Dr. Good by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Nineteen

Macie

His hand squeezes onto my thigh as we ride in the limousine back to his penthouse apartment. I can feel the need burning through his body, triggering an answering call of lust deep inside of me, my womb screaming out for him to slide his hand further up my leg and press down on my sex.

I shift my legs, feeling the wetness between my legs, the way my panties grind against my clit and my lips.

He smirks as his gaze moves over me, every part of him bulging in his suit. His tendons stand out on his neck and his facial features are tight like he’s trying to hold back a beastly roar of release.

He leans down and kisses my neck, softly, and then kisses up to a place behind my ear that sets my whole body tingling like he’s just pushed a button. I shiver and shift against him, moving closer, seeking more of the warmth his lips offer.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath painting me.

“You do the same to me,” I whimper, as his hand tightens against my thigh and sends more whirring lust between my legs.

Then he breaks it off with a gruff laugh. “I can’t keep touching you, my sweet virgin, or I’ll end up taking your hot needy hole right here. You deserve privacy. You deserve soft silk sheets for your first time.”

I nod, even if part of me wants to leap atop him and spread my legs, driving my sex down against his manhood and grind against him until he’s gasping with the need for me. I imagine grabbing his manhood through his pants, feeling how irrepressibly solid he is, stroking him up and down as I whisper dirty words in his ear.

One day, maybe, I’ll have the confidence to be so forward.

Right now I’m more concerned with thinking about what happens when we get home, oscillating between hungry want and aching nervousness, unsure of which is going to win.

“How many do you want?” he asks, squeezing his hands together as though it’s the only way he can stop himself from grabbing me again.

“How many what?” I ask, captivated by the way he looks in profile, every feature chiseled, his hulking body emanating volcanic heat.

“Children.” He glances at me, a smirk touching his lips. “Because let me tell you, Macie, I’d have a hundred with you if that’s what you wanted.”

“A hundred?” I giggle. “Don’t you think that’ll be, you know, impossible?”

He laughs, his eyes lighting up, and for a second he’s not my savage lover but the future father of my children, with kindness in his eyes, and I can imagine him sitting in front of a crackling fire with a book open on his lap as he reads to our gathered children. Who knows… maybe he’ll be reading one of my books to them.

“How many do you want?” I ask.

“Oh, no, you’re not getting away that easily.”

“What?” I giggle.

“Number one, I asked first. And number two, you’ve been thinking about being a mother for far longer than I’ve been thinking about being a father. I’d resigned to the fact I would never meet the woman of my dreams until you walked into my office.”

“Yeah, but…” I sit up straighter, aiming a challenging look at him. “Before that, you used to think about it, right? You used to dream about having a family. You thought you might meet the woman of your dreams. So when you used to fantasize about that, how many children were there?”

“You’re too damn clever,” he says, wrapping his hand around mine.

I notice he holds my hand with purposeful softness.

It’s like he can’t bring himself to squeeze me as hard as he wants because then it would lead to other things, to unleashing something inside of him he wouldn’t be able to stop.

The pre-Miller Macie would feel silly for thinking I could read so much in a handhold, but I’m starting to get sick and freaking tired of questioning myself. I can feel something burning through his body, the same way I can sense my womb whelming up inside of me, two primal forces calling to each other through the intimacy of our touches.

“But I still asked first,” he goes on. “Or are you going to make me add to the spank tally?”

“I thought that was for saying sorry?”

“Ah, there you go. Number three.”

I laugh, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “How the heck is that number three? I wasn’t saying sorry. I was just asking a question.”

“Number four.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You are too much, Miller, really.”

My skin tingles with the thought of him spanking me, not hard, not like that BDSM stuff, but just enough to let me know I belong to him. I think of the way he turned savage in the restaurant, saying he’d tear anybody to pieces who tried to touch me, and I imagine that same Miller emerging in the bedroom.

Anxiety coils through me at the thought, because maybe I won’t be able to live up to what he needs.

Maybe I won’t be able to give him what he wants…

But at the same time, I want it. I need it. And I’m not going to spend my whole life living in fear.

“How many?” he asks, voice fiercer now.

“It’s different,” I murmur.

“What do you mean?”

“When I was going to be a single mother, I thought maybe two at the most. But now we’re going to do this together, four or even five… yeah, I think that would be a great number. We could still give each of them the attention they deserve, but they’d have plenty of brothers and sisters to get into trouble with. What about you?”

“Four or five,” he whispers, nodding. “I think that’s a great idea. And you’re right. We need for them to be able to get into some trouble with their siblings… but we’re not building an army.”

He leans in and kisses the edge of my mouth, and then I move my lips and kiss him fully, passionately, kiss him like I’ve never been shy for one moment in my entire life. I reach up and clasp onto his face, moaning through the kiss as our tongues clash together, as our bodies heat up and we start to lose control.

Then the limo abruptly stops.

I yelp and lurch forward, the safety belt cutting into my belly.

Miller grabs me and pushes me softly back, immediately on high alert, his eyes glinting with the predatory instincts of a wolf.

He presses a button on the center panel. “Driver, why have we stopped?”

“There’s a man standing in the road, sir,” the driver says, a note of uncertainty in his voice. “No… several men.”

“Describe him,” I say, my voice catching. “What does he look like?”

“Um, he’s tall, quite strong-looking. He’s wearing a bomber jacket and he’s got long black hair.”

“It’s Derrick,” I say. “Jesus Christ, Miller. It’s Derrick.”

Miller bites down, glancing outside. “Motherfucker must’ve been watching us. He knew we would take the side road to reach the private garage. He knows attacking us away from the street is the best move. Fucking rat.”

“Sir, what shall I do?”

“Call the cops,” Miller snarls. “As long as we stay in here…”

“Miller,”a woman cries out, her voice wavering. “Don’t do anything he says.”

It takes me a moment to realize who that is.

Kayla, Miller’s mom.

Derrick has taken Miller’s mother hostage, the woman who was so kind to me earlier today, who made me wonder what it would be like to have her as a mother-in-law.

And now because of me, because of that sick fuck who will never leave me alone, her life is in danger.

I don’t even think.

I grab the door handle and push it open, leaping out onto the street, my heart pounding in my ears.