Page 111 of Dr. Attending

“Very good,” Weston comments, his biting cologne wafting into my nose as he leans forward.

He turns my palms so that they’re facing up and resting on the arms of the chair. “Stay like this.”

I don’t know why this simple change of position feels more vulnerable, but I let out a soft whimper of anticipation.

“No, no,” he coos, nipping at my neck. “If we’re going to do this, you’re going to have to stay silent.”

I sigh as he flicks his tongue against my skin, soothing the sting he just caused.

“That doesn’t sound like much of an interview,” I tease.

“You know what? Now that I think about it,” he drawls, sliding his hands back up my arms to rest on my shoulders. “This will go better if we keep that mouth occupied.”

He pulls back, whistling to himself to mask the sound of whatever he’s messing around with behind me.

Out of nowhere, something slaps against my wrist, making me jerk in surprise. I glance down to try to understand what just happened, but all I see is a bright red mark just below my fist.

“Open,” Weston corrects, still out of my field of vision.

“Sorry,” I grit, not even realizing that I closed my palms.

“You’ll be sorry if I have to correct your position again, Ms. Winters. I’m a patient man, but I expect you to listen when I ask you to do something. Do you understand me?”

Fuck.

Why is this so hot?

There isn’t even anything sexual happening at the moment, but this version of him is making me more worked up than usual.

When we had a chance to go through our quizzes together, we briefly talked about role play and what that might look like. But I never imagined it would happen at the hospital where anyone could hear us—I figured it would be at his house, or something. This just makes it so much more . . . intense.

“I understand,” I whisper.

“Good.” Weston moves behind me, his tone still clinical and icy. “Now I’m going to put something in your mouth. I want you to wrap your lips around it and suck. It should keep you quiet for the rest of our interview. But if it isn’t enough, I’m going to have to make some . . . adjustments.”

I’m not sure what kind of adjustments he’s talking about, but they also sound hot—everything sounds hot when it comes to him.

I part my lips as something black and bulbous is placed in front of me. It’s similar in size to a ball gag but it doesn’t pull as tight when Weston fastens straps behind my head. There’s a huge leather panel that covers the bottom of my face from my chin to above my upper lip, but I can still breathe through my nose. And if I really wanted to, I could part my lips more to get a breath through my mouth because the gag doesn’t hold me open the way the other one did.

Weston circles me slowly, coming to a stop in front of me. He’s removed his white coat, and I can see the outline of his hard cock directly in front of my line of sight.

He reaches down to grip my chin, tilting it to meet his gaze.

“You can shake your head if you need to take a minute,” he reminds me, pulling us out of the scene for a beat. “Show me.”

His hazel eyes are warm, despite his serious expression, and I twist from side to side, holding his gaze as I wonder how long he’s been planning this.

There’s no way he keeps a gag in his office for the hell of it, but maybe he brought it today knowing that I’d end up here? Or it could have been in the backpack that Morgan had me deliver since I didn’t even think about opening it. But that would mean that several of our friends were in on this . . .

Weston pulls me out of my head, stroking my chin with his thumb. “Very good, Ms. Winters.”

He drops to his knees in front of me, and I feel my chest begin to rise and fall faster as his fingers slowly drag up the outside of my bare legs. His hands wrap around my hips, tugging me toward the edge of the leather chair so that I’m nearly falling off, my thighs straddling his body.

The movement makes something bounce against my chest that I didn’t notice before. I glance down, sure that I’m imagining things because it looks like a blood pressure bulb is attached to the gag he put in my mouth.

But before I can get a better look at it, Weston’s touch trails higher. He slides my underwear aside and presses his fingers against my clit.

I nearly fly out of my seat because the pressure teases me with the promise of more.

---