Good Time Doctor Read online

  “Oh, I’d like to do a lot more than just intrigue you, Angel.”

  Another breath on his end. Am I imagining it, or does he sound like he’s breathing heavier too? I wonder if he’s feeling as hot and bothered as I am. Finally, he speaks again, voice a low murmur. “Where are you, Naomi?”

  “Downtown.” I name the hotel, though that seems silly. If he wrote his name in here, shouldn’t he know where I am? But maybe he’s written his name in a lot of bathrooms like this.

  For a second, I pause again. This is crazy. You don’t even know who he is.

  But what I do know is that I’m three vodkas deep, none of those 60+ year-old men in business suits over in the hotel lounge were doing it for me, and Kevin and I hadn’t fucked in months before I caught him with his secretary anyway. Suddenly, I realize I am fucking horny.

  Talking to Mr. Sexy Voice over here doesn’t help the situation, either.

  So what if this is crazy? You’re supposed do this when you go through a breakup, right? A little rebound never hurt anybody.

  “And you’re a guest at the hotel, Naomi?”

  “In room 972.”

  “Go up and wait for me there.”

  My lips part. Somehow, even with everything we just said, I didn’t expect him to actually agree to come. I hesitate one more time, but only for a second. “How long?”

  “Fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops. I’ll meet you in your room.”

  You can still cancel. You can call this off, I remind myself. But for once, I find, I don’t want to. Fuck it. This is my life and I’m reclaiming. I’m going to start my new life as a once again single woman with a fucking bang. “I’ll be ready and waiting,” I whisper. Then I disconnect the phone, grab my bag, and beeline for the elevators.

  2

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m pacing back and forth in front of my hotel room mirror. There’s no way he’s going to actually show up, is there?

  Still, I dressed for the occasion anyway. I’ve got on thigh high stockings and a garter belt that winds around each thigh to hold them up. Above that, I put on my laciest pair of panties and a matching dark red bra. Then I threw my silk nightgown over it, because I didn’t want to start things off too exposed.

  I also keep my phone in my hand, just in case he turns out to be a total nut job. And the hotel phone is nearby too. I can always summon irritable Mr. Jenkins and get him to berate this guy out of my room, if he’s some crazy person after all.

  But he didn’t sound crazy on the phone. He sounded hot as hell. Not to mention up for having some fun. Which is where my list of qualifications for the night ends.

  “This will be good for me,” I inform my reflection in the mirror as I artfully tousle and re-tousle my hair to get that perfect ‘just tripped out of bed’ messy look going. After all, my friends always tell me I leap into full on relationships way too fast. And the last guy I tried to casually date, I wound up marrying in under 6 months. So consider this Good Time guy practice. I’ll have a fun, sexy hookup, cleanse my system of Mr. Wrong, aka my cheating loser ex, and then I can start fresh in the dating world.

  Ugh. Don’t even think about the D-word right now, I mentally scold myself as I turn away from the mirror to check the time yet again.

  Nineteen minutes now. But he said fifteen to twenty. It’s not like he’s running super late or anything. Still, I can’t help it. I check my phone again. No missed calls.

  What if this is all some kind of elaborate prank? Or what if he doesn’t show? I left my lone vibrator back at Kevin’s, I realized two nights ago. Fucking hell. I’m going to have a hell of a time getting the lust out of my system if I have to go it solo tonight.

  But it’s not like I’m not used to that. After all, half the time Kevin didn’t bother to make sure I was enjoying myself before he got his rocks off. More often than not, I had to whip out that steady old vibrator after he’d fallen asleep snoring.

  I’m wishing I’d brought it with me, and already thinking about my contingency plan for when Angel blows me off, when there’s a knock at my door. I freeze in place. The girl in the mirror’s eyes go huge and startled, like she’s just as surprised as I am.

  Maybe some guys are reliable after all, I think, as I cross the hotel room to check. Sure, if you pay them, points out another, more cynical, voice in my head.

  I dip my head and press my eye to the peep hole first. I’m not a complete idiot. I’m going to check this guy out before I let him inside.

  But damn. The second I lay eyes on him, it’s hard to remind myself to take a breath.

  He is even hotter in person than he sounds over the phone. Tall, well over 6’, with messy black hair that falls across his forehead into his eyes. Whereas I had to work to get my hair looking freshly messed, he looks like it took no effort whatsoever. He’s in a white collared shirt too, and slacks that look like they’re one half of a well-tailored suit set, although he opted to leave the other half of the suit at home. Too bad. He’d look even better more dressed up.

  Or undressed completely, my brain helpfully points out.

  He shifts where he stands and glances up and down the hallway. Not in a nervous or hurried way. Just checking the numbers on the doors, I realize.

  When he looks back at the door, I have to take a step back from it, because with how intense and piercing his dark gray eyes are, it seems like he just looked right through this doorway and into mine. But of course, that’s impossible.

  Relax, I order myself. Then I twist the doorknob and swing the door open, just wide enough for it to catch on the chain. I smile, and step up to the crack, grinning at him. “You must be Angel.”

  “Naomi,” he says, and when he grins, it’s all I can do not to rip the chain off this door and drag him into my room by the collar of that shirt. He has a dangerous smile, sideways and sincere all at once. It makes me feel like he’s looking through me, into the very core of me. “May I come in?”

  I swallow hard. His voice is even deeper and sexier in person. Still, I hesitate, my common-sense kicking in. “How do I know you’re not some… shady person.”

  He arches a single, perfect eyebrow. “You called me, might I remind you.”

  “Right. True.” I press my lips together. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

  In response, he spreads his hands wide. “Should I prove I come unarmed?” He starts to undo his cuffs. Then, before I realize what he’s doing, he’s untucked his shirt and begun to unbutton it. Right there in the damn hallway.

  “Oh my god.” My face turns bright red. “Wait a second.” I slam the door, yank the chain off, and wrench it open again, all the way open this time.

  “What’s the matter?” He smirks. “Don’t want the rest of the floor catching the show?”

  “No, for some strange reason, I don’t want this whole hotel to know I called a… a…” An escort? What is his job title exactly? “A you,” I finish lamely.

  Angel laughs as he crosses the threshold. I slam the door behind him and lock it after, my heart still rabbiting in my chest. “For someone who rang a number on a bathroom stall in the middle of the night, you seem awfully unsure about what you want, Naomi.”

  “Oh trust me.” My gaze roams over him, lingering on the top half of his half-undone shirt, through which I glimpse steely pecs and a chiseled chest, and then dipping down to his pants. I can already see a slight bulge at his crotch, enough to make me want to rip those pants open. “I know what I want.”

  “Let me guess.” He takes a step toward me. Another.

  I breathe in sharply and catch the scent of his cologne, something strong and woodsy smelling. My breath catches when he pauses a few inches from me, the air between us humming with heat and unspoken energy. My hands itch to reach for him, but I just tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze head on.

  He smiles again, slower this time, just a half-smile that makes his already sharp cheekbones stand out like knives beneath the two-day scruff of his beard. “You want to play at being a bad girl for a ni
ght,” he says, his voice so low it hums like a purr in my chest.

  Without meaning to, I find myself moving, stepping closer to him. There’s barely a breath of air between us now, and the scent of him overwhelms me, making my head swim, my fingers buzz with energy. I raise my hand, rest it against his chest, right beside the buttons he undid earlier. Through the fabric of his shirt, I can feel the white-hot heat of him. I flatten my palm against his rock-hard pec. “Who said anything about playing?” I whisper.

  He reaches up to catch my wrist, and his hand where it encircles mine is enormous, strong. He lifts my hand above my head, moves me forward, his other hand catching my waist, and next thing I know he has me pinned against the wall, his body flush against mine.

  Fuck. I can feel the hard press of his cock already, thick and long against my belly.

  “You want me to show you what happens to naughty girls like you when they call men like me?” he murmurs. His breath is hot against my temple, my cheek. He dips his head, and his lips graze my earlobe.

  A shiver runs all the way from the crown of my head, down the length of my spine. In response, he traces his other hand up from my waist to cup the back of my neck. I turn toward him, and before I can reply, his lips crash into mine.

  Fucking hell. He tastes even better than he smells, like mint and firewood, smoky and salty at once. I part my lips, and his tongue invades my mouth, wrestling and twining around mine. He keeps my one arm pinned above my head, and he arches his hips, hard, making sure I can feel the whole throbbing length of his cock against my belly. In response, I wriggle against him, loving the sensation of my silky slip sliding against his crotch.

  He groans against my mouth, low and throaty, and I pull back just far enough to nip at his lower lip before we break the kiss. I lock eyes with him, heart racing now. “That, Angel, is exactly what I want.”

  His grin widens. “Where on earth did you come from, Naomi?” he murmurs.

  Before I can reply, he dips to kiss that sweet spot just below my earlobe. Then lower, his lips trailing along my neck, tracing the cords of my muscles. His teeth graze my skin, just hard enough to make me shiver again, and his free hand drips back down from my neck, tracing along my side, grazing the curve of my breasts, then following my waist, over my hips, down around to grip my ass, and pull me up against him again.

  This time I’m the one who moans against his mouth, and he pulls away from me laughing, his gaze sweeping over my outfit. “I see you dressed to fit the part.”

  “Who’s to say I don’t always dress like this?” I reply, arching one eyebrow to match his.

  But he just laughs again, and steps back. My whole body feels cold where he was touching me, aching from his absence. “Let’s see what’s underneath,” he says.

  “You first,” I counter, eyes darting to his shirt again.

  He smirks. “I thought you wanted to be disciplined, naughty girl. I think that means I’m in charge, doesn’t it?” He tips his head to one side.

  Asking for permission, I realize. Trying to figure out exactly where I want this fantasy to go. But I realize, that’s exactly where I want it to go. So in response, I reach up to grasp the edge of my nightgown. “Only if you ask nicely,” I say, my way of giving in without completely surrendering control.

  He smiles in answer. “Please remove that nightgown. I demand to see every inch of your gorgeous body.”

  My throat goes tight. Still, I obey, tightening my hands and pulling the gown up and over my head. I drop it on the floor by my feet, a little silk puddle. When I glance back, his eyes have changed. He looks hungry now, his gaze white-hot as he studies every inch of me.

  I guess the sexy underwear is working.

  “You like what you see?” I ask, my voice huskier than I intend. It seems to work for him though, because he moves closer again, and fuck, I can see the strain of his erection against his pants, thick and hard and longer than I’m used to. Way bigger than any of my exes, that’s for sure.

  “Very much.” He arches an eyebrow again. Damn, I love it when he does that. “Now turn around,” he says, and my heart skips at the note of command in his tone.

  Still, I turn, slowly, glancing over my shoulder for his approval.

  His smile widens. “Beautiful from every angle.” He steps close again, and I realize that I’ve moved in front of the window. With the curtains open, the floor-to-ceiling windows of my room provide a stunning view of downtown. But I realize that anyone else in neighboring buildings could look up at any moment and see me. My belly flutters, and I reach for the curtain to close it.

  Angel catches my hand to stop me. “Leave it open,” he says. As if to emphasize that, or maybe to soften the command, he leans down to kiss my shoulder. Then he bites me, just hard enough to make me gasp. “You’re gorgeous. You shouldn’t be afraid to put that sexy body of yours on a little show.”

  I laugh, my breath fogging the glass. “So is that my punishment, then?”

  “Oh, I’m just getting started, naughty girl.” His lips slide down my neck, and I gasp as he moves down my spine, licking and sucking and biting his way along my back, his tongue tracing my every muscle as he goes. At the same time, he slides his hands around to trace up my thighs, then up over my hips to my belly, and dragging his fingers back down, digging them in so I feel the press of his fingertips against my belly, then my hips.

  He hooks his thumb into my panties, and on his next pass, he tugs them down, pushing them all the way to the floor in one go. They’re already soaking wet, thanks to how damn excited he’s got me, and when they fall to my ankles I eagerly hop out of them.

  “Someone’s eager,” he murmurs, before kissing my lower back, his mouth tracing the curved dimples on either side of my spine, just above my ass. Without warning, he reaches up a hand to press me foreword, and I find myself leaning against the window, my nipples instantly going hard against the cool glass pane. “I’ll bet you want to feel my tongue on your wet pussy, don’t you, dirty girl?”

  I lean back to look behind me, just as he bites my ass, hard. I gasp, and he immediately kisses and sucks at the spot he just bit. My gasp shifts into a moan of pleasure. His tongue inches lower.

  He pauses a moment, and his hands part my ass cheeks. He pinches me, just a little, and I jump again, making him chuckle once more. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there. But I don’t want to get you too excited too early. See, I want this to last…” He leans in, and now his tongue slides in between my ass cheeks, just at the top of the crack.

  I inhale sharply.

  “Has anyone ever told you what a perfect ass you have, Naomi?”

  I swallow hard. “Um…” It’s hard to formulate a response to that when I have a ridiculously hot guy running his tongue along said ass.

  “Well, they should have. I’m going to show you how fully I appreciate this ass of yours.” His tongue slides down, lower, and I gasp again, tensing.

  Nobody’s ever done this with me before.

  He seems to know it, too, to judge from the throaty chuckle he lets out, as his tongue inches lower, lower… His hands keep a tight grip on my ass, massaging me gently, as his tongue slides along my crease until the very tip of his tongue reaches the tight little pucker of my asshole.

  My eyes flutter half-shut, and I lean against the window for support as his tongue circles my asshole. I’ve never done anything this filthy before. I’ve never had anyone play with my ass, even. Kevin used to ask if he could fuck me there, but I never let him. Now I’m glad, because this is definitely the better first experience.

  “Just remember to relax, okay?” Angel says, his voice suddenly gentle, soft. As if he knew what I needed before I even did.

  Before I can reply, he’s already moving. He licks his way down my ass, then over the pucker of me, and I moan loudly as his tongue circles. Part of me tenses, nervous, but his hands slide over my ass, one still gripping me, holding me in place, the other slipping around and over my hips to caress my mound, his fingers inchi
ng lower, toward my soaking wet pussy.

  And all the while, he keeps circling his tongue, licking at me, the tip pressing just hard enough to set my nerve endings there on fire.

  I remember what he told me, and I relax against him. Let myself enjoy it. Because fuck he feels good. He presses closer, his nose dug between my cheeks, and starts to really lap at my ass in earnest, his whole mouth right up against me, his tongue lapping, plunging, lapping more.

  I buck back against his face, moaning louder now. At the same time, his hand reaches my mound, and slides lower, his fingers parting my pussy. It makes a wet sucking sound, and he laughs softly against my ass, his breath white-hot against me, as he slides a finger along my slit.

  “You are loving this, aren’t you, dirty girl?”

  “I feel so fucking filthy,” I whisper, grinning at myself in the window reflection. I barely even recognize myself—spread-eagled against this window pane, where half the city could look up and see, if not my face, my naked body at least. And a hotter man than I’ve ever seen kneeling behind me, licking my ass. “I love it.”

  He laughs again, longer this time, before he slides his tongue back between my cheeks to trace the tight pucker of me. “I can tell. But we’ve hardly gotten started, dirty girl. I want to see you begging for my cock before long.” With that, he presses a single finger into my pussy. I moan and shiver against the window as he starts to rock his hand back and forth, fucking me gently, as his tongue’s assault on my ass continues.

  My hips buck and rock in time with his rhythm, my eyes fluttering shut as my breath comes faster, harder. “Fuck yes, oh god, right there,” I hear myself saying, not even bothering to think about what words are coming out of my mouth. I’ve never been with anyone who talked dirty before, but he’s so fucking hot about it, so unself-conscious, that I don’t even care about trying it myself. Just add it to the growing list of things the new me has tried. Tried and fucking loved.

  “More,” I hear myself moaning, and right on cue, he thrusts a second finger into my pussy, stretching me wider. I moan, feeling his fingers thick and slick inside me. He starts to finger me faster, his forefinger curling so it drags along my front inner wall, making my knees almost buckle when he grazes right over my G-spot.