Insomnia (Sexual Misconduct Volume I)

by Bethany Bazile

  Ellie placed a plate of pasta in front of me and sat next to me with hers. She nudged me gently with her elbow to get my attention. “What are you thinking about?”

  “How far we’ve come.”

  She smiled, one of those faraway smiles that happened when you took a trip down memory lane and were satisfied with where you ended up.

  “Yeah, we have.” She leaned her head against mine and sighed. “Family matters, right?”

  “Yeah, Ellie, it does.” Family matters were the words I whispered to her every night, because if I didn’t—in our situation—we would’ve forgotten.

  “I love you, Avery.”

  “Love you too, Ellie.” We tuned out the past and talked about her classes while we enjoyed the dinner she’d made us.

  Denial

  Xander

  I thought Avery would cancel on me again. So when I walked in her office and Angela said she was waiting on me, I was surprised and relieved.

  “I brought lunch,” I announced, holding up the bag of sandwiches I’d picked up at the deli up the street.

  “I already ate,” she deadpanned, her gaze cold and emotionless.

  So that’s how she wants to play this. She’d prepared herself with a full-metal armor that consisted of a frosty attitude and clipped responses.

  “Do you mind if I eat?” I smiled. She shrugged, still completely frigid and detached.

  I sat across from her at her desk and took out my lunch. “So are you from Washington, Avery? Or did you move here from somewhere else?”

  She didn’t respond, just looked at me. The contrast between her auburn hair and striking blue eyes was fascinating, even when she was shooting ice-cold daggers at me.

  “Come on, give me something.”

  She sighed. “Born and raised here.”

  I smiled but quickly wiped it off when I noticed her annoyance.

  “Your parents must be glad you stayed close to home.”

  Her frown deepened. “My parents are dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

  “Are—”

  “Are we here to talk about me or you?” She cut me off, sensing another question coming on.

  “I’m just building a trusting relationship with my therapist.”

  She narrowed her eyes and quietly watched me eat. As soon as I crumpled the wrapper from my lunch and tossed it in the trash, she rose from her desk. “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get started.”

  She grabbed a notepad and pen and led me over to the couch. She sat in her black, tufted, high-winged chair and crossed her legs.

  “Do you have trouble falling asleep or staying there?” She jumped right in. She was all about being a professional, and I was waiting for my opportunity to shake her up.

  “If I have a friend to keep me company, then I have no problems getting to sleep.”

  “So you use sex to get to sleep.”

  “You say it like there’s something wrong with it.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it, but it’s just a coping mechanism.” She nervously bit on her pen with that comment. She was probably remembering the text she’d sent me the other night. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with the underlying problem.” She scribbled in her notepad, then continued. “So after you… cope—”

  “I prefer fuck.” I cut her off.

  She glared at me. She wanted to respond, but that would involve breaking her professional stance. She took a deep breath and kept her comment sealed behind her tight-lipped grimace.

  “How long are you sleeping afterward?”

  “I really think you would be a lot more informed if you just observed—or participated in the whole process.” I grinned. She ignored my comment. Again.

  “Do you drink alcohol to get to sleep?”

  “I’m a recovering alcoholic, Dr. Shaw. Which I’m sure you know since you keep updated with reliable entertainment magazines.”

  “Someone told me not to believe everything written in those.”

  “Smart person.”

  There was a trace of a smile on her face. Maybe the ice queen routine was thawing.

  “So you say your insomnia started when you came back to town. Are you aware of anything that would trigger this? Family issue? Anything traumatic associated with coming home?”

  “No.”

  “You’re not even trying.”

  “You asked me a question and I answered it.”

  “Way too quickly. You didn’t even think about it. If you don’t want to talk to me about what’s keeping you up at night, why are you here?”

  “Because I enjoy your company.”

  “This is a waste of my time, Mr. Pierce. Maybe you should make another appointment when you get serious about this?”

  “Oh, I’m serious, Dr. Shaw. I seriously would like to stop playing this game.”

  “What game?” She’s in denial.

  “Can I ask you a question, Dr. Shaw?”

  “By all means.” She looked at her watch. “We’re still on your dollar.”

  “In your professional opinion, would you agree that denial is a big problem with your patients?”

  She nodded.

  “Your job is all about getting people to open up and be honest.”

  “Seems to be the crux of the matter with you, Mr. Pierce.”

  “It’s Xander.” She glared. I continued. “So it would only be fair that you be honest with me before I can open up. You know… the building trust thing again.”

  “Are you going to get to the point?”

  “I need to know how long you’re going to keep denying this attraction between us.”

  “There’s no—”

  “Wait…” I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs, tilted my head, and studied her intently. “Just know, whether you deny it or not… we’re going to fuck, Avery.”

  “Mr. Pierce—”

  “I thought we were past the formalities.”

  “It’s the only way to maintain any professionalism with you!” And just like that, she broke out of character. She surprised herself with that outburst, but it was exactly what I intended. Her demeanor before had been rigid, and she’d covered herself in a shroud of professionalism that was more of an iron-clad shield. A shield she’d put up to block my advances. Her skin flushed, and she breathed raggedly—angrily.

  “Since I’m paying you to be professional, I insist you call me Xander. Besides, I like the way my name sounds rolling off your tongue. And that look you get when you say it…”

  “There isn’t any look.”

  “Oh, there is… because each time you say Xander, you say it in this breathy whisper and you cross your legs together as if that will help the ache you’re feeling in your pussy.”

  “Mr. Pierce…” she said in a warning tone I chose to ignore.

  “Then you get this faraway look in your eyes. Tell me… what are you thinking about, Avery? You see it, don’t you? The images of us, hot, sweaty, fucking like-”

  “Xander!” She jumped out of her seat and walked straight to the door. “We’re done here.”

  She held open the door, waiting for me to leave. I considered using other tactics to get her to admit to her attraction to me, but I knew I’d pushed her too far already. She wouldn’t even look me in the eyes as I passed her, and the door slammed shut as soon as I made it across the threshold.

  I pulled my phone out as soon as I got to the car and dialed the one person who’d get me anything I needed to know about Avery.

  “Hello?” Marcus answered.

  Marcus was my agent, best friend, and sometimes private investigator because he had a way of finding things out about people.

  “I need you to check someone out for me.”

  “Who? And more importantly, why?”

  “Her name is Dr. Avery Shaw. I’m seeing her to help me get to sleep.”

  “You can’t sleep? I thought it was getting better.”


  “Not since I came back here.”

  “I told you, you should’ve bailed weeks ago. Why are you sticking around and going to a shrink? You do know if the press gets ahold of this, you’ll be a drug addict and mentally unstable.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. Just check her out for me.”

  “Do you think she’ll leak info to the press?”

  “No, she’s not like that. She’s…”

  “She’s what?” I didn’t respond, and after an awkward couple of seconds of silence, Marcus got it. “Oh… you have a thing for your therapist, and she shut you down.”

  “She didn’t shut me down.”

  “Yes, she did.” He laughed. “The great Xander Pierce is cock-blocked by a woman with professional decorum. And now you think you can dig into her life so you can figure a way in.”

  “Can you do it or not?”

  “I’ll look into it, but only because I want to know who you’re trusting with your deep, dark secrets.”

  “Thanks.” I hung up, but we both knew I would never trust anyone besides Marcus with my secrets.

  Sexual Misconduct

  Avery

  “Dr. Shaw?”

  I pressed the intercom button on the phone to respond to Angela. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Pierce is here to see you.”

  “Please inform Mr. Pierce that his appointment is for next week.” I heard Xander arguing, then trying to charm his way in, and laughed when Angela shut him down. I’d purposely pushed his appointment forward a week. Maybe with the extra time, he’d be ready to open up. Or maybe I was the one who needed the time. As much as I’d like to pretend Xander was creating an imaginary connection between us, it was there. I just wasn’t going to acknowledge it, no matter how much he tried to shove it in my face.

  I walked over to the coffee pot and poured my second cup, but really, it was an excuse to look out the window and watch Xander leaving. The second he came into sight, my pulse quickened. He wore dark blue jeans, black boots, and a white Henley that clung to his body. From three stories up, his aura was powerfully affective. Even his stride as he crossed the street was more of a sexy prowl.

  He pulled open the door to the café across the street as I put my coffee cup against my lips. He held it open as a woman pushed out a stroller, and just before stepping in, he turned and looked up my way.

  Shit.

  I jumped back, spilling the contents of my cup all over the front of my blouse. I put down the cup and tugged the shirt away from my skin. Just what I needed, coffee burns, plus Xander saw me watching him.

  “Dr. Shaw?”

  I pushed the intercom again. “Yes?” Please don’t let Xander be back. I knew he’d seen me watching him in the window, and I didn’t need a run-in with him at that moment.

  “I’m leaving for lunch now.” Okay. He’s not back. Thank God.

  “Okay, Angela. See you in an hour.”

  I unbuttoned my blouse and prayed I still had a backup shirt in my coat closet. I tossed my ruined blouse in the closet and pulled out an old black blouse I found in there. My bra was soaked so it joined my shirt at the bottom of the closet. I’d just have to make sure I kept my blazer on all day so no one could tell I was going braless.

  As I slid my arms into the sleeves, the door swung open. I was seconds from screaming at Matthew for always forgetting to knock, but it wasn’t Matthew standing at the door. It was Xander. He stood there staring at my fully exposed breasts with a shock that morphed into all-out desire in three seconds flat.

  I yanked the ends of the shirt together and held it shut. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I… I…” He stared at my breasts, though I’d already covered them up. His gaze made me feel like the shirt didn’t exist—like I was still exposed to his hungry gaze.

  “You can’t just barge in here whenever you want.”

  “I saw your secretary leave, and… I…”

  Shit.

  He couldn’t even stay focused on what he was trying to say. His lustful gaze traveled up and down my body. He was ready to pounce, and I needed to get him to simmer down. The attraction between us was real. The realest thing I’ve ever felt. An energy shifted in the air between us, making me feel things I never thought were possible. Not even with Matthew had I ever felt this rush of passion and lust.

  He pushed the door shut. I spun around, trying to button my blouse, but my fingers shook violently. Two hands covered mine. I froze. He was close. Too close. His hard cock pressed against my ass. He leaned into me, the stubble on his chin scrapping against my neck.

  “Don’t shut it.”

  God, he smells so good.

  I was about to lose this seduction game we played. I wasn’t even sure it ever was a game, because there was no competition between us. It was obvious we both felt this chemistry. It was overbearing—suffocating. We wanted to act on it—needed to. I’d been trying to be the logical one. But as he loosened my grip on the shirt, exposing me to the cool air, all rationale flew out the window.

  “Xander…”

  “Let me touch you.” His tone was gruff, filled with need. And demanding.

  No… yes… No!

  Though my mind was conflicted, my body was confident in its needs. I leaned back into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He splayed his hands over my midriff, slowly trailing them over my sensitive skin. When he reached the underside of my breasts, he gently cupped them, and then his thumbs brushed across my painfully erect nipples. Gooseflesh spread across my skin. I shuddered. I was wet—achingly so. My clit throbbed, breaths shortened. I was a massive ball of white-hot sensation.

  He bit my neck, then pinched my nipples, causing me to gasp. I pushed back against him. He hissed as I brushed my ass against his solidly thick erection. I lost track of time because one second his hands were on my breasts, then my thigh, and next he was parting my wet flesh.

  I reached behind me and dug my fingers into his jean-clad thighs in an attempt to keep from crumbling. He steadied me with a hand on my waist, then pushed me forward until I leaned over my desk, breasts pressed against the wood surface. He pushed up my skirt, then ran a hand over my ass before peeling down my panties. He used his foot to spread my legs wider, and then his hand was back, rolling my clit, teasing my wet flesh until I moaned and pushed back against his fingers. He slid one finger into me, slowly gliding in then out. It was torture, made me ache more. And he gave me more by adding another finger, stretching me, as his erection pressed against my ass, large and rigid.

  I groaned and pushed back into his prodding digits. He snorted. “Knew you’d be this fucking hot.”

  He pulled out his fingers. There was a shuffling sound, followed by the distinct clink of a belt buckle and rasp of a zipper. A jolt of excitement raced up my spine as the anticipation built in me. I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then he leaned over me, palms braced on the desk, cock nudging against my entrance.

  I sucked in a breath that ended on a hiss as he breached me with his thick cock. He filled me perfectly yet stretched me painfully with each inch he fed me. It felt achingly sweet. Like a sugar rush that went straight to my head.

  “Holy fuck,” he groaned as he bottomed out inside me. “So… fucking… tight.” He growled, then fucked me harder. “Your cunt is so fucking greedy for this cock. Tell me you want it.”

  He’d been crude and foul-mouthed from the start. Now that he was backing it up with action, I had to admit I liked it. It turned me on, fed the fire building in me.

  “I want it.” I gasped.

  Shit, I prayed to survive because the man’s dick truly felt like a thick steel rod. “So… big…” I managed between his sharp thrusts. My stuttered words didn’t slow him down. He’d established a rhythm, working me hard, pushing against that bundle of nerves in just the right way. I held the edge of the desk in a white-knuckled grasp. He shifted, his forehead resting against my spine, his thrust less calculated—more erratic.

  He fucking shud
dered. Knowing I was making him lose control, making him crumble, made me wetter—more aroused.

  “I need you to come, baby,” he mumbled, or begged, against my back.

  Baby? Fuck! That soft plea caused a fluttering feeling in my belly. The aching pressure in my clit, the delicious slide of Xander’s cock-those were things I could deal with. Fluttering? I couldn’t deal with that. It bordered on the kind of emotions I didn’t want. This was supposed to be an emotionless fuck.

  He straightened, yanked my hair, and sped up. He pounded his cock into me with long, desperate thrusts that caused my pussy to pulse, my breath to catch, and my nipples to bead. I’d craved this moment from the second I laid eyes on him. I’d yearned for him—hot and sweaty, pounding me with his magnificent strength, demanding I submit. Now it was all too real.

  An intense orgasm built in me. I burned with need, was so wet he glided in and out of me effortlessly. I whimpered at the delicious sensation. The sharp pain from the hair pulling, the growling animalistic sounds he made, and the crown of his cock pushing against that sensitive spot inside me were overwhelming. I went over the edge brutally yet beautifully. My orgasm raced through my core, rippled along my clit, and sent a roaring wave of pleasure zapping amidst my nerves. Leaving me lax and breathless.

  I saw bright spots behind my tightly shut eyelids as Xander plunged deeper, imbedding his thick cock inside me and coming with a raspy, “Oh… fuuuuck…”

  His cock pulsed and his body trembled with his release. He left a series of bites up my back and at the back of my neck, growling as he pushed himself deeper even though he’d already come. He was hot and sweaty against my back, fighting for air as we both came down from the most astounding sexual encounter of my life.

  After several long minutes of floating then descending—twitching and trembling uncontrollably—he pulled out, and we slowly stood. I turned around, pulled down my skirt, and buttoned my blouse with trembling fingers. The aftereffects were fierce and my senses were a bit frayed.