Page 19 of Taken Online

Kaleb:You’re perfect.

And he is.

God, he is.

I can’t wait any longer.

Chapter Five

ASHER

Iwassittinginthewaiting room for thirty minutes. I showed up a little late, sure, but that didn’t matter when I was the one waiting. Now that? That pissed me off.

I woke up feeling weird. Really weird. I don’t particularly like crying, especially not after a sexual encounter. And definitely not over Kaleb. The man hadn’t even touched me. So what the hell had me nearly breaking down?

I didn’t like how he called me dumb.

Okay, maybe I did. But that’s messed up, right? I shouldn’t like that. It was demeaning. And I’m not dumb by any means. But the way he said it, like it was just a fact of life, like I was just a hole, a toy, his dumb little thing to use—

It felt so fucking real.

Like I was just..fuckable.

I hate that word.

And I know I am, alright? I’m self-aware. But there’s a difference between giving a man permission to think he’s in charge... and Kaleb just being in charge. That wasn’t part of the deal.

I huffed and leaned back into my seat, unlocking my phone to scroll through some new comments on my latest post. It was riskier than what I normally upload, but I’d been riding a high last night, alcohol, arousal, and a heavy dose of orgasm denial courtesy of a certain someone.

I just wanted some control back.

God, I hate how I pictured Dr.Peterson’s voice when Kaleb was sending the messages. I shouldn’t have, he was my fucking herpaist but I was exactly talking to men…his voice was the only one I can picture at this point. And the whole time? I kept remembering the “Doctor’s orders” and it quickly blended with Kaleb’s orders. No coming. Denied.

So yeah, I was on edge. And now, instead of being at home and overcompensating in the filthiest way possible, I was sitting here.

Waiting for my therapist.

“Wow. So insightful,” said a female voice. I looked up.

A woman was walking beside Dr. Peterson, practically glued to his left arm. She looked up at him with a radiant smile.

She was tall, taller than me, though nowhere near his height, and carried herself like she owned every space she entered. Glasses, high ponytail, tailored pencil skirt. Pretty. Confident. Effortlessly graceful.

She laughed at something he said, then took the coffee he handed her. No giggles or hair flips, just the composed elegance of someone who knew she didn’t need to try.

She was mature. Like him.

It made me feel... small. Bitter, even. Just yesterday I was dressed like some sex-fantasy schoolboy, leash and all. Bet she wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.

Even dressed for work, you could see her curves through the crisp white shirt and fitted blazer. She looked like someone who belonged in his world.

“Okay,” she said brightly, “I’ll be happy to come to the housewarming, Blake.”

Housewarming?

She grinned, confident and sure of herself, like she already knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was him.

Blake smiled back at her. Then he saw me.

---