Submitting to the Doctor (Cowboy Doms Book 7) Read online

  Submitting to the Doctor

  Cowboy Doms - Book Seven

  BJ Wane

  Published by Blushing Books

  An Imprint of

  ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

  A Virginia Corporation

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  ©2020

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  BJ Wane

  Submitting to the Doctor

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-64563-207-8

  v1

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  BJ Wane

  Blushing Books

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  Prologue

  Denver, Colorado

  Soft, white snowflakes fell from the gray sky onto the dark clothing of the mourners slowly dispersing from the gravesite. Doctor Mitchell Hoffstetter gazed with grief-stricken, unseeing eyes at the flower-covered coffin. He thought he’d been prepared for his beloved wife’s passing after the chemotherapy treatments had failed to wipe out her cancer these past six months. Last week, he’d stood by Abbie’s hospice bed and watched her shudder through her last, painful breath, the peace that settled over her stricken face almost beautiful to see after months of ravaging torment. Following her diagnosis, he’d reached out to the top oncologists in the state for help, cut back on his job as chief trauma surgeon at Denver Health and prayed for a miracle.

  All to no avail.

  The murmured condolences and sympathetic eyes of friends and colleagues went unheard and unseen as Mitchell shivered against the bleak future now lying ahead of him. He would turn forty-one this summer and yet, instead of hitting his prime looking forward to the future, he now dreaded the months and years that stretched out ahead of him without his cherished wife. For eight years, she had been the perfect wife and submissive of his dreams, the only woman he’d ever vowed fidelity to or imagined sharing his life for the long haul. Her death shattered the dream and left a nightmare he was desperate to escape from.

  “Mitchell, let’s go. People will be stopping by the house.” His mother, Louise, gripped his arm and looked up at him with worry etched on her lined face.

  Patting her hand, he nodded and turned to take his sister’s elbow. “I’m ready. Let’s get you and Tracy out of the cold.” He feared there would be no escaping the cold for him for a long time, if ever.

  Eighteen months later

  The July sun beat down on Mitchell’s shoulders as he loaded the last of his suitcases in his Tahoe and closed the back hatch. The For-Sale sign in the front yard of the two-story home he’d shared with Abbie was now topped with a Sold sign. His chest constricted as he took one last look at the flower beds she’d planted and tended with such meticulous care. He recalled the way she would kneel and wiggle her ass, sending him a taunting grin over her shoulder when he would pull into the driveway. The tall hedges in front of the porch offered enough privacy for him to shock her one time and deliver the bare butt spanking she’d been itching for right then and there. She’d loved the exhibitionism and risk as much as the pain-induced pleasure he’d heaped upon her soft, lily-white buttocks.

  Sliding behind the wheel, he pulled away for the last time, praying the move to Montana and the new, much less strenuous position of family physician in the smaller town of Willow Springs would offer the change he needed to cope better with his loss. His mother and sister, as well as Tracy’s husband and two boys, all encouraged him to accept the position when he found the ad and showed it to them. With his father gone these past five years, he’d hesitated to move away from his mother, but she’d been the one to insist the loudest for him to make the change.

  “It’s a one-day drive,” Louise had said at Sunday dinner last month. “Just be sure to get a place big enough to put all of us up for a week and we’ll be on your doorstep more than you’ll want.”

  Mitchell hadn’t prayed much since burying Abbie and his happiness, but as he drove away from the home they had shared, the position he’d worked hard to attain and the city he’d lived in his whole life, he found himself sending up a silent entreaty he wasn’t making a big mistake.

  Chapter 1

  Tears blinded Lillian Gillespie’s vision as she stumbled out the door of the special care facility. The cold slap of February wind that hit her added to the chill that had invaded her body as she’d watched her cherished twin sister take her last breath. The nursing staff who had cared for Liana for the last month as she lay in a coma meant well with their embraces and whispered condolences of ‘it’s for the best’, but right now, Lillian couldn’t see it that way.

  She let the tears fall as she slid behind the wheel of her car, slammed the door and huddled in misery, wondering what she would do without Liana in her life. They’d shared the special bond of twins for thirty-four years, stood side by side when they’d buried first their father and then their mother a scant year later, and they’d watched men come and go without regret as long as they had each other.

  And now Lillian was alone.

  Rubbing her forehead, she tried to gather her thoughts and run through what needed to be done. Once Liana had stabilized following a ruptured brain aneurysm six weeks ago and was moved from the hospital to the long-term care facility with a poor prognosis of ever recovering or even coming out of the coma, the staff had convinced Lillian to make funeral arrangements. At first, she’d fought the very idea, clinging to the small thread of hope the trickle of blood still reaching her sister’s brain offered, but now she was glad the hospital counselor had talked her into it. It was one less burden to weigh her down now.

  Pulling out of the lot, she automatically drove toward Brad’s house, her thinking still muddled by heartbreak. She was halfway to his upscale neighborhood in Salt Lake City when the change in her circumstances hit her with a quick flash of clarity. I’m free of that son-of-a-bitch. That startling acknowledgement forced her to pull into a strip mall lot as a cold, burning anger replaced her emotional numbness, giving her the inner shakes. I’m free, but God, sis, I never wanted to get away from him at your expense. No, she couldn’t look at it that way. It was Lillian’s fault for ignoring the warning signs of the renowned neurosurgeon’s possessiveness for too long before breaking off their affair. Maybe, if she hadn’t been so immersed in her art, preparing for the Naples National Art Show, she would have ended the relationship much sooner. Liana had often berated her for losing focus of everything and everyone around her when she lost herself in her painting, and Lillian had finally paid the price for her artistic absorption.

  But no more. Liana’s death rendered Dr. Brad McCabe’s threats useless and severed the hold he had over her. As much as her passing pained Lillian, she couldn’t prevent a ripple of relief as she got back on the road. To say Brad ha
d taken their split badly was an understatement, but she could never have imagined just how obsessed he’d become with her until Liana was sent to the long-term care facility.

  Lillian gritted her teeth as she turned onto the street of million-dollar homes and pulled into the drive of Brad’s two-story, one-acre estate. No one would ever believe the skilled doctor, one of the most sought-after bachelors in the city was a manipulative, sadistic bastard. She still couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his solicitous support when he’d found out about Liana’s condition a month after they’d broken up. During the two weeks doctors, including Brad, were working to give her sister every chance at recovery, he never brought up their relationship even though he’d sworn to get her back. He’d offered encouragement, a shoulder to lean on and a comforting embrace when the medical team announced there was nothing else they could do.

  God, what a gullible fool she’d been. But never again. His threats could no longer force her to suffer a painful arm or wrist twist when she argued with him; she wouldn’t have to try and dodge a fist to her abdomen or a kidney if she refused to sleep with him, and wouldn’t have to suffer his touch or fake an orgasm under his thrusting body just to save herself a day or two of pain again.

  Brad’s morning surgery schedule gave her plenty of time to gather her belongings, but as Lillian entered the cold marble foyer, she wasted no time dashing upstairs to the master bedroom. In the walk-in closet, she grabbed the four-piece suitcase set she’d packed her clothes in a month ago and got to work without delay. Other than her wardrobe, toiletries and art supplies, she wanted nothing from this place.

  Less than an hour later, she was brought to a sudden halt descending the stairs carrying the last of her paintings as Brad flung open the front door. The fury glittering in his cold brown eyes sent a frisson of alarm down her spine before she straightened and continued down the stairs. In the last month, she’d never cowered under that look and refused to start now.

  With the sly calculation of a fox, Lillian watched his expression slide into one of feigned concern. “Baby, I’m so sorry about Liana. As soon as I got word, I cancelled the rest of my surgeries and rushed home to be here for you.” He stepped forward as she reached the bottom of the stairs, not fooled in the least by his conciliatory tone or compassionate gaze. There was no way he’d come in through the front without noticing her packed car. “Taking those somewhere?” he asked, nodding toward the paintings tucked under her arms.

  “Yes, out of here.” She took a step sideways to go around him, but he followed, blocking her path. “Get out of my way, Brad. I’m leaving. Your threat to hurt Liana can no longer keep me here, as you damn well know.”

  In the blink of an eye, Brad reached for her upper arm, his demeanor changing back to frigidly furious. With her heart jumping into her throat, she leapt back, evaded his grip and sprinted toward the door only to have him halt her flight by grabbing a fistful of her hair. Painful pricks stabbed at her skull as several strands came ripping out as he flung her onto the floor, her hip exploding in agony when she landed on the unforgiving marble. Shock robbed her of breath as he lifted his foot and kicked her in the ribs, his assault coming so fast, and with first-time brutality, all she could do was lie there struggling to breathe through the waves of red-hot torment.

  Squatting in front of her, it took every ounce of Lillian’s battered control to keep from shrinking back as Brad brushed her hair aside with gentle fingers and said in a voice gone deceptively soft, “Baby, I thought we’d gotten past this penchant you have for thinking you can walk out on me. Don’t you remember our first date, when I told you how much I was looking forward to a long relationship?”

  Brad’s eyes held the same cold, calculating gleam as when he’d whispered the numerous ways he could harm Liana while she lay helpless, ways no one would ever detect. He’d delivered that warning right in front of his medical colleagues in Liana’s room, the look of caring concern reflected on his face never wavering. Only she had seen his eyes change and heard the menace in his voice.

  But that was then, when Liana’s fragile condition had left her no choice but to return to him, and stay in this house, under his thumb for the last four weeks. She had nothing left to lose by defying him except more pain, and she was in so much now, emotional and physical, Lillian was willing to risk more physical harm to get away from him once and for all.

  “I remember,” she whispered, allowing a small smile to curve her trembling lips as she lifted her face closer to his. “I also remember how your conceited, overbearing, possessive machinations drove me away.” With a quick head butt, she sent him jerking backward enough for her to scramble to her feet. But it wasn’t enough to get her to the door before he sent one picture flying out from under her arm with another grab.

  How Lillian managed to retain her hold on the other when he backhanded her hard enough to slam her against the wall, splitting her lip and sending pain blossoming across the entire left side of her face, she didn’t know. Gasping for breath, her head reeling as the jarring impact ricocheted in a burning agony across her ribcage, she let loose the building, consuming rage filling her.

  “You bastard.” Swinging the painting, one of her favorites, at his head with every ounce of strength she could muster, Lillian only had time for one deep, excruciating inhale as Brad stumbled against the entry table. Blood gushed from his temple where the corner of the frame had struck, his eyes widening in surprise as he crumpled to the floor.

  With one arm cradling her ribs, she shuffled toward the door, the amount of blood pouring from his head adding nausea to her other afflictions. “Stay away from me, Doctor, or I’ll file charges.”

  Brad greeted her threat with a pain-filled, scornful laugh. “You wouldn’t dare. Who the fuck would believe you over me? In fact,” he tried to get to his feet, failed and leaned against the wall, his face going from pale to chalk-white, “after I spin my side of this to Bryan, you’ll be the one facing charges.”

  Even his over-protective cop brother wouldn’t be able to deny the proof her pictures documented, so his threat didn’t faze Lillian. She looked down at him with disdain, no longer fearing him as a strange calming numbness took over her body. “Did you honestly believe I would tolerate your abuse and threats without documenting every bruise? I took pictures of every mark you left on me and I won’t hesitate to use them if you ever come near me again. Think your sterling reputation will hold up under such scrutiny? Goodbye, Brad.”

  Chalky with shock, dazed with grief and pain, Lillian couldn’t think beyond the need to escape her anguish. She’d sublet her apartment when Brad had blackmailed her into moving in with him, putting everything she hadn’t brought to his house and was now loaded in her car in storage. With no place to go, she ignored the warnings of her muddled reasoning that made the drastic decision to drive to the bank and clear out her checking and savings accounts ill-advised. With nothing left for her in the city she grew up in, she was determined to keep driving. Liana’s body was already at the crematorium where her ashes would be stored in the mausoleum along with their parents, and she needed to find a way to come to peace with never getting the chance to tell her goodbye.

  Tamping down on those crippling emotions, she refused to let them bubble to the surface as she veered onto the highway out of Salt Lake City with no destination in mind. Her whole body shook as the road stretched out before her. Wondering where she should go, she glanced at the bank bag bulging with cash. More tears cascaded down her face as she realized she would now inherit her sister’s portion of their inheritance. Money wasn’t a problem, but that offered no comfort for the heartache encompassing her.

  At least Lillian was free of Brad, and this time for good. Not even his brother, whom she’d met once, could bail him out of this scrape if she chose to file charges. Ten years older than Brad, his brother bore part of the blame for Brad’s behavior by always covering for him from as far back as when Brad had been a wild teenager. Between his colleagues and patients c
onstant praise and admiration pumping up his God complex and Bryan still around to spoil him, she couldn’t believe she’d ever fallen for his fake charm.

  Nausea, blurred vision and excruciating discomfort forced Lillian to stop as she crossed into Wyoming almost two hours later. She had no idea what town she was in when she pulled into a Walgreens and didn’t care. After purchasing first aid supplies and dodging the solicitous inquiries from the salesclerk, she checked into the motel across the street for some much-needed rest.

  Tossing her purchases onto a chair, she lay down on the bed intending to gather her thoughts before checking her injuries but couldn’t stave off the stress induced exhaustion that pulled her under. She fell asleep with her sister’s laughing face merging with Brad’s furious image.

  Lillian awoke to a pitch-black, strange room and a myriad of aches and pains. Rolling over, she winced, the pain radiating around her ribcage bringing clarification to her groggy, jumbled senses. Liana. A sob caught in her throat as she sat up and flicked on the bedside light. Blinking, she realized one eye wouldn’t open fully. Brad. A surge of anger tightened her muscles as she stood on wobbly legs. Vacillating between gut-clenching grief and a slow-burning fury, she padded into the miniscule bathroom, turned on the light and groaned out loud at her image in the mirror. Her topsy-turvy emotional imbalance took second place to the distress of seeing just how hard Brad had struck her.