“A checkup,” he says simply.
“You’re not a doctor.”
“Practice.”
It makes even less sense than before, but the termcuriosity killed the catwas made for me. I know I’m into foreplay, but am I into roleplay too? I guess I know the answer now.
“Breathe in.”
Whatever, yeah. Okay, I’ll let Kohen play his game, but if he pulls out a speculum or needles, I’m tapping out.
The cold surface of the bell makes me flinch. Come to think of it, this might be the first time I’ve had this done since I turned fourteen. Every time I’ve been sick, Grandpa labeled it a hangover and told me to suck it up.
“Hold.”
I do as Kohen asks, stuttering when the chilled metal brushes over my nipples.
“Breathe out.”
He’s really taking this seriously, getting me to breathe several times, grazing my nipple each time he places the flat base on a different part of my chest. And much to my disappointment, not once does he touch me with his hands.
Surely, he’s doing this longer than necessary. If I had to guess by his blown-out eyes, his focus is on my nipples and spread legs, not the sound of my lungs.
Kohen pulls away, placing the stethoscope back on the tray. The tendons in his forearms ripple; his veins move as he slips the pulse reader on my finger and the blood pressure cuff around my arm. Deep rivets form between his brows as he pushes random buttons on the heart rate monitor. He steps back once the first line jumps onthe monitor, and the cuff tightens around my arm.
Keeping his stare firmly on me, my lips part as he grabs a pair of gloves off the wall. Do I have a latex kink, or does watching this male model snap on gloves do it for me? Also, what in God’s name does he need with them?
His gaze drops down to the two gadgets reading me, then quickly to my tits, and back to the monitor. My heart rate must be astronomical right now—being anxious and horny and all. The machine beeps twice, and he nods approvingly as he reads the screen. Does he know what he’s looking at, or is he a weirdly good actor when it comes to roleplaying? A hundred over sixty sounds high to me.
He takes the cuff off my arm and leaves the pulse monitor on, glancing at it smugly when it spikes as he reaches for something on the trolley. As if double-checking the data corresponds, he shifts his attention down to my wet pussy, and he nods to himself again. The Velcro sounds as he brings the cuff closer to my throat.
“No,” I growl and he halts. “If you put that shit anywhere near my neck, my knuckles are going to be kissing your balls, lover boy.”
Hands, I can fight off. Limbs, I can break. A machine? Something inhuman that won’t listen to reason? No. No way. That type of shit can stay far the fuck away from me. It’ll be like drowning without any water in sight.
When the tubing comes into view, my breath stutters.
“Yeah, no.” I’m out. I don’t like anything that might involve that.
“Hands,” is all he says.
Ignoring my protests, he grabs both my wrists and ties them together using the plastic tubing.
I change my mind; maybe I do like things involving those. Theevidence of exactly how much I like it is dripping between my legs. Kohen knows it too, evidenced by a single gloved finger catching another droplet before it lands on the medical-grade sheet, and I arch my back when he pushes it back inside me.
Who knows what else I’m agreeing to by doing this. Actually, I don’t give a shit. As long as I get to come, I’m all game.
Kohen makes a sound at the back of his throat that makes the muscles in my core spasm. “You’re so fucking soaked for me, Blaze.”
Biting my tongue to stop myself from mewling, I squeeze my eyes shut to imagine literally anything else but what the latex-clad fingers feel like on and inside me. If Kohen’s goal was to keep from dirtying the sheets, he’s doing an excellent job of it. However, he’s making an even bigger mess of me.
I grip the bedsheet with my bound hands when he slaps my pussy hard enough for me to feel the delicious pressure on my clit, but not enough to sting. He does it again, this time watching the monitor to see my pulse jump.
“Such an excited little whore,” he muses in the same way a doctor does when analyzing results.
The term might be an insult when said by anyone else—anyone who isn’t making my naked body flush and legs quake with need—but when Kohen says it, my hips roll into the pleasure he’s giving me. I have a funny feeling that if he addedmyat the start of it, my eyes would roll to the back of my head.
I can go back to plotting his downfall once I leave this room. For now, I’m his whore as long as I get what I want at the end of this.
