Chapter 16 #2
My jaw clenches. "You're not my dirty secret. You're everything to me. But timing matters. We rush this, and the fallout—"
"Fallout?" Her voice pitches higher, cracking at the edges.
"You mean like how my brother might punch you?
Or how my parents might want to disown me for screwing my therapist?
Yeah, I get it. But hiding isn't protecting us.
It's killing us slowly." Tears glitter in her eyes, pooling but not spilling.
She blinks hard, swiping at them with the back of her hand.
I stand, closing the distance in two steps, but she holds up a palm, stopping me cold. I insist, "Blue, listen. We can map this out. Figure out how to tell your father without getting me killed."
She shakes her head, lips trembling. "No more tests. No more plans that never happen. You won't fuck me. And you won't tell anyone you love me. So what do we have, Dr. Mercer?"
I stay silent.
She tearfully laughs. "I'll tell you what we have. We have nothing."
"Blue—"
"No. I'm done waiting for you to grow a spine." She rises and grabs her purse.
The words hit like a gut punch, stealing my air. I never considered myself a coward.
Am I?
"We're done, Red. If you've taught me anything, it's to have some self-respect." She flings open the door and flies through it.
I follow her. "Don't say that. We're not done. Come back here. Let's talk this through."
She pauses by the exit and turns her head. "Talk? That's all we do. I'm tired of words without action." She turns back and yanks the door open.
"Blue, wait." I reach for her arm, but she shrugs me off, stepping into the hallway. The door swings shut behind her, leaving me staring at the wood floor, my chest heaving.
Several minutes pass.
Amy's voice drifts from the front desk, hesitant. "Dr. Mercer? Is everything okay?"
I scrub a hand over my face, forcing my tone even. "It's fine. Just a tough session."
She appears in the doorway, clipboard in hand, brows furrowed. "Are you sure? Blue seemed really upset. I think she was crying. If you need to reschedule the next appointment—"
"No." I cut her off sharper than intended, then soften. "Keep the schedule as is. I'll be ready when my patient arrives."
Amy lingers for a beat, mouth opening like she wants to press, but she nods instead. "Okay. Mr. Hargrove called and is running five minutes late. I'll let you know when he arrives."
"Great." I step inside and close my office door. I pick up my phone and text Blue.
Me: I'm sorry you're upset. I know we need to figure things out. I'll come see you tonight when I'm done working.
Blue: Why? So you can come over, not touch me, and make me feel more rejected? No thanks.
I groan, start typing, then erase it.
Texting is only going to make things worse.
The rest of the day drags like sand through my veins. I sit through four more sessions, nodding at the right moments, asking the scripted questions, but my mind keeps replaying Blue's tears, her accusation echoing between every pause.
By lunch, I've checked my phone six times but haven't heard anything else from her. I force down a sandwich at my desk, staring at the blank screen, thumb hovering over her name.
Afternoon appointments blur together. A couple argues over finances, a teenager wrestles with anxiety, and an elderly widow processes loss. I jot notes and offer insights, but tension coils tighter in my gut with each tick of the clock.
Amy knocks once around three, poking her head in. "Anything I can do for you? Coffee run?"
I shake my head. "I'm good. Thanks."
She doesn't buy it. Her eyes narrow, but she backs off. "Alright. Last client's waiting."
By five, the office empties. I lock up and drive home on autopilot in silence. When I get into my condo, I change into running gear, hit the pavement hard, feet pounding asphalt as sunset bleeds orange across the sky.
Sweat soaks my shirt until my lungs burn, but the run doesn't quiet the noise in my head. Blue's face flashes with every tear, her anger, and the raw plea in her voice, eating at my guilt. I check my phone mid-stride and nearly trip.
Why isn't she messaging me?
Back home, I shower, eat a cold dinner standing at the counter, phone face-up beside the plate. Seven o'clock. Eight. Nine. The screen stays dark. My thumb scrolls through our old texts, playful ones that don't break the boundaries I insisted on, and heated ones from nights we broke every rule.
I finally type out a message.
Me: We need to talk.
Then I delete it and retype.
Me: I'm sorry.
I almost hit send, but delete that too.
At ten, I grab my keys, jacket half on as I bolt out the door.
The drive to her apartment takes fifteen minutes, but it stretches eternally from traffic lights mocking me at every stop.
I park crooked, take the stairs two at a time, my heart slamming against my ribs.
I don't use the key she gave me and knock with three loud raps.
Footsteps approach, and the lock clicks. She opens the door a crack, eyes red-rimmed, hair loose and wild. "Red? What—"
I don't wait. I push forward, cupping her face with both hands, crashing my mouth to hers.
She gasps against me, but then her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me inside.
I kick the door shut behind us, backing her against the wall, bodies colliding with desperate force.
My hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips, lifting her until her legs hook around my waist.
"Red," she breathes between kisses, fingers tangling in my hair.
"No more boundaries at home," I mumble, devouring her mouth, my tongue sweeping in, tasting salt from her earlier tears mixed with the sweetness that's all her.
Desire surges hot and urgent, my erection straining against her core as I grind once, slow and deliberate.
She moans into me, arching closer, nails digging into my shoulders.
I break the kiss long enough to murmur against her throat, "I can't lose you. Not over this. Not over anything."
She tugs my head back, eyes fierce and wet. "Then prove it. No more hiding."
I nod, claiming her lips again, carrying her toward the bedroom. Her shirt hits the floor first, then mine, skin igniting with every touch.
We tumble onto the bed, hands everywhere, breaths ragged. I pin her wrists above her head with one hand, trailing kisses down her neck, nipping at her collarbone until she writhes beneath me. The tiny quiver that always drives me insane takes hold of her, and it's sweet relief.
She's still mine.
"Red, please," she whispers, bucking up.
I release her wrists, sliding lower, hooking fingers into her waistband.
Blue's eyes lock on mine, dark and molten, as I drag her leggings down her thighs in one rough pull. She spreads her legs wider, shameless, voice dropping to that husky rasp I've missed like oxygen. "Look at how fucking wet I am for you already, Dr. Mercer."
I glide my palm up the inside of her leg, then flick my fingers against her pussy, taunting, "This pretty cunt hasn't been touched in a while." I lean down and deeply inhale.
"Don't," she pants.
I freeze, pinning my gaze past her torso and on hers. "Don't?"
"Don't finger me. I want you to shove your cock inside me and stretch me wide open. I want you to take every inch of me until I'm screaming your name and forgetting how to breathe," she says while trembling harder.
"Fuck, I love you," I growl, blow on her clit, then flick my tongue across it.
"Oh God!" she cries out.
My cock springs heavy and hard, already leaking at the tip.
I rise on my knees, grip the base, stroking it slowly, letting her watch.
"You want it dirty, Bluebird? Then beg for it properly.
Tell me exactly how bad you need this dick ruining that tight little cunt.
Because once I start, I'm not stopping until you're shaking, soaked, and marked up with my teeth and my cum. So say it. Loud."
"Please, Dr. Mercer. I love you so much. Please. Give me what I need," she begs.
My beautiful, fucking Bluebird.
Adrenaline and heat soar through me. I cage my body over hers, sliding my tongue into her mouth, and then pulling back an inch. "What do you need?"
She arches, fingers digging into my shoulders, nails biting skin as she grinds her slick heat against my length. "Please, Red, fuck me hard."
I slide my shaft over her clit.
She trembles harder. "Yes."
I flick my tongue over her lobe and ask, "You want me to pound your greedy pussy until it's swollen and sore?"
"Yes." She clings tighter to me.
I slide my hand over her throat, lightly gripping it. "You sure you can handle it without me playing with you first?"
"Yes. Do it," she pleads, her lip shaking.
I tease her wet entrance with the tip of my cock. "You're beautiful, Bluebird. So fucking beautiful and so fucking good, all wet and tight for me."
"Please," she breathes, digging her nails into my ass.
"Maybe you're too wholesome for me. Maybe you won't be able to handle me," I tease.
She shakes her head. "No, Dr. Mercer. Rail me so deep I feel it in my stomach. Please. Use me like your filthy little slut tonight so I drip with you for days. Please. I've been so empty without your cock owning me. Don't make me wait anymore. Don't—"
I push her chin back, thrust hard inside her, not stopping until I'm all the way in.
"Holy...oh..." She blinks fast.
I groan as sweet relief and heat like I've never felt before pummel me. I pull out and slide my shaft over her clit.
"R-Red," she stutters.
"Which one do you want, Bluebird?" I shift faster.
"Oh God," she cries out, her eyes roll, and her hips jerk. "R-R-R-Red!"
"God, I've missed this pretty cunt of yours. All of it." I shimmy again, then dive back inside her, burying myself in another brutal stroke.
Her cry rips through the room, her walls clenching around me like a fist.
I lean down to her ear. My voice comes out in a rough gravelly tone. "That's it, baby. Take it all. Feel how fucking deep I am? This cunt was made for me, squeezing so tight like it's scared I'll pull out again."
"D-don't! Please. J-j-just keep going," she begs, her body convulsing under me.
The man I never knew was in me before I met her comes out in full force.
I vow, "I'm not pulling out. I'm fucking you raw, Blue.
You're going to come so hard you soak the sheets, then I'm flipping you over and doing it again until you can't walk straight tomorrow.
You're mine. Now say it while I wreck you. "