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Epilogue
Epilogue
Dean
Seven Years Later
From one end of the hospital corridor, I watch my wife instruct a group of residents, my chest packed full of pride. Their open adulation of her is not surprising to me. I’m pretty sure that’s how I stare at her—stars in my eyes, tongue thick in my mouth. She’s a fucking miracle and I say a prayer of thanks every day for her coming into my life. Infusing it with color and love and happiness. Not to mention…awe. As I suspected, Charlotte is a wunderkind. A genius with an incredible intuition for medicine. A surgeon whose fame has nothing to do with mine.
At least, that’s the case now.
In the beginning of our relationship, as she traversed the difficult landscape of medical school, she was known as Dean Fletcher’s wife—and that was it.
Not anymore. Now we’re both Doctor Fletcher. The Chicago Sun Times ran a story on us recently under the headline “Medicine’s Hottest Power Couple” and since then, Charlotte has been mobbed in between surgeries. Everyone is still properly scared of me, thank God, so she gets the brunt of the attention. Which is fine by me. Unless it comes from a too-eager male. At which point I’m definitely not okay with the attention. After I address whatever idiot tried to pick up my wife, I’m further placated by her riding me slowly in the office we now share, our scrubs in a heap on the floor, whispers of Daddy filling my ear.
Watching her now, she makes the group of idolizing residents laugh and her smile spreads, turning my heart into a snare drum. Christ, she’s so beautiful. She’s my life. My wife. My colleague. The one who challenges me and keeps me in check. She’s my little girl when she’s naked. I’m so fucking fulfilled, it’s hard to imagine my life before she came into it. It terrifies me to think what dull, gray existence I would be leading if she never came behind the stage that day to meet me.
Her eyes meet mine from the other end of the hallway and her expression heats, her lips parting slightly. And I know she’s thinking about this morning. How we made it to the hospital for work, parked in the underground garage. When I helped her out of the passenger side, her tits looked delicious in the neckline of her top and I got hard as a rock. Let her feel it by pinning her lower body to the car. We fucked in the parking garage like horny teenagers, damn the cameras or anyone who might drive by.
Jesus, that’s what she does to me.
What she has always done to me and always will.
We still live in the Gold Coast townhouse—while her mother is now in a nearby apartment where Charlotte can easily visit—but we also have a vacation home in the Bahamas and we’re scheduled to leave for a two-week trip tomorrow. Both of us are eager to get on the plane so we can spend time together without one of our pagers going off.
Lately, I have this fantasy I can’t get out of my head. My fantasies star a naked Charlotte taking my cock and they run in my head all damn day. But these days, I’ve been imagining her with a pregnant belly. In all stages. Early to late. Small and big and everything in between. The mere thought of her carrying my child makes my balls seize up tight, my dick standing on end. While we’re in the Bahamas, I’ve decided to broach the possibility of having a child. We’ve always planned to start a family, but she needed to complete school and establish herself first. She’s done that in spades now. It’s definitely time to revisit the idea and I’m eager as hell to know what she thinks. And if she wants to get started while we’re laid out in the sunshine.
Free to play. As long as we want.
Finally, she excuses herself from the group of residents who gaze after her with starry eyes. I scowl at the men until they gulp and scurry away. After that, I’m able to give Charlotte my full attention, which is where I prefer it.
“Hello Doctor Fletcher,” she purrs, adjusting her new pink-rimmed glasses.
“Doctor Fletcher,” I growl back under my breath. “When the hospital renews my contract, I’m going to make it a condition that none of the male residents are allowed to speak to speak to my wife.”
“That sounds like a fun lawsuit.”
“I’ll gladly represent myself in court. My defense is foolproof.” I make sure the hallway is relatively empty, before leaning down and kissing the curve of her neck, letting my lips linger there. “Your honor, when clearly interested men flirt with my wife, I get a little homicidal. So really, I’m just saving their lives by forbidding them to speak to my woman. That’s the vow I took as a doctor, after all.”
She giggles. “Nice how you twisted that oath to suit you.”
I run my mouth up to her ear. “I wish it was tomorrow. I want you in a bathing suit and all to myself for two weeks.”
“Same goes,” she breathes haltingly, tilting her head to accommodate my mouth. “I’m not sure I can wait until tomorrow to, um…” A shudder runs through her. “I can n-never wait.”
Using our white coats to shield my hand, I slowly grip her pussy. “You want a little game of truth or dare?”
Her eyelids flutter over my suggestion, her breath quickening. “Yes.”
It’s our favorite pastime. It reminds us of the first night she came to my home, dressed as a maid and prepared to clean. How I asked for her truth and she dared me to touch her.
Kiss her.
Our lives were never the same.
Thank God, I think, pulling Charlotte into the closest unoccupied room. A quiet space with two beds, no lights to greet us, except for the late afternoon sun peeking through the blinds “What’s your dare, little girl?” I rasp, closing the door behind her. I turn her around and crowd her up against the entrance, tugging down the waistband of her blue scrubs and snapping the black thong against her gorgeous ass. “Tell Daddy.”
“You go first,” she pants, laying her palms flat on the door. “I choose truth.”
“Very well.” I rake my open mouth up and down the nape of her neck. “Tell me who you love beyond reason. Who is the only man you’ll ever open these thighs for?”
She moans softly when I tug down my own pants and briefs, slapping my cock against the full swell of her backside. “My husband. My Dean.” She tilts her head back and we engage in a filthy kiss over her shoulder. One that makes precome drip from the tip of my shaft. “I love you beyond reason.”
“I love you even further than that,” I say, dragging her into another kiss, twining our tongues until her butt grows restless in my lap. “Now give me my dare.”
“Very well,” she whispers. Echoing me. Looking up into my eyes with an affection that leaves me choked, shaken. “I dare you to make me pregnant, husband.”
THE END
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