him, and Beau’s hand dips under my dress again, slipping up to my ass.
My breath catches. “Doctor Bennett?—”
“If he gets the wrong idea, it’s because you’re not being professional enough.” He cups my ass softly. “You do encourage the wrong sort of attention, Nurse Anderson.”
Every ounce of my attention is hyper-fixated on his soft, seeking hand.
Until it pauses.
“Now, you’re in my way here so go on up there and remove that shirt—and mind his ribs.”
Beau gives my ass a squeeze before patting it dismissively, encouraging me to climb up.
And his fingertips brush the cool base of my plug.
The plug jiggles hard inside me as we both freeze.
My stockinged toes curl against the floorboards as it awakens the sensitive nerves inside me all over again.
Dom raises one brow, watching my face.
“My, my,” Beau murmurs thickly. “It looks like our little nurse did come prepared.”
I look over my shoulder at him, panting, my nerve endings scattered, and Beau gives me a dangerously heated look.
“Must you touch me like that, Doctor Bennett?” I ask huskily, and slowly, he bites his lip, watching me.
Finally, he says, “How do you want me to touch you, nurse?”
My breathing stalls.
A soft smirk on his lips, Beau gives my ass a final, slow squeeze before he rolls his chair back around to Dom’s arm.
“Cut that shirt off , Nurse Anderson,” he orders as he starts removing Dom’s dressing.
Shirtless Dom.
On the lap of shirtless Dom.
Riding the cock of shirtless Dom.
Yes. Okay. Yes .
I can do that.
Professionally .
It takes me a moment to work out how to get up into the chair, but I’m finally able to dig my knee into the seat and pull myself up. Bracing against the wide, padded headrest on either side of Dom’s head, I straddle him carefully.
And when I’m finally astride him, I realize just how close we are. How my breath is fanning over his face. The way my knees are nestled in beside his hips.
How close my breasts are to his mouth.
Dom’s face is dangerous. Intense. He might be under me, might be letting me act this out... but there’s no doubt who is in control.
Slowly, I push off the headrest and settle back, hovering modestly over his lap, despite the way I want to grind down against him.
“I’m... I’m going to take this shirt off you, sir. Please stay still while I cut it,” I tell him politely as I bring the scissors carefully up to his sleeve.
They’re shockingly sharp, and I have vague background concerns about why Jasper needs scissors that sharp. Or the set of scalpels. Or the wicked-looking needles.
Dom scans my face as I begin to cut through the fabric, then looks dismissively away to watch Beau unwind his bandages.
“They’re fine as they are, you know. You don’t need to waste supplies,” Dom says under his breath.
“Well, when you get your medical license, you let me know,” Beau replies tartly.
They begin to bicker lightly, warmly , about supplies and his health, and I manage to cut away one sleeve.
The freed fabric folds back a little, and the awful, deeply purpled bruises on Dom’s chest make my stomach clench.
They spiderweb out from where he was shot, crawling over his abs and up to his collarbone—and while the swelling over his ribs on his left side has gone down, it still looks tender.
But, reluctantly, I can admit... that shot did do the job.
If Alastair wanted a war, he’s certainly got one now.
Very lightly, I trace some of the bruising.
“My poor soldier,” I murmur, half in the scene, half not as my heart aches, remembering my fear.
Bending down, I press a gentle kiss to his chest, and Dom stiffens, then relaxes on a sigh. Tentatively, his hand comes up to stroke over my hair.
“I’m okay, pet. I told you I’m not letting anyone die.” He tugs my head up so I look at him, and his eyes are dark-fringed and soft as melted butter. “That includes me. I’m right here. Are we clear?”
He somehow makes even his doting demands sound stern.
I give him a small smile. “Yes, sir. No one dies.”
Beau watches us both with tender, marveling eyes, and when I glance at him, his quick smile is emotional. He blinks twice, then clears his throat.
“You’re kind, little nurse... to show your appreciation,” he says huskily, and when I reach out for him, he shifts close enough that I can run a finger over a tiny cut on his face.
“I do appreciate you. I appreciate you both,” I whisper.
Beau turns his head to kiss my palm, and I breathe in shakily as I pull it back, switching my scissors back to my dominant hand.
“I’m very grateful for this job, doctor,” I tell him more decisively, and Dom huffs a laugh.
Beau’s smile curves up, and he winks at me. “Well, you ought to get to it, then, nurse. You’re taking your sweet time.”
Unable to repress my smile, I roll my eyes at him, then lean back over Dom.
Ignoring his injuries for now, I start cutting through the collar on his other side, down through the sleeve, being careful not to get too close to Beau. I’ve just finished cutting and I’m pulling the scissors away... when a heavy hand cups my pussy under my dress.
The hand squeezes me possessively.
Table of Contents
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