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Insomnia (Sexual Misconduct Volume I)

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by Bethany Bazile




  Insomnia

  Sexual Misconduct

  Volume One

  Copyright © 2014 by Bethany Bazile

  All rights reserved.

  Warning: No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Cassie McCown of Gathering Leaves Editing

  Proofread Lori Whitwam of Ripleygold Proofreading & Copyediting

  Get new release notifications by clicking here: Mailing list!

  About Insomnia

  I was arrogant, pushy, controlling, and I was fine with that. What I couldn’t control were my dreams. Memories haunted me there.

  Even after over a decade, I found I couldn’t outrun them. Returning to the place they lived only seemed to trigger a landslide. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep. Some people drank a warm cup of milk, cuddled up with a book, or threw back a couple shots.

  Me?

  I fucked my way to sleep.

  Every single night, I lost myself in pussy. For a long time, it was the only way I knew to get to sleep. But it was getting less and less effective. I slept shorter periods of time before the dreams started.

  There was only one hope for my insomnia, and she was sexy, intelligent, and unexpected. I wanted to exhaust myself in her sexy little body and let her soothe me to sleep.

  The only problem… she was my therapist, and I’d have to break her code of conduct and totally corrupt her before I made her mine.

  ***Warning: This is an Erotic Serial and contains explicit sexual content and language. If you have an aversion to hanging off the edge of a cliff, you may want to wait until all three parts have been released.***

  Table of Contents

  Insomnia

  Unprofessional Lure

  The Voices In My Head

  Bow Down

  The Session

  Sibling Rivalry

  Family Matters

  Denial

  Sexual Misconduct

  Decisions

  Ruined

  Who Is She?

  Who He Is

  Family Connections

  House of Cards

  Part One

  Insomnia

  Xander

  It was hot, so hot I felt flames licking across my flesh, droplets of sweat rolling down my skin, and dry heat burning my throat. I was at the gates of hell with no salvation in sight, clawing at the door with bloodied fingers and clammy palms.

  I’d fucked up. I’d let my anger and frustration lead me down a dark road. There were no fucking bright lights down this road. No prayer that would take me to a better place. The only out had been death or a fate worse… Survival. Living with the destruction I’d caused wouldn’t be easy.

  “Xander.”

  She was calling out to me. She always did.

  “Xander!”

  I wanted one last chance to talk to her, but time was running out.

  “Xander!”

  I jerked into an upright position. Lying naked in bed, my sweat-covered skin felt cool in the air-conditioned room, but I was still on fire. My heart raced as if I’d escaped death’s grasp by some crazy slip-up.

  It’s just a dream.

  I’d escaped my nightmare but never outrun the memories. Coming back home had been a necessity, but staying had been a mistake. The only reason I’d stayed six weeks was my mother. After losing my dad, she was falling apart. She seemed fine, but I knew she needed me to stay.

  “Are you okay?” Gabriella asked. I glanced over at her, narrowing my eyes in confusion.

  “Why are you still here?”

  She smiled. The sheet she clutched to her chest fell away. “Don’t be that way, Xander. If I hadn’t stayed, who would’ve woken you from that nightmare?”

  She ran her hand across my shoulder and over my chest.

  “You need to leave.” I had a pounding headache, and I was on edge. The last person I wanted to deal with was Gabriella.

  “Xander…” she said in that whiny tone that scratched against my nerves like chalk across a blackboard. “Your hands are shaking, your heart is beating a mile a minute, and you never really sleep. Let me help you relax.”

  “I sleep.”

  “No, you don’t. Every time I’m here, this happens.”

  “If you would leave like you’re supposed to, then I wouldn’t have to deal with you digging into shit that doesn’t concern you.” I rubbed a hand over my tired eyes.

  “I can help you.”

  “You already did, and it was great. Go home.”

  “No, I mean… I know someone—someone you can talk to.”

  I narrowed my eyes as I looked over at her. My frustration built, and in a few short seconds, I’d be tossing her out on her ass. “You think I’m fucked up in the head?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Dr. Shaw is amazing at helping people with things like this. I’ve been to her before. Just talk to her and maybe she can give you something to help you sleep.”

  “No… I’m fine.” I tugged a hand through my hair, squeezed my eyes shut, and sighed. I was an over-controlling asshole. People came to me for business advice. I was an actor turned producer. I didn’t need to sit on some shrink’s couch and cry my problems out. I needed sleep. As controlling as I was, the one thing I had no rule over was shutting down my brain when I went to bed. When I was awake, I put everything in a box and shoved it into a far corner of my mind, but as soon as I shut my eyes, that box fell off the shelf and released everything onto me with a devastating blow.

  “Baby… just—”

  “I’m not your fucking baby. I’m not your anything. We have an agreement, Gabriella. You come here a couple times a week, we fuck, then you get the hell out. If you keep trying to push your way into my life, you’ll quickly find yourself completely out of it.” I threw the sheets off and swung my legs off the bed. I’d met Gabby five weeks ago at the local strip club. She was exactly what I needed—a quick fuck with no attachments—but lately she’d been getting a little too clingy.

  She stopped me from getting up with a hand to my shoulder. Her breasts pressed against my back as she moved in closer, lips at my ear.

  “I’m sorry.” She moved her hand over my ribs and down my abdomen. “Let me help you forget, help you sleep.”

  Her hand wrapped around my cock, which quickly began to harden. That was the problem, though. I needed sleep, and the exhaustion from sex always got me there, but the dreams that waited there made it the last thing I wanted to do.

  Gabriella hopped off the bed and dropped down in front of me. Her mouth was really good at two things: pissing me the fuck off and drawing an incredible orgasm out of me. I threaded my hands into her hair as she nudged my thighs apart with her head.

  I looked down, watching her pink lips wrap around my cock, her hungry gaze locked on my face. I began to push my cock in and out of her mouth as she licked and sucked me like an expert. She moaned and groaned sexily. Yeah, she wanted it, and I gave it to her. Hard, fast, and hot down her throat. She swallowed perfectly as I let go into her mouth. She released me with a satisfied pop, and I dropped back on the bed. I was sated b
ut still a bit anxious as she walked off to the bathroom.

  She came back minutes later, fully dressed with her bag over her shoulder. She climbed onto the bed and leaned over to kiss me.

  “Sweet dreams,” she whispered, placing something on my chest as she hopped off the bed.

  I was glad she was smart enough to leave this time. She’d pushed me far enough already. I sighed as I realized I was in for another restless night. I’d go for a run, take a shower, and blow a couple more hours before I went to check on my mother.

  As I heard Gabriella shut the door to my condo, I picked up the piece of paper she’d left and realized she hadn’t finished pushing me after all. She’d left a business card behind.

  Dr. Avery G. Shaw

  Board Certified Psychiatrist

  Specializing in Psycho-therapy

  I stared at the card for over five minutes, playing a tug-of-war in my head. I didn’t know which was worse—admitting that I needed mental help, or living with this ever-exhausting lack of sleep. In the end, I knew I couldn’t function like this anymore. The card was my salvation whichever way I looked at. If I got this Dr. Shaw to prescribe me something, I’d at least be able to function without the maddening feeling the insomnia brought me. Whether or not I liked Gabriella thinking she knew what I needed, I’d go see Dr. Shaw, and maybe… just maybe she held the key to fighting off the past.

  Unprofessional Lure

  Xander

  I’d talked myself out of contacting Dr. Shaw. Hashing up the past filled me with anxiety and would probably only serve in increasing the dreams and insomnia.

  Three days later, I stopped to pick up a cup of coffee from my mother’s favorite café. I’d parked my car up the street and walked the half-block distance.

  Suddenly, there was a sharp sound of tires skidding across the asphalt that drew my attention. The oversized truck missed crashing into a car by inches before slowly moving on. As I turned back to the café, my gaze fell on a blue commercial awning across the street with the words Oasis Psychiatric Center displayed on it.

  I quickly pulled out the card I’d placed in my wallet a few days back. The logo and address matched. All signs kept pointing me to this Dr. Shaw. I crossed the street and entered the brick building into a lobby. A quick scan of the directory and I found her name listed on the third floor with a Dr. Matthew Evans.

  I took the steps because I always found when I moved around, I’d think less. Standing in an elevator would make me second-guess my decision to check out this doctor.

  I pushed through the double glass doors and was greeted by an older woman with graying hair. She did a double take as she recognized me. I noticed to the right was a door with Dr. Evans’s plaque on it, and to the left was Dr. Shaw’s door.

  “Good afternoon. Uh… Mr. Pierce… How can I help you?”

  “Is Dr. Shaw in?”

  “Uh… yes, but wait…” she called after me as I made my way to Dr. Shaw’s door. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I needed to get in that office before I changed my mind. I felt a strange pull, like this was the place I’d find some kind of relief from the memories.

  I pushed the door open and stilled. The receptionist said, “You can’t just go in there.”

  At first, I thought I had the wrong office. The woman sitting behind the desk looked up from her phone call, and my body responded instantly. Her red hair was in a tight professional bun, but it made her features that much more striking. And when she looked up at me… her eyes were a stunning electric blue that darted over me in a thorough assessment. I’d never gotten so hard from just looking into a woman’s eyes.

  Now if she’d only stand up, I’d get to see if she had the kind of body my dick was anticipating.

  Avery

  “Matthew, I have back-to-back appointments all week and I don’t want to—”

  “Avery, please this is very important to me—to us. We can network with a lot of people. It can bring in new patients.”

  “I know.” I sighed, rubbing a hand over my eyes. “But—”

  “We’ll only stay two hours, I promise.” He knew I’d do it, because no matter what, I always gave in. He barely let me get a word in edgewise, but we understood each other. After all, he was my best friend, business partner, and ex-boyfriend.

  “Fine, but two hours and—” The door to my office flew open, and I looked up in surprise, gaping at the man towering in the doorway.

  “Thanks, babe. Two hours, I promise.” Matthew rattled on as I stared at the incredibly hot stranger who’d burst into my office. I ended the call, putting the phone down on my desk, and continued staring at him.

  He was stunning.

  He wasn’t the kind of handsome you saw across the room and decided to flirt with a passing smile and shyly interested looks. He was the kind of man who made your heart start pounding, caused the fluttering to begin in your stomach, and arousal to ignite rapidly with a single glance. So alluring I’d risen from my seat and circled around the desk to get closer, making sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. They weren’t.

  He wore running shorts and a gray T-shirt that clung to his muscular frame. His hair was tussled in a sexy way. He was nicely built with broad shoulders and thick arms. His hips were slim, and I bet without the shirt he had the kind of abs I would want to worship with my tongue.

  God, what is wrong with me? I’d been so lost in my physical analysis of him I hadn’t realized how pleased he was with my blatant show of appreciation. He smirked and lifted an eyebrow at me as if to say, Have at it.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, crossing my arms. My receptionist had scurried in behind the man with a nervous look on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Shaw. I tried to tell him he needed an appointment, but…” She held up her hands like he’d bum-rushed her in the lobby, and I completely understood. The man was tall, solidly built, with a stormy expression.

  “It’s okay, Angela. I’ll take care of it.” She looked at him, then back at me. “Angela…” I lifted my eyebrows, and she finally backed out of the room. He watched over his shoulder until the door clicked shut, then turned back toward me.

  “What can I do for you?”

  I walked back to my side of the desk to get some distance and forced myself to stop gawking at the man. He stalked forward, looked at me curiously, and asked, “You’re Avery?”

  “Dr. Avery Shaw.”

  He shook his head with this look on his face like I wasn’t what he’d expected.

  “I need you to give me something to sleep.”

  “Something to sleep?”

  He leaned closer to me, his palms pressed to the shiny mahogany desktop. “A prescription, pills—whatever it is you therapists give out.”

  I uncrossed my arms and almost laughed at him. I knew his type: dominant, pushy, thinking he could command everyone in the room with a single word.

  What the hell did he think I was? A street-side drug pusher?

  “You can’t sleep?”

  “If I could fall sleep, would I have asked you for something to get me there?”

  “Well, Mr…?”

  “Pierce… Xander Peirce.” He said it slowly, as though he were talking to a clueless child. He read the puzzled look on my face and smiled, then held out his hand. I stared at it and then looked back up at him. The eyes I thought were gray from across the room now appeared soft green up close. They looked almost transparent. The beauty of them capturing my gaze and holding it there. His intense stare engrossed me, and it felt like he looked right into me, reading my thoughts—attuned to his effect on me.

  I reached out slowly, apprehensive of making contact with him. His large hand enveloped mine. I tried to quickly pull it back, but he held firm. I met his gaze. A heated look passed between us. Then he smiled, just slightly, but enough to reveal a pair of sexy dimples. As if the man didn’t have enough in his arsenal.

  This man was definitely a player, a fuck them and leave them—rip your panties and make
you take it type. I needed to duck for cover because interest lit up his eyes. I yanked back my hand and cleared my throat. If an ounce of what he made me feel showed in my tone, he’d have the upper hand.

  “Well, Mr. Pierce, if you want me to help you with your insomnia, you’ll need to make an appointment.”

  He shook his head, stood up straight, and crossed his arms. “I just need something to sleep. I don’t want to sit in your chair while you try to get me to tell you my deep, dark secrets.”

  “I specialize in psycho-therapy. Judging by the way you stormed in here, you’re not a patient man.” I leaned over the desk, copying the stance he’d just taken. “But if you want my help, you’re going to have to make an appointment like everyone else. You’ll come in here and sit in that chair, or that couch, or even the floor if it makes you comfortable. I’ll sit in my chair and I’ll dig so deep into the dark recesses of your brain that I’ll see what makes you laugh, cry, scream, and even what keeps you up at night. If your problem can’t be treated, then we’ll discuss drug therapy.” I stood up straight, smoothed a hand over my skirt, and sat in my chair.

  “I don’t cry. Or scream. Why are you making this so difficult, Ms. Shaw?”

  “Dr. Shaw. And you’re the one making this difficult, Mr. Pierce.” I rested my elbows on the desk and folded my hands. It was clear I had to take another approach with him.

  “How do you expect me to fight the demons that keep you up at night if I’m not armed for combat? I need to know everything about them before I can help you get rid of them.” I knew I wore a self-satisfied smile, but I didn’t care. I loved a good battle of wits, and just because Xander Pierce appeared to be king of his world didn’t mean I’d bow down to him in mine.

  He leaned over my desk again. Does the man need to be near me? Because in the five minutes he’d been here, he’d spent most of it hovering over my desk.

  “You think you have me by the balls, don’t you? That you have your fist squeezed tightly around my cock? I’m sure I can find plenty other doctors around here who will give me what I need.”

 

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