On one hand, I have new patients who exhibit all the signs of a toxic relationship: anger spewing from the man, fear emanating off the woman, faded bruises that look to be covered with makeup, and an obvious level of control that exceeds anything that can be considered healthy.
On the other hand, a blast from my not-so-distant-past has returned, and the effects of her arrival are like wildfires being set throughout my life. The flames are spreading too rapidly for me to put them out, and somebody is bound to be burned.
I don’t know when things became so out of control, but if I don’t reel it all in, everything I’ve built will become ashes in the wind.
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My hands roam over Evelyn’s body, grabbing and squeezing every part of her. She feels so good beneath my grasp, and the hunger in me wants to devour her, especially when she moans in the way only she can. When I hear her, it sends a jolt of desire up my spine, and I want nothing more than to be inside of her.
“Jesus fucking Christ, why do you look so good?” I ask as I push Evelyn backwards. Our mouths stay glued together as she takes baby steps toward her desk. Once we reach it, I position myself between her legs and force her to lean against the wood. “We have dinner reservations in half an hour, and you open the door looking like this? What am I supposed to do with you?”
Evelyn leans forward and licks my neck before grazing my flesh with her teeth. “Well, Dr. Colson, it’s a twenty minute drive to the restaurant, so I suggest you do what you want as fast as you can.”
“Yeah? Tell me what you want me to do.”
Evelyn smiles like a child who has just gotten her way. She sits on the desk and reaches down past her knees, pulling her dress up inch by inch until I can see the sexy white lace of her panties.
“I like when you give me control, Dr. Colson,” she says with a devilish grin.
“I don’t mind every now and then,” I reply, dropping to my knees, because I know exactly what Evelyn wants. I just want to hear it from her lips. “Tell me, Dr. Monroe.”
Evelyn reaches down and runs her hand over my buzzed haircut before gripping the back of my head.
“Taste me, Malcolm.”
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Will now lives in Delaware with his wife and 3 kids, and when he’s not writing bestselling books, he’s writing poems or songs, and reading everything he can get his hands on. He’s fascinated with history, science, and politics, has deployed to the Middle East 3 times, and always values an inconvenient truth over a reassuring lie.