Dr. Bad Boy Read online

  Dr. Bad Boy

  Ainsley Booth

  Sadie Haller

  Booth Haller Books

  Contents

  Dedication

  About This Book

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Epilogue

  Also by Sadie Haller

  Also by Ainsley Booth

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Dedication

  For Maria Rose, who started something serious with her April Fool’s Day tweets

  * * *

  Review – Dr. Bad Boy – Feel ripped off. Expected Doogie Howser fan fic. Had NPH gifs ready to go.

  #1Star4Apr1 (inspired by @cmhrose)

  https://twitter.com/ZoeYorkWrites/status/715910538019078144

  * * *

  @cmhrose Oh my god. I feel dirty. And also full of ideas. LOL

  https://twitter.com/ZoeYorkWrites/status/715920198583394304

  About This Book

  Max:

  The first time I met Violet Roberts, she gave me her submission for the night. The second time I met her, it was across a boardroom and man, was she pissed.

  Now she insists we have a “conflict of interest”. She wants us to “move forward like grown-ups.”

  But I can’t forget our single, scorching night together—when what I wanted and how I wanted it wasn’t a problem, because it nailed all her kinky buttons, too.

  * * *

  Violet:

  Max Donovan is a dirty, dirty man. Deliciously so. But the former child TV star turned renowned paediatrician and best friend to the prime minister is also my client.

  One of us needs to be responsible, and it’s not going to be him.

  So why can’t I forget how utterly incredible it was to be at his mercy? And what am I going to do when he takes his pursuit to the next level?

  * * *

  DIAGNOSIS:

  * A serious case of a one-night stand gone wrong (but not until after it went very, very right).

  * * *

  PRESCRIPTION:

  * Healthy boundaries and a double-dose of will power.

  * Should that plan fail, the second course of treatment would be an air-tight contract and a solid cover story.

  * * *

  END NOTE:

  * Real doctors and lawyers will likely be appalled at the professional infractions inside this (thankfully fictional) erotic romance. We recommend they start with Prime Minister, the first book in the Frisky Beavers series. By the time they finish Gavin and Ellie’s book, they’ll be so enamoured with Max that they’ll forgive his transgressions in the pursuit of his filthy happily ever after ending.

  Foreword

  This book is a work of fiction. Hot, erotic fiction, set against backdrops that may seem familiar. We promise you that Max Donovan and Violet Roberts are figments of our imagination and any similarities to real people are entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  For purposes of keeping this story focused on their romance, we’ve simplified some of the complex realities of both the medical and legal professions, in the same way we’ve simplified the political reality of the prime minister, and Max’s best friend, Gavin. Instead of legal briefs and medical insurance billings, you get whips and orgasms. We figured that was a fair exchange.

  1

  Violet

  July

  three months ago

  My heels click on the polished stone floor of the Chateau Laurier hotel as I cut across the lobby and head for the lounge. I changed at the office, switching out my trousers for a short skirt and adding enough jewellery to take my blouse and jacket from lawyer to…something else.

  I’m celebrating tonight, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I billed the top number of hours for a first or second year associate last month, or that I signed two new clients to the firm today.

  No, tonight’s celebration is personal, which is why I’m doing it by myself.

  My divorce was finalized this afternoon.

  I’m officially single again, although I’ve been on my own for more than a year, and lonely for a lot longer than that.

  So tonight I’m going to drink a martini or three in the fanciest hotel in the city and celebrate freedom.

  I thought about going to the BDSM club I’ve visited a few times, but people know me there. Maybe not by my full name, but they know I’m a newbie to kink. Know I need protecting.

  Tonight, I want to be seen as confident. Sexy. Anonymous and strong. Desirable just for being me.

  And it doesn’t take long for me to slide into the skin of someone other. Not me. Not quite the role I’ve played at clubs, either. A new person. Her name can be Violet, too. I’ll share that with her.

  But this other woman has a confidence I’ve never let loose before. I’ve always been too afraid of being…too much. Too sexy, too pushy—and ha, that’s a hilarious joke given what I’ve learned about my preferences in the last year. The last thing I want is to be too pushy. If anything, I want to be pushed.

  I’ve just ordered my drink, a lemon vodka martini, when the energy in the room shifts. Nobody else notices, but I feel it to my bones. From the corner of my eye, I see a dark suit. A man. Tall and commanding.

  I make myself wait a beat before turning to give him a more obvious appraisal. I don't want to be disappointed. That’s right. This Violet owns the right to appraise and reject. Judge and measure, and find a man lacking.

  I might be disappointed in him. I take a sip of my drink. Cool and crisp, it slides over my tongue. Bright citrus with a hard hit of heat at the back of my throat. I let the sweet warmth of knowing I’m good enough sweep through me.

  But I’m not really ignoring him. I don't kid myself with that pretence—my attention is still glued on him.

  And when I twist to the side and cross my legs, I feel his gaze move over me. His eyes settle on my face and I smile, slow and pleased with myself.

  Pleased with him.

  He doesn’t disappoint in the least.

  He lifts one eyebrow. An unspoken question.

  Yes, please, I say with a small nod of my head.

  Taking another sip of my drink, I watch him prowl across the room to join me at the bar.

  “Are you waiting for someone?” His voice is deep and smooth. It matches him.

  He’s handsome in an almost impossible
way. Chiseled face, warm eyes, a nose that may have been broken once, but he's better looking for it. His lips look soft, his jaw hard. He’s a big man, in his height and across his shoulders, but the rest of him looks built for speed. A fighter who might dance on his toes. A sprinter who could chase the wind.

  I give him a soft, sultry smile that feels surprisingly natural. “I might be waiting for you.”

  “I’m Max.”

  I hold out my hand. “Very nice to meet you, Max.”

  He gives me an up and down appraisal, which on any other night I’d have found super creepy. Or at least, from any other man. But he has this look about him—a familiarity and a kindness, maybe. Except the way he’s looking at me isn’t kind.

  It’s hot and dirty.

  “And you are…?” He gives my hand a little squeeze as he lets go, his thumb trailing down my index finger.

  I press my thighs together. I want to feel that electric stroke right between my legs. On my ass. Across my nipples. “Whoever you want me to be.”

  I blush at how brazen I’m being, but damn it, Max is a gift. He’s exactly my type. Easily into his thirties, he’s tall and broad and has a touch of grey at his temples that makes my lower belly clench hard.

  His eyelids drop a little as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Thinking hard about what he wants me to be.

  It’s been a lot longer than seventeen months since I've had a guy give any thought to how he wanted to fuck me.

  Gold star for Max, and we haven’t even got past introductions.

  “I think I’d like very much for you to be mine tonight. All night, if that’s okay?”

  “All night?”

  “Do you need to check-in with someone?”

  And he gets the safety thing. I give him a quick smile. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I know the rules.” That slow, sexy smouldering look steals my breath as I fumble for my phone in my purse. He does the same—minus the fumble—and after a quick messages-check he flicks the ringer switch on the side and puts it away again.

  I take a quick picture of him, then fire it off to my neighbour, Matthew, who’s a city cop. He’s out with his boyfriend tonight, so I don’t expect him to reply right away, but he does.

  V: Found a friend for the night.

  M: Where are you?

  V: Chateau Laurier.

  M: Text me again if you go somewhere else.

  V: Yes, dad.

  M: Your dad never stuck extra condoms in your purse before you went to work. Have fun!

  I blush and do a quick check as I stash my phone. Sure enough, there are two strips of condoms next to my emergency fifty-dollar bill.

  “Do you have a room here?” I ask. If he doesn’t, we’ll get one. I checked before I came to make sure there were some available. I have zero plans to go off into the night with a random stranger, no matter how kind he looks or how dirty he gets.

  He gives me a slow, sexy grin. “I do.”

  “Lead the way.”

  He guides me across the hotel lobby, his hand firm in the small of my back.

  I slide him a sideways glance as we wait for an elevator car to arrive on the ground floor and smile. “Just here the one night?”

  “Yes.” He lowers his voice at the same moment the fingers of his hand closest to my arm brush my skin. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

  My lips part and my eyes go wide, and that’s all the response he’s getting from me because the doors in front of us slide open and people get out. His fingers continue their lazy search of my upper arm. Up and down. Up and down.

  I breathe in and out, aware of my breasts rising and falling under his gaze. We step onto the elevator, alone now, and as the doors shut, he smoothly slides his arm around my waist, then lower, his hand a hot, heavy brand against my hip.

  Too soon we slow to a stop, and two businesspeople step into the lift with us. They're talking quietly to each other, and they turn their backs to us.

  Max twists to the side, leaning his shoulder against the back wall as he curves over me. I tip my face up toward his, willing my heart to stop hammering.

  Be cool, Violet.

  Easier said than done when my one-night stand is sliding his hand under my skirt, the curved tulip hem and his shadow providing just enough cover as his fingertips graze the bare skin at the top of my thigh.

  My breath catches in my throat as his gaze darkens and his hand quests further.

  He wouldn't.

  Oh.

  He totally would.

  I gasp out loud, then bite my lip. The elevator stops again, still not our floor, and we get a weird look as the other people step off.

  "You're terrible," I say, my words shaky but teasing as Max brings his fingers to his mouth.

  He just shrugs, every inch an arrogant bad boy. "But I wanted a taste."

  I can't breathe as I watch him lick his fingers.

  "Incredible," he murmurs as we finally arrive on his floor.

  Arrogant bad boy for the win.

  Totally speechless, I follow him down the hall, each step bringing me closer and closer to whatever comes next.

  He smoothly opens his hotel room and steps inside, holding the door for me. He watches me as I enter—like, really watches me—and a wave of heat rolls up through my body.

  Whatever does come next, I'm totally game.

  2

  Max

  For more than a decade, I've had an agreement with a Vancouver-based madam, who has always matched me to women who could accommodate my kinks. But this time she's outdone herself. Those lips. Of the countless women she’s provided over the years, this is the first one I’m pretty sure I'm going to break my own fucking rules for. Because I want a taste of her mouth even more than I want her on her knees.

  I take a moment to study her. Why? I have no idea. And actually, I don’t want to know. That would likely require an uncomfortable trip into my psyche, for which I have neither the time, nor the inclination.

  Tangling my fingers into her hair, I tug her head back a little. Her sapphire-blue eyes sparkle as she gives me a wide smile. I tighten my grip, testing her reaction. She's not playing anything for my benefit, I don't think. She reminds me of the brand new subs at the club—eager and breathless. It's not what I was expecting for tonight, but if that's what she wants to play at, I'm game. Her breath catches as my lips hover over hers.

  "When was the last time someone pulled your hair just the way you like it?"

  Her chest rises and falls between us. "Maybe nobody has."

  A total line, but it works. "Is that what you want from me?"

  "Yes."

  "What else do you want?" I don't know why I ask. I'm the client. What matters is what I want. But right now, all I can think about is exploring her limits.

  Her eyes widen as she realizes I'm serious. Yeah, probably not what she expected, either.

  I smirk. "Let's start with the basics. “Your safe word is—”

  “Red.” She interrupts me, and I give her a stern look.

  "That wasn't a question, gorgeous."

  She frowns at me. "Oh."

  That's adorable. "Punishment isn't what I want tonight, but if it was, I'd say you earned ten strikes for that."

  Her eyebrows hit the roof. "Oh!" She licks her lips. "Right. Okay. Well…"

  The nervous, but eager sex kitten routine is totally working for me. I step back and cross my arms, equally amused and turned on. "Yes?"

  "We should discuss boundaries."

  "Of course." I have a standing order—submissive, flexible, agreeable to impact play when I've got toys, and pervertables when I don't; open to edging and mild humiliation, because the last thing I want to do is trip over a hard limit when my dirty mouth starts running. So we usually skip the protocol of negotiation, but I guess we're going off-script tonight. "We'll both use red as a safe word. Yellow for caution, or a time-out so we can discuss something."

  "That’s…good.” She twists her hands to
gether, then squares her shoulders.

  I don’t miss that she’s nervous, and I dial back my plans for the night a bit. It doesn't do a thing to calm my dick down, though. She just wants rough sex? Fine by me. "So what are your limits?"

  "For a first night?"

  Sure. I shrug and wait for her to continue.

  "No impact play." She grins. "But I liked the threat of punishment. Dirty talk like that is great, of course."

  I nod. At least she remembers that.

  "You can be rough."

  "How rough?" I see her on all fours, my hands squeezing her ass so hard it turns white. I'd leave a mark if I did that.

  Fuck, I want to see a bruise on her ass. I want her to remember me every time she moves a muscle tomorrow.

  "Pretty rough. Hold me down…take what you want."

  "I plan to."

  She blushes. "Excellent."

  "Anything else?"

  "I'm probably forgetting some things."

  Maybe she's new. I prompt her to be sure. "I like to be in charge. I want your submission."

  She nods. "Okay."

  "You don't need to call me sir. If I call you a slut, I promise it's a compliment. I want your pussy wet and begging for my cock at all times. Something doesn't work for you, I want to know, but as long as you're willing, I want to push your limits."

  Her eyes go wide. "Yes."

  "No hitting, but if you get a bruise from being held down?"

  "Fine." She swallows. "Maybe not around my neck."

  "Of course not." I hesitate, because this is in my file, but she's flustered and it can't hurt to reinforce the good points about me. She's about to meet the jackass side of my personality. "I'm a doctor. I promise you're safe."

  "I believe you," she says softly, and my cock throbs.

  Enough talk. “Strip…slowly.”

  I turn away, watching her in the mirror as I cross the room. “Fold each piece of clothing neatly and place it on the dresser,” I tell her when she’s about to drop her jacket on the seat of the chair near the door. Her startled reaction makes me grin. Usually, they’re so slick they seem almost apathetic or jaded.