I lie here in this incredibly soft, cushioned California King Bed, draped by navy blue silk sheets in a room illuminated only by the dim glow of scented candles.

 

The blended aroma of lavender and jasmine fills the warm air, but despite the pleasant, therapeutic scent, I am hardly relaxed.

 

The sound of my shallow breathing fills my ears, and it becomes even more audible as I feel it getting slightly labored, no doubt with sheer anticipation.

My skin feels impossibly hot, my face flushed beyond belief, and my dark, curly hair is a tangled mess against the soft pillow underneath my head. I vaguely register the ticking sound of the large wall clock hanging high above the headboard.

 

I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my chest and between my breasts, tickling my skin as it moves further south to collect in my belly button.

 

I stare into the eyes of the gorgeous man on top of my naked body with uncertainty as he enters me for the fifth time tonight, wondering how it is exactly that I got into my current position.

 

Literally and figuratively.

I continue to behold his large, muscled body as it effortlessly covers mine.

 

God, I don’t think it’ll ever be possible for me to get tired of looking at its impeccable display, clothed, naked, covered in mud, or in a glowy sheen of sweat like it is now.

 

My eyes travel upwards to find him staring hard at me, and I feel my sex clench and throb violently, as if it’s the first time his arresting gaze has covered me in goosebumps.

 

He remains silent as he pushes into me without warning or restraint, and I quickly feel myself getting even more flushed at the squelching, sucking sounds that his entry causes.

 

I feel myself gaping wide open as he quickly buries himself deep inside me, like he’s done many times before. His strong fingers dig into my skin as he grips my hips roughly and brings them hard against his pelvis in one quick motion.

 

I’m unable to stop the yelp—a throaty mesh of pain and ecstasy—that escapes from deep within my throat at the deliciously forceful invasion. I arch my back and push my head further into the pillow in surrender, because frankly, that’s all I can do.

 

This man owns me.

 

I’m certain of it now.

 

And I honestly can’t believe just how willing I am to be owned by him.

 

I instantly cream myself and his now sheathed cock, still in utter disbelief at how much he fills me up. A moan escapes my quivering lips as my upper body is pressed further into the mattress by his incredible weight.

 

My fingers instinctively reach out and dig into his forearms, feeling the magnificently corded muscles and veins in them as I wrap my legs tightly around his waist. My feet are pressed against the taut skin of his firm ass. I feel his hips flex under my thighs, and I can’t subdue the pleasured smile that sneaks its way onto my lips.

 

I’m all too aware of how much he stretches me open, and despite the embarrassment that still lingers, I love feeling the incredible heat and thickness of his cock pressing almost desperately inside my pussy.

 

 I crave it.

 

 Badly, sometimes.

 

The soreness I still feel presents raw evidence of what he did to me just twenty minutes ago, as does the pool of sticky wetness between my thighs, and I can’t help but revel in the sweet pain. As twisted and obscene as it is, I always love reminders of how roughly and thoroughly he fucks me.

 

He pulls back and pushes forward again with even more force.

 

He does it again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

And all I can do is surrender myself to his deliberate actions.

All I can do is take every inch of each powerful thrust and allow my body to feel each and every second of the raw ecstasy that’s running wildly through its veins.

 

The flickering flames of the candles cast shadows against the beige walls, and I watch our entwined silhouettes moving in sync to a frantic, sexual rhythm—like that of passionate, devoted lovers.

 

But that can’t be further from the truth. We aren’t lovers, and despite the romantic setting, this isn’t a romantic getaway or honeymoon. The gorgeous man inside me is not my boyfriend or my husband.

 

In fact, he’s someone else’s.

 

Husband, that is.

 

And we aren’t making love. Or even just having sex. This is good old-fashioned, raw, reckless, uninhibited fucking.

 

Just like he likes it.

 

And just like I’ve come to as well.

 

He looks at me with unapologetic lust, and his stare is unfaltering. He digs into my very soul with icy blue eyes that both terrify and captivate me. The same eyes that wouldn’t leave mine the moment we met. The same eyes that have blatantly refused to leave my mind ever since. And the same damn eyes that still haunt my every waking hour, and won’t leave my dreams alone when I sleep at night.

 

He moves faster and faster, pumping into me harder and harder with abandon. The sticky, slapping sounds of cock in pussy crack and echo through the stillness of the night, giving testimony to our raw and depraved coupling.

 

I want to kiss him, so much that it physically hurts. I want to press my lips to his full, pink mouth and suck on his tongue, like I’ve been dying to ever since I met him.

 

But I don’t.

 

I can’t.

 

Because I know he won’t let me.

 

He never lets me.

 

It’s the one thing he refuses to do with me; his number one rule for me to keep if I want…whatever this is between us, to continue—this arrangement of sorts. And as wrong as I know this is, I also know that I’m not ready to stop just yet.

 

Our tempo becomes even more hurried, more frantic, and each of his angry thrusts sends me deeper and deeper into an abyss of sheer ecstasy. My moans are turning into a mesh of cries, whimpers, and pleas. My skin is scorched, ablaze with lust and want, and all the pores on my body are screaming in emotional overdrive as I feel myself becoming feverish and drenched in sweat.

 

I can’t believe how different things are now; how complicated my life has become in such a short amount of time.

 

It was never supposed to be like this. He’s off limits.

 

He’s always been off limits.

 

I keep telling myself that; that being here with him is not supposed to feel this good.

 

God, he’s not supposed to feel this good.

 

I wonder what my life would have been like now if I had gone to the clinic on a different day, or if I had just insisted on going with the physician I was initially referred to.

 

Never in my life would I have thought that in the events that followed the beginning of a regular school week, a random check-up would end up spawning a highly angst-filled, incredibly confusing, and quickly-unfolding mess.

 

***

 

Series NavigationDoctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter One >>
THIS CHAPTER MAKES ME FEEL...
  • Fascinated
  • Happy
  • Sad
  • Angry
  • Bored
  • Afraid

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