Page 21 of Rather: The Therapist

“All in or nothing.”

“I–I’m all in. There’s just one last thing– one last thought I’ve had on my mind since I laid eyes on you in the ballroom. I won’t live with myself if– if”

Suddenly, her thoughts were jumbled. The way she was shedding the weight of her world and falling in line was so fucking persuasive. So fucking sexy. So fucking unforgettable. Without a doubt, I’d return. Again. And, again. And, again.

“Once it’s come to fruition, that settles it. Consider your thoughts mine. Your movements mine. Your words mine. Your body—mine. So, what is it, dear?”

She stood almost six feet tall. I observed as she slid the chair back and peeled the straps of her dress from her shoulders. Her pace was agonizing but so fucking worthy of the wait.

She took her precious time sliding the black dress down her body, exposing round, perky breasts, a garter belt, and a matching thong. A black holster wrapped around her leg held a small .22. Mindblown, I sat up in my seat, rubbing my hands down my face to make sure I wasn’t making this all up in my head.

The fuc– fucking rules don’t apply to her either.

She twirled on her heels, offering me the full view. I appreciated that shit more than she knew. Her breath hiked in her chest as she stared at me. Her silence was loud. She was waiting for my approval, seeking my validation.

“You don’t need me to tell you you’re fine as fuck, dear. Me and nobody else. You know that shit.”

I loosened my tie before pulling it from around my neck completely.

“Two rules,” I began, “Never, and I mean never, get too far removed from reality that you don’t remember you’re a prize. You’re the prize. And, I’m lucky to have you here. Your presence is a gift, my dear. One I will treasure in spite of everything else. Understood?”

She lifted her head and then let it fall.

“Words.”

“Yes.”

Still breathless, she backed up against the bed, only stopping when her legs pressed the sheets. Just as she was, she stayed for seconds, allowing me to have my fix. My dick was threatening to bust through the seams of my slacks. I stood, unbuttoning my shirt while still fixated on her.

She was a fucking dream. Whoever had come up with the theory that perfection didn’t exist hadn’t met her yet.

Her eyes lingered, landing on the bulge in my pants. Finally, she released the breath she’d been holding, but was quick to pull in another and hold it.

“Breathe.”

She released it.

“Talk to me,” I commanded.

“Com–”

She swallowed hard.

“Come here.”

As if the words hurt to release, she scrunched her face. It was at that moment I knew the thudding she mentioned had intensified.

“Is that all you were thinking of, dear? Something leads me to believe there’s more.”

“There is,” she confessed.

“Then, show me.”

The thong was removed. The holster was next. The gun landed on the side table, announcing its presence with a thud. She rounded the bed and lowered her body onto it. Her legs widened, exposing the prettiness between them. Her pussy glistened. She was heated.

I removed my slacks, giving my dick the room it needed to expand. My briefs followed. My shirt and tie were the last to go. Holding a gold-wrapped condom in my hand, I followed her scent. Between her legs, I stood, peering down at her.

“Is that all you thought of?”

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