Chapter 7 #2
I close my eyes, sinking deeper into my mattress. "Are you telling me you haven't been thinking about it, too?"
My name leaves him rough, almost pained. "Blue, you're crossing into dangerous territory."
I argue, "We crossed into it the moment you pinned your gaze on me across the room. It exploded when I walked up to your table. You didn't stop me, you steered me into a dark corner and pinned me against it, grazing your hard cock into my belly."
He exhales quietly and long, as if fighting with himself. Then he firmly says, "You need to listen to me. This is not a relationship. We're not dating or flirting. We have a therapeutic dynamic, and you're twisting it into something it can't be."
I circle my finger around my opening, whispering, "Can't be? Or shouldn't be?"
He goes still.
I put the phone on speaker and ask, "Why don't you ask me what you want to really know?"
"What's that?"
I take my fingers, move the damp material aside, and V my pussy. I snap a photo and study it. Then I smile, approving of the way it glistens, how my clit's swollen, and send it to him. "Take a look and ask me."
Silence fills the line.
My pulse skyrockets, and endorphins crash into my cells. I goad, "I told you I'm a virgin, so let's have a phone session since it's linked to my cutting episodes. Ask me what you want to know, Dr. Mercer."
Heated tension explodes.
"Ask me, and we'll never talk about this again. But if you don't ask me, I won't be able to help myself from cutting my clit," I lie.
He gasps, then rasps, "Don't you dare."
"Ask me what you want to know," I order, then offer a desperate, "Please, Dr. Mercer. I need to come or cut. It's your decision."
"Jesus Christ, Blue," he mutters.
"Look at my photo and ask me," I demand.
His voice comes out too restrained. "Fine. You said you kissed a boy. Has anyone touched you anywhere else?"
A high so intense hits me, I practically get dizzy. My breath shakes. I reply, "No one's touched my body but me, Dr. Mercer. And even my tongue is virtuous."
"What?" he mumbles.
"I only kissed that boy on the cheek."
"You haven't kissed anyone since?"
"Are you touching yourself?"
"Answer me, Blue."
I pull up my favorite photo of him and declare, "I'm so wet, Dr. Mercer. My drenched fingers are gliding over my bruise and pussy, staring at a photo I took of you tonight. The ache is so intense," I murmur, circling my clit faster and arching slightly off the bed.
It's faint, but a groan ripples between us.
My words come out shaky. "I know you're hard. I wish... I wish I could drag my tongue across your cock, while your mouth was on my pussy. I... I think it'd feel so good, don't you?"
"Yes," he says, surprising me.
Bingo.
"I haven't been able to come since our first session. I've let it bottle up, and I think you have too, haven't you, Dr. Mercer?" I ask, pressing my bruise harder so it sends new pains toward my core.
"Blue..."
"Please be honest. I'm... I need this so badly. If I don't, I'm cutting myself," I lie.
The sound of his breath fills the line.
I push, "Is this the first time you're cumming since we met? I want to know."
"Yes," he finally admits.
Relief hits me. I shove two fingers inside me and rub my thumb over my clit.
"I wish your cock was inside me instead of my fingers.
I can't stop thinking about it. About you.
If you were here, I'd let you take all my virginity.
I'd...I'd douse you in it, Dr. Mercer. I'd let you fill me with your cum so deep it'd hit my throat.
Then I'd swallow it back down to preserve it forever. "
He groans. It's loud, long, and rattles inside his throat like a caged beast.
I pump harder, swirl faster, and whimper. "I'm so close. Are you close?"
"Fuck, Blue," he grits out.
"Oh, Dr. Mercer. Oh... Dr. Mercer. I...oh God, Dr. Mercer," I cry out as adrenaline shoots like fireworks through my spine and lights me up. I convulse against the sheets, my skin dewy, and an onslaught of juices soaking my mattress.
"Blue," he mumbles, with no restraint left.
"Oh god! I soaked the bed," I tell him, still shaking.
"Fuuuuck," he groans, and then the line fills with our heavy breath.
I tremble in the dark, with the glow of the phone and his face slowly coming back into focus. My back registers wet warmth as my arousal sets into the sheets.
"I've never come that hard, Dr. Mercer," I breathlessly confess, and curl into the puddle beneath me.
His breath hitches. He says nothing, but I know he's still on the line.
"I think I squirted. That hasn't happened before. I thought it was a myth. Should I be ashamed?" I ask, not ever wanting this night to end.
He takes a few more shaky breaths, then asserts, "No."
"So squirting is good?" I sink farther into the pillow, dragging a finger over his lips in the photo.
"Yes. I imagine."
Imagine?
I question, "Does every woman squirt for you?"
A moment passes, then he admits, "No one's ever squirted for me."
I gasp. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
"Fuck, Blue," he repeats.
Don't let him pull away.
I blurt out, "But you wanted them to squirt?"
His voice turns hoarser. "Yes."
"So I obeyed you well?" I ask.
It's the wrong question. He turns. "This is wrong. We shouldn't have crossed this boundary."
"It's okay," I assure him.
"It's not."
I counter, "You called me. You're the one who couldn't stay away."
A quiet groan escapes him, muffled like he's pressing his hand to his forehead. "You don't understand how serious this is."
I try to return to where we were and, in a teasing tone, point out, "I understand one thing. You didn't hang up."
More charged silence. It's thick enough to slide under my skin. My pulse turns from excitement to panic.
His voice finally returns, lower and rawer, "We can't have conversations like this."
"But we are." I let a tiny tremor slip into my voice. "And you're still here."
"Because I'm worried about you," he snaps.
I whisper. "Are you? Or are you worried about what you felt tonight?"
His breathing turns controlled, but I know he's not. "Blue, I'm trying—"
"I know." My voice softens, turning almost tender. "I know you're trying so hard to be good. To be ethical. To be exactly who you think you're supposed to be. But you're also human. And you want me."
His inhale rakes down the line.
I beg, "Say it, Dr. Mercer. Just once."
"No." But the word trembles, and it's as good as a confession for me.
I let the silence linger long enough for him to drown in it before I murmur, "I don't want anything from you tonight except your voice."
He swallows audibly. "Blue…"
I breathe, pleading, "Talk to me. Please."
He fights for a moment, then, in an intimate, hushed voice, asks, "What do you want me to say?"
Everything in me tightens. "Tell me what you thought when you saw me tonight."
He exhales shakily. "You're pushing me somewhere I can't go."
"You already went there."
His breath breaks, soft and broken.
I beg, "Don't let me lose you. Not tonight."
He adds, "I'm still here, aren't I?"
I close my eyes as warmth floods through me.
His voice returns gentler, fragile. "You need stability. You need care. Not whatever this is turning into."
"I need you," I whisper.
He goes silent.
When he speaks again, he sounds defeated in a way that thrills something deep inside me. "Tomorrow. Noon at my office."
"It's Sunday tomorrow," I point out, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.
He continues, "One hour, Blue. Strictly clinical. I need to do a final assessment and refer you to another therapist."
My heart breaks. "What? You're giving up on me?"
"No. I crossed an ethical line with you. This is my fault. You deserve a therapist who can help you."
"You are helping me," I insist.
"I'm sorry, Blue. I'll see you tomorrow at noon," he asserts, and hangs up.
I call him back, but he doesn't answer. After the twelfth time, I text him
Me: Answer me.
Red: Go to sleep, Blue. Or I'll cancel tomorrow.
I stare at the message, with my heart pounding, afraid I might never see him again.
Several minutes pass. I can't help myself.
Me: Goodnight, Dr. Mercer.
I wait ten minutes, unable to break my gaze from the screen.
He finally replies.
Red: Goodnight, Blue.
So much relief hits me I tear up. He hasn't abandoned me the way Brax did. And it's the answer I needed. I hold the phone against my chest, close my eyes, and sink into the warm, throbbing silence he left behind.
He's not reinforcing boundaries.
He's surrendering to me.
And tomorrow, I'll make sure he won't stand a chance.
I'm not getting another therapist. Dr. Mercer is mine now and always.