Page 81 of Rather: The Therapist

“Answer my fucking question, Rose, or we’ll be right here until you do.”

The idea of not having him inside of me lifted my head up and then down. Up and then down.

“Words. Use your words.”

“Yes.”

He loosened his grip and stood straight up against the bed. Where the sleek black wrapper in his hand had come from, I wasn’t sure of, but I was delighted by its presence. Within seconds, it was on his tool and my thong was pushed to the side.

Anticipation clogged my lungs and put an end to my breathing. I was stuck. Mesmerized by Priest's features, his readiness, his desire, and his skill. We’d been here before, so I knew his capabilities were beyond my comprehension.

His thick, meaty dick pounced on my clit, causing me to shudder with each blow. My stomach imploded as I began to breathe again. I inhaled deeply and pushed out fresh, shaky breaths.

And, without warning, Priest parted me. He drove himself into me. He split me right down the center. Naturally, my hands roamed in search of something to have, something to hold.

“Oh my G?—”

He sealed our reunion with a kiss. The guilt slowly crept from my frame, transferring itself to Priest. The energy was unwelcomed.

The first stroke recaptured my breath, but replaced it by the second one. The third stroke reminded me why I was here and not home eating the salad that was now in my trash bin.

“Ummmm.”

We were no longer attached at the lips. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to savor the moment but my climax was approaching rapidly. Too much time had elapsed. Too much was at stake.

His strokes deepened. My center sounded in the privacy of his suite, feeling the air with pleasantries we both understood were a result of my gratitude. The creaminess assisted his intrusion, leaving us both in a state of delirium, desperation, and delusion.

I could feel Priest peering at me as his right hand roamed my body, eventually ending around my neck. Gently, he squeezed. He was majestic. A fib. Fiction. Unreal. Majestic in every sense of the world.

“Eyes,” he requested.

“Pr–”

He removed himself from my gaping hole.

“Eyes, Rose.”

I reopened them, hopeful that my obedience would lead to his reinsertion. I was wrong. My eyes glossed with tears. I needed him inside of me as bad as I needed my heart to continue beating, however fast or slow that suited the moment.

Priest stood at the edge of the bed with a hand on both hips, never taking his eyes off me. He was collected. He was calm. I was losing every bit of control inside.

He sensed it. He saw it. He acknowledged it.

“Speak.”

“Please–” I whimpered, watching as he removed the condom from his shaft.

Saliva production made the bottom of my mouth tingle. My sublingual glands were hard at work, moisturizing my mouth to keep my throat wet. Preparation was key and if Priest decided to stuff my mouth with his tool, I needed to be ready.

“Please? Please what, Rose?”

He massaged his dick. It was beautiful, just as he was. The girth was consistent along his phallus. His scrotum was in pristine condition. It didn’t hang very low, but his testis had ample room for movement.

His cockiness surpassed his other characteristics and demanded attention. Priest was no fool. He knew just how potent his presence was. He knew just how possessive one became during and after an encounter.

He knew just how fucking irresistable his pole was. He knew his pace was perfection. Everything and nothing in particular about his bedroom skills justified his arrogance and I couldn’t be upset about it.

“Put it back.”

---