Dr. Good by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Six

Miller

I sit in my office, my phone on speaker on my desk, gripping the edge of the desk like any second I could snap and flip it over as the phone’s ringing fills the air.

I feel like I could flip it just to release some of this pressure surging through me, the pressure pushing against me and trying to erupt out of my body.

I tried to focus on my reports and other work-related tasks, but the words blurred across the screen, transforming into shapes of Macie, of her wide hips, and her thick juicy gorgeous thighs.

I have to call her.

“H-hello?” she murmurs.

Something tightens in my chest, my body suddenly even more amped-up than it already was, everything inside of me roaring that something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong with my woman.

My plan was to ask her if she wanted to meet for coffee tomorrow, to test the waters, but the second I hear the anxiety in her voice I know I have to help fix whatever is making her feel this way.

Even if she doesn’t know how important she is to me yet, it doesn’t change the fact she’s the most important thing in my life, the person who’s going to bring my children into this world.

“Macie, it’s me,” I snarl, as though we’ve known each other for years.

And it feels that way.

“Miller,” I go on.

“Oh, yes, hello.” I can tell she’s making an effort to keep her voice level, but it wavers all the same, uncertainty quivering through her voice. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“It’s…”

I trail off, clenching my jaw as my temples pulse and my manhood does the same. Something is dangerously wrong with me, with how easily this woman – and this woman alone – turns me into a savage.

I shouldn’t be rock solid for her now, but I am.

Her voice alone provokes the beast inside of me, my body getting ready to fuck our future into her needy womb.

“Macie, what’s wrong?” I say instead, unable to stop myself.

“Huh?”

I smirk at the forced confusion in her voice, as though I can’t read every single piece of her already. It should be impossible, but I can sense the uncertainty, the fear quivering in the depths of her tone.

Even if she’s trying to hide it, I sense it, the same way a predator senses his prey.

“Something’s wrong,” I say evenly. “What is it?”

“It… it doesn’t matter.”

I lean forward, almost snapping the table in half.

“It does to me. Now, tell me.”

She gasps, and I know I’ve probably gone too far, that this is the moment she’ll tell me she’s uncomfortable having this conversation with me and she’d like to stop. But instead, she lets out a breathy sigh.

“It’s complicated,” she murmurs. “It’s probably something I should talk to the police about, but he’s clever. He knows how to do things so the police can’t help me. We’ve been through it all before.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, fire flaring in my voice at the word he.

Is some bastard bothering my woman?

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Then I’ll come to you and you can tell me.”

This isn’t how I planned on this going at all. I was supposed to hold back from making any concrete moves like this. I don’t want to scare her away with the possessive certainty I feel for her but, at the same time, there’s no damn way I’m going to let some bastard make her feel like this.

“Really?” she gasps, her voice adorably naïve and shocked, making my helm throb against my pants. “You’d do that?”

“Yes,” I growl. “It’s the only right thing to do. If you’ve got some motherfucker bothering you, I’d like to be there.”

“Why?”

I bite down even harder, stilling the hundreds of savage reasons that rise on my lips, roaring out with carnal certainty.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” I finish lamely.

But I can’t risk freaking her out over the phone.

She might tell me not to come and this bastard – this he who is bothering her – will be allowed to return and cause her more pain without me there to protect her.

I can’t allow that.

“Okay, if you’re sure…”

“I’m fucking sure. Text me your address. Now.”

“Whoah, okay, bossy.”

There’s a note of sass in her voice… a note that appeals to me, that I’ll enjoy taming once we’ve progressed our relationship to the bedroom. I can imagine her saying other, more carnal things in that same feisty tone.

“Just do what you’re told, Macie,” I say with a bantering note in my voice.

She lets out a short breath of air. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it. It surges through my body, that noise, making me think of all the things I could do to get her to make it again.

I imagine kicking down her door and charging at her, spinning her around before she’s even had a chance to say hello, and tearing down her pants and panties.

I imagine fucking her raw and roughly and possessively, showing her in the most primal way possible that she’s mine.

“I’ve sent it,” she murmurs.

“Good,” I snarl. “I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up the phone and then check my text conversation with her, seeing she’s been an obedient little minx, and sent her address like I told her to. My balls grow heavy when I think about her obeying more of my commands, think about her doing every little thing I roar at her, commanding her to bend to my will like the supplicating sexy thing she is…

Or I’m going to make her.

I study her address for a few moments, my mind flooded with protective thoughts.

Does she give her address out this easily to every stranger she meets, or can she sense there’s something between us as urgently as I can?

I let out a shivering growl as I turn and stride across my apartment, heading toward my bedroom.

Part of me wants to sort out this drumming lust that moves through me like a torrent. Part of me wants to pull my throbbing dick out and stroke myself as I picture her bent over my desk, that shy-as-fuck smile on her face, as I drag my tongue up her juicy thigh toward her even juicier sex.

But I know if I give in to this beast inside of me I wouldn’t be able to stop at just touching myself.

If I allowed the cage inside of me to bust open and for my real desires to unleash, it would turn into an impossible-to-ignore chant in my mind.

All I would hear is she’s-mine she’s-mine she’s-mine on a loop until the sound became so deafening I would be forced to act on it. I can imagine the cute surprised way her lips would part when I bring my hand down on her ass, spanking her lightly, but hard enough to show her who’s boss.

I groan, almost reaching down to grip my manhood.

How the fuck am I going to get through this without leaping on her?

I stop in my walk-in closet, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath the same way I did before a test in medical school.

That’s the way I have to look at this, a test of my self-restraint, of my ability to be that close to somebody I desire more than anything and somehow hold myself back.

But even if I know this is what I need to do, I also know I need my woman more…

Far, far, fucking far more than I’ve ever needed anything or anyone else.