Doctor's Orders: The Complete Series Read Online Free PDF Page B

the hem of my very short dress, “what do you feel most frequently? What is the emotion that guides you? That dominates you?”
    My eyes are locked on the driver’s. He looks away only when necessary. My head is full of the Doctor’s lightly accented voice, my body full of his touch. My nipples strain at the thin material of my dress, and I can feel my pulse everywhere.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Yes, you do.”
    The Doctor slips his hand around my waist and roughly pulls me onto his lap. I put my arm around his neck, and relax into his chest. He smells...warm. I could get used to this, the feel of his arms around me, his scent. His hands. My eyes half close as his hands begin to roam over my body, one hand slipping between my legs, still toying with the hem of my dress, the other curling around my torso and palming my breast. Suddenly he squeezes my breast, pressing down on the nipple, and I moan, wriggling my ass into his leg in appreciation.
    When I open my eyes I see the driver. Watching. The Doctor must feel me tense up.
    “Claire. You do know. Tell me.”
    His hand leaves my breast and moves to my back. The sound of a zipper slowly unzipping is surprisingly loud in the rich silence of the limo, loud enough that even the driver can hear it. I know this because I see the corners of his eyes turn up in a smile.
    The front of my dress falls forward a little, barely held up by my breasts. If I breathe too deeply...
    “What do you feel right now, Claire?”
    “Besides turned on?”
    The Doctor looks directly at me for the first time, and smiles briefly. I think part of him likes my spunk, sometimes. He slides a hand further up, under my dress, and squeezes my thigh, hard. Reminding me who’s boss.
    “Yes, Claire. Besides that.”
    The eyes in the rearview are still watching me intently, barely watching the road. If there were more traffic it would be dangerous.
    “Afraid,” I say softly.
    “You feel fear?”
    “Yes.”
    His hand leaves my thigh, moves up to brush the loose strap away from my shoulder, to tease the front of my dress away. Slowly, so slowly.
    “Of what are you afraid, Claire?”
    “Being seen,” I whisper. Not low enough: I think the driver heard anyway. It doesn’t seem to deter him. His eyes stare back at me without shame.
    “Why should that frighten you?”
    “I don’t know.”
    He pulls the front of my dress down in one swift motion, and my breasts burst forth, nipples already hard, skin flushed. The driver stares. I’m humiliated by my own arousal, but I can’t keep myself from pushing my breasts forward, begging for them to be touched.
    The Doctor absently toys with one nipple, then the other, before dropping his hand to my lap. He shoves past the hem of my dress this time, and finally, finally, I feel his fingers dip between my folds, idly working the length of my slit, still toying with me. My skin flushes hot, and my breath hitches as desire coils tightly around his touch. I want him so badly.
    “Of what are you afraid?” he asks again, slightly amused. I can barely focus with his fingers so close to my entrance, his palm pressing into my clit. I open my eyes to try to clear my head, and there he is again: the driver, watching in the mirror.
    The Doctor doesn’t make mistakes. None of this is an accident.
    “That he’ll think I’m a slut,” I say between panting breaths, nodding toward the front of the limo. “That I’m stupid.”
    “So?” the Doctor asks.
    He slips two fingers deep inside me, curling them as he does so. I shudder and grind my hips into him, my head dipping as I hold onto his neck. I wish I could answer him, but I can’t, and it’s not just because he’s begun working his fingers in and out, fucking me with his hand like he did last time, his palm pressing into my clit in the same rhythm.
    “Claire.” There’s a hardness to his voice, and when I don’t reply, lost deep beneath the surface, swirling around the sensation of his fingers inside me, he