Page 130 of Rather: The Therapist

Down.

Up.

Down.

Priest didn’t announce his pending arrival because he was too afraid I would remove myself. He didn’t have to. I felt him stiffen inside me and all around me. Just as his semen filled me, I rained down on him. Heavily. Heavenly.

Shit. I tapped the steering wheel as the flashback caused a flood in my undies. Undoubtedly, they were ruined.

“Your destination is on the left. 11206 Lakeshore Drive.”

Priest had rose to the top of my list of clients and he was not number two. For an hour, I had my way with him, driving us both mad. Things between us had spiraled into something neither of us could control. But, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

I turned into the long driveway that started at the top of the road and ended at the front of the incredibly beautiful home. Priest stood near the garage, waving me over. From my understanding, I’d be parking my car inside. Though we would be alone for the weekend, one could never be too careful.

“Shhhh.”

I dipped the warm towel in the bowl of hot water as he protested.

“Untie me.”

He was putty. He was tapped out. He was vulnerable. He was bare. He was powerless.

The subtle requests were quieter as each rolled off his tongue. His submission hadn’t come easy, but it was magnifying. He’d cared for me on many occasions. It was my turn to take good care of him.

“When I’m ready,” I told him for the twelfth time.

He was struggling. His masculinity had taken a blow, but it was a beautiful one. Convincing him that he could surrender to me started with him trusting me. His history with women wasn’t one he was proud of, so he was careful. He was calculated.

But, with me, he didn’t have to be that person. I wanted the raw version. The one that hadn’t been altered by the pain of his past.

“You can let it down, Priest.”

He quieted, closing his eyes as my words penetrated him.

“I’m not here to cause you any pain.”

I ran the warm cloth down his chest.

“It’ll never be the case.”

Gently, I cleaned my nature from his thighs.

“Eyes,” I demanded.

He lifted his head, staring down at me with the weight of his world on his shoulder.

Let me have it.

I wanted his burdens. His pain. His worries. His stress. His hardships.

“Do you understand, Mr. Valentine?”

His limp shaft was crusted with a thin white layer of gratitude. My pussy was beyond grateful for his contributions.

“Answer me.”

Weakly, he nodded. Slacked facial features and rounded shoulders displayed his defeat in high definition.

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