Page 18 of Lonely
Filthy, filthy things.
A delicious shiver ran down my spine, and I massaged Anna’s breasts because it made her sigh with pleasure.
I didn’t know how it happened, but I woke up in her bed the next morning, her body wrapped around me like a koala bear, her soft snores brushing my neck.
And that was how I ended up giving her a ride to work while she discussed the weather and sang along to “Oh, Pretty Woman.”
Group sessions. I’d always hated them. But today wasn’t as tedious, because my favorite patient was there, watching me from across the circle with those moss-green eyes that burned a little brighter than usual. His attention was electric, and I liked how acutely aware I was of his presence.
He wanted to hurt me. Wrap his capable hands around my neck and squeeze until I blacked out, then bring me back just to do it all over again.
If he’d known the depraved things I wanted to do to him, I doubted he would’ve looked at me so boldly.
But I knew one thing: I wanted him to suck me again.
I needed those lips around my cock, and that fiery glare to pin me in place. Afterward, I wanted Mother to punish me for those vile, twisted thoughts. Thoughts that made me squirm at work. I might even tell her what I did, just to make sure she brought out the buckle.
It hurt. But it felt good. Because in my head, it wasn’theranymore. It wasCarter.
Carter spanking me. Carter telling me what a filthy boy I’d been.
Yes, I wanted him to hurt me real fucking bad.
Carter stared at me across the circle. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since he sat down. His hair was mussed, and he was pale, with dark circles under his eyes.
According to his file, he wasn’t sleeping. I’d withheld his medication because I liked how he looked when he was sleep-deprived. I liked imagining him pacing all night, alone with nothing but his thoughts in that godforsaken place.
His knee bounced.
He wanted to charge me. Wanted to knock my chair over, drive his knee into my gut, and wrap his hands around my throat.
“Come, you motherfucker.”
“Carter,” I said, pretending to jot something down. “You’ve been quiet. Anything you’d like to share with the group?”
His jaw tightened, and I felt myself start to stir.
Arms crossed, he kicked his ankle up onto his knee and then stared me down. He stayed silent, and I liked the defiance looking back at me.
The other patients looked confused, exchanging glances and whispering until I shot them a glare. They knew I’d take them downstairs to the basement if they didn’t behave.
No one wanted to visit the basement.
I checked the time on my wristwatch. The session was over.
“That’s it for today.”
Without another glance at Carter, I left the room and nodded to the nurses gossiping in the hallway.
They had been giggling more than usual, and it was grating on my damn nerves. Why did they sound like fucking hens? Clucking and clucking until I wanted to bash their brains in. God knew the gray walls around here would look less dull smeared with blood and brain matter.
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I entered my office and flipped the lock. I needed a moment alone to decompress.
A cold breeze drifted through the open window, and when I lowered my hand, I saw Anna seated on my desk, legs spread wide, her nurse’s uniform bunched at her waist.
But all I could focus on was that damn ankle bracelet and those blood-red heels propped on the desk.
“I was wondering when you’d return,” she purred, spreading her pussy lips with two fingers. I glanced up at the crucifix hanging on the wall behind her, a trickle of sweat sliding between my shoulder blades.
