14. Chapter Fourteen
chapter fourteen
. . .
Carter
Pete and I rounded the final block back to my house. The morning felt off without Olivia here—a fact I didn’t care to examine too closely. So I took her dog for a walk. He was incredibly well-trained. I wasn’t sure who I had to thank for that. Perhaps it was just inherent to the breed.
When we reached the fenced-in backyard, I let Pete off his leash to do his business and headed for the door. Pausing in the kitchen to grab a glass of water, I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard what could only be described as moaning.
I followed the noises to the half bathroom just past mine and Olivia’s respective workspaces. There was only one person who could be the source of those sounds. A glance at my security system confirmed that Olivia had entered the house ten minutes ago, and she wasn’t at her desk.
What is she doing in there?
I stood stock still, straining to hear. Then I caught another muffled sound that sent a jolt straight to my dick .
Jesus Christ. Is she...? Here? Now?
The sounds were unmistakable now, growing more desperate with each passing second. Fuck. The moaning became louder, and I heard her panting. I should leave. Yet I couldn’t tear myself away.
I palmed my hardening cock through my slacks, trying to ease the rapidly building ache. This was way beyond inappropriate. I had no business standing here with my dick in my hand, listening to her get herself off.
But God help me, I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to barge in there, push her up against the wall and fuck her until she screamed. Wanted to feel her tight heat clenching around me as I buried myself inside her over and over again. I wanted...
A choked cry pierced the air, followed by a drawn-out moan that made my balls tighten and my vision blur. She was coming. Holy hell.
My cock throbbed against my zipper as I listened to her come down from the high of her orgasm. Reluctantly, I pulled away from the door and hurried to sit behind my desk where I could hide the evidence of my arousal.
A few minutes later, while I was pretending to check emails, Olivia returned to her desk. I was at a crossroads. I could confront her, or I could pretend it never happened. But, if nothing else, I was curious.
Erection secured beneath my waistband and only visible if you were really looking, I rose from my desk and made my way to her workstation. Her face was flushed and her hair mussed. She looked thoroughly fucked. By her own hand. In my bathroom. Jesus.
Her eyes met mine and widened in horror, a crimson blush staining her cheeks. “Carter! You're here. I...I didn't—I mean, I thought you were...” she stammered, wringing her hands.
“At a meeting? I finished early, so I took Pete for a walk.”
“Did you?—”
“Hear you? Yes.”
“Oh God,” she whispered. “I'm so sorry. I never would have—I mean, I didn't think anyone would...” She trailed off, looking like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
I should’ve let her off the hook, told her it was fine, no big deal. But I couldn't seem to find the words. My mind was still reeling with the knowledge of what she'd been doing in there. What I'd heard.
“Olivia,” I started, not even sure what I intended to say.
But she cut me off, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I know how it must have looked—sounded. But I swear, it's not what you think. It wasn't just...you know, for fun.”
I arched a brow. “No?”
She shook her head vehemently. “It's my pelvic pain. Dr. March told me it's pelvic floor tension myalgia. She told me to… “ She paused, biting her lip. “She told me orgasms might help. Temporarily, at least. The muscle relaxation and endorphin release dulls the pain for a little while. So when you weren't here, I thought I might… try.”
I stared at her, processing this new information. She wasn't getting herself off for kicks. She was doing it for pain management. And here I was with a raging hard-on like some kind of depraved asshole.
“Shit, Olivia. I'm sorry. I didn't realize.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to clear the lingering lust from my brain. “ You don't have to explain yourself to me. It's none of my business.”
“But I don't want you to think—I mean, I would never do something like that at work. But I was hurting, and I needed...” She shrugged helplessly.
Fuck . The vulnerability in her eyes made my chest ache. She was in pain and instead of offering support, I was standing here mentally undressing her. “Hey,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “You don't owe me any explanations, okay? I'm just sorry you're hurting. Is there anything I can do? I could get you some ibuprofen or a heating pad?”
She shook her head. “No, it's okay. This helped the most, honestly.” A wry smile creased her mouth. “Nature's morphine, I guess.”
I swallowed. “Right. Well, uh, don't let me keep you from your... treatment.”
Oh, for fuck's sake, Cassidy. Real smooth. Olivia flushed an even deeper shade of red before gathering herself and pasting on that fake fucking smile I hated so much. “I should get back to work,” she chirped. “Those contracts won't review themselves!”
Back in my office, I sank heavily into my chair, trying to focus on project proposals. But my mind kept going back to Olivia—the flush on her cheeks, the breathy quality of her voice, the way she bit her lip. Jesus Christ, I need to get a grip.
She was my assistant. And more importantly, she was in pain. Real, debilitating pain. The fact that getting herself off in the bathroom was the only thing bringing her some measure of relief? It made me feel like an absolute ass for sexualizing it, for letting my imagination run wild with thoughts of her spread out on that bathroom counter, working herself over...
“Fuck,” I growled under my breath, giving my head a hard shake. This train of thought wasn't helping matters. At all.
I needed some answers. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I pulled up Mel's number and fired off a text.
CARTER
Hey, Doc. Quick question. Did you seriously tell Olivia to masturbate as pain management?
I hit send before I could change my mind, leg bouncing as I awaited her reply. My phone pinged a few minutes later, and I snatched it up.
MEL
Well, hello to you too, sunshine. And in case you haven’t heard, there’s this thing called doctor-patient confidentiality. Why do you ask?
I huffed out a breath, trying to figure out how to respond without sounding like a complete tool.
CARTER
Because I caught her rubbing one out in my spare bathroom, and now I can't stop picturing it.
Backspace, backspace, backspace. Yeah, definitely couldn't say that. I settled on something a little less skeezy.
CARTER
She took your advice. Here. While I was in the house. Things got a little... awkward.
The dots signaling Mel's reply appeared immediately.
MEL
Ohhh boy. Okay. She's just following my medical advice. It's nothing to get weird about.
CARTER
You say that. But you didn't have to listen to her getting herself off ten feet from your desk.
I regretted the text as immediately. It revealed far too much about my current state of mind. But Mel was already responding.
MEL
Yikes. Yeah, I see how that would be... distracting. Look, I know it's an unusual situation. But try to remember it's about pain management for her, not sexual gratification. If it really makes you that uncomfortable, maybe set some boundaries about private time/space so you can both focus on work.
Boundaries. Right. I could do that. I needed to do that, for both our sakes.