Filthy Doctor(32)

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. I felt warm. Content. Happy. I got the feeling that this might not be the last we saw of Rory? We were silent for a while after that, mainly because it was hard to find the words to talk about what happened between us. I was afraid to ask what this meant for us – if there was an us. And I think Julian was just trying to figure out how he felt about it all. I wasn't sure if this was going to be a one-time thing, or if it was maybe something Julian and I could do again. Maybe regularly.

Only time would tell what became of us, however. And I was going to have to wait and see the long term fallout of this – of whether or not Julian would be okay with what happened.

God knew I wanted this to go somewhere. I wanted to be with him. But I couldn't force it. I got my dream – or at least my fantasy – fulfilled at long last. Now to see what happened once I woke up – well, we'd just have to see about that one.



Chapter Seven

JULIAN



Dinner that night was awkward, to say the least. Dave and Miranda were so caught up in making their plans to redecorate that they barely even acknowledged Sabrina and I at the table. Thankfully so, in all honesty. I still had trouble making eye contact with either of them. I'd slept with their daughter just hours before, and there we were, eating lasagna like nothing had ever happened.

If Sabrina felt weird about it all, it didn't show. She was very good at hiding it. Every time I looked over at her, she flashed me a mischievous little grin that promised more of the same of what she'd had earlier today, later on. Sometimes she moved her foot and used it to rub my leg with her foot. Or the other, marginally less subtle thing, was when she accidentally touched me as she passed the plates around the table. She was playing with me still, all while her parents were at the table with us.

Which was why it was a good thing they were so caught up in their interior designing.

And even though I felt bad about lying to my friends, I couldn't help but look at their daughter in a new light. Every time she smiled at me, I pictured those lips wrapped around my cock. When she touched me, I remembered the way her hands raked down my back, scratching me raw as she came. Remembered the feel of the soft skin of her hands as she gripped my cock, stroked it. When she got up to get something to drink, she swished her hips and I stared, a little too obviously, at her ass, remembering the way she felt beneath me. Remembering how those legs felt wrapped around my waist as I pounded my cock into her.

“What do you think, Julian? Think it looks good?” Miranda asked.

I nearly spit my wine out on the table, fearful that I'd been caught staring at her daughter's ass. Sabrina turned toward me in that moment and caught me, smiling. Miranda, on the other hand, was focused on the paint swatches she held in front of me.

“I think it looks very good,” I said, unsure of what I was actually commenting on. The only thing I was sure of in that moment, was that it wasn't their daughter's ass – which yes, did indeed look very good. Felt good in my hands too.

“See? He agrees with me,” Miranda said.

Dave shot me a look of death, his expression promising retribution later. I honestly had no idea what I'd just agreed to, so I shrugged, trying to play it off. Hopefully whatever it was, it wasn't too bad and he'd get over it fairly quickly.

“He's just saying that to get you to shut up, Miranda. Julian hates yellow.”

For the first time since she started talking, I looked down at the swatches. Yes, they were yellow. Incredibly yellow. Obnoxiously yellow. Dave was right, I hated yellow. And the swatches she was showing me only validated my choice to despise the color.

“You want to paint your dining room that color?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That's what we were talking about, yes! Seriously, were you not listening to a word I said?” Miranda flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, giving me a look that rivaled her husband's. This was exactly why I didn't bother to get into such talks with them. You could never win.

“I think it would look fantastic, mom,” Sabrina said, egging her mom on. “Bright and cheery, which is what this house needs more of. I think that's what Julian was thinking, dad.”

“Exactly. I thought we were talking about accent colors,” I lied.

“Oooh, an accent color. Maybe that would be better,” Miranda said, holding up the yellow swatch to get a better view – as if she hadn't been obsessively staring at it for hours already.

This time I smiled over at Sabrina, thankful to her for saving my ass, literally. She walked past me, from behind, and ran a finger over the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. She was having way too much fun with all of this. Still, there was something energizing about this little game of cat and mouse we were playing with her folks. Something forbidden. Taboo. Something that just made you feel alive, knowing that you were doing something so taboo.

“You cold, Julian?” Dave asked.

“No, I'm fine,” I said. “If anything, I'm a bit warm.”

“Yeah, it is a bit hot in here, dad,” Sabrina said, fanning herself as she sat down. She winked at me playfully.

Dave looked confused, giving me a questioning look. All I could do was shrug again and stare down at my plate.

“The lasagna is great, Miranda. Did you make it yourself?”

“Do I look like someone who cooks?” she scoffed. “No, Rosa made it before she left. Used my mom's recipe though. But it's missing something...”

If there was one thing I could count on, it was Miranda talking about something. You never had to worry about a conversation when she was around – she was content to carry on all by herself. Which meant as long as I could keep her talking, we could avoid conversing and I wouldn't give anything away. Since I was still feeling incredibly guilty about fucking their daughter, I felt that was the best route to go.

“Oh, speaking of Rosa, she said you didn't end up going into work today, Julian,” she said. “Are you feeling okay?”

It was meant to be a joke, I could tell the way Miranda was laughing at me. But I couldn't bring myself to laugh along with her, I had to choose my words carefully for fear of being found out.

“I decided to rest instead,” I said. “After everything I've been through, I figured I deserved a bit of a nap. And it felt wonderful, let me tell you.

Dave pretended to look out the window. “Sorry, just checking to see if Hell has frozen over.”

They laughed, so I feigned a laugh to at least seem like I was amused as well. But as I tried to avoid talking about what – or who, actually – I did that afternoon, Sabrina ran her foot all the way up the length of my leg, coming a little too close to my intimate parts. I coughed, choking on my last sip of wine, causing both Dave and Miranda to stop their teasing and look at me, seriously.

“Maybe I'm not feeling so well after all,” I lied, faking a follow up cough.

Sabrina taunted me this time. “Awww, poor baby have a little cold? Maybe you should go upstairs and get some rest?”

Her foot was still wedged between my legs, her toes teasing my cock. She smiled as she teased me from across the table, her parents oblivious to what their daughter was up to. I felt those familiar stirrings in my groin again and knew that I was going to have a raging hard on any moment. I just hoped I didn't have to get up any time soon.

“Maybe so,” I said. “That might not be the worst idea ever.”

At least it would get me away from this table, this awkward conversation, and a girl who seemed hell bent on forcing me to fuck her on top of the table in front of her parents, I thought to myself. I stared down at my plate, wondering how I was going to stand up and take it into the kitchen without Dave and Miranda noticing the fact that I was aroused when Sabrina came up behind me and grabbed it, placing it on top of hers. She tipped me a wink and gave me a small smile. She obviously knew what she'd done to me and was throwing me a life preserver. I was more than thankful for that.

“You too, Sabrina?” Miranda asked, a touch of disappointment in her voice.

“I have a job interview in the morning,” she said. “I want to get some rest to make sure I'm ready for it.”

“A job interview? On a Sunday?”

Sabrina and I shared a look as she took my plate into the kitchen, dropping it into the sink with a clatter.

“Yeah, I thought it was weird too. But the guy I'm interviewing with is apparently traveling all next week and wanted to meet with me before he left. Said he's hoping to fill the position sooner rather than later.”

She was so smooth and so polished as she talked her way through that lie, even I believed her. Hell, maybe she was telling the truth. For all I knew, she actually was meeting with a guy about a job tomorrow. I had my doubts, but what did I know?

“That's great, sweetie. Where at?” Dave asked, turning to look at his daughter.

“Uhh just a small start-up, I can't remember the exact name offhand,” she said. “I have it written down upstairs though.”

Okay, now she was failing. She was stumbling over her words and looking at me for help.

“Didn't you mention an interview with Harper International? Is that the place you're interviewing?”

It was a completely fictitious company, but it sounded good. No such place existed – and I hoped Dave wouldn't go and look them up online – but I'd had to think fast, coming up with it on the fly – using my ex-wife's maiden name. Kicking myself for my terrible lie, I just prayed no one thought twice about it and they'd just take Sabrina at her word.