Doctor Desire

Chapter 12: Exposed Desires

Serena’s POV

The clinic is a ghost town by 8 p.m., the last patient gone, the hum of machines fading into a tense silence. The breaking news alert from earlier—“Fertility Doctor Scandal Looms”—flashes on my phone, a ticking bomb Lila’s set to detonate. My office feels like a cage, the glass walls reflecting my weary face, my white coat discarded on the chair, leaving me in a silk blouse and skirt that cling to my sweat-damp skin. Adrian’s text—“Stay strong. We’ve got this.”—is a lifeline, but the USB’s footage haunts me, my image twisted into a seductress’s caricature. I need to fight, but tonight, I need him—his strength, his heat, his touch to drown out the fear.

He arrives unannounced, his knock sharp against the glass door, and I let him in, my heart racing as his presence fills the room. He’s in a dark suit, tie loosened, his green eyes blazing with a mix of concern and hunger. “Serena,” he says, his voice rough, stepping close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from him. “The exposé’s delayed, but Lila’s not backing down. We need to be ready.” His hand brushes my arm, tentative, and I don’t pull away this time. The boundary I set feels fragile, my resolve crumbling under the weight of his gaze.

“I’m scared, Adrian,” I admit, my voice breaking, and he pulls me into his arms, his chest firm against mine. His scent—cedar and musk—envelops me, and I press closer, my breasts flattening against him, my n*****s hardening through the silk. His breath hitches, and he tilts my chin up, his lips crashing into mine. The kiss is desperate, tongues clashing, a release of the tension that’s built for days. I moan into his mouth, my hands fisting his shirt, pulling him tighter as he backs me against the desk, papers scattering to the floor.

His hands roam, sliding under my blouse, fingers tracing the curve of my waist, then higher, cupping my breasts through my bra. “You’re so beautiful,” he growls, his thumbs brushing my n*****s, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I arch into him, my skirt riding up as I wrap a leg around his hip, feeling the hard length of him against my thigh. “Touch me,” I whisper, and he obeys, unbuttoning my blouse, peeling it open to expose my lace-clad breasts. He tugs the bra down, his mouth descending, sucking a n****e hard, his tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp.

My hands fumble with his belt, freeing his c**k—thick, pulsing, the tip wet with precum. I stroke him, slow at first, then faster, my thumb circling the head, and he groans, his hips bucking into my hand. “f**k, Serena,” he mutters, his fingers slipping under my skirt, finding me bare, my panties discarded earlier in a moment of defiance. He plunges two fingers inside me, deep and rough, my p***y clenching around him, slick with need. “You’re so wet,” he rasps, pumping steadily, his thumb rubbing my c**t in tight circles.

I’m trembling, my moans filling the room, and I push him back, guiding him to the chair. Straddling him, I sink onto his c**k, taking him inch by inch, the stretch deliciously intense. “Yes,” I cry, riding him, my breasts bouncing, his hands gripping my hips, guiding me. He thrusts up, meeting my rhythm, his c**k hitting that spot that makes me see stars. The desk creaks behind us, a testament to our urgency, and I come hard, my p***y milking him, my juices coating his thighs as I scream his name. He follows, spilling inside me, hot and thick, his growl vibrating against my neck as he thrusts through the aftershocks.

We collapse, panting, his arms around me, his c**k still inside. The euphoria fades, replaced by the reality of Lila’s threat. “We need to finish this,” I say, pulling back, adjusting my clothes. He nods, his eyes soft. “Tomorrow, we go public with the patients’ statements. I’ll stand with you.” His promise steadies me, but as I leave, the news alert updates—“Scandal Footage Teased Tonight.” Lila’s move is imminent, and our night of passion might be our last stand.