The Andrologist's Secret Therapy - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading The Andrologist's Secret Therapy, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of The Andrologist's Secret Therapy.
The air between us crackled with electricity as I stepped into Alexander Roscente's penthouse. Fresh from my own shower, I'd chosen my most daring lingerie - a crimson lace set that left nothing to the imagination beneath my trench coat.
Alexander stood waiting, his damp hair glistening under the dim lights. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the clean soapy freshness still clinging to his skin.
"Dr. Laurent," he murmured, his voice already rough around the edges, "what's your treatment plan tonight?"
With deliberate slowness, I undid each coat button until the fabric parted, revealing what lay beneath. Alexander's sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation I needed. His hungry gaze traveled from my collarbones down to my hips, darkening with every inch he took in.
"Like what you see?" I teased, already guiding his hand to my breast. His palm barely grazed me before he pushed me onto the couch with surprising force.
"I thought we had boundaries," he growled, though his body betrayed him, pressing insistently against me.
"Boundaries are overrated," I whispered against his lips before claiming them in a searing kiss.
What followed was nothing short of spectacular. Alexander moved with raw, untamed passion - his hands exploring every curve, his mouth leaving trails of fire across my skin. Where Ethan had been all rushed fumbling, Alexander took his time, drawing out every moan, every shudder until I was begging for release.
When he finally entered me, the sheer size of him stole my breath. "Jesus Christ-" I gasped as he filled me completely, moving with a rhythm that had me seeing stars.
We lost ourselves in each other - on the couch, against the wall, finally collapsing onto the bed in a sweaty, satisfied heap. Only one thing marred the perfection - no matter how skilled Alexander was, his own release remained frustratingly out of reach.
As I lay panting against his chest, he surprised me completely. "Sophia," he murmured into my hair, "be my girlfriend. For real."
I jerked upright. "You want to date me?" The vulnerability in his eyes when he asked if I thought him "too damaged" shattered my last defenses.
"Yes!" I practically tackled him with my embrace. "Hell yes, Alexander. I'd marry you tomorrow."
His laughter vibrated through me as he rolled us over, proving his stamina hadn't been exhausted after all.
In the following weeks, our relationship became hospital gossip. Alexander didn't care - holding my hand in hallways, stealing kisses in empty exam rooms. When we moved in together, even our families approved wholeheartedly.
Everything was perfect... until Vincent Anderson's call.
A friend with premature ejaculation issues. A fiancée threatening to leave. Normally I'd refuse, but Vincent was an old friend. Alexander gave his blessing, with one condition - keep it strictly professional.
The hotel room door swung open, and my blood turned to ice.
Ethan.
My ex stood frozen, mirroring my shock. Then his expression twisted into something ugly. "Well well," he sneered, yanking me inside, "look who became a sex therapist after dumping me."
I turned to flee, but his grip was iron. As he slammed me onto the bed, his words sent chills down my spine: "You wrecked my life, Sophia. Now it's my turn."
Alexander stood waiting, his damp hair glistening under the dim lights. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the clean soapy freshness still clinging to his skin.
"Dr. Laurent," he murmured, his voice already rough around the edges, "what's your treatment plan tonight?"
With deliberate slowness, I undid each coat button until the fabric parted, revealing what lay beneath. Alexander's sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation I needed. His hungry gaze traveled from my collarbones down to my hips, darkening with every inch he took in.
"Like what you see?" I teased, already guiding his hand to my breast. His palm barely grazed me before he pushed me onto the couch with surprising force.
"I thought we had boundaries," he growled, though his body betrayed him, pressing insistently against me.
"Boundaries are overrated," I whispered against his lips before claiming them in a searing kiss.
What followed was nothing short of spectacular. Alexander moved with raw, untamed passion - his hands exploring every curve, his mouth leaving trails of fire across my skin. Where Ethan had been all rushed fumbling, Alexander took his time, drawing out every moan, every shudder until I was begging for release.
When he finally entered me, the sheer size of him stole my breath. "Jesus Christ-" I gasped as he filled me completely, moving with a rhythm that had me seeing stars.
We lost ourselves in each other - on the couch, against the wall, finally collapsing onto the bed in a sweaty, satisfied heap. Only one thing marred the perfection - no matter how skilled Alexander was, his own release remained frustratingly out of reach.
As I lay panting against his chest, he surprised me completely. "Sophia," he murmured into my hair, "be my girlfriend. For real."
I jerked upright. "You want to date me?" The vulnerability in his eyes when he asked if I thought him "too damaged" shattered my last defenses.
"Yes!" I practically tackled him with my embrace. "Hell yes, Alexander. I'd marry you tomorrow."
His laughter vibrated through me as he rolled us over, proving his stamina hadn't been exhausted after all.
In the following weeks, our relationship became hospital gossip. Alexander didn't care - holding my hand in hallways, stealing kisses in empty exam rooms. When we moved in together, even our families approved wholeheartedly.
Everything was perfect... until Vincent Anderson's call.
A friend with premature ejaculation issues. A fiancée threatening to leave. Normally I'd refuse, but Vincent was an old friend. Alexander gave his blessing, with one condition - keep it strictly professional.
The hotel room door swung open, and my blood turned to ice.
Ethan.
My ex stood frozen, mirroring my shock. Then his expression twisted into something ugly. "Well well," he sneered, yanking me inside, "look who became a sex therapist after dumping me."
I turned to flee, but his grip was iron. As he slammed me onto the bed, his words sent chills down my spine: "You wrecked my life, Sophia. Now it's my turn."
End of The Andrologist's Secret Therapy Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to The Andrologist's Secret Therapy book page.