Creamed: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 296)
CONTENTS
Creamed
NEWSLETTER
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
Three Months Later
One Year Later
Three Years Later
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
INKED BY LOVE
Collaborations
About the Author
CREAMED
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 296
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2022 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
CREAMED
Mandy
Working for minimum wage with no real benefits is all I’ve known.
But my newest job at the hospital coffee shop feels safe.
It’s friendly enough, and Mrs. Peters always makes sure I have a stack of leftovers to take home after every shift.
Then there’s Dr. de Silva, my favorite customer.
My favorite everything. I mean… The man. Is. Built. And he has the kindest eyes.
Strangely enough, he’s a heart doctor. Probably a good thing for all the palpitations he must give his female patients.
It’s a silly fantasy of mine, pretending he’s thrilled to see me each day. Not as happy as I am to see him, though.
But what chance would a short, thick-set younger girl like me have with an older, mature, and professional guy like him?
He must be a man who knows what he really wants.
Physical stuff aside. What could I have that a man as successful as him would even want?
As it turns out, he’s developed a hankering for my now semi-famous creamed coffee.
Lotsa cream, lotsa sugar.
He only wanted water, but when I innocently asked if he wanted to try my cream and sugar, it was like a flare went off.
In my pants.
After trying my new drink, he’d visit twice or more every shift, and old Mrs. Peters started teasing me about it in her friendly way.
“Cream o’clock,” she calls it.
But it’s our time, Dr. de Silva and me.
For those few moments each day, I get to pretend that I’ve caught the eye of an amazing man.
The perfect man.
But when an accident lands me in the emergency room of the hospital where I work, it’s Dr. Foxx de Silva to the rescue.
And I find out fast that he’s done with cream and sugar in a cup.
The man has it on tap, and there’s only one place he wants it.
Inside me!
Am I dreaming? Did I maybe just bump my head a little too hard when I had my accident?
Or do fairy tales exist in real life?
Can a knight in shining armor really come out of nowhere and sweep a girl off her feet?
This girl is dying to find out. And from now on, there’s only one man who’ll get my cream and sugar.
All for him.
If only he’d just say that’s what he really wants.
Foxx
I’m Dr. Foxx De Silva.
And being a doctor, I deal with tears and joy on a daily basis.
All of it other people’s. No joy or tears from me, though.
Just a doctor who is doing his job.
There was never much to break the pattern either.
Go to work, stack more cash. Go home to a luxury penthouse apartment.
Rinse and repeat.
That was until Mandy came into my life, the new coffee shop girl.
She tells me she makes a mean creamed coffee when all I came for was bottled water.
I instantly became a coffee buyer, but I can’t drink the stuff. I need a steady hand in surgery.
The thought that other people were getting cream from her, though?
It made me insane with jealousy, and I vowed to touch more than just her fingers to get my cream from her.
My growing obsession has me following her home one night, to watch over her, and make sure she gets home safe.
But when I see where she lives, how she’s struggling to make ends meet only to have more of the same misery?
I say ‘enough.’
Time for the good doctor to prescribe something I never have.
And although I struggle with saying the words, those three little words, I have no problem taking her with both hands. I want to show her that real men do exist and that the one thing a real man needs to complete him is sometimes staring him right in the face.
Something as simple as a smiling face in a coffee shop, offering me cream and sugar.
Mandy’s all that and more. And she’ll be mine.
My own cream and sugar every day.
Forever.
* Creamed is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
NEWSLETTER
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CHAPTER ONE
Mandy
Looking up, I notice the time.
Mrs. Peters, the lady I work with, gives me a knowing look, creasing the corners of her withered mouth into a half-smile.
“I think I’ll go clean up out back…,” she says, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.
I open my mouth to say something, to remind her not to tease me about it….
“Cream o’clock,” she calls it. Sometimes it’s just like today, and she’ll busy herself someplace else in the hospital coffee shop.
Giving me time alone to get his coffee ready.
Dr. De Silva.
I feel my chest flutter at the thought, wishing I could see him more than just once or twice a day.
But I remind myself it’s just my imagination – an old lady poking innocent fun.
I mean, it’s not as though Dr. De Silva, a mature professional, doctor no less, would have any real interest in a younger girl like me.
Or anyone else, for that matter.
A younger woman, I mean.
Twenty isn’t a girl.
Then why do I feel like one whenever I see him?
Why do I feel my knees give way and my mouth go dry? My heart races and any reasonable thought is r
eplaced with the image of him grabbing me and bending me over the nearest table.
Showing me just how the good doctor really operates….
“Mandy? Mandy?” Mrs. Peters says, laughing, waving a hand in front of my eyes, snapping me back to reality.
“Uh… Sure,” I blush. I'm trying not to let it show just how much it means to me to know he’s almost here.
The job itself is nothing special. There is minimum wage and no benefits, but I get free food and plenty of it.
Just as well, because after rent and utilities, I’m not exactly in a position to eat anything more than humble pie.
My hands always shake a little, and I watch them tremble more than usual once I start laying everything out to make his coffee.
Creamed coffee with extra sugar.
Just how he likes it.
On my first day on the job, I was flying on adrenalin, and I got cocky, asking him the first time we met if I could interest him in any cream or sugar with his coffee.
It was an innocent question, but I think that’s what set the ball rolling with Mrs. Peters teasing me about Dr. De Silva and me.
His low growl of satisfaction resonates in my memory as strongly as it did when he said it.
“Lots of cream. Lots of sugar, if you’re giving it,” he’d said.
I don’t remember much of what I said or did after that, but his words have kinda been humming in my mind and in my special place since.
I’ve been working here for just under a week, but it feels like a lifetime.
A lifetime without him all the time.
Still, even if I just get to spend a minute or two anywhere near Dr. De Silva each day, it makes everything else in between worth it.
Looking up from the counter top a second time, I feel my breath catch as his eyes meet mine once he walks in.
His huge, muscular V-shaped torso is visible through the dark blue surgical scrubs he has on.
My favorite outfit.
His taut behind is usually covered when he wears his white coat, but today I already know I’ll get to watch his second-best asset when he leaves.
His biggest assets, though?
His eyes.
Dark, almost brooding brown eyes that soften once they bore into mine.
His smile.
The way his face shifts, his chiseled jaw flexes, and his perfect teeth beam me an instant welcome.
All the seriousness of his day is gone once he sees me.
That’s what I tell myself anyway, don’t judge me.
A girl can dream.
His hair. Cut short with a grille of silver flecking on each side of his powerful, intelligent temples.
Perfect skin too, which matches everything else.
Ah! Who am I kidding? The guy’s got more assets than a stockbroker’s portfolio.
Seriously though? How can a man who works such long hours and has so much responsibility on his mind stay in such great shape?
I just have to serve food, and it’s like I gain half its calories.
The most I get to see of what’s under his scrubs is his neckline, sometimes the top of his chest that has a tuft of hair poking through.
It makes me sigh at its thought every time I imagine my fingers teasing it. All the way down that muscular chest to his abs.
Abs, I sense, are just as lean and hard as the rest of his sculpted body which he effortlessly moves with purpose.
Dr. Foxx De Silva is a man who knows what he wants, and if the most I’ll ever get to give him is my creamed coffee, so be it.
“Hiya, Mandy,” he says, still smiling in greeting.
I can only crimp my lips and blush. I always get tongue-tied whenever he’s around now.
My one solid line the first day was the one about cream and sugar, and just that once.
After that, I’m just putty when he’s in front of me.
His brow knots a little, and he stoops to make sure he can be at my eye level.
“Mandy, you alright?” he asks, and I pump my head eagerly.
“I’m great, thanks, Dr. De Silva,” I manage to get out. “Your usual today?”
This time it’s his turn to go quiet for a moment, and his face falls, but only for a second before he beams again.
“You bet!” he exclaims. “And please, call me Foxx, Mandy,” he says with an air of authority that sends a shiver through me.
“Foxx,” I murmur, flushing harder. His name was already etched in my mind like an echo from when I first noticed his name tag.
Ducking his head sideways, he gives a wave and his standard “Hi Rose!” to Mrs. Peters out back.
Somehow he seems to understand how she likes to hover and listen when he comes by, but she doesn’t say much more than a surprised sounding “Oh, hello, doctor!” back to him.
As if we don’t all know she’s eavesdropping just a little.
I busy myself with his order, but I have trouble focusing. He’s wearing cologne today, which is unusual for any of the doctors. A cologne that matches him perfectly, of course. It’s not strong, but it is earthy, like the woods in fall after rain mixed with something I can’t put my finger on.
Something I could dive into and stay there forever, though. Like anything to do with him, it’s just breathtaking.
“And did you suggest the tip jar to Mrs. Peters?” he suddenly asks me.
His hushed tone is confidential, and he’s so tall that it has to be close to my face, so I can hear him when he leans over.
Feeling the warmth of his breath near me is enough to make me gulp and hope the whole world can’t see how wet he’s just made me.
It feels like I’ve just sat in a warm puddle of that cologne of his, and I don’t mind it at all.
“She gets paid plenty, plus the hospital board already said no,” Mrs. Peters chimes from the back, making both of us smile.
“Well…,” Dr. De Silva says.
His look shifts to a man who’s made his mind up about something.
He slides a crisp fifty across the countertop, and once I’ve rung up his change, he takes hold of my hand in his. I make a little sound, something stupid, but I can’t help it.
It feels like an electric current running from his huge, soft hands all the way to my already aching clit.
And all just from him touching me as he presses the change into my palm.
“Then this is for every time I wanted to tip you already,” he says casually.
His eyes kind of plead with mine. Like he’s trying to tell me something, but it’s lost on me because I know I can’t take money from customers unless it’s for food or drink.
“I– It’s just…,” I stammer. But it’s too late.
I can tell he’s disappointed, and worse than that, old Mrs. Peters comes bustling out and gets between us, making sure Foxx understands the policy on tipping.
“No offense, Dr., but rules are rules. The hospital is your domain, and this little shop is mine,” she quips.
Her accent comes through strong when she means business. But it’s a long few moments before he lets go of my hand.
Without a word, just an intense look for me and a swift nod for Mrs. Peters, he takes his coffee and turns to go.
“Same time tomorrow, then,” I call after him, wishing more than anything that it was just me here.
Just Foxx and me, with nobody around right now.
I wish I could say something intelligent to him.
But, oh no. Let’s make a weird animal noise instead the second a real man touches us…. Genius, Mandy. Just genius!
Both Mrs. Peters and I watch his perfect body as he leaves, neither of us saying a word.
When I look down, I hear her gasp, and without a word, Mrs. Peters is quick to swipe the little bundle of bills and disappear with them. She’s muttering something about people with more money than sense.
But I can’t help feeling rotten.
Rotten and elated at the same time.
I got to touch him, though. I actually touc
hed his hand.
But I think he’s mad now. He’s not mad at me, just mad he couldn’t tip me.
Oh, Doctor. You can tip me over any chair, table, or counter. Any day. Any time you like.
If only….
CHAPTER TWO
Foxx
Idiot!
Try as I might, everything I’ve rehearsed a dozen times over in my mind disappears once I see her again.
The way her blond hair is tied back in a single ponytail swishing every time she moves.
Her ample fucking chest, which can’t help but rest on the countertop, makes my dick start to throb before our eyes even lock.
The way her baby blues widen and dilate, and I notice these things not just because I’m a doctor but also because I need to know if her body’s feeling like mine does every time we meet.
Which is every chance I get now.
Twice a day at least, but if I can get away, I always make an excuse to get my creamed coffee fix.
Mandy’s cream.
My cream.
Apart from probably being twice her age and way out of her league, I fucking hate coffee.
I can’t stand the stuff, and neither my patients nor I need the jitters it brings when I operate or need to focus.
But when she offered? Well, that’s different.
Mandy just assumed I wanted coffee like every other person she serves in the hospital.
I could have said no, I don’t drink the stuff, but denying her anything isn’t what I’m about.
When I heard those words from her lips the first time we met just a few days ago, I decided from that day forward that I’d be buying creamed coffee with lots of sugar every single opportunity I got.