Page 87 of His Talisman

I eyerolled. “You need to come with an instruction manual, sir.” If I was caught, I was sure he’d use that cane on my butt, or worse.

He liked me, and he liked Cassius but, so many buts. I was sure he was not going to kill me. The rest of the mysteries of this doctor and his island? The answers to those were as yet unclear.

I cleared my throat. “Can I please be allowed to come?”

He sat up on his elbow and studied me, and I could see he was admiring my curves, but especially my ass and where my breasts were exposed. That pleased me. I levered myself off the table to lean on my forearms, which sent the weights swinging again. I winced but was fascinated by what they did to my breasts. They were the best of decorations.

“What did Cassius say?”

“He said no.” The fucker.

The doctor outright laughed and turned over onto his back. He ran his hands through the sides of his hair, through the shaved stubble, then tugged at the longer parts. “He left you all needy?”

Worried at where this was going, I nodded. “Yes.”

“If he said no, it’s no from me. Come over to the chair. I have to get those clamps off you anyway.”

I must have looked peeved, but he rolled off the table, pulled out the needle, then offered his hand. I took it and carefully wriggled backward.

I walked with him to the armchair and sat on his lap, all naked, and feeling cute and sexy. I curled up, my butt between his spread legs and with my bent legs partway across the arm of the chair while he unclamped my nipples. My hiss and strangling massage of his forearm had him chuckling.

We lay together on the chair, not speaking while he patted my hair, and I found myself breathing slower and at peace. The doctor and Cassius were very different men. I tended to think of Cassius as mad puppy dog, an attack puppy, perhaps. The doctor was still an enigma in so many ways.

My courage prodded me and made me dare to ask a question.

“Sir.”

“Mmm?”

“I like you as much as I do Cassius, but I think, maybe, it could become more than like, if I knew more about you.”

His hand paused. “Why?”

“Why?” I snuggled in, making myself comfortable, as well as giving myself time. “Because love…” fuck, I’d said that word, “arrives when you know someone well. Like you need to know someone to trust them too.”

He made a funny grunt and continued patting me and untangling my hair where it spilled across his arm.

“You said you’d experienced a lot in life? How old are you?” He often made himself sound old. Yet, I judged him to be early to late forties, which was old but not ancient.

“Too old. Old enough to have amassed wealth and a great deal of tragedy.”

“You’re brushing off my question,” I muttered into his arm, where my nose was currently resting. His other hand splayed over my butt, and his grip tightened momentarily.

“Brat.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I fear, always, that I may not be a man you want to know more of.”

“And I fear you more because I don’t understand.”

He sighed. “Give me time, please.”

I squirmed in place. “Okay, but I am insatiably curious.”

“And that’s part of why I like you.”

Then he slid a finger along my slit and slowly inserted it.

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