Devaney’s Doctor Daddy by Honey Meyer

Chapter Nineteen

His heart stuck in his throat waiting for Devaney to answer. For her to say she thought it was disgusting and she was going to report him to the medical board and the authorities. Or to say it didn’t bother her, precisely, but she wanted to be his only grown-up patient.

He’d had women ask him for that before, and while he’d considered it, he’d ultimately decided he couldn’t give that up. Being a pillar of the fetish community was just too much a part of who he was to sacrifice. If Devaney asked, the equation might come out differently because he was almost certain she was the one, his little, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“I don’t think so. But…”

She snapped her mouth shut and shook her head, the color in her cheeks darkening to a dusty rose.

“But what?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Nothing you have to say is ridiculous.”

Her mouth wrenched to the side and he wanted to scoop her up, cuddle and hold her in his lap, make them both feel good. But he also suspected if he did that she’d melt further into little space and they were having a grown-up discussion so best to wait until after. Then he’d take her in his arms and not let her go.

“This is so new, I still can’t believe it’s really happening. So it seems like a lot to ask if…” She looked up at him, eyes impossibly round as she swallowed, and then said, “Even though you’re doing those things with other people, if I’d still be special?”

Those cornflower blues were going to be the death of him, even when they looked more grey like they did in the dimmed lighting. Wide open and vulnerable, framed by her delicate lashes—yep, he was a goner.

“Oh, babygirl. You’re the most special. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And even though a lot of the things I do with my little patients I do with you too, there are some things I’d only do with you. If you want to. I never want you to feel like I’m rushing you.”

“Like what, though? What would you only do with me?”

Of course she was going to ask. And of course he’d answer. He was used to having frank conversations about sex and kink and bodies and limits but there was still a pinch of awkwardness about it, even after all these years. Even after she’d been brave and told him what she wanted.

“Well, I don’t kiss my little patients,” he said, and leaned forward to press his lips to her soft cheek and to just in front of her ear. “And not to be crude, but I don’t stick my dick in them either.”

Hearing pretty, polite, and proper Devaney Bishop snort had to be one of the best feelings on earth.

“You definitely haven’t done that to me. Pretty sure I’d remember.”

He didn’t mean for his voice to come out as a growl, but with Devy flirting so prettily, how could a man be expected to control himself? “I promise you will, buttercup. So what do you think, Devy? Ready to give this a try?”

The eager way she nodded was all the answer he needed.

* * *

“Devaney Norfolk?”

She’d asked him to use her maiden name for this scene and though it shouldn’t have mattered at all—she was clearly over Carter, and he held no sway over her despite the fact that she still used his name—he was selfishly glad. It also felt like another piece of herself that she’d given to him: this is who I used to be.

Devy waved nervously from the chair she’d parked herself in in the waiting room, and then grabbed her purse and stood, walked toward him, fingers knitted in the straps of her bag.

“Hi there, I’m Doctor Southerland. Or you can call me Doctor Eric. Most of my patients do.”

Most of his little patients anyway.

She shook his hand and he could feel the slight tremor in them so he broke character for a second to lean down and murmur in her ear.

“Y’okay, Devy? You sure about this?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. “Very sure. Just nervous. Excited.”

“Alright. You let me know if that changes. Remember what you say if you need to stop?”

“Red.”

“Good girl.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then re-assumed his persona as he walked her down the hall to the exam room where he saw little patients, the one where she’d been curled up in agony just over a week ago. My how things had changed. While he loved taking care of her, had loved the way she’d insisted on being close to him, this would be much more fun for both of them.

Not everything about love was fun—he got the impression from people he knew who’d been together for the long haul that it could be a lot of work, that it wasn’t something you chose once and snap it was done. It was a choice you made every day, even when the days were rough. But some of it? Like this game they were playing? Fun and joy and pleasure and intimacy and trust—it didn’t get much better than that.

She set her bag down on the chair in the corner and then stood, looking like a lone flower, flickering in a breeze. He waited a beat because anticipation could heighten feelings, and then took a thin cotton gown out of the cabinet, handing the light purple garment with clusters of flowers on it to her.

“You’re here for a complete physical including a pelvic exam so you can go ahead and get completely undressed and put that on.”

He turned to the counter and pretended to look through her chart and she made a little squeak.

“Um, Doctor Eric? Aren’t you going to leave while I change?”

Glancing over his shoulder before facing her fully, he put on one of his sterner expressions.

“I suppose I could but I’m a busy man, Miss Norfolk. You’re not my only patient today and I can assure you I’ve seen many, many bodies over my career. Nothing to be embarrassed about. And I know you wouldn’t want to inconvenience any of my other patients by making them wait any longer than necessary, now would you?”

Her cheeks flushed a darker pink and she shook her head. “No, Doctor. Of course not.”

“That’s what I thought. So be quick about it please.”

He turned back to the papers on the counter, and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Surely she was aware he could see her. Would be able to watch her strip off her clothes, and do that funny thing most of his female patients did…

Devy closed her eyes and took a deep breath before unbuttoning the cardigan she wore and draping it over the back of the chair. Then she unzipped her dress and pushed it over her hips until it hit the floor. Folded it neatly and set it on the seat of the chair before reaching for the gown.

He smirked but didn’t say anything. It amused him when people donned the johnny before taking their undergarments off because only a few minutes separated when they were getting undressed from when he’d be seeing and touching every inch of them but those moments seemed to be very important. He’d let them keep that particular delusion.

After she’d put the gown on and tied it at her neck and waist—sweet, proper girl—she took off her bra, slid it through one of the sleeves (why did that particular move never fail to get his blood pumping through his veins?), and then with all the subtlety she could muster, shimmied out of her panties. And then, as he knew she would, Devy tucked her bra and panties into the folds of her dress. Because sure, he was going to be literally looking inside her body momentarily but god forbid he see what color her underwear was. His male patients were much more likely to leave a heap of discarded clothing.

Then she perched on the edge of the exam table, her feet dangling over the side, knuckles white as she gripped the side.

“Ready? Then let’s get started.”