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swiftispunk · 4 months

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good to me, part three | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | masterlist | kofi | follow @swiftispunkupdates for fic notifs

pairing: gynecologist!joel miller x female!reader rating: 18+ explicit word count: 5.4k

summary: after your first proper date with dr. miller, you make an unexpected stop at his usual practice. warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] doctor/patient shenanigans in the sense that they fuck in a doctor's office but also they go on a real date, smut, vaginal fingering, just a hint of oral (f receiving), medical kink, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, pet names, competency kink, praise kink (one "good girl"), so much squirting, multiple orgasms, glove kink, alcohol, food, reader is described as wearing a dress. no use of y/n. disclaimer: obviously i am not a gynecologist ya'll so i make no guarantees that the language used here will be one hundred per cent accurate. this is wish fulfillment, not medical school. anyway this is just supposed to be a bit of silly, horny fun so pls just take it for what it is or scroll on by if it's not your thing thank you love you bye

part one | part two

a/n: this is it for these two but thank you all so much for coming on this horny little journey with me. and, as ever, an extra thank you to @joelscruff for convincing me this was good enough to post.

You wait a perfectly reasonable five days before you call him. It's about as long as you can stand.

He picks up on the second ring, seemingly thrilled to hear from you. The sound of his voice on the other side of the phone gives you pause; there's something about hearing it beyond the white walls of an exam room that feels unnervingly material. Your anticipation brims, and suddenly the date he arranges for three days from now seems much too far away.

Part of you still thinks it might have all been a dream. His touch and his mouth and his fucking tongue; god, just the memory of how he'd made you feel is enough to make you throb. You're not sure you've stopped floating since he'd left you on that table.

It's not until you see him leaning against a streetlamp in front of the fancy restaurant he'd chosen, clad in a navy blue suit accessorized with a disarming smile, that you're forced to face the facts. That Dr. Miller is indeed a real man, a real man who'd made you come so hard that you're wet just at the sight of him, your body reacting even before he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of your knuckles.

It shouldn't come as a surprise, but talking with him is as easy as anything else, his impeccable bedside manners translating seamlessly to his real-world persona. You chat work and life and what's good here? I'll have that, then. He asks you questions and listens to your answers and you try not to focus too hard on the curve of his smile or the way his tongue darts out between his lips to occasionally lap a stray drop of cab sauv.

He tells you to call him Joel and you do, curiously trying it on like a brand new dress -

"Thank you for the wine, Joel."

"That's fascinating, Joel."

"Will you please take me home and fuck me so hard I can't think straight, Joel?"

You manage to keep that last one to yourself, though it's getting harder and harder with each passing minute to pretend you're not dying to get out of here so Dr. Miller can make good on his promise. He covers your hand with his on the table and you have to physically restrain yourself from dragging him into the bathroom just to feel his fingers elsewhere.

As it is, you cross your legs in search of friction as Dr. Miller generously pays for dinner and guides you out of the restaurant with a hand on the small of your back.

"What made you get into gynecology?" you ask while you stroll hand-in-hand along the sidewalk. He lives nearby, and for that, you're grateful.

Dr. Miller sighs.

"Always knew I wanted to get into medicine," he explains. "Like helpin' people. Heard too many horror stories 'bout folks hatin' their gynecologists...guess I thought this was the field I could do the most good."

At that, your heart swells and you resist the urge to pinch yourself. Handsome, chivalrous and good-hearted? It's like someone made him in a lab.

"That's very noble of you," you tell him truthfully.

Dr. Miller smiles down at you and for a moment you lose yourself in his sweet brown eyes until something over your shoulder catches his attention.

"S'my usual practice," he says, nodding to a innocuous looking two-storey walk-up behind you.

You turn to follow his eyeline and stop dead in your tracks.

A directory of names beside the building's door inexplicably makes your skin tingle, heat pooling along your spine when you see the words, Joel Miller, MD, Obstetrician-gynecologist listed among the building's other inhabitants.

"Y-your practice?" you stammer dumbly, tearing your eyes away from his name to find him grinning down at you.

"Mhm," he nods.

You blink between him and the directory while Dr. Miller watches you with bemusement.

You don't know what comes over you, or even what you're hoping for but you fucking need to see inside.

"Can we go in?" you find yourself asking. You press your face up against the glass door. There are no lights on, not a soul in sight.

Dr. Miller chuckles, glancing over his shoulder at the dark of night around him before checking the time on his watch. "It's after hours."

"And?" you press.

He assesses your expectant face, something devilish passing over his gaze. He laughs once, cocking his eyebrows as he begins to fish his keys out of his pocket.

His office is on the second floor, the very last door at the end of a long hallway. None of the neighbouring offices appear to show signs of life, and Dr. Miller's office is no exception. It feels like sneaking around, like breaking into your high school after midnight. And while you're sure there are no laws against a doctor popping into his own practice after hours, there is something that feels slightly dangerous about it all.

When you reach his office, you strain your eyes against the dark to see his name carved into a placard - a sight that makes you inexplicably warm - while Dr. Miller takes one last look over his shoulder, at last unlocking the door and guiding you inside.

He drops your hand to let you step into the room, locking the door behind him and flicking on the lights. You gaze in wonder at the cozy waiting room, smiling to yourself at how much it feels like him.

Everything about it is warm and inviting, a dark patterned carpet dotted with rustic furnishings; a few soft, cushioned chairs and a live edge wood coffee table. Beige walls adorned with naturalistic artwork, all browns and yellows and reds, illuminated under not fluorescent overhead lighting but warm, golden flood lights.

The space puts you immediately at ease and you're suddenly envious of every lucky patient who gets to call Dr. Joel Miller their OB-GYN.

Of course, that feeling dissipates when Dr. Miller is suddenly crowding up the space behind you to rest his massive palms over your hips.

"How 'bout a tour?" he suggests, leaning in close to press his chest into your back and kiss the shell of your ear.

You shiver. "Yes please."

He barely leaves any space between your bodies as he herds you past the receptionist's desk and down a narrow hallway.

"S'my office," he tells you, pinching your side and shrugging towards a locked door to your right.

You nod at it, feigning interest to the best of your ability. "Hm."

Dr. Miller chuckles, clearly unconvinced. "That's not what you wanna see, is it?"

"Mm-mm," you admit, not bothering to argue.

"Thought so," he hums. "C'mon."

He finally unravels himself from behind you to lead the way to another door, your feet carrying you forward after him as arousal begins to cloud every other thought in your mind.

Dr. Miller shoots you a wink and then ushers you into the room marked, Examination.

Your breath hitches the second he turns the lights on.

It's bigger than the exam room at your doctor's office, the bright white walls adorned with framed monuments to Dr. Miller's various academic achievements. Cabinets line the perimeters of the room along with a wide mahogany desk, and at the centre of it all, a sight that makes your pulse pound in your ears.

A single examination table, the end of which is accented by two wide, black stirrups.

You gawk at the setup, an ache spreading between your legs in an instant. A gentle hand on your chin turns your face to the side, and Dr. Miller leans in to press his lips to yours, effectively leaving you breathless even before he pulls away and quietly says,

"Why don't you go ahead and get on the bed for me."

Your heart leaps in your chest, a squeaked sound of obedience getting caught in your throat. Dr. Miller smiles.

You situate yourself in the middle of the bed while Dr. Miller removes his suit jacket and rolls the sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows. You watch, awed and lustful, as he rummages in one of the cabinets, jolting where you sit when you hear the familiar elastic snap of latex hitting skin.

"Now," he says, turning to face you and clapping his gloved hands together. "What'd I say I was gonna do 'fore I left you last time?"

You swallow as he approaches the bed, eyes raking over your bare legs below the hem of your dress.

"You-you said you were gonna show me - "

"All the ways I can make you feel good," he finishes for you. He comes up beside you, placing one gloved palm over your sternum, trailing it downwards between your breasts. "Would you still like that?"

Already dazed, you wordlessly nod up at him with parted lips.

"Good," he smirks. "Sit up for me."

You straighten your spine and Dr. Miller drops his hand from your chest.

"Arms up," he tells you.

You frown but do as he says.

But then you understand, as he curls his fingers beneath the edge of your dress and lifts it up over your head, letting it fall against the clean tiled floor below.

You're nearly bare now - save for the panties that conceal your already dripping cunt. Dr. Miller hums as he assesses your bare breasts.

"Gorgeous," he murmurs, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. "How we doin' so far?"

"Good, sir," you smile.

His lips twitch at that, carefully holding your stare as he traces his fingers over your collarbones, down your forearms, across your stomach until finally he ghosts them over your nipples. You gasp, eyebrows knitting together as he circles each pebbled nub with a feather light touch before at last cupping your breasts fully in his massive grasp.

"How's that feel?" he asks as he squeezes down lightly, eliciting a moan from you when he grazes his thumbs over the peaks of your tits, back and forth and back and forth. He's building you up, you realize, taking his time with your body.

"Feels good," you croak, voice already weak as he begins to roll your nipples between his fingers, stealing whatever breath you have left when he dives forward to flick his tongue over each one in turn.

You have to brace your hands on the table to stay upright as he kisses his way upwards then, his moustache dragging over the delicate skin of your chest and neck until his lips find your ear.

"The nipples and breasts are both erogenous zones, but you probably knew that," he hums into the hollow of your ear, his thumbs now working over your nipples in tight little circles, smoothed by the wet of his own saliva. "Do you know the other ones?"

"No," you gasp, or if you do, you can't remember any right now.

Dr. Miller chuckles.

"There's the ears," he hums, proving his point when he bites down gently on your lobe, causing you to gasp before he moves lower.

"Your neck," he continues, pressing his lips into your pulse point and sucking softly at the skin there before continuing his journey down, down, down.

He's focused, utterly intent on you. You, meanwhile, are putty in his hands, loose and pliant when he frees a breast from his grasp to raise one of your arms up over your head and graze his mouth over your underarm.

"Here," he whispers as he does so, slowly lowering your arm to hold you by the hand and trace his gloved thumb in a figure-eight pattern over the thin, oft-neglected skin at your inner wrist. "There."

Oh, fuck.

He catches your head with his other hand when it falls back behind you in response, forcing you to hold his gaze while his fingers scratch affectionately at the nape of your neck. You don't need to him tell you that's also a sensitive spot, you can fucking feel it.

"And right here," he concludes as he brings your hand up to his face and softly kisses your palm, making your head spin when he presses his lips to each of your fingertips before sucking one of the digits into his mouth.

"Oh my god," you whimper, the ache in your core reaching near-unbearable levels. Can you come from this? It feels like you could.

Dr. Miller chuckles, slowly repeating the action with each of your fingers before carefully placing your hand in your lap.

"Now I bet," he murmurs as caresses your cheekbones with the backs of his knuckles. "Those pretty panties of yours are good and soaked for me now, s'that right?"

You don't need to look to know. Sticky-wet and humid between your legs, you know all too well how worked up he's got you.

"Yes - please, Joel, please touch me."

"I am touchin' you, sweetheart," he winks, tugging lightly at your bottom lip with his gloved thumb, watching you in apparent wonder as it springs back into his place when he lets his hand fall.

"Touchin' you everywhere it feels good," he explains.

You groan in frustration but he's not wrong. It feels good everywhere, every touch more intoxicating and deliberate than the last.

He knows exactly what he's doing.

His fingers graze your bare thigh then, goosebumps rising on your skin as he inches patiently towards your waiting heat. He watches your face as he toys with the lace edge of your panties, his warm brown eyes all teasing and expectant.

"This where you want me?" he asks.

"Please." You're shocked it doesn't come out a scream.

You part your legs for him, giving him access to run his palm up your inner thigh before flattening it against your mound. You buck your hips up, moaning in desperation for more and for a moment, Dr. Miller obliges, dragging three fingers over your clothed cunt before retracting them altogether.

You throb at the friction, feel like weeping when it's gone and then Dr. Miller steps back. You reach after him in vain, but he's already rounding the bed, clutching at your ankles and encouraging you to scoot closer.

"Why don't we get these off, huh?" he suggests, fingers already hooking under the edge of your underwear, and this time, you don't wait for him to tell you, just eagerly lift your hips up off the bed and let him slide your panties down your legs.

Your cheeks warm at the way he whistles, his palms resting at the hinges of your knees, eyes trained on your exposed pussy.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "She's fuckin' drippin' for me."

He hardly sounds surprised. Again, you're too far gone to argue, just nod and bite your lip.

"C'mere," he smirks as he begins to carefully maneuver your legs into the stirrups, one at a time. It shouldn't excite you as much as it does, but you don't care. You don't fight him.

There's a beat as he sizes you up, hands gliding up the insides of your thighs, his hungry gaze feasting on your body before settling on your face.

"Relax," he whispers and even though every nerve ending in your body is threatening to explode, you obey. You let your fall back into the table and curl your hands into fists at your sides, ready to take whatever he gives you.

"There you go," Dr. Miller hums, making himself at home between your legs, fanning one gloved hand out over your mound while the other inches towards the apex of your thighs. "You just lie back and let me take care of you. Alright?"

"Mhm."

"Good girl."

You gasp when his fingers at last rake through the seam of your folds, one smooth upwards swipe from your hole to your clit. He spreads your arousal over your lips, sighing at the obscenely wet sound of it beneath his touch.

"You know how many erogenous zones there are here?" he muses as he continues to trace his fingers over your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit.

"Mm-mm," you admit.

"I like to start here," he explains, spreading two fingers over your lips and caressing them softly in slow, rhythmic circles.

You sigh, feeling a fresh wave of slick pool at your centre. Dr. Miller notices.

"Yeah? I know it feels good. Your labia get real sensitive when you're aroused. Lotta folks forget that."

You can barely make out what he's saying, too engrossed by the slow drag of his fingers against your lips, the way he's pinching and tugging lightly at the delicate skin, gauging every one of your responses as he does.

You're going to lose your mind.

"Joel - Dr. Miller, please."

You're whining, squirming under the palm he has on your lower belly.

"Shh," he soothes, now using one gloved finger to draw a line through your seam, dancing it over your entrance. "You're okay."

You will yourself to believe him, but you can't fight the impatient little mewls that continue to spill from you as he begins to circle your hole with the tip of his finger.

"Right here's another one," he tells you, applying more pressure around you opening, tracing the outline of it but never quite pushing in. "Breathe, baby."

You try, exhaling shakily while Dr. Miller repeats the motion with agonizing precision.

"Good," he praises you lowly. "Now, look at me, sweetheart."

You force your eyes open, audibly groaning at the sight of him towering over you between your legs. He holds your gaze as he notches the tip of his finger against your hole and then slowly eases it inside to the first knuckle.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, watching him watching you as he presses his digit deeper, curling it to tickle at your insides until your mouth falls open when he finds what he's looking for.

"Right there," he states plainly. His eyes darken then as he refocuses on your cunt, barely giving you a chance to catch your breath before he's sinking a second finger into you alongside the first.

He nudges at that fucking spot, hard enough to make your head spin, too light to properly take you over the edge. It occurs to you, as he works you up to the precipice of climax with just two patient, tender fingers that Dr. Miller is toying with you. Making a game out of your pleasure, indulging in it.

Something warm and wet twists deep in your core at the thought.

"Oh, Joel," you sob. "Joel, please."

His palm presses harder into your tummy at the same time his fingers beckon with more intent against your g-spot and all at once your vision blurs as some heady sensation takes hold of your lower half. You're going to come. He's barely even started and you're -

"Come on, baby, let go," he encourages you gently, but he's looking at your cunt. "Just like that. Just like that for me."

"Joel!"

It hits like a freight train at the moment the heel of his palm comes down on your clit. And you try to warn him, but you run out of time, your orgasm crashing over you in a white hot blaze. It's dizzying, too warm, too intense, too wet. A deep-seated pressure that had been building in your core erupts and a stream of liquid gushes over Dr. Miller's palm, splashing out on the tiled floor below.

"Oh, there you go," he murmurs gravelly, never ceasing the motions of his fingers inside you or slackening the press of his hand over your mound, coaxing out every drop from you he can.

The high seems to last forever, too spent when it ends to even flinch away from his touch when it begins to feel too much. Dr. Miller doesn't push it though, slowly retracting his fingers from the tight clench of your pussy the second you go slack against the table.

"Good job, darlin'," his voice calls out to you, one massive hand hooking behind your neck to pull you up into a kiss.

"Still with me?" he checks in after a moment.

"Yes," you tell him breathlessly, nodding up at him with hazy eyes. His lips twitch.

"Good. That was one."

"That was - ?"

But he silences you with another kiss, leaving you dizzy as he pulls away to retake his place at the foot of the bed. He takes a long look at your pussy, reverent and adoring, before hinging forward to lick one thick stipe through the wet seam of your folds.

You groan at the contact, still so sensitive, then watch with nervous anticipation as he backs off to loosen his belt buckle, his eyes still fixed on the wet mess between your legs. The front of his shirt is soaked, you notice, his cock visibly hard through the fabric of his trousers.

His cock. You're finally going to see his cock.

He pulls his drenched, latex gloves off and lets them fall to the floor before finally freeing his cock, pants and boxers pooling halfway down his tanned, muscled thighs.

"Oh, god," you whine at the sight of his impressive length, salivating as he strokes himself before you. "So big, Joel."

He grins, pumping himself with one hand while the other moves to rest right above your heat, making you shiver when he strums his thumb gently over your neglected clit.

It occurs to you it's the first time he's touched you there without gloves.

"Yeah? You want it inside you, sweetheart?"

"Please."

He continues stroking your clit, almost absent with it as he drops his hardened cock to reach into a drawer beneath the examination table. You frown until you see the tiny square packet he's retrieved, pinched between his fingers.

"Safety first," he winks as he brings the edge of the packet to his lips and swiftly tears it open with his teeth.

"Very - responsible," you gasp, struggling to get a breath in while he continues to work over your clit, barely batting an eye as he slips the condom on with one hand.

Is there anything he doesn't do with absolute ease?

You whine as he presses closer, notching the head of his cock against your soaking hole while his thumb maintains its tender ministrations on your clit. You can feel him prodding at your entrance, teasing you, applying more pressure with his thumb as it begins to circle.

You arch up off the bed, spreading your legs impossibly wider for him - a silent plea. Heat curls in your tummy, some combination of anticipation and his patient touch bringing you right back to the edge of climax. Slick pools around the head of his cock and only then does he slowly push inside you - just the tip. Still enough to make you cry out, still a stretch, still so much.

Joel, for his part, sighs raggedly, his upper lip curling like he's trying to hold himself back.

"So fuckin' tight, baby," he grits out, his voice still surprisingly even. "Look at you, huh? Fallin' apart for me and I ain't even all the way inside yet."

"Joel, I'm - "

Tension pulls taut in your core, a second climax building rapidly at just the ceaseless motions of his thumb on your clit and Joel's cock sunk barely an inch inside you.

"You can come again, sweetheart, go on," he coaxes you, so sure of himself as you moan and pant and sob until the tension bursts and you're coming again.

"Oh, fuck," Dr. Miller growls, sinking his length deeper into you as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy pulsing around him. Somewhere in the blinding haze of pleasure, you think maybe he'd orchestrated it this way, so you'd be coming undone at the exact moment he buries himself to the hilt in your constricting walls.

Because then he's slowly fucking you, the drag of his cock only making it last longer, a symphony of high-pitched sobs spilling from your throat while Dr. Miller sedulously fucks you through it. You're semi-conscious of the way you're soaking his length, wetness sticking to your inner thighs and gushing between your bodies.

And he's talking, that intoxicating low drawl cutting through the haze as you come back to yourself.

"Fuckin' gorgeous, honey, that's so goddamn good," he growls, and when you blink your eyes open, you see his hands are gripping both your sides now, his gaze once again trained on your cunt, brows furrowed in concentration. "That's what this pretty little pussy needed, huh? Someone to fill her up? God, you're fuckin' - soaking me, baby."

You whimper and he throws his head back with a moan, the first time you've witnessed any crack in his composure.

"Joel...more...please," you croak weakly. You don't care how over-sensitive you are - you want to feel him in your fucking stomach.

"Yeah?" he grunts, his grip on your waist tightening. "Think you can take it?"

Your gazes lock and you nod at him frantically, a somewhat menacing glint burning behind his eyes.

"Yesyeyes, please, Dr. Miller, please."

It seems to affect him, a guttural groan pouring from him as he grants your wishes and increases the pace and power of his thrusts. He doesn't take his eyes off you for a second, searching your face as he experimentally swirls his hips and hits somewhere deeper, somewhere that makes your fucking toes curl.

"Oh, fuck!" you cry when he hits it again on his next thrust. He notes the response, naturally.

"Fuck," he groans, suddenly stilling, buried deep in your walls. You all but scream in protest. "Where? Tell me where it feels good."

He pushes into that spot, like he's looking for confirmation, the drag of his cock teasing at the spongy, sensitive trigger deep inside you.

"There, there, please, right there!"

It's damn-near frantic, your fingers reaching between your bodies to claw listlessly at his chest. Dr. Miller, intent and controlled as ever, snaps his hips forward then, his face cracking into a grin at the primal groan it elicits from you.

"There?" he hums like he doesn't already know.

"Yes!" you tell him anyway, your voice cutting off into a broken sob as his thrusts pick up again, his cock now hitting right where you need it most on every precise stroke.

The back of your head hits the bed again while Dr. Miller's hands creep up your tummy to cup your breasts in his massive palms. You're floating, you think, caught somewhere between your last climax and your inevitable next one, stimulated past the point of words when his thumbs begin to dance over your nipples again.

"You're gonna give another one, baby, alright?" you hear him tell you. "You're gonna give me one more."

You can't find the will to respond beyond a hapless whimper that almost sounds like please, heat licking at your insides for the third time tonight. Then Dr. Miller is falling forward over you, caging you in under his broad chest as his lips meet your ear.

"Let go," he whispers, his low drawl mingling with the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you and the obscene smack of skin on skin. "Let go for me now. Come all over my cock, baby. I'm right here. I'm gonna take care of ya."

You choke out a strangled noise as he tweaks your nipples between his fingers at the same time his teeth close over your earlobe and then you're gone.

Stars burst behind your eyes as you gush around his girth - have you ever squirted this much in your life? Bubbling warmth seeps from your core and up your spine, overtaking everything else till you're just a shaking mess beneath him, gooey and spent.

You can hear him talking you through it - Oh, good job, baby, that's so fuckin' good - but all you can offer him in response is a syrupy refrain of, thank you thank you thank you.

He pulls back, giving you space to breathe. You stare up at him bleary-eyed, dazedly entranced as he brings a hand up to your face to tenderly cup your cheek, so jarringly soft considering the way he's still mercilessly fucking you.

"So pretty like this, baby," he coos, his thumb tracing your lower lip softly. "This perfect fuckin' pussy. Takin' this cock so well. S'what you needed, huh?"

You can only nod tiredly, humming a quiet sound of agreement as Dr. Miller's face suddenly screws up, his chest heaving above you. As much as you don't want it to end, you have to admit you're eager to watch him fall apart. To know what Dr. Miller looks like when he comes.

Your eyes flutter closed as you daringly suck his thumb between your lips and suck, tasting salt and latex and Joel.

"Holy shit," he groans, his thrusts coming faster, relentless, as he chases his high. "M'gonna fuckin' come, baby. You want me to come inside this tight little cunt?"

You'd love for him to do just that for real - but the illusion is more than enough for now. Your eyes snap open and find his at once, something wild and desperate swimming in his familiar browns.

"God, yes, please - please, Dr. Miller, please come for me."

Your slurred pleas are cut off when Dr. Miller lets out a raucous groan.

Then you're both moaning in unison as his jaw slackens and his hips stutter, his cock spasming deep inside you as he spills into the condom. He's vocal as his orgasm rips through him, his entire body shaking with the force of it. Fucking beautiful.

"Jesus - Christ - " he huffs between two final thrusts, crashing forward with his cock still buried in your cunt to lick into your open mouth. It's all panted breaths and tongues and gratitude, contented little tears spilling from your eyes before you can stop them.

"Hey, hey," he whispers when he notices, brushing the wetness away and tucking your dampened hair off your face. "Shh, you're okay. How we doin'?"

Always checking in. The fog of ecstasy lifts a bit, as you wrap your arms around his neck and shake your head with a breathy laugh.

"That was - "

But Dr. Miller cuts you off with another kiss, catching your gasp when he slowly pulls his cock free from your wasted hole.

"I know," he smirks. One more chaste press of his lips against yours and then he's hoisting himself off of you, carefully helping your legs out of the stirrups before tending to himself. Dr. Miller removes the condom - full with a deliciously heavy load, you note - and hides it in one of his discarded medical gloves, tying the end into a tight knot before tossing the evidence of your evening in the trash.

Your hips ache, burning dully from being splayed open for so long, all the more noticeable now as you finally bring your knees together.

When Dr. Miller turns back to you, he's already tucked himself back into his trousers, a sight that makes you feel a bit small, shrinking in on yourself, still so naked and exposed before him.

But Dr. Miller is smiling, and that puts you at ease. "Lie back," he says.

Your brows furrow till you note what he's holding in his hand, your eyes widening briefly before you cautiously obey.

You shudder as he cleans you up, wiping away sticky wet slick and come from your thighs and your folds. He's gentle and careful with it - just like he is with everything else - and when he's done, he bends forward to kiss your knees, finally extending a helpful hand out to you to help you sit up.

With your legs dangling off the edge of the table, you both glance downward at the splashes of wet that mark his tiled floors.

"Made such a pretty little mess, sweetheart," he remarks with an affectionate smile.

"You knew I would."

Shrugging innocently, he chuckles. "Arms up," he says for the second time this evening.

"I think you were holding back before," you tease him, unflinchingly lifting your arms up over your head to let him slip your dress back on over your shoulders, warming at the way he smooths out the sleeves and fans the skirt across your thighs.

You both ignore your ruined panties still strewn on the floor.

"Well," he smirks as he finishes, cupping the sides of your face in his massive grasp. "I was a guest. Woulda been rude of me to leave someone else's office in this kinda state."

"And what about your office?" you laugh as he helps you down off the table with a strong, steadying arm.

"I'll call the cleaners," he winks.

You let him guide you to the door on shaky legs, confusion setting in when he leads you into the hallway just to stand in the threshold.

"Bathroom's next door," he explains. Of course Dr. Joel Miller is going to make sure you pee after sex. "I'll just be a minute in here. Then f'you still wanna come back to my place - "

"Yes, please," you interrupt eagerly and his lips curl into that sweet half-smile.

Maybe he'll let you make a mess there too.

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