by Anna Edwards
“This . . .,” he utters, shaking his head as if he doesn’t believe me, but deep down, he knows it’s true. The focus shifts, the mindset changes, and he isn’t locked in his memories about what he is doing but focused on the here and now.
“Listen to me,” I say, attempting to capture his attention. “It’s not easy, and nothing we do here will make it go away overnight. This was the first step in understanding your mind, and the more we challenge your thinking, we can break through those walls you’re hiding behind.”
“What if I really did hurt you?” he asks, his voice laced with guilt. “I could’ve done something stupid.”
“Do you think I don’t have a panic button in my hand at all times?” Lifting my arm, I show him the small bracelet around my wrist with a pendant which has an emergency button inside. “I’ve worked with far more dangerous men in this office, and if I didn’t have this . . .”
“I don’t know what to say.” He looks genuinely worried about what just happened. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t—”
“Don’t be.” Taking a step closer to him, I place my palm on his chest in the hopes of reassuring him it’s okay. I’m not hurt. I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been before. “I have to say though, I can’t see you as a patient anymore.”
“What?” His gaze locks on mine, dark eyes wide as he regards me.
“I . . . That . . . What happened was something I’ve never done with a patient before, and I can’t continue—”
“It will never happen again,” he urges, but I’m already shaking my head.
“No. It’s not that. I . . . I want it to happen again.” I don’t know where this is coming from. My mind, heart, and body are betraying me. There’s nothing more I want than for him to do that again. For his hands to be on me, touching me, his lips on mine, stealing my moans, but he can’t do it if I’m also treating him.
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know how to do this,” I tell him. “I need what . . . I . . . This is unprofessional.” Shoving by him, I don’t get as far as my desk before his firm hand grips my arm and tugs me backward. My body spins around, facing him. It’s like looking into the sun, stunning, blinding, and even though it hurts, I can’t stop myself from drinking him in like a fine wine.
“I’m not a fucking man who can give you what you need,” he bites out. “I’m a fucked-up, broken asshole who can’t even keep his dick hard.” His admission is grit through pain-filled words.
“You may not be like other men, but that’s what makes you unique, real, someone I want to know.” Without thinking, I place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscles tense and pulse under my touch.
He’s so beautiful, so broken, and my heart wants to mend him, to show him that even though he’s nothing like other men, he’s still a man, nonetheless. He runs his fingers through his unruly hair, and I watch as he grips the strands and tugs until he winces.
Pain.
Such a driving force in the human mind. It makes us strong, angry, frustrates us, but we can’t survive without it. When you experience pain, you know you’re alive. Light-hearted emotions are natural to experience. They’re something you don’t give much thought to, but it’s the harder, more volatile emotions that seem to stick in mind for months, even years at a time.
“Adrian,” I utter his name, realizing our time is almost up. He must leave soon, and I realize I don’t want him to. I really fucking don’t. “Meet me tonight, for a drink.”
He looks at me. Dark eyes bore into mine, searching my expression for something. Perhaps he thinks I’m joking. But there’s nothing I want more than to delve deeper, to know the man who’s hiding behind the walls he’s so clearly built up around him.
“You want this?” he sneers, stepping backward. “I’m fucked up, doctor.”
“We’re all fucked up in some way or the other,” I tell him. Offering a smile, I settle in the wingback chair and watch him war with himself. He paces back and forth a few times before he stills and looks at me.
“Fine. Seven at the Eagle Bar downtown,” he smirks. “We’ll see how the good doctor handles me.” He shrugs on the leather jacket he was wearing when he walked in and stalks from my office, leaving me smiling after him.
I wonder just how he’ll handle me.
Chapter Three
Adrian
The bar is busy when I walk inside.
Once I order my drink, I head toward the booths in the back of the room and settle in one, hoping the beauty arrives soon. I thought she was fucking with me when she told me she wanted to see me again, and even now, I don’t believe it.
Gulping down the alcohol, I sit back and watch the people milling about — groups of friends and couples on dates. I wonder how many of them go through shit. Or have issues they can’t fix like me. My mind has been replaying the scene in Scarlett’s office, and I can’t for the life of me get over the fact that I came in my jeans like a goddamn teenager.
I wanted her like I haven’t needed anyone before. Her body crushed against mine. Her soft moans when I felt how wet her cunt was with every pulse of her walls that were slick and wet for me. It’s been a while since a woman made me so hard, so fucking needy, that I was tempted to fuck her.
It was wrong of me to do what I did, but I’ve never been a nice guy. What I experienced growing up made me cynical. I’ve hated the world since I can remember. Women have walked out on me the moment they noticed how much I struggled, and that’s when I realized I would never be able to love someone, and no woman would ever love me.
I made peace with it. I would take a one-night stand to a hotel, make her come, and jerk off all over her, which suited me. It was better than having a relationship and trying to explain what the fuck was wrong with me. If I didn’t see some bitch’s face again, it didn’t make a difference. I could move on. All of that worked, until now. Until Scarlett.
“Hi,” her soft voice comes from beside me, and I’m met with those familiar blue eyes framed by glasses. She reminds me of a goddamn librarian. So innocent and sweet, yet she got wet with my fingers in her cunt.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” I tell her, gesturing to the opposite side of the booth. I watch her slip into the seat. She’s wearing a floaty summer dress which hugs her torso, pushing her small tits up. She’s curvy, her hips are full, and my cock jolts to attention. She’s not like these skinny gym bunnies I normally fuck, and there’s something sensual about her hourglass figure.
“I told you, Adrian, I want to get to know you,” she informs me as the waitress walks up to the table to take our drinks orders. Once we’re alone again, she looks over at me, noting my cut. “You’re a biker?”
I smirk over at her. “That I am, sweetheart,” I affirm with a nod. “Why? Got a rule against dating a man wearing a cut?”
“I . . . No, I just didn’t—”
“The ink, piercings, leather jacket, and riding boots didn’t give it away earlier?” My pierced brow arches in question as I watch her flounder for a response. Those cheeks darken with a rosy shade of pink, and I wonder just how sexy her ass would look tanned the same color.
“My father was a biker,” she finally admits, stilling me for a moment. No wonder she wasn’t put out by my appearance earlier.
“Oh? And where’s he now?”
She lifts her gaze to mine, as there’s a shimmering emotion filling them, and I know in that moment what her answer will be before she utters, “Dead.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I tell her honestly, reaching for her hand and pulling it to my mouth. Pressing a kiss to her knuckles, I keep my gaze on hers. “This life ain’t pretty.”
“No, and that’s why I walked out of the club.”
“You get that pretty little ass on a bike?” I question. Our drinks arrive before she can respond, and she takes a big gulp of white wine before she calms somewhat.
“I used to. It’s been years.”
“You a biker princess, sweetheart?” I ask, thinking about the club
s in the area. We’re not close to many, and there are only two I know of beside the Fallen Saints. If she’s from our rivals, I know Draven, my VP will have my fucking ass for getting involved with her.
“Not anymore. That life is in my past.” She swallows another mouthful of wine before she looks me straight in the eye, “I won’t ever go back to the club. I walked out when my father was killed, and the man who took over was someone I don’t respect. I can’t ride with a President I don’t believe in.”
“Fair enough.” I sit back, releasing her hand. I watch her before taking a swig of my beer. The alcohol is calming my frayed nerves. I want to know so much more from her, but I can tell talking about the club is making her angry, so I veer off subject. “So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here with a bad boy biker?”
“You made me feel something in my office. I want that. I need it.” Her voice lowers in the last three words.
“You begging me to make you come on my fingers again?” I lean my elbows on the table, which puts me inches away from her. Those plump lips part with a soft gasp before she blushes a darker shade of pink, her cheeks now crimson from embarrassment.
“You’re crass.”
“You coming all over me ain’t crass, sweetheart,” I tell her with a smile. “It’s fucking delicious. I didn’t want to wash my hands earlier because your sweet-scented cunt was all over me. I bet you’d feel good riding my mouth.”
I watch her squirm, and pleasure zips through me. My cock is hard. It’s ready, and I wonder if I can even do this. Yeah, I can give her multiple orgasms with my tongue and fingers, but to fuck her, to feel a woman’s pussy sucking my cock in deep, that’s what I crave, and the only thing I struggle with.
“How about you finish your drink and I take you to my place?”
She considers my suggestion as I watch the expression on her face while she sips her wine. Her throat works as she swallows, and I can’t help but picture how good my cock would look in the depths of her tiny column.
“Yes.” She finally utters the one word I didn’t think she’d say.
I gulp down the beer, slamming the bottle on the table before nudging my chin her way. “Finish up. Let’s go.” I’m on my feet in seconds, and we’re making our way out the door as I lead her to my Harley. My one sweetheart that’s never let me down.
The roads aren’t busy, and my home isn’t far from here, so the ride is quick, and not long after leaving the bar, I pull into my garage and kill the engine. I help her off the bike, lacing my fingers through hers.
“You have a nice place,” she tells me when she steps into the living room. It’s not big, nowhere near Draven’s parents’ place, where his dad, who’s the President of Fallen Saints and his mom live in a mansion fit for a fucking king. Even though they have money, they’ve never made us feel less than we are. We get paid well, and we also get looked after. If we need anything, it’s at our disposal.
“Sit down. I’m going to grab a couple drinks. Beer okay?”
“Yeah.” She smiles at me from in front of the fireplace.
I watch her for a moment as she looks at the photos of the club. In the kitchen, I grab two bottles, snapping the caps off before I find her staring at a photo on the mantle.
“This is . . .,” she murmurs, running her finger over the old man in the picture.
“That your dad, sweetheart?”
She spins on her heel, nodding as she blinks, and tears trickle down her cheeks, which not only makes my chest tighten with the need to hold her, but my dick throbs at the sight. She’s stunning.
Chapter Four
Scarlett
My father is staring back at me, smiling as if the world was his oyster. The heat from behind me cocoons me, and I turn to face Adrian. “You’re—” I don’t get far enough to speak because he claims my mouth with a kiss. His tongue dips in, dancing along mine, licking at me as if he’s trying to devour me whole.
His large, rough hands grip my ass, pulling me against him, lifting me up, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. Adrian stalks through the house, and I don’t know how he can see where we’re going, because his dark gaze is on mine.
He sets me down slowly on the bed, but I don’t know how to do it like this. To be gentle, sweet. I’ve hated the sensation since I was in college. I want more. I need what only he can offer. My teeth graze his lip, tugging on the piercing, causing a growl to fall from his mouth.
“Little flower wants to be plucked,” he utters, offering me a devilish smirk that turns me to putty. His mouth trails over my cheeks, down my neck, suckling and lapping at me as he moves down my body, tugging at the dress, and shoving it up toward my hips. A deep rumble vibrates in his chest when he sees my white cotton panties. The flimsy material is ripped from my hips by his fierce grip, and the sting on my flesh elicits a whimper from me.
“Please,” I tell him.
He doesn’t respond, merely spreads my thighs wide, and his mouth lands on my core, sending pleasure shooting through me. My body is trembling with need when his tongue dips into my folds, and he feasts on me like a starving man.
I glance down, finding his dark gaze locked on mine. Seeing him there, between my legs, makes my toes curl and my clit throb with desire. I’m so wet when Adrian thrusts two fingers into me; the sounds cause my cheeks to heat. From the sadness of seeing my father to the pleasure he’s forcing on me makes stars dot behind my eyelids as they fall shut, and my hands fist in his messy hair.
I tug him closer, needing more, aching for him to fill me. I’m so close to the edge, but when he pulls away, I cry out in frustration. Opening my eyes, I find him smirking down at me, his face wet with my arousal. He leans in, kissing me, letting me taste my pleasure on his lips.
“You’re fucking delicious, doctor,” he compliments with a grin. He moves over me, his body pinning me down on the mattress, and I thought I’d feel worried, concerned, but I’m more turned on than I ever thought I could be — even more than I was in the office when he touched me the first time.
“In here. I’m Scarlett,” I tell him, lifting my chin in defiance.
His one hand finds my neck, wrapping his fingers around the delicate column, and he squeezes, not harshly, but just enough to speed up my heart rate. My hips rise instinctively, wanting him.
“In here,” he says, glancing around us. “You’re anything I say you are. My pleasure, my pain, my fucking toy,” he grits through his teeth. His hips roll, causing his bulge to press against my mound.
“Then make me your toy,” I challenge with a smile, and he does. The hiss of his zipper, the shuffle of material, and soon, the blunt tip of his cock is at my entrance. “Please. I need it.”
He teases me, rubbing the wetness up and down, nudging me, and I see it, the moment he leaves me in the bedroom and his mind finds that place that hurts him, forcing him into the dark.
“Adrian,” I cup his face in my hands. “Look at me.” I hold him steady, making sure he can’t turn away. His dark eyes bore into mine, searching for hope, or something, I’m not sure what he needs, but what I need is for him to stay present. “This is good, I want this,” I tell him. “Remember, I’m yours.” I don’t know where the words come from, but they filter through me, and I notice him raging with himself. An internal war I can’t be a part of.
Suddenly, he pushes away from me, leaving me open and bared to him. His fist is around his shaft, gripping it so hard I wonder if he’s trying to hurt himself to focus.
I watch him for a moment before I shove off the bed and drop to my knees. I’m before him, my mouth open, my tongue darts out, and I wait for him. I offer him something I know he can’t refuse.
Control.
His free hand grips my hair, tangling in the strands as he tugs my head back and shoves his cock into my throat in one long thrust, causing me to choke. The gagging sound echoes in my ears and spit drips from my chin, landing on my chest and soaking through the material of my dress.
His hi
ps pull away, then drive forward. I feel him soften, yet I feel him fight it. But it’s not enough, and tears fall from my eyes. I thought I could help him. He pulls out of my mouth and shoves himself back into his jeans.
Adrian spins on his heel, stalking from the bedroom, leaving me on the floor, pulling air into my lungs. I’m not giving up on him. If he thinks I will, he’s sorely mistaken.
Smoothing down my dress, I’m on my feet, making my way through his house, I find him in the kitchen, gulping down what looks like bourbon.
“Get the fuck out. Just, leave me alone.”
“Don’t you dare push me away,” I bite back, crossing my arms in front of me, I pin him with an angry glare. “I’m not some club bunny you can fuck and drop on the side of the road when you’re done.”
“Don’t you fucking tell—”
I reach for his crotch, my hand squeezing hard, and I see him wince. The moment he does, he hardens. I do it again, tightening my hold until he grunts in agony, but even through that, I feel his cock throb.
“Jesus. Scarlett.”
I continue my ministrations. “I’m not a toy to be thrown out when you’re done.” My hand is soon covered by his, and he closes his eyes. “I don’t give up on someone because they’re not perfect.” My words, along with my actions, cause him to groan in pleasure.
He spins me around. Pushing me against the wall, he bunches the material of my dress around my hips, then he presses his cock against the cheeks of my ass. The heat of him is unmistakable. His fingers find my core, as his mouth latches onto my neck. The cool tiles against my cheek make me shiver, but the heat of him warms me.
“This is a mistake, doctor,” he grits against me, then sucks the sensitive skin of my neck into his hot mouth, his teeth biting down. Two fingers plunge into me, causing another moan to tumble free from me, and I can’t hold on. I’m so close to coming.
“You’re fucking perfect, Adrian,” I retort, causing him to insert a third finger into me. His hips moving faster as he rubs his cock against my ass cheeks.
