Page 16 of Bound to the EMT

My heart pounds in my chest as he turns around to face down my mother. He said no one would know. He promised me no one would know. Can I really keep it from this doctor if he chooses to examine me?

“You do realize the theory of virgins keeping their hymen intact as long as they don’t have sex is a myth. Don’t you? There are plenty of ways for a girl to lose it.”

“Not Emmeline. She doesn’t ride bikes, she doesn’t ride horses, she doesn’t wear tampons. Shall I continue?”

“But even a hard enough fall...” he trails off, his voice becoming weaker as my mother stares him down. “Some girls are not even born with one,” he amends, doing his best to appease her.

“It was there on her last gynecological exam. Check. Her.”

The doctor looks at me, his gaze sympathetic as he pats my thigh. “Best to get this over with. Knees up, legs spread. Just like you would for your yearly exam.”

Heat floods my face as mortification and fear coalesce into a living, breathing thing squirming around in my chest. Unlike with Branson, I feel no sense of arousal, no burning need to have him touch me. Thankfully, my body responds in kind, staying a lot drier than I was with the sexy EMT.

I turn my head away so I can’t watch as he slides the hem of my nightgown up my thighs to expose my body to his gaze. If only he’d purr. But of course, I probably shouldn’t even know what a purr is, much less ask for one. It’s not fair. I should be allowed some sort of assistance through this.

His dry, weathered fingers graze my lower lips as he spreads me out. Bile rises in my throat, threatening to choke me as he opens me up. I want to scream, to beg him to stop, to make my mother see reason, but I can’t. All of it is stuck, unable to come out.

“She’s intact.”

“You’re sure?” At my mother’s gasp of surprise, I can’t help the smile easing across my lips.

They couldn’t tell. Branson was right, after all. So many doors open for me, granting me possibilities I never before considered available to me.

As the doctor lowers my gown, he turns to her. “I’ve examined enough patients in my day to know if she’s intact or not. I’m shocked, seeing as she’s old enough to no longer have one, but there you have it. Not pregnant and still a virgin. Anything else you need from me? Or am I free to go home?”

“That is all.”

“Very well. And make sure she moderates her water.”

Instead of answering him, she glares at me, as if all of this is my fault. Then again, it is my fault, just maybe not in the way she thinks. “Get dressed. Dinner is in thirty minutes. Do not be late.”

Alphas sitall around the table, surrounding me with their musky scents. All of them intermingle, becoming one conglomeration that sets my skull to pounding. Coffee, dark chocolate, pine, citrus, and other smells I can’t define fill the space, nearly choking me.

As much as I hate to admit it, right now, I’d rather just smell the leather coated in dark whiskey that clung to Branson when he was in my room. Anything but them. They watch me as I eat, all eyes boring into me as if I harbor some secret they’re trying to ferret out.

They all keep up the conversation well enough, charming Father with intelligent jokes and anecdotes—the rich amusing the rich. Try as I might, I do my best to stay interested in the conversation, behaving like a proper lady should act. It’s all so dull and boring, though. Things I’ve heard my whole life.

Thankfully, none of them stay far past when dinner and dessert are concluded. Weariness slams into me as I make my way up the stairs.

“Emmeline,” Mother calls out to me. “Hopefully one of those gentlemen caught your eye. It would do well for you to match with them. I think more dinners where you can be in their presence, you know, allowing your genetic makeup to be molded by them, will help. The sooner the government matches you, the happier you will be.”

“More like the happier you will be,” I mutter under my breath as she walks away.

Peeling off my dress, I make my way to the shower, needing desperately to wash the Alphas off of me. A heavy sigh slips through my lips as I lean against the warm tile and let the water pound against my sore muscles. As I close my eyes, all I can think about is Branson.

His eyes were kind. Even when I seemed to upset him, he never actually made me feel bad. If anything, he made me feel far better than anyone ever has before.

Biting down on my lower lip, I bring my hand down to my pussy as he called it. They weren’t able to tell. This means I can touch myself, and no one will ever know. Spreading my thighs, I groan as the warm water slides over my body, dripping across the sensitive skin of my lower lips.

I do my best to mimic his movements, rubbing my clit as he did. Pleasure blossoms over me, robbing me of breath. Granted, it’s not quite as good as when he touched me, but it relieves the growing ache building deep inside.

Under the roar of the water, I stroke myself, picturing his intense eyes and gentle yet unyielding voice as he touched me. My bottom hole aches, clenching on nothing as I continue to rub the insistent bundle of nerves. Soft moans flit through my gritted teeth as I do my best to concentrate, holding the massive Alpha in my mind’s eye.

With a gasp, my orgasm bursts through me, causing me to slam my palm against the tile as I try not to cry out and alert others to my actions. Whimpering, I buck my hips back and forth, riding out the pleasure. “Branson,” I whisper out into the emptiness, feeling so alone and bereft as I come down off the transient high.

Reality crashes in on me as I finish cleaning up and prepare for bed. Girls like me don’t marry Alphas like him. Mother had it right. I’ll be nothing but arm candy to a rich, influential Alpha, a mere decoration, and nothing more.