Doctored Vows - Chapter 18

As I wipe sweat from the back of my neck, my grandmother asks, “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound a little restless.”

“I’m fine. I just… ah…” Ate my weight in the female equivalent of Viagra and can’t stop having naughty thoughts about the stranger I married, but since I can’t say that to my sweet old grandmother, I reply, “I’m just a little tired. It’s been a big day.”

Usually, I ring my grandmother every night to check in. I missed our call last night, so I’m doing tonight’s early so I won’t make the same mistake twice.

“I can imagine.” Her joyful sigh whistles through her dentures. “This must have taken a lot of planning.”

I drift my eyes back to Aleena and her bridesmaids still getting glammed up for a night on the town. “Zoya organized everything. I just showed up.”

“Not the bachelorette party, darling, although I’m glad things are going well. I am talking about moving us into an apartment upstairs.”

Assuming the chatter between Aleena and her friends who could only attend the official bachelorette part of her destination hen party has me mishearing her, I slip into the corridor before asking, “What did you say?”

“The move. It must have taken a lot of work to plan it while you were away. The apartment is gorgeous, Kita. The rooms are spacious and mold-free, and the kitchen is bigger than any I’ve seen. I’ll be able to bake for days in there. Do you remember how I used to bake when you visited as a child?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I’ll be able to make you all your favorite treats again.”

Her excitement is felt from thousands of miles away, but it doesn’t change the facts. I have no clue what she is referencing. I can’t afford the rent in the basement apartment they get at a steal because they’ve lived there for over two decades.

“Gigi, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t organize anything.”

“Oh…” She goes quiet for a second before saying, “There’s a medical team here preparing to move your grandfather. Maybe one of them will know more.”

“Ah… hello,” says a deep voice a second after a whoosh sounds down the line. “This is Dr. Muhamed. How can I help you?”

“I’m sorry, my grandmother has a bad habit of forcing her issues onto unsuspecting victims.” I love my grandmother with all my heart, but her belief that she couldn’t take care of my grandfather after he was diagnosed with emphysema is the sole reason my family moved to Russia. My mother was seventeen years my father’s senior, so they faced ailing parental health long before my father’s parents reached retirement age. “My grandmother mentioned they were in the process of being moved into another apartment?”

“Yes,” Dr. Muhamed answers quickly. “It is in the same building, just several floors up.”

“Who organized that?”

“We were contracted by”—papers ruffle before he says—“Ivanov…”

“Industries,” we say at the same time.

I have a million questions to ask, but since they can’t be answered by the medical contractor Maksim hired, I focus on what is most important right now. “My grandfather has stage four chronic obstruction pulmonary disease with limited cardiopulmonary reserve. He cannot be moved without proper equipment and planning.”

“We’ve arrived with portable oxygen, oximeters, and corticosteroid medication we will only use if necessary.”

“Fluticasone or Budesonide?”

I step back, shocked when he answers, “Both.”

I’ve never had the option of choosing my grandfather’s medication.

It was whichever option was the cheapest.

“He was administered oral steroids earlier this week, so please limit them unless also necessary, and he’s⁠—”

“On a single dose of Azithromycin for pneumonia. I read his medical report before agreeing to this assignment, Dr. Hoffman. I assure you we will make the move as safe and as uncomplicated as possible.”

The assurance in his tone is encouraging, but I can’t help but worry. My grandparents are the only family I have left. My father was sentenced to life, and his parents want nothing to do with me since they believe I am the only reason my father married my mother. “Has someone checked the new apartment for any aggravators of COPD?”

“Yes,” Dr. Muhamed answers. “I went over it myself. Not a single dust bunny or speck of ash could be seen. It is as clean as its hefty price tag demands.”

“Okay. Good.” I would like to say more, but I’m too shocked to function. I feel like I’m living in a dream and everything I’ve ever wanted is finally coming true.

“Is that all?” Dr. Muhamed asks, his tone uneasy.

“Yes.” I wipe at my cheeks like it will stop my words from cracking with emotion. “But can you please take down my number? I would like to be informed of any changes to my grandfather’s condition during the relocation.”

“I already have your number stored. I will keep you updated, though I doubt it will be in regard to declining markers.” He sounds surprised while saying, “His stats are exceptional for his prognosis. His care far exceeds any I’ve seen from other palliative care patients, and I only see that improving with the new ventilation and ECOM unit currently being installed in his new apartment.”

There’s no hiding my sob this time around. I’ve been saving for a new extracorporeal membrane oxygenation unit for several years. The one we’ve been using is on loan from the hospital. It is old and outdated and often shuts down in the middle of the night. That’s why my sleep is so lagging even when I don’t work a double shift.

“Dr. Hoffman? Are you still there?” Dr. Muhamed asks.

“Yes, sorry.” I wipe at my cheeks that are now wet. “I think the connection is bad. If you need me⁠—”

“You’re only a phone call away.”

I smile like it won’t make me look psychotic. My tears are tears of happiness, but you wouldn’t know that for how many are streaming down my face.

Dr. Muhamed must hear my smile, as he says, “Enjoy your honeymoon, Dr. Hoffman. I’ll be in touch if I have any questions.”

He disconnects our call before I can reply. If only he were half a second faster, then maybe I would have missed my grandmother’s surprised gasp when he assumed I am on my honeymoon.

I had planned to tell my grandparents about my arrangement with Maksim in person.

I don’t have a choice now.

My finger hovers over the number at the top of my recently called list when a creak sounds over my big exhalation of nerves. It didn’t come from the door opposite me. It came from one down the corridor—from Maksim’s suite.

When he notices me, a smirk curls his lips before he bridges the gap between us. His hair is wet like his shower was long for the exact reason my deviant head believes, and he’s replaced his sunscreen-ruined suit for one that is navy blue and cut to showcase every perfect ridge of his body.

His walk is predatory. Claiming. It activates every one of my hot buttons and has me remembering the sticky mess I was before Zoya interrupted my stalk of the wall separating our suites.

A mannish cologne wafts up around me when he swoops down to kiss my forehead like he did in the video I’ve watched on repeat the past twenty minutes. It was closely followed by him falling to his knees to slide my garter up my leg.

“I was just coming to find you…” His words trail off as fury hardens his features. “What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” He stops seeking the apparent perp in the hallway when I shake my head, but not even my silent pledge that I’m fine lessens the anger in his tone when he asks, “Then why are you crying?”

His protectiveness takes my breath away when it unearths a memory of him wiping away my tears when I told him how I lost both my parents within days of each other. My father is still breathing, but since he refuses to meet with me, his loss was as painful as my mother and sister’s.

When my delay causes more angst for Maksim, I wet my mouth to loosen up my words before saying, “I just spoke with my grandmother.” My words flutter as wildly out of control as my heart does when his possessiveness has me wanting to run into his arms instead of away from him. “She told me about the apartment.” My voice breaks when I add, “And the medical equipment.”

He brushes a tear off my cheek with a gentleness I’d forgotten he had until I watched the videos of last night before he mutters, “They weren’t supposed to tell you until you returned home.” Unexpected laughter bubbles in my chest when he says more clearly, “I didn’t want to be accused of bartering for sexual favors… even if that is what I am doing.” He leers as if pleased I took his comment as intended. Playfully.

His spirited nature clears my nerves and has me acting how I did in the many videos and images Zoya snapped of me last night. “I think you’ve mistaken the terminology of negotiating, Mr. Ivanov.”

Maksim’s voice holds the same husky edge as mine when he steps closer and says, “And how did you come to that belief, Mrs. Ivanov?”

Sweet lord, that is even sexier than “my wife.”

I swallow to lube my throat with much-needed spit before replying, “Because when you’re the payee of the barter, you’re also meant to be the recipient of any benefits sought.” Lust hangs heavy in the air, forcing a brief interlude in my reply. “I’ve been the sole beneficiary of our arrangement. That isn’t exactly fair.”

“It isn’t?”

When I shake my head, he crowds me against the wall, then angles his head until our lips are half an inch apart.

I bake under the intensity of his hooded gaze, but I play it cool. I want him to kiss me again, desperately, but solely with the hope it will unlock more memories like our kiss in the cabana did.

Yeah, right.

I want him to kiss me so badly that I’m on the verge of falling to my knees and begging.

I won’t, though.

If I don’t keep things even between us, I will be eaten alive.

Maksim’s eyes flicker like he mistook my worry as a challenge before he finally breaks the tension that’s so hot I’m overcooked. “If things aren’t even, and you’re all about equality, how are you going to fix the injustice, Mrs.—”

I propel onto my tippy-toes and kiss him before he can finalize his reply, and before my head can get in a single word over the numerous shouted demands of my heart.

My boldness eggs Maksim on as much as it did in the video from last night. After banding my legs around his waist, he weaves his fingers through my hair and tugs my head back. He takes all the control, and I give it to him.

This time, since we’re not interrupted, our kiss lasts far longer than the thirty-second grind-up Zoya promised she’d remove from her phone after forwarding it to me.

Maksim’s kiss is deep and messy. Desperate. It is better than the one we shared in the cabana but makes me just as needy and hot. I want his hands roaming my body like they were then, groping and exploring me. I want to feel his erection squashed against me, and the roughness of his stubble on my collarbone when he suckles on the delicate skin of my neck.

I want him everywhere.

And I want it now.

With one swoop, I use the legs circling his waist to yank him over the half an inch separating us before I grind down on the thickness his zipper is struggling to contain.

“Fuck, Doc. You’ve got my cock acting like I don’t have an ounce of control over it.” He cups my ass in his hands before he guides my hips forward, rocking me against him. It is the equivalent of a prom night grind-up behind bleachers, but it has me burning up everywhere. My skin sets on fire as my panties dampen. “You’re making me lose my fucking mind, and I don’t want to do a damn thing about it.”

He kisses me again until I am as drunk on excitement as I was last night, and then he inches back.

It isn’t as bad as it seems.

A second after he steals a longing glance, he cranks his neck to the side and tells a man standing at the end to continue without him. “Make sure he is found. I want this public.”

“Yes, boss,” the man replies, his voice as rumbling as predicted when you take in his broad shoulders and gigantic height.

He’s barely entered the elevator before Maksim reacquaints our lips. While walking us toward his suite, he kisses me like he can’t breathe without my mouth on him, like the chemistry that’s burned between us since day one will never disintegrate.

He kisses me like he loves me, which is utterly ridiculous to even consider. We barely know each other, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to relish every snippet of attention he awards me.

I’d be insane to turn this down.

As Maksim drags his tongue along the roof of my mouth, his hand slips beneath my shirt. Just his fingertips brushing across my skin sends a torrent of excitement to the area between my legs.

My pussy, to be precise.

My body’s response to his simplest touch makes me frantic to experience the same. I want to feel the heat of his skin under my hands, to see if it bunches and contracts like mine does when awarded simple brushes and urgent gropes. I want to feel every inch of him, and I don’t know if I can wait until we’re in the safety of the bedroom to do that.

Maksim chuckles when I push him into the first solid object I see. Luckily for him, it is a bulky sofa.

His laughter is switched for a moan when I fall to my knees between his splayed thighs and shoot my hands to the waistband of his pants. I pull at his belt, hard, and work it through the loops with urgency.

Maksim’s pace is slower than mine. With a lazy smile like he has all the time in the world, he unknots his tie and tosses it aside before he unbuttons his pants and lowers the zipper just enough to expose the designer brand name of his boxer briefs.

When his thumb hooks into the stretchy black material, I balance my backside on my heels and wait for what I know will be a spectacular visual. His cock will be phenomenal from any angle, but there’s something more exciting about the prospect of facing it head-on. It is almost intimidating.

“Tell me how much you want my cock, Doc,” Maksim demands, his words as punctured as the throbs of the veins in his neck when our eyes lock and hold. “Tell me how much you want me.”

Lust rolls through my stomach like a wave, and I lose all cognitive thoughts.

“How about I show you instead?”

His cock bounces when I tug down on the black material incapable of concealing the enormity of his package. Then I hiss when I realize I am in way over my head.

I thought his penis was glorious before, but it has nothing on the silky pre-cum-tipped cock I’ve pulled out. It is long and thick, the nicest-looking penis I’ve ever seen, but I don’t know what I’m doing.

The amount of pre-cum leaking from Maksim’s cock exposes he believes differently.

His hooded watch as I struggle to comprehend the scale of his cock gifts me so much confidence, I grip the base of his shaft, wet my lips, then slide them over the crown.

My moan when I taste him for the first time sees him threading his fingers through my hair and encouraging me to take him deeper. The corners of my mouth burn when they’re forced to accommodate his girth, and my eyes water, but excitement is my most notable emotion.

“Fuck, Doc,” he groans when I take him to the back of my throat. “Look how beautiful you look swallowing my cock. You’re doing so well. Just a little more.” He thrusts his hips slightly, bulging my eyes. “Yes,” he hisses like a snake. “Just like that. So fucking good.”

I breathe through my nose while following his silent prompts. I take him deeper when his tugs on my hair turn violent, then flatten my tongue and dedicate the attention of my lips to the rim circling his crown when his ass sinks into the sofa.

I work him over and over again until his grunts leave no doubt that he is on the verge of release, and my panties are drenched through.

“You’re going to make me come.”

He groans in pleasure when I swirl my tongue around his knob, working him with enough determination he knows I’m not going anywhere.

I want him to come in my mouth.

“And you’re going to swallow it all, aren’t you, Doc. Every last drop.”

Don’t misconstrue. He isn’t asking a question. He’s stating a fact. He knows I’m desperate to taste him, and that my hunger can only be quenched one way, but I still murmur my agreement because I don’t want anything to derail this train now.

The tension is so white-hot that I completely forget this is the first time I’ve ever considered swallowing a man’s cum, much less encouraged it.

“Scoot back a bit and tilt your head up. I want to watch my cum slide down your throat,” Maksim requests a short time later.

My thighs press together when he edges off the sofa far enough that he towers over me. Then I meow when he directs his cock in and out of my mouth another handful of times before he demands my eyes to his.

I try to follow his orders, but the image of him stroking his cock while dipping the crown in and out of my mouth is too enticing to give up.

“I said, look at me.”

Our eyes lock a mere second before a beading of cum pumps out of his cock and hits the back of my throat. I swallow it down immediately, moaning through every delicious drop.

After ensuring not a single morsel has been missed, Maksim plucks me from the floor and positions me until my knees cuddle his thighs, and my clit is acutely aware his release hasn’t deflated his cock in the slightest.

Unable to stop myself, I grind down on him. His cum lingering on my taste buds already has my thighs shuddering, so I won’t mention how wild the rim of his cock makes me when it flicks past my clit.

“Fuck,” I pant, mimicking Maksim’s praise.

I feel his lips rise against my neck before he says, “I knew there was a heap of naughtiness hidden in your wholesome package the moment I laid eyes on you.”

When he tilts up his hips, matching my grinds, pleasure courses through my veins like a drug.

I grind against him until I’m so drunk on lust, I talk freely.

“What gave it away?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “Watching a man I hadn’t officially met stroke his cock? Or marrying him only weeks later?”

“It would have been days if they hadn’t tried to fool me.” His hand slides between us, and my brain fritzes so thoroughly he could say anything and I wouldn’t stop this. “But you’re here now, heating my cock with a cunt that smells so fucking good I’m glad I skipped breakfast.”

I giggle like a schoolgirl when he tosses me onto the other half of the springy sofa with enough force that I bounce. That’s where my childish antics end, though. The instant he mimics my kneeled position and slides his hands under my skirt to hook his thumbs into my panties, things turn so serious I almost clam up.

I’m nervous as hell, but also horny, so I nod when Maksim wordlessly asks permission to remove the one pair of lacy panties I threw in my bag in case of an emergency. They were the only pair Zoya left when she hid my granny panties and baggy tees under my bed so I couldn’t change out of the swimwear she lent me.

After sliding my panties down my thighs and guiding them past my almost soleless shoes, Maksim lifts them to his nose.

His moan when he breathes in the scent darkening the crotch pulls my knees together.

“I fucked my hand to that smell so many times the past two weeks.” He takes another whiff. “It is even better than I remembered.” He drops his eyes to the slit between my legs. “I bet it tastes even more delicious than it smells.”

His mouth lands on the cleft of my pussy with the accuracy of a missile not even a second later. Electricity jolts through me when his tongue flicks my clit before he swivels it around it, and then my hands seek something to grab when his gritty tone vibrating through my pussy almost makes me combust on the spot. “Best. Fucking. Meal. I’ve. Ever. Tasted.”

He works my pussy so well I’m in a frenzy in under a minute. My clit thumps louder than my heart, and the scent he is sampling strengthens.

I’m putty in the hands of a genius.

“Oh my god,” I grit out when he overwhelms my senses by pushing two fingers inside me and scissoring them wide.

“I knew you’d be tight.” While toying my clit with his tongue, he continues to stretch my pussy with his fingers. “Could have never predicted this, though.” He looks at me over my thrusting chest and a stomach that won’t quit quivering even though pain is associated with our exchange. “I’ve got to stretch you, Doc, or I’ll tear you.”

His eyes speak the words his mouth won’t.

This isn’t about pleasure right now.

It is about making sure he’ll fit when we move on to the next stage.

“Relax a bit for me. It’s going to feel real good real soon. I just need you to relax.” He adds extra pressure to my clit with his tongue when I loosen the clench of my thighs and sweep them open a little more. “That’s it. You are doing so well. You’re going to be swallowing my cock in no time.”

Once Maksim is certain my pussy will be more accommodating to a man of his girth, he curls his fingers stuffed inside me upward, creating an immense amount of pressure between his mouth and his fingertips.

He flicks his tongue over my clit and milks my G-spot for several long minutes, sprinting my orgasm toward an imminent release.

This is no longer about making sure he’ll fit.

It is about pleasure and how a snippet of pain can gain you a ton of rewards.

A hot, wet trail slides from my pussy to my ass when Maksim pulls me onto his mouth and swirls his tongue over my clit again and again and again. He draws it into his mouth, curling my toes with the power of his sucks.

My thighs shake as every muscle in my body tightens.

“I’m going to come,” I warn like it’s a bad thing.

How could anything that feels this good be bad?

I feel Maksim’s lips rise against my pussy before he increases the pressure of his tongue on my clit. He flicks the nervy bud on repeat while guiding his fingers in and out of my pussy in tempo to the rock of my hips.

His dedication blisters stars before my eyes and shoves me to within an inch of the finish line.

I’m right there.

Right on the edge.

I just need him to move to fully surrender to the wave tumbling into me.

“Wait…”

I claw at his head, desperate to move him away from the carnage.

This isn’t how it’s meant to be. His head isn’t meant to be between my legs when I climax. He’s meant to be gathering the washcloth while I finish myself off.

That’s how it always worked with my other bed partners.

“You can’t… I’m about to⁠—”

I lose the fight when Maksim seizes my wrists and pins them to my sides. He holds nothing back as he unravels me with his mouth. He eats me like he is starved of taste, and I crumble under the intensity.

My orgasm is strong. Intense. Dangerous. I thrash against Maksim’s mouth until the pull becomes too great and I sink into the sofa like I’m plunging backward off a cliff, moaning nonstop.

“Look at you making a mess of my sofa. You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re creating a ruckus.”

His praise extends my orgasm and drains me of energy. I’m a sticky, floppy mess when he scoops me into his arms and positions me until I’m once again straddling his lap.

His pants are hanging lower down his legs now, past his ass and almost at his knees, and his sheathed cock is nudging at the opening of my pussy.

Don’t ask me where he got a condom from. It must have been sometime between me being catapulted into hysteria and slowly floating back to Earth.

Although I’m exhausted, I rock my hips forward, welcoming him in when he rubs his head through the folds of my pussy.

Maksim accepts my invitation with a brief nod before he thrusts inside me.

He prepared my body for him, but a whimper still escapes me. I’ve never been filled like this before. It’s almost too much, but I grit my teeth and breathe through the pain.

“Wait.” His one word is forced through a tight jaw and grinding teeth. “Lean back. If I pull out now, there is a possibility I could still tear you.” I’d give anything to have all my memories returned when he locks his eyes with mine and mutters, “I can’t hurt you, Doc. I don’t care how badly I want you; I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Not after what you told me last night.”

After tilting me back far enough I can’t miss the intimate way our bodies are joined, he lowers his hand between my legs.

With my clit still sensitive from two orgasms in a matter of hours, it only takes a handful of rotations to loosen the walls of my vagina clamped around him.

“Oh god,” I moan when a familiar sensation builds low in my stomach again.

“We can do better than that,” Maksim murmurs before he whips my shirt off over my head and tugs down on the cup of my bra.

My knees hug his thick thighs when he toys with my nipple and clit at the same time.

I’m on the verge of climaxing again in a shamefully quick amount of time, but too horny to care.

I want to come again, and I want Maksim to know how wild his attention makes me.

“Yes, Doc. Ride me,” he hisses against my breast when the tingles racing through me see me rolling my hips in rhythm to the pulse of my clit.

Like it can get any bigger, his cock flexes when I rise to my knees before I pull them out from beneath me.

When I fall back onto him with a thud, his groan is as loud as the slap my ass makes with his thighs.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” he grits out before he encourages my reckless pace by gripping my hair at the nape and thrusting his hips upward. “I knew you’d be wild. That’s why I was so cocky when you walked in on me in the shower. When you looked at me all wide-eyed and needy, I wanted to take you where you stood… right on the floor of my mother’s hospital room.”

His confession makes him angry.

He fucks even harder when he’s mad, and in no time, another orgasm pulses through me.

I’m barely back from the clouds when Maksim’s dirty mouth has me racing for the finish line again. “Your cunt looks so good swallowing my cock. You’re taking me so well.” He pushes down on the middle of my stomach. “I am so fucking deep. I’ve never been so hard. That’s all you, Doc. Those eyes… them lips… that big ass brain of yours.” He thrusts harder, pushing past the inches hidden because of his seated position. “I hadn’t even looked at you and I already knew I needed to make you scream my name. Then I saw you…” His grunt vibrates all the way to his balls. “Fucking kneecapped.”

He screws me senseless until I scream so loud, if Zoya didn’t know where I disappeared to, she does now.

“Say my name, Doc. Scream it. Let everyone know who is fucking you.”

A snippet of defiance blisters through me as I strive to keep my moans generic. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate how well Maksim fucks. He fucks like a god. I’d just rather he be the only one who knows what I sound like when I come.

“Fucking say it.”

He pulls at my hair, tugging the roots away from the scalp, but I can’t get enough. I love how filthy he’s making me feel. How unhinged.

“Say. It!”

He slams into me over and over again until his name rips from my throat in a long, mangled roar and I collapse onto his chest from exhaustion.