Royal Brit Bastard: a badboy stepbrother romance (9 page)

Mother poured herself another drink. “Right away I thought,
oh, if only I could. If only I could just tell you that, Doctor.
Inside my silk blouse, I felt flushed and hot. My big, soft breasts heaved like they were full to bursting.“ and she pulled at her blouse, perhaps to demonstrate. Maybe to relive the sensation. “My mouth was dry. Lower down, I was not.
There’s what I need, Doctor
. I moistened my lips.
There’s my need and I wish you would fill it for me
.

“The way your father leaves me feeling, Honey, well, I have to do
something about it.
My stockings swished as I crossed my legs. My soft thighs, sheathed in dark silk, slid over one another. The point of my black patent pumps pointed at him. My fingers stroked the side of my neck. His eye twinkled.

“‘Doctor,’ I said. My voice was breathy and almost hoarse, ‘I’ve been feeling low. Listless. I’m having trouble sleeping. I can’t settle myself or concentrate.’ I watched his neat eyebrow raise. His full lips parted.

“He asked me, ‘Do you want me to give you something to help you sleep?’

“I thought,
Well, that’s
kind
of what I want.
I wanted him to give me something, yes. But now I knew what it was that I really needed.

“He wrote a prescription. He ripped it off the pad and a gasp caught in my throat. When I stood he rose with me. He gave me a professional smile, but as he touched my arm, a shock like an earth tremor went off deep inside of me.

“I watched the sparkle in his eyes to see if it registered in him, too. I couldn’t tell, but it must have done. Surely.

“I noticed the sly look that I got from the thin, neat blonde on reception as I left.”

Why mother wanted to tell me about this seemingly unsatisfactory appointment, I could not imagine but as she took a nip of her brandy, she went on, “I bustled around the scented counters in Macy’s and Saks Fifth Avenue. I watched the birds circle around the branches in the park. The leaves were getting ready to fall. I took tea with a slice of lemon drizzle cake by a picture window in the Tavern on the Green. No matter what I did, I could not settle, I couldn’t relax.

“The sugar rush felt good enough that I nearly ordered another slice, but I knew that I would only feel the same way again in fifteen minutes. The day was clear and beautiful, and I was blue as the sky.”

Mother could be lyrical at times. Particularly a little way down the brandy bottle. She said, “By the time I got back to this empty, cavern of an apartment, it was after three. I was weary more than tired. I had a raging hunger, but I did not want food.

“I called the surgery and the prim receptionist told me, ‘I’m afraid Doctor Masterman is just about to leave.’

“‘It’s an emergency.’ I told her, ‘I must speak with him immediately.’”

“When he came to the phone his voice was hurried and he said, ‘What can I do for you?’ and his voice, even with that tense cord of irritation, sang through my body like a waterfall. My thighs tingled at the sound of him. ‘Doctor, I feel awful. I’m short of breath. I feel weak and unsteady. I’m afraid. Can you come?’

“He hesitated and I said, “Please?”

“There was a pause and his voice was thicker. ‘I’ll be there shortly.’ I sat heavily on the chesterfield and I wondered whether I should loosen my clothing.

“Doctor Masterson’s knock on my door was so loud it startled me. I opened the door, and there he stood with a black case in his hand. He filled my doorway. He was so big. His voice bowled right through me as he said, ‘Mrs Chatterton,’ and I was a little flustered as I showed him into the lounge.

“He had me sit on the chesterfield and he stood over me. ‘This is highly irregular, Ms Beaton,’ he said firmly. His voice was so deep and strong, so commanding that my thighs trembled as I looked up at him. His nostrils flared and the smell of his expensive suit was quite intoxicating.

“He instructed me,” She took a gulp of brandy, “‘Tell me your symptoms.’ He said.”

“So I told him ‘I’m hot, Doctor Masterson. So very hot. I’m trembling.’ He surely could hear it in my voice. ‘And my heart,’ I looked into his told him, “My heart is pounding like a big bass drum.”

“I peered up into his watery blue eyes and he fixed me with them like tractor beams. My tongue pressed between my lips and my hips tilted forward. He reached out and lifted my chin. His big hands were warm and strong. He smelled clean, really clean. He lifted my head back and his hands pressed around my throat.

“Heat pounded in my panties. I was sure he must be able to detect it. I peered up into his eyes. He gave nothing away. He said, ‘Can you stand, please?’

“I stood. In front of him. So close that the heat of his body warmed my soft breasts. My eyes hardly came level with his chest. His strong, wide hips were in front of my blouse.

“He said, ‘I shall have to examine you,’ and I said, “Please do. Be thorough. Be firm.’

“He put his hands on my shoulders as he looked down at me. ‘I’m going to ask you to open your blouse.’ I smiled as I drew myself taller. My head cocked on one side as I waited. His brow furrowed.

“His eyes narrowed and his voice tightened. He sounded impatient as he said, ‘Will you undo your blouse, Mrs Chatterton,’ Oh,
yes
. That would definitely work. I peered up shyly as I undid the buttons of my cream silk blouse, one by one.

“My big girls heaved and I shivered as they came out into the cool and the light. My scooped, lacy bra presented my eager flesh to him. My lips pressed together as I peeked up at him.

“He bit his lip. ‘I do need to examine you, Ms Beaton. I want to ask you to lie on the couch.’ I looked up at him. My eyebrow raised. He frowned. ‘Would you lie on the couch, please, Mrs Chatterton?’

“‘It would be better,’ I purred, ‘If you
told
me.’

“His nostrils widened as he took a deep breath in. Then he was stern as he said, ‘Lie on the couch.’

“That worked. My stomach quivered as I lay down in front of Doctor Masterson. My open blouse fell away on either aside. I was definitely feeling a little better now, but this was a moment of truth. It isn’t every man who will properly appreciate a woman with a fuller figure.

“I judged Doctor Masterson to be a man who did. The front of his elegantly tailored pants told me so. The hard, tightening bulge, to be exact, in the front of his divinely tailored pants.

“My breath fluttered as I lay back.

“He laid his cool hands on my stomach. His eyes danced. He opened his bag and he took out a stethoscope. I asked him, ‘Do people still use those, Doctor Masterson?’

“He said, ‘I’m a believer in the old ways. Especially when they work.’

“He put in the earpieces and laid the cold end on my stomach. ‘Your pulse is very strong,’ he said. My heart thundered. He moved the scope onto my breast and a long moan ripped out of my throat.

“He frowned and asked me, ‘Does that hurt?’

“I told him that it didn’t. ‘Not in a bad way.’

“As he listened to my chest, my breasts rose and fell heavily with my breath. My neck and my chest flushed hot. As he listened to my chest, his face was near. My tongue moistened my parched lips. They tensed in an ‘O’ as I watched him.

“‘Could I ask you to lie on your front, please.’ I looked in his eyes.

“‘Better if you tell me.’ I said.

“Our eyes locked for a moment and he bit his lip.

“His voice was firm and he said, ‘Turn over.’

“I sighed. The tip of my tongue pressed around the edge of my lips.

‘Turn over
now
,’ his eyes flashed as he said it. I bit the side of my lip and I watched his face as I turned over. His face and his pants. They were getting tighter. His bulge was swelling.

Leaning on my elbows, I looked back over my shoulder as he lifted the back of my blouse. When he put the cold end of the stethoscope onto my back, I wriggled.

‘Keep still,’ he said. I wriggled again. I couldn’t help it.

“He placed his hands firmly on my back. Then he slid them down.

“My ass lifted. He said, ‘Now, Mrs Chatterton.’

“I said, ‘
Now
, Doctor Masterson?’ and I lifted my skirt. Only a little. Just enough for him to see the tops of my sheer stockings. And a glimpse of my creamy thighs.

“He straightened up. ‘I don’t think there’s anything at all wrong with you, Ms Beaton.’

“I told him, “You can’t possibly be sure of that,” and I looked up at him with my best fluttering little-girl eyes, ‘There’s so much of me that you haven’t examined, Doctor Masterson.’

“He said, ‘There’s no point in our continuing this, Ms Beaton.” And he was quite stiff about it.

“I turned quickly to sit in front of him, ‘Imagine if you’d missed something.’ I said, ‘It could be a malpractice or something, couldn’t it? If there was something serious and you missed it?’ I watched as he wet his lips. ‘Simply because you hadn’t examined me properly?’

“As I straightened my open blouse, my breasts billowed forwards. ‘Imagine, Doctor Masterson. All of the things you could be missing.’ And then he hesitated.”

“‘Come on, Doctor.’ I said, ‘Be
thorough.’
He moistened his lips. ‘Be exhaustive.’ I told him. ‘Be
rigorous.
’
He shook his head.

“‘Alright.’ He said, and he took my chin in his hand again. This time he pulled my mouth open. He put a spatula on my tongue. He looked down, craned to see into my throat. ‘Open wide,’ he said. Obediently I parted my thighs.

“‘Your mouth,’ he said, tersely. And I said, ‘Oh,
Doctor!
’ I opened my mouth wide and I reached up to put my hands on his hips.

“‘Stop that!’ he said firmly. But it was too late. I had felt the heat of his throbbing bulge. And he had felt the tender determination of my eager fingers. My hands stayed right where they were.

I pouted and said, ‘Make up your mind.’

“‘That… that wasn’t what I meant at all,’ his face was coloring up, ‘And I’m sure you know it wasn’t.’

“I said, ‘I’m not so sure that is what I know, doctor,” my eyes were on the soft fabric of his pants. My fingers smoothed the front. Pressed gently on either side of his hard swelling bulge. ‘It isn’t what your pants say. Something in here means business.’

“I pressed more firmly. My hands relished the hard tops of his sinuous thighs. The small ridges of bone above them. The little clefts by the sides of his pelvis.

I was about to slide my fingers around to scope the curve of his tight ass. ‘Stop it, Ms Beaton. It’s unethical what you’re doing.’

“‘Only if it’s you who was doing it to me, Not if it’s me doing it to you.’ I looked up at him with an innocent smile, ‘You should hear the Single Ladies’ Ethics Committee on the topic.’

“I peered up over his flat stomach, along the shimmering burgundy ribbon of his tie and over the steep mounds of his chest, into his glistening blue eyes. I rubbed up and down on his hips. Either side of the swelling ridge.

““Our ethical bounds,’ I blew again, ‘are pretty relaxed, Doctor Masterson,’ I licked my lip as my hands slid slowly closer together. ‘We err on the side of liberty.’

“Now my index fingers felt it. The tremor shook through me. It was so huge. And so hot. And so hard. My left index finger slipped inside the fly. I dragged my nail up the zip.
 

“My soft breasts shaped around his hard thighs. I inhaled slowly and drank in his dark scent. My head tilted back.

“His hands came to grab the sides of my head. He wanted to pull me away. I blew hot breath on his fine prominence. It twitched. My eyes widened. My nail scraped down his zipper. It made a
brrrrr
.

“It must also have felt like his zipper was coming undone. His fingers trembled in my hair. My nail buzzed back up his zipper.

“‘Really, Ms Beaton,’ his voice was thick and slow, ‘This must stop.’

“My nail
bzzzz
ed back down his zipper. His fingers clawed in my hair. This time, my fingers brought the zip down with them. There was an opening all the way down the length of his fly. Soft, white cotton was visible. It was under some strain from behind.

“I blew again, this time on the white cotton. So that he felt the change. He shook. The tips of my teeth ran down the cotton. It was hot. Then back up. And down again. This time, the cotton got tugged down, too.

“At the bottom of the opening, I blew. Then I stood, crouching forwards. My warm breasts pressed either side of his hips, nestling his hot ridge in the soft valley.
 

“Quietly I said, ‘You haven’t stopped me, Doc.’ I spoke into the crisp linen of his immaculate white shirt. My hot breath softly fanned his stomach. I pressed a little closer.

He said, ‘No, but…’

“My breasts spilled and nuzzled around his strong legs. Thrills ran through me as I felt his powerful muscles clench. I felt him through my breasts. My nipples hardened and stung inside my black bra.

“He quivered. I turned and bent forwards. His firm, knotted thighs felt wonderful against my soft, round ass. I slid up and down some.

“‘Have I been bad, Doctor Masterson?’ I peered back over my shoulder and up to the massed creases of confusion and distress that folded his poor, pretty face. I Lifted my skirt.

“Now when I pressed back, he could see the bare flesh of my pale thighs against his immaculate creases and pleats. He could feel them, too. The heat of his cock told me so.

“‘Should I be spanked, Doctor Masterson?’

“‘Ms Beaton, I…’

“‘Before you decide, doctor, you should run your hands over the warm silk of my black panties. Slide your fingers around my big, soft curves.’ His hands trembled towards me. ‘See if you don’t want to redden my buttocks up.’

“‘No. This really is…’

“‘There’s some kind of a test, isn’t there, doc? Where you see how fast blood comes to the skin?’

“Yes, but it’s…”

“‘Test me, doc.’

“‘But I…’

“‘Test me hard.’ I groaned

“Still he hesitated.
 

“‘
DO
it!’ I told him, ‘Stroke it first. Run your hands over me.’ Finally, the skin of his unsure palms rested on the silk of my undies. ‘Mmm. Oh, yes, that’s it, doc. Get a feel.’ He was warming to the task, ‘Then
whup
it.’