Doctor Desire

First Sting

Serena’s POV

The gala’s chandeliers cast a golden glow, but all I feel is Adrian Knight’s heat, his taste still lingering on my lips from that balcony. My p***y throbs, slick from his tongue, my sapphire gown clinging to my sweat-damp skin, the slit revealing thighs still trembling from the orgasm he ripped out of me. Every man in the room stares, their eyes hungry, their wives glaring, but it’s Adrian’s gaze—across the room, dark, possessive, burning—that sets my skin on fire. He’s a storm, and I’m caught in it, my body craving him, my heart teetering on a dangerous edge.

I’m Dr. Serena Voss, fertility specialist, the woman men beg to see, their “problems” solved by my voice, my body, my power. But Adrian’s different—he’s not a patient, not a conquest. He’s a billionaire, he said, all corporate swagger and tailored suits, but it’s his raw hunger, the way he claimed me on that balcony, that has me unraveling. I’m used to control, to wielding desire like a weapon, but with him, I’m losing it, and it scares me as much as it thrills me.

I’m sipping champagne, trying to steady my pulse, when Ethan Caldwell, Adrian’s friend, approaches, his tie loose, his face flushed with whiskey. I’ve seen him in my clinic, one of my many patients, his “issues” fixed by my presence alone. He’s charming, married, but desperate, and tonight, he’s too drunk to care who hears him. “Dr. Voss,” he slurs, loud enough to draw stares, “you’re a f*****g miracle. One session, and I’m hard just thinking about you. Those tight skirts, that voice—s**t, last time I came in my pants imagining you on your knees, your mouth on me, your p***y riding me.”

My smile is professional, a mask, but my eyes flick to Adrian. His fists clench, his jaw tight, his green eyes blazing with something dark—jealousy, raw and ugly. I lean into Ethan, teasing, knowing it’ll drive Adrian wild. “Glad I could help, Ethan,” I purr, my voice low, suggestive, my hand brushing his arm, lingering just long enough to make him shiver. Inside, I’m buzzing, the power of Adrian’s reaction lighting me up. I’m playing with fire, and I love the burn.

Adrian’s moving, cutting through the crowd like a blade, his presence commanding, dangerous. He grabs my arm, his grip firm, possessive, and pulls me away from Ethan, who mutters something incoherent. We’re in a dark hallway now, the gala’s noise fading to a dull hum, the air thick with tension. He pins me against the wall, his body hard against mine, his c**k already straining through his tux pants, pressing into my thigh. “What the f**k, Serena?” he snarls, his voice rough, his breath hot on my neck.

“You don’t own me,” I say, but my body betrays me, arching into him, my n*****s hard against his chest, my p***y aching for him. I’m wet, dripping, the memory of his tongue still fresh, and I hate how much I want him.

“This says I do,” he growls, his hand sliding under my gown, finding me bare, my p***y slick and ready. He thrusts three fingers inside me, deep, rough, his thumb circling my c**t, fast, relentless. I moan, loud, shameless, my nails digging into his shoulders through his tux, my hips bucking against his hand. “You’re soaked for me,” he says, his voice a low rumble, his fingers pumping, curling against that spot that makes my vision blur.

“f**k, Adrian,” I gasp, my body trembling, my p***y clenching tight, coating his hand. He’s relentless, f*****g me with his fingers, his thumb pressing harder, and I’m losing it, my moans echoing in the hallway. I tear at his pants, fumbling with the zipper, freeing his c**k—thick, throbbing, already leaking precum. I stroke him, hard, my grip tight, my thumb smearing the tip, feeling him pulse in my hand.

He lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist, my gown hiked up, exposing me completely. He thrusts into me, hard, deep, his c**k filling me, stretching me to the edge of pain and pleasure. “You’re mine,” he says, each word punctuated by a thrust, his hips slamming into me, the wall digging into my back. I’m screaming, my p***y milking him, my nails raking his neck, my body on fire.

“Harder,” I demand, my voice raw, my hips meeting his, taking him deeper. He obeys, f*****g me like he’s claiming my soul, his c**k hitting that spot over and over, driving me to the edge. I come, hard, my p***y clenching around him, my juices dripping down his thighs, my scream echoing in the hallway. He follows, spilling inside me, hot and thick, his growl vibrating against my neck as he thrusts through the aftershocks, his c**k pulsing, filling me.

We’re panting, wrecked, my gown ruined, his tux disheveled, his c*m leaking down my thighs. I’m trembling, my body still buzzing, my heart racing. “You can’t handle me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, but my eyes are locked on his, searching for something I’m afraid to name.

“Watch me,” he says, his eyes fierce, his hands still gripping my hips, like he’s not ready to let go.

We clean up, barely, my gown barely covering my swollen breasts, his shirt stained with my lipstick. We step back into the gala, the crowd oblivious, but I feel his eyes on me, burning, possessive. Ethan’s words echo in my mind—his crude confession, his obsession—and I know Adrian heard every word. He’s jealous, consumed, and it’s thrilling, dangerous. I’m used to men wanting me, but this is different. Adrian’s not just wanting my body; he’s wanting me, and it’s a pull I can’t resist.

As I slip through the crowd, I catch his gaze again, and I know he’s not done. He’s going to find me, show up at my clinic, see this power I wield for himself. The thought sends a shiver through me, my p***y throbbing again, already craving his touch. I’m Dr. Serena Voss, the woman who fixes men with a glance, but Adrian Knight might be the one to break me—or make me whole.