Devaney’s Doctor Daddy by Honey Meyer

Chapter Seventeen

Carter had picked up the boys half an hour ago and now there was a knock at the door. That’d be Eric. Daddy.

Devaney felt her cheeks get warm, and some of the heat trickle through the rest of her system, pooling in her breasts and her pelvis. Now that she wasn’t incapacitated by a debilitating migraine or agonizing cramps, what would their time together be like?

She checked her hair in the mirror one last time before opening the door. Eric was standing there, a bouquet of bright tulips and hyacinths and daffodils in his hands and looking impossibly handsome.

It was maybe shallow, but she’d always liked the look of men in suits, in button-up shirts and ties, with their shiny shoes and cufflinks and tie pins. Eric was no exception, especially with his broad shoulders that filled out the pale yellow shirt, the paisley tie that drew her gaze down his torso, and his narrow hips hugged by grey trousers and a black belt.

She wanted to lick her lips but that seemed rude. She did love the way he was looking at her though, his gaze raking over her so hot she could feel it prickling on her skin. He rubbed his full bottom lip with a knuckle and it was so…arrogant. Assessing.

From most men, well, honestly, she wouldn’t notice them looking at her in the first place because she was always rushing around, but if she did notice them looking at her so hungrily, as though she were a piece of meat to be consumed, it would make her uncomfortable. She’d had enough of feeling like she was being used up and then tossed away.

But from Eric? The intensity of his panther-stalking-a-doe survey made her blush harder and her erogenous zones practically pulse with need. And when his teeth sank into his bottom lip and he shook his head with a lopsided secret smile, she almost swooned. Maybe it was because she already knew how considerate and devoted he could be, but she didn’t feel like he wanted to break her down and use her for kindling. She felt like maybe, perhaps, he wanted to tend to her like a hothouse flower so he could delight in the bloom.

“You look gorgeous, Devy. That’s a really nice color on you.”

“Thank you,” she said, smoothing the lilac cotton over her thighs. “You can come in if you want. I just need to grab a couple more things and then we can go.”

Yes, Eric had been here before but she hadn’t been with it enough to be self-conscious about it then. She was now.

Her apartment wasn’t nice but she’d tried her best to make it homey. For the boys, but also for herself. She didn’t like living in someplace ugly but this was the only thing she could afford. A spike of anxiety lanced through her because how much longer would she be able to afford even this? She tried to swallow the panic, telling herself she’d find another job this weekend. Even if it wasn’t ideal, she could do anything to tide her over as long as the boys could stay with her. She would literally do anything to make that happen.

Eric didn’t seem to be disgusted, though, just set his hand at the small of her back as she led him inside. Shit, she’d forgotten to take the flowers he’d brought her. Once they’d taken the few steps it required to be in the small living room, she turned to him and he handed her the bouquet which she immediately put up to her face so she could inhale.

He smiled at the dreamy look she must have and she smiled back. “I love the smell of hyacinths, they’re my favorite. And I love how bright these are. Thank you so much.”

She stood there, flowers clutched in her hands not knowing what to do. Despite the fact that he’d touched every inch of her, kissed and petted most of her body, changed her diaper for goodness’ sake, they hadn’t actually kissed on the lips. Would it be weird for her to do it now? Did Eric not like kissing?

Devaney hadn’t been good at dating when she’d done it in high school or college or grad school, and she hadn’t really thought about it after splitting with Carter. Men had always flummoxed her and Eric was no different, although at least she enjoyed the fluttery way he made her feel.

It was possible she would’ve stood there all day, bewildered, but thankfully Eric didn’t seem to have a confounded bone in his body. No, he stepped toward her, slid his strong arms around her waist and pulled her close.

“You’re welcome. They reminded me of you, buttercup.”

If he was always so sweet, she was going to walk around looking like a strawberry. There were worse things that could happen, she supposed. She pulled her lips between her teeth and blinked up at him.

“Can I… May I kiss you?”

Eric smiled so big she could see his teeth. Heart-stoppingly handsome, that’s what he was. “Of course you may. Where would you like to kiss me?”

“Everywhere,” she blurted and then felt her cheeks burn as red as the tulips in the bouquet. “I mean…”

Suddenly there were big hands sliding down to grasp her backside and crush her hips into him. She could feel his thick, hard length against her stomach. Wow, holy wow.

“I’m a big fan of you kissing me anywhere you damn well please, baby, but I promised myself I’d feed you before getting distracted by everything else I want to do to you.”

Oh. She could’ve melted from his voice alone, thick and intense as molasses. She wanted to melt for him, let him mold and shape and sculpt her. And yes, toy with her. But he also made her feel light and playful when she hadn’t felt that way in so long. Everything was always so heavy.

“Could I have just one, please?” She hesitated for a second, and then added a soft, “Daddy?”

His already dark eyes darkened further and his grip on her ass tightened. “You’re going to want to put those flowers down.”

Devaney set her bouquet on the counter between the living room and the kitchen and before she could take another breath, Eric had slid one of his hands up her back and into her hair, grabbing a handful of the strands and twisting until she gasped. Then his mouth was on hers and she was lost. Lost to the force of him, the way she felt simultaneously like he was the cliff she was going to fall from but also the steady grasp keeping her safe. How did he do that?

He probed gently at the seam of her lips, and broke away to murmur against her, “Open up for me, babygirl.”

Obediently, Devaney let her lips part and then his tongue was slipping inside her, tasting her and exploring, tangling with hers. She stiffened at the passionate onslaught but then let go, knowing Eric would catch her, and he did.

By the time Eric broke their kiss again, she was breathing hard and wanting so badly to strip off all her clothes and rub herself against him like a cat. Maybe he’d like that—he did seem to like stroking her hair. She squeaked when he swatted her backside and shook his head.

“You are too delicious for your own good, Devy baby. I’d do that all day if I could.”

His praise made her flush with pleasure and the place where he’d spanked her tingled.

“We could skip dinner,” she offered, making doe eyes.

Eric shook his head again and chuckled. “Not a chance. We’ll get you fed and there will be plenty of time for me to have my way with you after that, don’t you worry. I’ve been dreaming about it all damn day. And I’ve got plans for you.”

* * *

When Eric had said he was going to feed her, she hadn’t thought he’d meant literally. But here she was in his beautiful dining room with its sage green walls and dark wood trim, a fire crackling in front of them, tied to her chair. Well, her wrists were anyway.

They hadn’t started out that way, but Eric insisted on feeding her every bite—which she found ridiculously hot for reasons she didn’t completely understand—and she hadn’t been able to keep from reaching for things out of habit.

It wasn’t terrible to have her wrists bound to the arms of her chair with the lengths of silk he’d pulled from his pocket—did he carry those things around all the time? My goodness. In fact, she rather liked it. It was funny how being bound could make her feel so free but it was easier to let all of her worries and responsibilities slip away when there was literally nothing she could do about any of them.

Nor did she have to worry about whether Eric was feeding her because he wanted to or because he felt some sort of obligation. If he didn’t want to, he could just let her go and she’d dig into the strip steak and Lyonnaise potatoes and roasted carrots by herself.

But no, he cut every small bite and brought it to her lips instead. Same with the glass of Cabernet he allowed her to sip, having made clear she’d only be allowed the one.

And why did it make her wet between her legs when he’d said that? She didn’t like controlling men—she’d had enough of Carter having opinions on everything from how she dressed to what she ate to what she said. But it was so different with Eric.

He wanted to call the shots, yes, but in a benevolent way. It wasn’t that he wanted her to reflect well on him or to be a Stepford wife; he wanted her to be well-rested and healthy and happy. If she wasn’t so keen on decisions he was making for her, she didn’t think he’d force his agenda—he hadn’t yet.

Yes, he might coax her if he thought she was reluctant but if she truly objected she believed he’d back off. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her either; it was obvious he thought she was a good parent and let her steer that ship as she saw fit. It was more like if she wanted to give up the helm for a while either because she was so tired or overwhelmed or simply didn’t want to then he was ready to step in.

And this? Being bound and literally nourished by his own hand? Delicious. Made her feel dreamy and replete in some ways, but in other ways she was far from satisfied. Because for all that she was feeling sated in her hunger for literal food, the memories of their kiss from earlier lingered and she was not at all done with that carnal craving.

She swallowed another bite of the tender strip steak, and when Eric held another bite up to her mouth, she shook her head. “I’m full.”

“One more for Daddy? The iron’s good for you, baby.”

“One more,” she agreed, and took the meat into her mouth, savoring the balsamic reduction it was drizzled in, licking the last drop of it from her lip.

And the way Eric’s gaze tracked the tip of her tongue… She didn’t think she had to worry about not being satisfied in any way tonight.

It was a little mortifying when he dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the napkin from her lap but also made her nipples harden, her breasts feel tight and heavy, her sex swollen and slick. She wanted to take his fingers in her mouth, more of him in her mouth to be honest, just wanted all of him inside her. It wasn’t fair that he’d seen every inch of her but she hadn’t been able to explore him.

Yes he slept in only thin cotton pants and she’d had the pleasure of his sparse, tight curls of chest hair rubbing against her back, but she’d been feeling so awful she hadn’t been able to truly appreciate it, aside from the occasional thrill of being in the arms of such a well-built man.

Now though? She was feeling so much better and she wanted not the teasing bolt of arousal of that damn kiss, but to see it through. To gather like a storm and then burst all over in a deluge of wetness, and the lightning-strike, thunder-clap ecstasy of a really good orgasm.

“You need anything else?” Eric asked, his eyes hooded with desire as he looked at her, wrists still bound to the chair like a sacrifice for him to do what he liked to.

She licked her lips again, not being able to help it because he was just so…everything. He was everything she desired, and she wanted to gorge herself on him as though she’d been starving. Truth be told, she had been. Starved of romantic affection and having someone look at her body as though it was some sort of buffet of sensual delights.

“I need you, Eric. Please.”