Chapter 3 – Hot and Horny

"Mr. Hamilton, I need you to open your mouth for me. As wide as you can."

Francis obeyed. His jaw protested with a sharp stab of pain.

She stepped closer. The scent of her perfume reached him. Something floral. Light. Completely different from the heavy, desperate fragrances the escorts had worn last night. He watched her gloved fingers reach for a mouth mirror on the tray.

"Wider, please. I want to get a good look at that problem tooth."

Her face moved nearer. Francis could see the slight furrow of concentration between her brows. The way her lips parted slightly as she peered into his mouth. Her breath fanned across his cheek.

Something stirred.

Down low. Below his belt. A twitch.

Francis stopped breathing. His hands gripped the armrests. Impossible. He had felt nothing for five years. Not a flicker. Not a pulse. Not a goddamn thing. And now, sitting in a dentist's chair with a woman he had just met, his cock decided to wake up?

Dr. Dalton tilted her head. "I can see some inflammation around your second molar. That must be painful. Let me get a better angle."

She leaned across him to reach for a different instrument. Her forearm brushed his shoulder. The contact lasted maybe two seconds. Three at most.

His cock twitched harder.

The mouth mirror slipped from her fingers. It clattered onto the paper bib covering his chest and tumbled down. Down. Until it landed right between his legs.

"Oh! I'm so clumsy." Dr. Dalton panicked, reaching for it.

Her gloved hand descended. Fingers closing around the mirror's handle. But his erection had pushed against his trousers. A visible ridge. Unmistakable. Her knuckles pressed against it.

She froze.

Francis froze.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry, Mr. Hamilton. I didn't mean to..." She pulled her hand back quickly, her cheeks flushing pink. "That was completely unprofessional. I apologize."

Francis swallowed hard. His throat clicked. "Just check my teeth. The molar. It hurts."

The words came out strained. Tight. Desperate.

Dr. Dalton nodded, composing herself. "Of course. Let me take another look."

She picked up the mouth mirror from his lap, careful this time not to touch him. Her professional mask slid back into place, but something flickered behind her eyes. Awareness. Curiosity, maybe.

"Open again. Good. Yes, I can see the problem now." Her voice steadied.

Francis barely heard her. Blood roared in his ears. His cock pressed against his zipper, half-hard now, a sensation so foreign and so long-absent that he wanted to laugh and weep at the same time.

"How long have you had this toothache, Mr. Hamilton?"

"Two days."

"We should schedule the root canal as soon as possible." Dr. Dalton set down her instruments and pulled off her gloves. "But before that procedure, I need to prescribe antibiotics. The inflammation needs to settle first."

She walked to a small desk in the corner of the room and began writing on a prescription pad. Francis watched her move. Watched the sway of her hips beneath the loose coat. Watched the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

His erection refused to subside. If anything, it grew harder.

"Here." She returned with the prescription slip. "Take these twice a day with food. No alcohol while you're on them. And please call my office tomorrow to set up the root canal appointment."

Her fingers brushed his when he took the paper. Purposely? Accidental? Francis could not tell anymore. His whole body felt like a live wire.

"Mr. Hamilton." Dr. Dalton's voice dropped slightly. "Are you feeling alright? You look... flushed."

Francis stood abruptly. He straightened his suit, pulling the fabric down over the front of his trousers. The bulge there had softened but not disappeared. A stubborn reminder. "In two days, I will come back."

"Antibiotics first. Twice a day, remember?" She held out the prescription slip.

He took it. Their fingers did not touch this time.

"I'll walk you out."

"No need." Francis was already moving toward the door. His hand gripped the handle. "Thank you, Dr. Dalton."

Keith stood in the hallway, tablet tucked under one arm. His eyes flicked over Francis's face, cataloging details the way he always did. The slight flush on the cheeks. The too-quick breathing. The way Francis's hands trembled as he shoved the prescription into his pocket.

"Are you okay, Mr. Hamilton?"

Francis walked past him toward the elevator. "Yeah. I want to go home."

"But sir, your meeting is in forty minutes. The board members are already gathered in the conference room. They're expecting your quarterly review presentation."

"Cancel it."

The elevator doors slid open. Francis stepped inside and turned around. His face looked strange in the mirrored walls. Flushed. Almost feverish. His jaw ached with every heartbeat.

*****

Francis pushed through the front door of his mansion. His footsteps slapped the marble floor as he walked straight to his bedroom.

Inside the bathroom, he yanked his shirt over his head. The fabric hissed across his skin. His pants dropped. Boxers followed. He stood naked before the mirror, his chest rising and falling hard. One hand gripped the granite countertop. The other wrapped around his cock.

Already stiff. Already aching.

“Fuck Isabel,” he whispered. His fingers tightened. He stroked slow at first. “You make my cock hard again after years.”

His reflection grinned back at him. A man rediscovering something lost. He spit into his palm and started pumping faster. The wet sound filled the room.

“Look what you do to me.” His hips jerked forward. “That little skirt today. Those lips. You want me to fuck your mouth, don’t you?”

His balls drew tight. The pleasure spiked. He braced himself against the wall with his free hand. His strokes turned brutal. Quick. Punishing.

“Isabel...” His voice cracked. “Swallow every drop.”

His body seized. Hot release shot across the tile wall.

“Fucking shit!” he groaned, his knees nearly buckling. Breath ragged, he watched his seed drip down. A smile curved his mouth. He felt alive for the first time in five years.

Without bothering to clean up, he walked naked back to his bedroom. His spent cock slapped against his thigh with each step. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand. Scrolled through contacts. Found Veronica. He pressed call.

She answered on the second ring. “Francis? I’ve been waiting for you to call again.”

Her voice purred through the speaker. Eager. Hungry.

“I want you here,” he said. “Now.”

“Alright. I’ll go then.” A pause. “I’ll be quick.”

The call ended. Francis tossed the phone onto the bed. He didn’t dress. He remained naked, sitting on the edge of the mattress, one leg bouncing with anticipation. His cock lay soft against his thigh. That was fine. Veronica knew what to do.

Less than an hour later, the doorbell chimed. He opened the door still nude. Veronica stood there in a tight red dress. Her eyes dropped instantly to his groin. She smiled.

“Missed me?” She stepped inside, her heels clicking.

“Missed your mouth,” Francis said, pulling her close.

He crushed his lips against hers. Tongue pushing deep. Her hands slid up his chest. Fingernails scratched lightly. She whimpered into the kiss, pressing her body against him. One of his hands grabbed her ass. Squeezed.

Veronica broke the kiss. She trailed her lips down his neck. Then his chest. Lower. She knelt on the floor, her dress bunching up around her thighs. Her face hovered at his hip. She looked up with heavy-lidded eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about this cock,” she murmured. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “Every night I touch myself. Thinking about how you stretch my throat.”

Francis threaded his fingers through her hair. “Prove it.”

Veronica leaned in and licked a stripe from the base of his shaft to the tip. Her tongue circled his head. Slow. Teasing. “You taste so good. I want you to fuck my mouth until I can’t breathe.”

She took him into her lips. Warmth surrounded him. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. Soft, wet sounds.

Francis frowned.

His cock lay limp on her tongue. As soft as cotton.