Page 75 of Dr. Attending

One of his powerful legs swings over me, straddling my thighs. It’s almost like he wants to keep me in place, which is a ridiculous thought because there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be right now.

He twirls the bar in his hands a few times before using the rounded tip to drag the hem of the shirt over my hips, letting the fabric rest on my lower belly.

A low hiss rumbles out of his mouth as his eyes drop to my bare sex.

“Caroline,” he warns, his tone dangerous. “Please tell me that you didn’t walk around my house wearing my shirt and nothing else on a day that I wasn’t here to enjoy it.”

I flutter my lashes innocently, trying hard to stifle my giggle. “And if I did?”

He drags his attention away from my pussy, his eyes narrowing on mine in challenge. “Then you must be brattier than I thought.”

“Thirty percent,” I reply with a wink.

Weston’s jaw clenches. “Trust me . . . I’m well aware.”

I have to take a second to make sure I heard him correctly because he shouldn’t know what the results of my kink quizwere—I never shared them, despite his relentless requests throughout the day. But before I can question him, he begins to drag the tip of the bar lower.

The cool metal barely grazes my clit as it slides through my center, distracting me with the promise of pleasure.

I didn’t realize how badly I needed stimulation until this exact moment because I have to forcibly stop myself from grinding against the pipe he just shoved between my thighs.

“Do you know how a brat and tamer relationship dynamic typically works?” Weston asks, not giving me time to answer before he continues. “The brat acts out for attention, or amusement, consciously choosing to break their agreed-upon rules. The tamer then punishes the brat to earn their submission.”

I lick my lips, trying to think of a punishment that I wouldn’t like.

The doctor romance Morgan suggested made me curious about those types of relationships. So one night when I couldn’t sleep, I went on a Reddit deep dive about submissive punishments and learned two things.

One, people are incredibly creative when it comes to kink—the fact that a hairbrush can be used as an everyday spanking instrument sort of blew my mind.

And two, I was ridiculously down for all of it.

“Sounds hot,” I hum, thinking back on the fantasies I’ve had about the idea of trying something like that with the man who is on top of me.

“To you, sure,” Weston drawls, ignoring my obvious moan as he slowly slips the bar through my pussy. “But I’ve found that my pleasure comes from your pleasure, so the idea of taking that away from you with a punishment wasn’t exactly appealing to me.”

I try to arch my hips in search of friction, but he clicks his tongue and sinks onto his heels to hold me down.

“Until my new buddy Worth sent me a nice little suggestion this evening with your test results.”

He pauses like he’s expecting me to take issue with his admission.

I don’t.

I prop myself up on my elbows and arch my brow.

“Did he?” I ask, unable to hide my satisfaction.

The fact that he was so willing to understand what I like sexually that he found a way to access my results doesn’t irritate me—it only turns me on even more.

If Weston is surprised by my reaction, he doesn’t show it because his tone remains stunningly silky as he continues.

“Worth reminded me that while pain is one method of punishment, pleasure is another . . . well, forced pleasure in your case.” He holds up the dark metal rod that’s glistening with my arousal, like he’s giving some sort of private lesson on BDSM. “Do you know what this is?”

Even though I’m pretty sure I know, I go with an off-the-wall answer instead.

“A police baton for role play. Next question.”

Weston must already be deep in his dominant headspace because he doesn’t even quirk his lips in amusement.

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