Ezra 20.
“It’s gonna be alright.”
Dottie chuckles, stands slightly and kisses my cheek, before plopping down in the waiting room chair next to me. “Do you have a quota?”
“What?” I ask absently, my mind busy running through every possibility of what Penifield called to tell us. Dot’s phone rang early this morning, waking us both. I swear my heart stopped beating all together while I waited impatiently for Dot to get off the phone. And I know I growled and cursed the family doctor for insisting we come into the office before she opens.
It's cancer. It has to be, why else would she insist on all the cloak and dagger shit? After we’re done here, I’m calling in The Pharoah to dispose of the doctor. She can’t play these head games—
“Ez?” I glance down at Dot, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip, her eyes dancing with amusement. What the fuck is so fucking funny right now? “I love you.” The war inside wanes slightly at her words. “Dr. Penifield is doing her job. You can’t… permanently relocate her.”
“Why not?” I don’t question how she knows what I was thinking, I’ve come to realize that Dottie is the only person with an Ezra User Manual, besides my mom. Dad and Zep make do, but mom has always been able to read me. And now my Dot.
“Because I like her. And you do too.” I grunt, unwilling to admit that I have always liked Dr. Penifield. Her no bullshit approach appeals to me, which is why I called her in the first place to take care of Dorothy. She cups my face, bringing my eyes to hers, “You don’t have to keep saying it, Ezra, I know we’ll be alright. No matter what she says, no matter what happens, I’ve got you, and my sisters, and the entire Kosher Nostra. I can’t lose.”
My eyes sting, my throat constricts. “I can’t lose you. Ever.”
She has the audacity to laugh. Her head tips back, her eyes scrunch closed, and she laughs free and open.
“The fuck?”
She drops her chin to meet my eyes again. “We aren’t immortal, goober. But I don’t plan on saying our goodbyes for at least a few decades.”
I rest my forehead against hers, and smile softly, her breath mingling with mine. “I’ll follow you anywhere you go; Texas, Israel, the great beyond.”
“Are those my only three options?” We chuckle as I close the distance between our lips and kiss her.
Into her mouth I vow, “I’m with you until the Earth ceases to spin, the stars refuse to shine, and the sun dims.”
“I can’t decide if that is romantic or creepy?” Dr. Penifield’s voice interrupts our moment. Our foreheads still together, we both turn to see her standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, arms crossed and a grin on her face. “Romantically creepy, I guess.”
“I’ll take it.” Dot says, kisses me once more, then stands, slipping her purse over her shoulder. I follow, dread once more pooling in the pit of my stomach.
“How are you today?” The doctor asks Dottie as we sit in cushy chairs across an expansive desk in what must be her office.
“I’m doing well.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Doc, can we get on with it?”
Dot smacks my chest, leaning forward in her chair. “Excuse him, his mother says he wandered outside one day and refused to come back, so a pack of wild wolves took him in. He’s been uncivilized since.”
I turn quickly to face Dot, my mouth hanging open. “She did not!”
Dot waves her hand, “She did. But then she clarified that ‘pack of wild wolves’ was actually the twins.”
I sit back, my mouth snapping closed. “It was one summer. Dad was experimenting with kale, and it was a difficult time in our family’s history.”
Dr. Penifield clears her throat, raises one eyebrow and pins me with a stern stare. “Can we get on with it?” I nod sheepishly. Her features soften as she looks at my girl. “Dorothy, do you remember the last time you saw Dr. Difiliberto?”
Dot glances at me briefly, “The surgeon who did my mastectomy and implants.” Her eyes dart up and over as she thinks, “About 4 years ago was the last time. I’d been back to him a few times because my breasts hurt. He said it was normal, the nerves were irritated during the surgery. He was adamant I not return because I just needed to find a way to deal with it and there wasn’t anything he could do.”
Dr. Penifield nods curtly once, as if she was expecting that response. “I had to physically go to Difiliberto’s office to get your records because they were not returning any of my calls or inquiries. I read over his ‘notes’.” She releases a frustrated sigh.
“Doc?” Dot urges.
“Sorry, I detest shitty doctors and even shittier staff. I’d like you to see a friend of mine, Dr. Hudson. He’s a plastic surgeon who specializes in breast reconstruction.” Dr. Penifield shuffles through some papers on her desk and then passes a few over to us. Dottie takes them in shaky hands and my heart clenches. I place my arm around her shoulders and help her hold them up for us to read. She leans into me, and I feel 10 feet tall and useless all at once. “Your breast implants were recalled over 4 years ago. You received a ‘license’ after your implants?” Dot nods. “It is typically patient responsibility to check the registry for recall notices, however, given your symptoms, Difiliberto should have checked as well.”
“So, she has the implants removed and then she’ll be fine?”
Penifield sighs. “I am not qualified to answer that question. I’ve already forwarded everything to Dr. Hudson. He’s going to want to run additional testing and speak to you. Each case is different—”
“Doc.” Dot interrupts, a desperation to her voice that unsettles me. “What else could it be?”
“Dorothy, I don’t want to speculate—”
“You are the family doctor of the Kosher Nostra.” Dot brushes me off and leans closer to the desk, placing her hands on the smooth wooden surface. Her jaw ticks, nostrils flare. Holy fuck, she’s breathtaking. And now I’m rock hard in the doctor’s office. “Lay out the possibilities or I will call upon my new family to lay you out.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. That was hot as fuck.
Penifield, not intimidated easily given her history with our family, smiles at my woman. “You fit in nicely.” Tapping on her computer, she reads over something then folds her hands together. “Implant damage. Allergic reaction. Breast Implant-Associated Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma. Breast Implant-Associated Squamous Cell Carcinoma.”
“Fuck.” Dot and I speak at the same time.
“Dorothy, Ezra, whatever this is has been caught early.”
“The lump in my armpit and the breast swelling are newer. But I had the implants 6 years ago and been in pain since.”
Dr. Penifield shakes her head, “Most people experience them within 8-10 years after implantation. As I said, I do not like to speculate. But since you asked, those are the most likely culprits.”
“Will she need chemo or radiation?”
Dot turns her hand to clasp mine. “Ez, she can’t answer that. It’s unfair to ask.”
Penifield snorts, “It is. Of course, you could threaten me with bodily harm if you prefer.”
Dot winces, lunging across the table and out of my arms to pat Dr. Penifield’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I would never, NEVER—”
“Fear is a powerful motivator. Nothing changes us on a fundamental level more than fear. Don’t apologize.”
“Still. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I shrug, smirking at both women. “It was hot.”
“Dr. Hudson’s office is expecting you. Here is the address.” She slides a card to me.
“Now?” Dot blurts, surprised.
“Yes.” Penifield grins, “Neither of us want to be ‘laid out’ by the Kosher Nostra.”
I stand, hold out my hand to Dot to help her up and the other to Dr. Penifield to shake. “Always a pleasure, Nicola. Thank you, truly.”
“Nothing gets the blood pumping faster than threatened bodily harm first thing in the morning.”
I guide a chagrined Dot out of the medical building and into the parking garage where Anton waits for us. In the backseat of the SUV, Dottie starts frantically looking through the spacious backseat for something.
“Baby? What are you looking for?” She has her purse, and I know she didn’t take out her phone.
“Is there a partition?”
“Huh?”
“A. Partition.” She waves between me and Anton in the front seat.
“There is ma’am.” Anton replies coolly, clicking the button to raise said partition. In seconds, Dottie and I are alone in the backseat.
“Dot, I know this a lot—” I’m cut off by her tongue in my mouth, her hands on my belt, her body pressed against mine.
“I need you.” I can only nod. I need her too, so much it hurts, but I didn’t expect to have her so soon…in the car…with Anton driving…on the way to another doctor’s appointment. “I’m drowning, Ez.” She confesses between kisses. I take over, pushing her hands away from my pants to undo them myself. She straddles my lap, lifts the skirt of her dress and pulls her panties to the side to expose her bare slit. My cock is barely out of my pants and upright before she’s sliding down to the hilt. “I’m ok, I know I am. We’ll see the surgeon and we’ll do what we must until I’m healthy. I love you. I want to be healthy for you. I want to spend my life with you, exactly like this.” She swivels her hips on a downward stroke and my vision blackens at the edges with pleasure.
Gripping her throat, I squeeze slightly, watching as her eyes dilate and her chest shudders, “We’re going to get married.” She nods, hands in her hair, she rides me harder. “Have babies. Lots of babies.” Faster. “Live a long and happy life side by side.” Deeper. “You will cum for me, fingers, tongue, or cock, every day because this pussy is mine. Always.” I squeeze her throat just a bit more, “Who does this pussy belong to?”
She snaps her head down, her eyes blazing, cheeks flushed. “Me.” A laugh explodes from me as she contracts her inner muscles around my shaft. “It’s my pussy. But if you’re a good boy, a good husband , I’ll let you play with it.” She fuses our mouths together, before I can reply. After a few seconds of our tongues dueling, she pulls back enough to whisper, “But my heart is yours. It belongs only to you.”
Fuck. I push my other hand between our bodies, finding her clit with my thumb. I press down and rotate on the swollen nub. I thrust up into her once more, but her walls clench so hard around me that I can’t move. She milks my orgasm, her rhythm stuttering as she finds her own release.
Our labored breathing is loud in the backseat. The windows are fogged, but I realize with a start the vehicle has stopped moving.
“Do you think Hudson will know we had sex?”
“Depends.” I say between deep breaths.
“On what?” She chuckles.
“Let’s just say, we better come up with a good reason why you’d leave a wet spot on the crinkled paper if he has you change into a gown. I don’t want him thinking you got all hot and bothered by him.”