Healing Touch: Play Doctor, Book 2

Dedication

As always, to the readers first. A huge thank-you to every person who has made it possible for me to keep reaching for my goals.

And also to myself. For all the hard work of the last six years. From the first word I ever wrote, the opening of
Dream Machine
, to this sequel…how far
my
dream has come.

The sacrifices were worth it.

Author’s Note

This work is an erotic fantasy and not meant to portray realistic therapeutic relationships between doctors and patients. The author has great respect for the ethical guidelines set by the psychology profession, but they make for a boring story.

Chapter One

Luke Malone couldn’t believe he’d lost his erection. He poked his half-hard cock with the tip of his index finger as if the annoyed jab would suddenly make his tool spring to attention. Instead, his junk swayed, coming to rest against his thigh. His balls hung low and loose, not tucked tight to the trunk of his body where they usually clung while he played voyeur.

On the bed in front of him, his two best friends made love as though they were the only people in the universe, never mind the sole inhabitants of their plush master suite. Becca’s sighs had escalated. Full moans escaped her succulent, parted lips as Kurt focused the full intensity of his prowess on the woman who’d brought all his dreams to life. And then some.

Kurt glided up her torso from where he’d spent the past ten minutes lavishing attention on her admittedly killer rack. Instead of devoting the majority of his brain cells to his fascination with Becca’s tits, Luke found himself wondering what it might be like to love a woman enough to infuse every gesture with ultimate affection. He’d never have imagined the man who had been his scientific college roommate capable of delivering such tenderness.

Not once did Kurt put his needs ahead of his lovely wife’s. Despite the must-be-painful state of his boner, which hung heavy and dark between his thighs, Kurt hadn’t attempted to penetrate the moist paradise Becca offered up with the arching of her body. And Luke knew from experience just how amazing she felt when passion turned her wet and needy.

The velvety heat of her pussy hugging him… Fucking amazing.

Enticing. His cock made a half-hearted attempt at bulking up.

Curious about all aspects of human sexuality—appropriate, considering his profession—Luke experimented on himself as he watched the show his best friends put on. Idle strokes along the spongy length of his shaft plumped the flesh. Still, the resulting chubbiness didn’t warrant the label
hard-on
.

He didn’t freak.

He didn’t blame his poor performance on high blood pressure or some other physical dysfunction.

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand the directive from his uncooperative libido.

Nope. As a therapist who often dealt with sexual issues, he diagnosed himself as having a clear case of disinterest peppered with a healthy sprinkle of self-pity and a dash of envy. Okay, more like a supersized helping of jealousy. He’d never coveted another man’s lover, until now.

And still Kurt toyed with her. He dragged his fingers up and down her arms, making her gasp. What could make a man like Kurt—a man who reveled in sexual exploits of epic proportions as the outlet for his inner control freak—repress his own desires? Had his wife forged his needs into something stronger?

Could loving a woman be that much…
more
…than physical?

Deflation stole the trace of rigidity Luke had mustered. For the first time in his life, he felt as though he’d missed out on something spectacular, despite the wild bedroom adventures he’d indulged in as a pillar of the local kink scene. He rubbed at the ache that had taken up residence in his chest lately.

Kurt trailed one finger along the perimeter of Becca’s smile and shivered.

Luke sighed. He took himself in hand and stroked, picturing a sweet, caring cutie who’d give it all up to him—plenty of sex and even more soul. Some measure of firmness began to add heft against his roving palm.

His best friends whispered to each other in the stillness of the magical place they’d transported themselves to. Luke leaned back in the chair, spread his legs farther apart and cupped his balls in his free hand. He teased the underside of the wrinkled skin, trying desperately to impose his face on the receiving end of Becca’s amorousness.

Why the hell couldn’t he visualize it?

Maybe because he’d never earned a woman’s full trust and devotion, despite a lifetime of preaching to his best friend about opening up. Sure, he’d thought he’d had his heart broken plenty of times, and had returned the favor a few more. But those almost soul mates paled in comparison to the real deal.

Hell, maybe he should have brought his sunglasses inside with him. Or a welding mask. Sparks flying between the two sexy, sweaty bodies that ground together in front of him would not have come as a surprise. Kurt had insinuated his thigh between Becca’s and they writhed against each other as they kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kurt captured Becca’s wrists in an unshakable grip, not that she would try to evade her husband’s touch. He pinned them above her head and sank deeper into their exchange. Nips, licks and sucks made their claims on each other audible.

Their bodies danced in a rhythm only the couple could hear. No matter how hard Luke strained, he couldn’t get in tune with their unique song. They would gladly have allowed him to join in—adding a harmony to their melody, as he often had this past year—but today he couldn’t bring himself to do more than observe. He studied their bond, hoping to discover a clue. He had to find a way to erase some of the shadows that had been dimming the light Kurt had always accused him of living in, carefree and lucky.

Why couldn’t he regenerate the brilliance he’d taken for granted? Maybe he’d always mistaken a glow for this shining beacon until he’d had something to compare his fond liaisons to.

Damn it.

He abandoned his self-relief attempts entirely, interlacing his fingers and resting his joined hands on his abdomen. At least all this recent frustration had helped tone his body. Contours of the muscular ridges and valleys along his belly did a little to restore his pride. Still, hours of sweating out his dissatisfaction in the gym hadn’t gotten rid of the despair that had chased him to his best friends’ open arms, and their bedroom, on a random Sunday afternoon.

Thirty-four was too damn young for a midlife crisis. As the head of Elembreth University’s psychology board, it was his business to know so. He refused to wallow.

Hell, maybe he should have let Kurt fuck this all up. Then Luke could have made a play for Becca when he’d had the chance. He shook his head, clearing the traitorous thoughts. As if she would have settled for him. Besides, it wasn’t her alone that was so special. Not even the sexual gymnastics they’d engaged in for the past twelve months could account for the drastic changes in the pair—Becca more bold, Kurt more caring.

No, it was the bond the two lovers shared that worked miracles.

As if to prove his theory, they didn’t seem keen to indulge their naughtier tastes today. Instead, their mating was pure vanilla. All breathy promises. Luke found himself drooling.

Were they trying to tell him something? Could they sense his recent ennui with fetish play? The weakening of the thrill meant even his more extreme public scenes at Dark Side had satisfied him less as his longing for something deeper festered inside. He felt like a pirate with a fake map.
X
no longer marked the spot.

Becca had gone as far as broaching the subject of his escalation after he’d violated his usual limits by imparting intense sensual pain on the woman who’d begged him to cane her at the club last weekend. That’d never been his thing before. Truthfully, it never would be. He’d hated her yelps, despite the obvious ecstasy toning them. Afterward, he’d declined her offer of relief, and had gone home alone instead.

Luke wished he hadn’t brushed off Becca’s concern in reflexive denial.

Sure, he enjoyed the shit out of a good spanking, or the gadgets the couple seemed to revel in using, not to mention their proclivity for bondage or exhibitionism, to name just a few varieties of their libertine pursuits. But
this
…goddamn.

Maybe his friends planned to show him what he hadn’t allowed them to say?

Kurt nuzzled Becca’s cheek. They seemed to melt, fusing together tighter. Saccharine smiles reached all the way to their eyes, sweet enough to give Luke a toothache. Then,
finally
, Kurt reached between them, aligning his cock with Becca’s drenched opening. Her body held him there, poised on the brink of penetration.

When Kurt shifted ever so slightly, he flexed his hips until her soft flesh yielded to the steel of his erection. Luke groaned, living vicariously. He completed one final double check and measured the difference between Kurt’s solid shaft and his own quasi-stiffy.

Thank God his friends were way too preoccupied to notice his disgrace.

Becca moaned. She tried to utter something, maybe encouragement. Garbled cries of pleasure and desire filled the space. Kurt’s heart heard and translated her wishes into action. She relaxed when he began to pick up the pace, shuttling in and out of her body with escalating fervor.

The thick carved-wood headboard—complete with embedded carabiners for no-muss, no-fuss trussing—began to tap against the wall. Percussion kept time to the seduction taking place three feet away from Luke’s perch.

Becca opened her legs wider, accommodating Kurt as he drilled deeper, harder and faster. Neither one of them was an easy lover. They thrived on intensity in both their professional and personal lives.

Heels drummed on Kurt’s ass in time to his rocking. Each thrust seemed to drive his wife higher, and not just on the satin sheets they preferred. She mewled—a vulnerable, needy sound she hadn’t been capable of surrendering not long ago. Before their love had given them both permission to grow and change.

Luke admired Becca’s tenacity. She’d fought for this. Had refused to take Kurt’s bullshit and had steered them both to a happily-ever-after that seemed more like an ecstatically-ever-after. Continuing her relentless demands, she squeezed every last drop of pleasure from her husband. Her legs wrapped around his hips and her pussy clenched so hard Luke could see the flex of her abdominal muscles from his outpost.

Dropping low, Kurt used a few of the tricks up his sleeve to get even. He rotated his hips as he plowed into Becca’s waiting grasp, making sure to stroke her clit with his pelvis. A fine sheen of sweat broke out over his tan skin. Luke would have bet it came from holding back, not from exertion. After all, the sick bastard ran more than five miles to kick-start most mornings.

Or at least he had, before wake-up sex replaced the jog as his favorite form of exercise.

Sprinting now, Kurt plunged into his wife. She met him halfway on every stab of his hips. Digging her heels in, she balanced herself perfectly to accept the force of her husband’s fucking. Lovemaking, really.

Luke didn’t think either one of them had blinked yet.

They stared into each other’s eyes.

Kurt stroked so far in and out, the head of his cock was visible before he drove home again. The pair groaned in unison when he bottomed out, then evacuated to start the cycle over in earnest. Just when Luke expected screaming and frantic sex to make an appearance, a measure of serenity overtook both Kurt and Becca.

Their faces smoothed out, sublime in their ecstasy. Kurt’s lunges turned liquid. He glided back and forth for several circuits. Advance and retreat.

Their chests pressed together as they breathed in synch.

Luke leaned forward in his chair. A knot stuck in his windpipe.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

“I love you,” Kurt murmured to his wife.

“I love you too. So much.” A tear formed in the corner of her eye. He captured the dampness as it trickled down her check, lapping it away with his tongue.

“I have you,” he promised. “It’s okay to let go.”

“Only if you’re with me.” Becca puffed.

“Always.”

Luke closed his eyes while they splintered. For the first time, he felt like an intruder.

Becca sighed. She snuggled deep into the warmth and protection of her husband’s embrace before her eyelids fluttered open. Her rosy cheeks blossomed when she spied Luke and smiled. Her brows knit a tiny bit as she scanned down his chest to the limp penis dangling between his thighs.