Doctor Do-Over (Doctors of Eastport General)

Chapter 1

One

WRYAN

T oday’s been a crazy day. I wish Eddie were here with me, but he had an emergency dental procedure and couldn’t come. This is the first convention I’ve attended without him since he became a part of my life. He’s doing fine now, and we’ll be reunited in London. I can’t wait to see him. He’ll be with me for all the stops in Europe. Unfortunately for me, my agent stayed behind too. The venue was accommodating and provided an assistant for me. She was great and loves my books, but she was in my space, messing up my organization. She kept touching me and allowed readers to touch me as well. Eddie intimidates people, which keeps them at a respectable distance.

At this con, the publisher announced that my new release is a standalone, different from what I’ve written in the past. It is also a more adult novel. Some of my loyal readers are upset by the news, but I’m growing up and want to pursue more mature characters and themes.

So here I sit in the hotel bar, trying to calm my nerves with a glass of wine. The cool liquid slides down my throat as I close my eyes and relish the slight bite of sour in the grapes. I’m glad I’m finally old enough to drink—and that my brother and father aren’t here to interfere with my calming technique. They take being the men in my life to the extreme, enforcing rules like no dating, no drinking in public because someone might spike it, and no skintight outfits. I glance down at the bodycon dress I bought a couple of days ago and smile.

I like being in New York. The chaos of the city irritates my nerves, but it also makes my creative juices flow. I went to college here and loved it. Since graduating last May, I’ve been traveling for book promotions and meetings with publishers, directors, and production companies. My first series is being adapted into a television show, and I’ll have a role in the process with final decision-making. I should be ecstatic, and I am. Yet, sitting here, my body feels coiled tight, and I need a chance to relax and reset myself.

Since I’ve been here, I’ve come up with a brand-new series that I can’t wait to pitch to my agent. I’ll start writing it during my European tour. I’ve been a graphic novelist since I was sixteen. My first series, about a group of young kids with superpowers and descendants of the gods in a dystopian Earth, made it to the New York Times and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists within the first couple of weeks. Since then, I’ve had a couple more hit series, but this new one will be different for me. Instead of writing about teenagers, I’m going to focus on young women trying to make it in the big city while secretly being vigilantes. My latest work features mature themes and romance, but this next project won’t be a graphic novel; it will be a traditional book. I still plan to create illustrations, but they won’t be in the full graphic novel format. I’ve been considering using the images for chapter headers and such.

“May I sit here?” a deep, soothing voice asks from next to me.

Normally, I’d jump and freak out at someone getting this close, but a feeling of calm emanates from him. I was bullied so much as a teenager because of my looks and my family that I’ve developed a fight-or-flight mentality. My medical conditions also made me stand out to the bullies. Even today at the convention, a fan walked up and pulled me in for a hug without asking permission. It freaked me out. I tried to push away, but he held on tightly, whispering weird things in my ear. When security approached, he let me go and melted into the crowd before I could have him stopped. That’s one of the reasons I usually have Eddie with me. People won’t walk up to me when he’s around.

“Of course you can sit,” I answer.

I turn to look up at the man. He has dark hair with a slight wave that falls over his forehead and brushes against his collar. The scruff on his face shows he didn’t shave today, and I find myself wanting to drag my fingertips through the coarse hair to see if it tickles. His lips tip up in a smile, and I focus on his green eyes, which have a yellowish ring around the pupils. They make me feel as if he can see everything I hide from everyone. The pain of being mixed race. The hurt from being bullied and introverted. The frustration of my family never trusting me to make my own decisions. The loneliness of always feeling left out. It’s like he can see it all.

“I’m Tanner,” he says as he takes a seat.

My body hums with awareness. Flutters of desire stir deep in my core. I want this man. He’ll be perfect.

He flicks his fingers at the bartender, beckoning him over. Tanner’s arms are cut, with defined muscles and prominent veins. My family, all in the medical field, would laugh and call his veins nurse porn. He’s dressed in slacks and a short-sleeve pullover shirt. He’s tall, though everyone seems taller than my five-foot-two petite body.

“Jack, neat,” he orders, then turns back to me, raising one dark, thick brow while the other falls over his eye in question.

I’m so focused on checking him out that I don’t realize I haven’t responded.

“Wryan.” I give him my real name. All day I’ve used my pen name. It’s nice to just be me again. I love my readers and what my career has become, but I like to just be Wryan, the girl from Rhode Island. The woman who desires a man.

“Ryan? Like the guy’s name?” He hums with interest. “I have a friend named Ryan.” He chuckles. The sound is gruff, like something he doesn’t do often.

“I do too.” I smile shyly and cock my head to the side. My curls fall across my forehead, covering one eye, and I brush them back. “His wife works with my brother. But my name is spelled W-r-y-a-n. My mom was all about unique names for me because she couldn’t do that with my brother. He had to be a junior, named after all the males in my dad’s family. He hates it, so he goes by his initials.” I laugh, covering my mouth out of self-consciousness. I snort sometimes and think my laugh sounds weird. It’s one of the many products from all the bullying I endured growing up.

Tanner gently grips my wrist and pulls my hand away. I should be freaking out about him touching me, but I’m not. My heart rate is calm, except for the zing of electricity where he’s touching me. This is odd for my body. I normally have an accelerated heart rate because of one of my conditions.

“I like your laugh. Don’t cover it.” He releases my wrist and brushes back one of my curls that has fallen across my face, hiding my eye again. I can’t stop the sigh that passes my lips.

“I get teased about it,” I say breathlessly. “Growing up, so many people made fun of my laugh and me.” I wave my hand up and down my body.

“Kitten, you tell me who, and I’ll take care of them.” His voice is thick with emotion as he glides his knuckles down my cheek. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and gently squeezes. My pulse quickens as my body instantly comes alive. My core spasms, and I start to pant slightly. “Oh, kitten, you like that?”

“Yes, Sir.” The words slip from my lips without thought.

“Want to explore this, kitten?”

“Please,” I beg, and his grin turns devilish.

I don’t know why I’m reacting like this. It should scare me as he tightens his fingers ever so slightly, but the pressure against my veins sends a thrill through me. I’ve done research on breath-play. It intrigues me. I never thought I’d find someone who would want to play with me. My brother doesn’t talk about it, but I know he’s a whipmaster at the BDSM club in our hometown. He wouldn’t allow me to apply for membership when I turned twenty-one; however, maybe I’ll do it when I get home and tell him to fuck off. I need to start standing up to my family. Being the baby and only girl really sucks.

I’ve always felt awkward and different. My first boyfriend was so afraid of my brother and father that he wouldn’t do anything more than give me chaste kisses. I lost my virginity on my eighteenth birthday to a guy who only dated me because he wanted to say he’d nailed someone famous. I was okay with it, but the experience wasn’t very satisfying for me.

“Check, please.” Tanner lifts his other arm, getting the bartender’s attention. “Hers too.” He tips his chin toward my glass.

“Yes, sir.” The bartender turns to the register.

I want to argue that I can pay for my own drink, but I can tell from the way his body tightens and the tone of his voice that Tanner is a Dominant. I know he’s doing what he desires, and a part of me likes that he wants to take care of me. Most of my college friends and the guys I dated expected me to pay because I have money.

As soon as Tanner lets go of my neck, I feel the loss and can’t stop the whimper.

“Don’t worry, kitten, we’ll take care of you soon enough.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead. It’s chaste but feels like everything. Sweet and sexy all in one.

I’ve only had a couple of sexual partners, nothing meaningful. They were more for a quick release, and sometimes I didn’t even orgasm. I would have to fake it. I hope that’s not what happens with Tanner. I want to explore these feelings with him and discover this world together.

He stands and holds out a hand for me when he finishes paying. I take it without worry. It’s strange how much I trust him. I pause briefly to let the usual dizziness fade when I stand. Tanner waits patiently until I’m ready to move, his grip on my hand steadying me. It’s as if he knows me and my medical condition. I nod, and he guides me out of the bar and toward the hotel lobby with his hand resting on the small of my back. His hand is so big against my small, curvy body that I can feel his pinky lightly pressing into the crack of my ass, with his thumb resting just below where my bra strap would be.

As he slides his hand up my back, I can sense the moment he realizes I’m not wearing a bra. His body tightens like a coil. His hand stops at the back of my neck, and he wraps it around me again. A thrill runs through me, raising the hair on my arms. The power I’m giving him is stirring something deep inside, turning me on. I love how much he wants to touch me, even in the short time we’ve known each other. I notice the gazes of others on us, but I ignore them and pay attention to the sexy man beside me.

The elevator doors slide open, and he presses a card against the panel when we enter. I watch as the penthouse floor lights up. I don’t say anything. In my mind, I know what this is going to be. I want to explore this desire I’m feeling and go from there. I try not to overthink it or react to the fact that I’m also on the penthouse floor.

Tanner

I only stepped into the bar for a quick drink before heading to the club to relieve some tension. I’m still waiting for my membership at my local club to be approved, but since I’m originally from New York, I already had a membership to the one here in the city. This conference I’m attending has been a complete pain in the ass. To make matters worse, there was also a comic convention going on in the conference center, so there were a lot of strange and weird people walking around in costumes or being loud. I like peace and quiet. I crave it as much as I do dominance.

I was completely blindsided by the beautiful little nymph I’m currently wrapped up in. As soon as I walked into the bar, my eyes were on her. But when she looked up at me and I saw her striking blue-gray eyes, I knew I had to have her, if only for tonight. I feel her tremble slightly when the penthouse floor lights up.

I’ve been careful with my money, investing wisely instead of spending it flagrantly while I was in medical school. Now I have money to spend, and I plan on doing just that. I already have a nice car, and as soon as I get back to Eastport, I’ll be looking for a new house. I was raised by penny-pinching parents who sacrificed everything to get me through medical school. But when they both died while on their first vacation, I realized that saving isn’t always the answer. You have to live in the moment, and this is the perfect example.

I want Wryan, and I’m going to have her.

I can feel the sexual tension between us climbing as the elevator slowly ascends. With my thumb, I gently caress her neck, right over her carotid. Her skin is so soft, and her sweet, chai scent engulfs me in the confined space. I can’t wait to see if her cream is just as tasty. She shivers under my hand, and I know she feels my need as much as I feel hers. She turns her head and tilts it back slightly so she’s looking up at me. Her petite body is curvy in the right spots. Her breasts are small but the perfect palmful. I’m going to suck those nipples peeking through the material of her dress. The light overhead glints off the delicate gem in her nose piercing, and the gold ring in her eyebrow also shines. My eyes trail down the ink on her arms. From this angle, I can see a hint in her cleavage that I want to explore. I plan to trace my tongue over all the designs on her body.

Her pupils dilate as she continues to stare up at me. I don’t break eye contact as I lean down and kiss her pert little nose. She whimpers, and I know I’m going to enjoy myself with her. She’s responsive, delicate, and small. I’ll be able to position her where I want and give her the pleasure we both seek.

I should ask her age because she looks so young. I know she’s legal, not just because she was drinking in the bar, but also because of all the ink on her skin. That level of body art can only be done if she was older. How much younger than me she is should bother me, but it doesn’t. I don’t care. I need her.

The elevator stops, and as the doors slide open, she finally breaks eye contact. She steps out first and turns to the left. I cock my head in question. How did she know I was on the left? There are only two penthouse suites in this hotel. I wanted the one on the right because it has a better view of the city, showcasing the Empire State building, One World Trade Center, and the Statue of Liberty. The left suite has a view of Central Park and the Upper East Side. They both offer beautiful views, but I prefer the one on the right. I try to book it every time I come here, but this time it was already taken.

I don’t question her but lead her to the door, pressing my card against the reader to unlock it. Before she steps over the threshold, I squeeze her neck gently. She pauses and looks up at me with those wide, blue-gray eyes. I move around her and stand in the doorway, looking down at her. I want to touch her. I miss the feel of her skin under my fingers.

“Kitten, before you step inside, I need you to understand that you are in charge. Anything you don’t want done, I’ll stop. If you get scared, I’ll stop. But once you cross this threshold, you are mine.” I pause, unsure why I said those words. “For tonight,” I add, but it doesn’t feel right. I want her to be mine. I don’t want any other man to have her.

“I want to be yours, Tanner.” Her voice has a breathless quality to it.

I reach out my hand. She slides her delicate hand into mine, and I notice the callouses on her skin. I pull her into the room and spin her around. My palm swats her ass, and she squeals and turns to look at me. There’s a dusting of pink along her cheeks. I hold her gaze as I slide my hand down to adjust my cock pressing into the zipper of my slacks. I turn back to the door to close and lock it.

When I turn around, I find she’s moved further into the room.

“This is a nice view.”

“I usually get the other suite with the cityscape.”

“It’s still lovely,” she replies, turning back to me, and her lips curl up in amusement.

I wonder briefly about her attitude before the image of her against that backdrop turns me on, and I know exactly what I’m going to do to her first. I move to the bar and pour myself a couple of fingers of Jack.

I turn around and lean against the bar. “How much did you drink downstairs?” I don’t want her to be intoxicated.

“I only had a sip before you joined me.”

“Good.” I move toward her and hold out my glass. “Take a sip.” She turns the cup to place her lips where mine just were before taking a small drink. She keeps her eyes on me the whole time, turning me on more. “Little kitten, you are playing with fire. We must clear up a few more things before I ravage you.”

“Like what?” She tips her head to the side and flutters her eyelashes in a slow blink.

“Are you single?” I learned a long time ago that just because a woman wants to have sex with you doesn’t mean she’s available.

“I wouldn’t be here in your room if I wasn’t.” Her voice has a bite to it, and she stands up straight. “I’m not like that.”

“I don’t think you are, but I need to confirm it just in case something comes up later. I’ve had it happen before.”

“Okay.” She folds her arms across her chest, and her small breasts push together, giving her some cleavage.

“Are you on birth control?” It’s another thing I’ve learned to ask. I constantly deal with women trying to play the fake pregnancy game because of my job and money.

“No.” She shakes her head. “It messes with me.” She doesn’t explain more.

“That’s okay. We’ll use condoms. But on that note, are you clean?”

“Yes. I don’t do this often, and when I’m home, no one wants to be with me because of my brother and father. They’re overly protective.” She says it fast, but it gives me a glimpse into her life, prompting me to ask the next question.

“Are you a virgin?”

“No,” she says and doesn’t elaborate.

Her words from before play through my mind. She doesn’t do this often. So, she’s into one-night stands. I don’t know if that bothers me or not, but I don’t want to work through that right now.

“Are you in a relationship?” she asks me tentatively.

“No. I don’t do them.”

She nods, and I gulp the rest of the whiskey down before I set the glass on the table.

“How much have you played like this?” I ask. I want her to say never because I want to be her first Dom.

“Not once.” She turns and looks out at the view, taking her eyes and emotions with her. “I’ve wanted to, but I…” She trails off, leaving the rest hanging. “I’ve done research, and I know a few Doms and even a Domme. Well, she’s a switch now and more of a sub because her husband doesn’t let her top.”

I give her the space she needs for a bit. “How do you know so many into kink?”

“My part-time bosses are into the lifestyle. My brother is a whipmaster, but he won’t discuss it with me. I also have a friend who has shared her experience.”

I walk up behind her and place my hands against the glass, pressing my body into hers. She turns around and looks up at me.

“Was it a bad experience?” I ask. The way she said it made me wonder.

“No. She just thought it was more than what it was, and now she’s hurt because he moved on without her.”

“Feelings can get complicated. The experience can be so intense that it’s easy to confuse deep care with love.”

“Did you love someone?”

“No.” I lean my head down and decide I can’t stop the urge anymore.

Her eyes flare wide before her lids slide down as I press my lips to hers. She opens instantly, and I invade her mouth. I consume her so I’m the only person she’s thinking of. Her hands wrap around my neck, and she presses her sweet little body against mine. I stand tall, pulling her up with me. She tries to wrap her legs around me, but her tight skirt restricts the movement. I reach down and yank the material. It rips under my hands. I pull away from her mouth for a moment.

“I’ll buy you another,” I growl before I dive back in.

Her tongue dances with mine, and her legs wrap around my waist. The heat at her core ignites my need to pull my cock out and impale her on it. However, we’re not done talking. I growl in frustration as I pull back. Her head falls against the glass, and I take her in. She’s the best view in the room. Her skin is flushed to her breasts, the pink coloring sliding down into her dress. Her lips are swollen. She opens her eyes, and I get lost in the swirling blue and gray. My heart clenches at her beauty, and I thank God that I was the man she was attracted to.

“Do you know the colors for the lifestyle?”

“Yes,” she replies, whimpering as she flexes her hips so she rubs against my cock. Her hands slide against my chest, and I want her to touch me, but I’ll lose control. I’ve never struggled with control until this little minx.

“Kitten, tell me something about you.”

She blinks and looks back up at me. I see a flicker of hesitation in her eyes for a moment before she bites her lip, considering what to share.

“I’m an artist,” she says.

I capture both of her hands in one of mine and press them above her head against the glass. She breathes deeper, her chest rising. I watch her pulse racing beneath her skin. I lean down and bite her carotid, and she tips her head back, releasing a soft whimper.

“Thank you. Now I’m going to ravish you.”

“Please,” she moans, and I release her legs and let her slide down my body. I release her hands and step back.

When she starts to step away from the glass, I hold up a hand. “Stay there and watch, kitten,” I order her, and she steps back, licking her lips.

I rip my shirt off over my head and toss it toward the sofas behind us. I unbuckle my belt and free it from the loops. If I have to, I’ll tie her up with it.

Her eyes roam over me like a caress. I know what she sees. My defined six-pack and hairless chest. The tattoo over my heart of a clock stopped on the exact time my parents died, with a couple of roses surrounding it for my mother and a letter for my dad, who was a postal worker. A ribbon reads “Mom and Dad,” along with the date of their passing. Her gaze shifts to my next tattoo on my forearm, a rib cage shaped like a heart with a stethoscope around it. I only have the two, but maybe I’ll get more now that I see her ink.

I kick off my shoes and socks but leave on my pants so I don’t just nail her to the glass or scare her. I know she’s not a virgin, but she’s still very demure and my cock is long and currently hard as fucking marble.

I step up to her and turn her around to face the glass. She rests her cheek against the window, her breath leaving a bit of condensation as she pants with desire. I slide the zipper of her dress down her back and reveal even more tattoos. She has quite a few, each with their own style—ranging from Harry Potter to anime to comic book characters and more. I slip her dress off and step back. She’s naked except for her thong and heels. Her breathing increases, and I watch as she starts to pull her arms toward her.

“Turn around,” I instruct. She steps back and slowly turns, moving her arms to cover herself. “Don’t. You’re sexy as fuck,” I tell her, and she lets her arms drop.

In the dim light, I can see the wet spot on the front of her thong from her desire. Her stomach is flat. Her thighs are a little thick but not overly so. Her hips curvy. Her arms are muscular, and her breasts will fit nicely in my palms as I fuck her from behind. The tattoo under her breasts is bejeweled and delicate. Her nipples have barbells through them, and I’m overcome by the urge to bite them. More tattoos line the front of her body, and again, just like her back, they range in style.

I move toward her, and she doesn’t step back. I love that she doesn’t fear me at all and trusts me. I press her into the glass and drop to my knees. Her breasts are right at my eye level. I kiss the tip of a nipple before sucking it deep. She starts moving. Her hands go into my hair, pulling me closer. I bite and tug on the piercing before releasing her and leaning back.

“Hands on the glass,” I order her.

She presses them to the window, and I torture the next nipple, sucking it deep before pulling back and nibbling the piercing. She moans loudly as her legs clench together. If I had the time, I’d see if I could get her off with just my mouth on her breasts. I kiss her stomach and tongue her bellybutton piercing. She shifts again, and my hands tighten on her hips before I snap the straps of her thong. I pull the scrap of material from the heaven that I can smell. The spicy scent that reminds me of chai with a touch of vanilla comes from even here. She must have a body wash of this fragrance because her skin is bathed in it. I kiss her pubic bone over her pussy, and the scent is overwhelming this close to her core. Lifting one of her legs, I slip it over my shoulder and kiss her knee. I lick up to her core and take a deep breath before I bury my face in her sweetness.

She cries out, and her hands go into my hair again. I stop and look up at her. She has her eyes closed.

“Open your eyes,” I demand. She does so instantly, but her lids droop. “Watch me as I fuck you with my tongue.” She nods. “Hands on the glass and say ‘yes, Sir.’ I need to hear your words, or I’ll spank you.”

“Yes, Sir.” She sighs, and her hands move back to the glass.

I return to her sex and suck her clit in deep as she bucks against my face. I slide a finger into her. Fuck, she’s tight. She’s going to strangle my cock. I finger fuck her as I continue to suck her clit. I’m going to make her come first before I take her against the glass, then I’m going to take her several more times tonight. She screams as her core locks down on my finger and she comes. I lick up her sweetness before slipping her leg off my shoulder and standing to my feet.

I unbutton my slacks with one hand while I pull the condom from my pocket with the other. As soon as I drop my trousers and boxers, she’s licking her lips.

“Later, you’re going to suck my cock,” I tell her before I slam my mouth against hers, and she presses against me. With my hands trying to slip the condom on, I get lost in our kisses for a moment. I’ve never felt like this with a woman.

Without leaving her lips, I finally get the condom rolled up my cock. I squat a bit and lift her up by her ass. My fingers sink into her softness, and I groan as she moans. I press her back into the glass, and in a single thrust, I’m deep inside her. She rips her mouth from mine and screams.

“Master,” she says without prompting, and I can’t stop my body from responding.

I move in and out of her in fast, deep, long thrusts. Her head is thrashing around, and I let go of her ass to grip her neck. As a doctor, I know where to press for the most impact, but I also know how long to deprive her of oxygen before it gets too dangerous. Her eyes flair wide as she silently screams when I tighten my grip. They remain locked on mine, and I watch her pupils enlarge, overtaking almost all of the blue-gray in her irises. I don’t stop moving. I keep pumping, needing to release in her.

A voice deep inside urges me to mark her. To rip off the condom and make her mine truly. I close my eyes as an image of her pregnant overwhelms me, nearly causing my knees to buckle. I’ve never wanted anything so much. Not even the prospect of being a doctor ignited this feeling coursing through my body. She whimpers, and I open my eyes to release her throat. She’s going to wear my mark for a couple of days from the strength of my grip.

I plant myself deep and come in the condom as I watch her face screw up. She screams as her pussy squeezes me tight, milking the cum from my body. I wrap my arms around her, keeping my cock pressed to her cervix, and turn our bodies so I can slide down the wall of windows.