Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

RILEY

"Where are we going?" I ask, slowly trailing him past the living room and into the kitchen.

"I'm taking you to my guest room." His bottom lip curls and he reaches under the kitchen island. My mouth falls open when he pushes on the countertop of the island and it slides forward. Enjoying my shell-shocked reaction a little too much, he opens a small door that acts as part of the bottom of the island and walks down a flight of creaky stairs. "Come on," he says, looking back at me, pausing halfway when he notices I haven't moved yet.

"Why are you showing me the room I'll be sleeping in when it's not even afternoon yet."

He chuckles. It's both pleasant and unsettling. I can't explain it. Nothing makes sense with this man and I'm more curious than I am afraid. He could be planning to chop me up into tiny pieces, and here I am working hard to stop myself from running ahead of him to see where he's taking me.

"I'm glad you know the difference between day and night but I'm not taking you down here to sleep. Not yet. In order to make sure you're completely healthy, I have to do a full exam first."

"Like I would get during a physical?"

"Precisely." His smile is so clinical now and so is the way he reaches his hand out to me. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

"Okay." My stomach can't decide if it wants to lurch or do a dance as I allow him to lead me to a dark basement. It mirrors the living room, almost, with the same couches and TV, just missing the windows and connecting kitchen. Two doors line the back wall, three feet apart.

"This way, Mr…"

"Banks." I make up a last name on the fly.

His eyes flicker. "We'll be doing the exam in this room, Mr. Banks." Twisting the knob, he pushes the door open and guides me inside first. My heart thuds when he closes the door and points toward an exam table. The room is very sterile looking, with a set of cabinets sitting in the corner.

"You want me on the table?"

Smiling, he tilts his head. "For this part, yes."

Keeping my eyes on him, I climb onto the table and as I'm about to lie back, he shakes his head. "I want you sitting, for now. I'm going to start by getting your blood pressure and temperature."

"Okay." I clench my teeth, wiggling my ass against the noisy paper bunching up underneath me.

Pulling a key from his pocket, he opens one of the cabinets and walks toward me with a blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope. He was serious about giving me a physical. We really are going to play doctor for a whole week. Why does he need to pretend when he does this for a living? Doesn't he get enough of a fix at work?

His eyes hold onto mine as he strokes the pulse point inside my wrist. "Your pulse is strong." Gaze moving to his watch, his lips twitch. When he looks at me again, he slides his fingers up my arm, tracing over one of my veins. His eyes light up like sparkling glass as he strokes up and down. "Healthy veins too."

"Is this something surgeons do? Give…exams?" I suck in a breath when he rolls up the rest of my sleeve, touching more of me but also not enough.

"Not exactly, which is why I now work in the ER." He slides the cuff up my arm and tightens it once it's in the right place. "I'm much happier there."

His face grows serious again when he places the ear tips in his ear and warms up the chest piece with his breath. Warm, and not as soft as his fingers, the metal glides up my arm, stopping once it's halfway under the cuff. We're both quiet as he takes my blood pressure and temperature. At the sound of a loud beep, he removes the bulb from my mouth. His eyes squint and he frowns, holding the thermometer closer to the light. "Not getting a proper reading. We'll have to try again in a little while."

"What does it say?"

"It's a little lower than normal and I think it's because we were out in the cold too long. Like I said, we'll take it again later."

After sanitizing everything with wipes, he puts it all back in the cabinet, shoves something in his pocket, and returns with a tongue depressor and small flashlight.

"I'm going to check your tongue and ears next. Can you stick your tongue out for me please? Say ahhh." I do as he says and he presses down on my tongue, shining a light in my mouth. I gag a little and he pulls away, tossing the depressor in the trash while pocketing the flashlight. "You're doing really well. We'll be finished for the day in no time if you keep this up."

My heart flutters at the proud look in his eyes. There's a desire hidden there too, that nearly takes my breath away. A want I'm eager to fill without knowing what it is because it's me he chose to get it from. It's me he wants to take care of. It's me who feels like his favorite patient right now.

What the hell is happening to me? Does this man have me under some spell, or is it because for the first time, I'm getting everything from him I said I'd never let myself need from another person?

Removing a tool from his jacket, he checks my ears and then nose. Then with a half-smile, he walks back to the cabinet and hands me a paper gown. "Change into this and I'll be back in five to finish the exam."

My stomach swirls as I clutch the gown, and he helps me down from the table. "What are we doing next?"

"Finishing the physical. Nothing can go unchecked if we want to do this the right way, can it?"

"I… guess not." I twist at the gown, tearing off a corner of the sleeve.

"I'd hate to miss anything and then regret it later. When was the last time you've been to see a doctor?"

I stare down at the floor and back at him, my words caught in my throat.

"That's what I thought." He pats my shoulder, only one side of his lips tilting. "Take off everything. Underwear too."

My heart jumps into my throat and I take a step back. "Is that necessary?"

"It is if we want to make sure you're fully healthy everywhere. You're the one who booked this appointment, remember? Said it's important for that new job you're starting? You won't be able to start until everything on their list is checked off."

"Oh. Yeah, okay," I say, playing along.

"Terrific. See you in a bit then."

I can feel my heart pounding in my ears as I strip my clothes to the floor. This is all part of it. I said I'd be a good patient, and this is all part of it. One week. It's an exam, that's all. A physical. How the hell am I supposed to know what they do when I can't remember the last time I stepped into a doctor's office of any kind. Luckily, I never got sick enough to need to. Only a few colds and a stomach virus or food poisoning. I wasn't going to a hospital unless I was on the brink of death so maybe it's good that we have this arrangement.

My lower back has been hurting when I sit down too long, and my stomach cramps up with certain foods. Should I tell him that? I feel like I have to. He's my doctor and I need to be honest if I want… Wait, what am I saying? Have I confused fantasy with reality? Fantasy me doesn't have to worry about bills or being locked up. There are no boyfriend issues or backstabbing friends in this office.

A knock at the door has me dropping the gown on the floor. "Okay for me to come in?"

"Not yet. Sorry, I'm moving a little slower than usual. I guess I'm still a little weak from yesterday."

"Do you need help undressing?"

"I… Maybe." Do I? My hands shake as I pick up the gown, head a little light when I rise back up too quickly. My body is a better actor than I am, going right into helpless mode, and my brain slowly catches up because it's easier when all of me is on the same page. I have to do this no matter what, so why not use it to my advantage and allow someone to do the heavy lifting for a while.

"I have to hear a yes or no, Mr. Banks."

"Yes."

"Yes what?" He says, pressing on the door.

"Yes, please. Will you please help me, doctor?" The words come out easier than expected, almost as if my mouth has been holding them back for a long time.

"I'll be right in then." Entering the room, he pulls a pair of gloves from the white coat he didn't have on before. It looks good on him. Why wouldn't it? Everything else has. I'd hate to see what I look like right now. One good thing about this room is that it has zero mirrors.

Blue rubber stretches over his fingers, smacking his skin, and he closes in on me. He takes the gown from my hands, shoving it in one of his large pockets. "Have a seat again. You'll feel better once you do. You really shouldn't be on your feet too much for the next few days."

Without arguing, I sit down. I would have argued if anyone else had told me what they thought I needed before this. He's my doctor though. It's different. Everyone should listen to the person in charge of their health.

Back on the table, I'm steadier, and my feet don't ache as much. My muscles haven't stopped screaming at me since yesterday, and the soreness only increased when I woke up, but I blocked most of it out when we reached the house. My nerves took precedence earlier, and my only focus was how my first appointment would go. As Sam slowly peels off each piece of my clothing, sparks dance along the skin his soft fingers come in contact with. He keeps going until he reaches my underwear, pausing with his fingers on the waistband. "Still good?"

I nod and he smiles, peeling back the elastic. Lowering himself to the ground, his warm breaths sweep over the thin cotton. I shudder. With his mouth mere inches away from my growing erection, he says, "You able to lift your hips for me?"

Another nod. I try to pull my gaze away so I can stop enjoying the sight of him where he is, but it's as if I've been hypnotized. My cock too, which is unable to stop jolting in his direction. It might subconsciously end up chasing those juicy lips if his mouth comes closer. Yeah, it's been a long time since I've had any action, and it shows.

I hope I won't have all these horny thoughts during all my checkups, unless part of his game is to have me aroused. He didn't say he wanted sex. He also never said he didn't. I don't know what I want either. Yesterday, it was to free myself from here and get back to my life, but everything outside this room sounds less appealing than the way he is here on his knees in front of me.

I lift each side of my hips, one at a time, and he slides the underwear down my legs, his face remaining where it is, breaths growing heavier over my groin. Smiling up at me, he yanks my underwear off over my feet and stands back up. "Go ahead and lie back down."

Looking down between my legs, my cheeks heat in embarrassment at how stiff I am, my tip red and one touch away from leaking.

"It's okay. That reaction is perfectly natural. A sign you're healthy down there. We'll make sure though. Looks can sometimes be deceiving."

My cock twitches and I slowly push myself back on the crackling paper, lying down. "You're fine where you are, but I need your bottom close to the edge."

My throat thickening, I shuffle down a little, cool air feathering over my skin and my body pleading for more of his warm breaths to stop the shivering. Or is it for another reason?

Shoving my underwear in his pocket, he reaches between my legs and pulls out stirrups. Each of my feet is guided to where he needs it to be, my legs forced further apart. Sam lifts my feet higher and tugs on my hips until my ass is hanging halfway off the table.

"Perfect." He exits the room and comes back with a rolling stool, placing himself between my legs. Lifting my head, I notice a head lamp on his head, and he turns it on as a warm, gloved finger rubs my inner thigh. "Relax for me. Since you've never been to the doctor, I'm going to assume you've never had a prostate exam?"

My hole clenches. "No."

"You're pretty young and would only need one soon depending on your family history. Any cancer or prostate issue you're aware of?"

"I…uh…" I swallow hard. "I don't know my biological family. Grew up in foster care."

"I see." He rubs my inner thighs again. "So, there's no way to know for certain if you're at risk or not. I'd feel better if we checked you now just to be safe. How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven." I clench up again when his fingertips graze over my ass cheeks, spreading them apart.

He hums, and it's like the sounds are vibrating from his fingers and through me. "The risks are low at that age but also aren't zero. If you agree, I'll continue with the preparations."

Not certain I have a choice, I pretend I don't and nod, fear creeping back into my chest. My heart is a chaotic mess, and I only usually get to feel this way for a short time when I'm robbing someone. But now, I can have it whenever I want, every time I go back to questioning his genuineness. It's a different kind of control. He'll be good again when I'm ready to view him that way.

"I have to hear you say it, Mr. Banks," he says sternly before pressing his lips tightly together.

"Yes. Please continue."

A smile creeps back onto his face, and he opens a cap, squirting what appears to be lube onto the latex. Brows bunched together, he lowers his face, pressing a finger to my hole. I suppress a moan at the circling of his fingers. "It'll hurt less if you relax."

A few deep breaths later, I relax on the table, and he wets my entrance with more lube before probing me again. "Are you a virgin, Mr. Banks?"

"No. I've been with one partner."

"Anal sex?"

"Yes. Receiving end."

He releases a long breath. "When was the last time?"

"Six months. My boyfriend and I have been experiencing problems for a while."

"In bed?" Gently breaching my hole, he slowly enters me, twisting on his way inside.

"Yeah," I say, voice hoarse. My walls squeeze around the intrusion, his twisting and darting motions easing the discomfort. I haven't had anything inside me in a while and pleasure ripples as he hits my sweet spot. Pressing his finger harder, the stimulation grows unbearable, and my cock's a dripping mess. Trapped between pleasure and the pain of holding back, my whole body shakes. When he applies pressure to my taint, I lose all control, coming so hard I swear the light above turns into spinning stars.

My sounds are mixtures of moaning and laughter. I lift my hands to my face when I realize what I've done, my entire body going rigid. "Fuck. I'm sorry."

His finger slips from my ass and he chuckles, tugging off his gloves. "That's okay. There's no need to be embarrassed. It happens more often than you think. There are many benefits to stimulating the prostate." Shutting off the light, he gets to his feet. "You can scoot up now but please remain on the table."

I press the heels of my feet into the table and push myself back. Cum covers my stomach and Sam uses wipes to clean me up, spending extra time around my pubic region. "Thanks," I choke out.

"No problem. I'll be moving on to a breast exam shortly. Want a blanket?"

My teeth chatter and I nod. "That would be great."

Pursing his lips together he tosses the trash and grabs a blanket from a drawer underneath the table. "Here ya go. I'm going to wash my hands and change my gloves, so you'll have a small break."

"Great," I say in between nervous chuckles. Are we having dinner at the same table again? If so, hopefully this won't be the topic of the night. How well I did during the exam when he made me come with his very enthusiastic finger. Fuck, it felt good though, and I can't stop wondering how many more physicals I'll need while I'm here. Maybe as many as I make him believe are needed.

My body's on high alert when he returns minutes later, and I lift the blanket higher as if now's the time to be modest. This man has seen all of me in my naked glory and has touched the inside of my ass. My sudden shyness is laughable and his eyes wrinkle in humor, letting me know he feels the same fucking way.

"Doing okay still?"

"Yeah."

"How do you feel?" He rubs between my pecs with a fresh set of gloves, the latex soft and not gliding as easily as his bare fingers do.

"Tired and hungry. Sore everywhere."

"I can run you a warm bath when I'm done and have dinner ready by the time you're out, how does that sound?"

"Perfect." I search around the room. "Is the room next door where I'm going to sleep?"

"Not exactly. That's a small gym."

"I thought you said the guest room is down here?" My stomach clenches at his wicked grin.

"It is. We're in it now. This bed rolls, and I have another one I put in here when I have company. It's only set up this way for patients."

"You have many down here?"

"Not many. You're only my second one, but the other situation was completely different."

"How so?"

He closes his mouth before opening it again. "It just was. You have a lot of questions now. Here I thought they would have come earlier."

"I guess I was too focused on other things. Like getting through all this to get out of here."

"I'd say you're getting along just fine as of now. Our whole time together will fly as long as you keep it up. Now, tell me if you experience pain at any given moment."

He squeezes my pecs and massages around my nipples. My nubs are hard enough to cut glass when he tugs at the skin of my areolas. "Color and size look as they should. Shape too," he says, curling his fingers around the small brown circles. "Absolutely perfect." He breathes deeper, pressing down around my breasts in circular motions. Next, he's pinching my nipples. "No discharge. Good sign." He then feels under my pits, rubbing up and down my sides.

"Everything look okay?" I ask, sounding more concerned than I intended.

"As far as I can see. Nothing felt sore or uncomfortable?"

"No, but it felt overly sensitive."

His lips shift from side to side and he tugs his gloves off, shoving them in his pocket. "Does it always?"

"I don't know. No one ever touches me there."

Tapping his chin, his gaze turns more intense. "Is it more sensitive with skin-to-skin contact?" He rolls one of my nipples between his fingers.

"Yes." I hiss.

"We'll have to come back to that at our next appointment. We'll do an overall sensitivity test. How does tomorrow work?"

"Tomorrow is… is fine. Am I still dehydrated?"

"Your skin is a little off color, so we'll do a urine test as well, along with taking some blood and rechecking your temperature the proper way."

"If you feel that's what's best." I'm actually becoming a real damn patient and it doesn't feel contrived at all. It feels…I don't know…right? More real than my life had felt with Brick and Stephen. Which is insane. All of this is, but I fall deeper in anyway, not sure I'll remember how to crawl out when it's over.

"I do." His smile is gentle, eyes soft and caring. Will I see this side of him for the rest of the day? Or is it night now?

"How long have we been down here?"

"Probably longer than it feels. It's nearly four in the afternoon."

My lips part and I lift myself off the table. "How's that possible?"

"Exams can be very thorough when done right for the right person. I also didn't want to rush things, so I went slow. I bet you're starving. I'm sorry, I'm not used to having another person to feed and often miss meals myself. Too caught up in work."

"And you call yourself a doctor," I mock.

He stifles a laugh. "We can't all be perfect, can we? Get dressed and I'll see you upstairs. How do you feel about red wine?"

I wrinkle my nose. "I'm more of a white wine person."

"White wine it is." His lips widen and he tosses the gloves on his way out, leaving me alone with my confusing thoughts. After joining him in the kitchen fully dressed, he fulfills his promise of running me a bath. I soak for an hour, sinking low into the large tub. The water feels amazing on my muscles, and I close my eyes, imagining I'm at some fancy hotel and I met Sam under different circumstances—at the pool or bar downstairs, and he came up to my room for a nightcap but it led to more. Here I am now, in his bathtub, waiting for him to join me and touch me because he wants to. Not because we're pretending I'm sick and need testing or treatment.

Maybe I am if I'm fantasizing about the man who's blackmailing me. No matter what he's doing, he's still not the worst one here. He gave me options. He had the choice to call the cops and do worse but didn't. It was nothing but a little innocent compromise. Wasn't it? Lifting my head from the water, I blow bubbles and fold my knees. I don't stop soaking until he calls me down to eat, and we have steak. I didn't have to wait until this is all over, after all.

Neither of us talk much while we eat, and he makes sure I'm drinking enough water the whole time, setting two painkillers next to my plate. "For the pain and to help you sleep better. New places can be hard sometimes. I'll go set your room up while you finish."

"You sure you want to leave me up here by myself?"

He strokes my forehead. "You're feeling a little warm. The Tylenol PM should help for that too. And there really is nowhere for you to go. I doubt you want a repeat of yesterday." He lowers his eyes at me. "When you're done, rinse your dishes and place them in the dishwasher."

He leaves after that, not looking back or saying another word, and I'm feeling too tongue tied to respond. He's right. If he found me the first time, he can do it again. I was walking for hours too. Did he really come from work, or had he been looking for me that whole time? Either way, he didn't pick me up by chance and I knew that as soon as he said there was no La Quinta. The chills from then are back when I think of running, and of him always being the one to pick me up and bring me back here.

Doubt I'm worth all that trouble, but I want to believe it's what would happen anyway. That I'm trapped here. I don't know when I'll be ready for him to be that good guy again, but that time hasn't come yet. He's a bad guy. He'll hurt me soon. I'll never leave here and will always be his patient. There are no clocks in the house and it's always dark in the basement. I might not always have a sense of time, and I'll be here for one month while assuming it's only been a week.

All these twisted and ominous thoughts make me want to weep and smile at the same time.