Page 87 of Rather: The Therapist

I don’t lose either. And, a dick in her gut is all I have to gift her. We’ll both leave victorious.

My presence on the court hardly fazed Rather. She continued pounding the ball, waiting patiently as it bounced off the fence. I grabbed a racket and stood on the same fence she was abusing with the ball.

Intensely, I watched her feet bounce in the white sneakers with double Cs on them. They’d cost her a pretty penny, but I was sure she didn’t bat an eye when checking out. Now, she was using them to play tennis, bending them and scuffing them without a care in the world. I made a mental note to double up and send her a second pair.

As the thought crossed my mind, the ball suddenly headed in my direction. Unsure if it was intentional or simply a mistake, I stopped it just before it busted my shit. It would’ve been a nasty sight had it landed between my nose and mouth, busting them both. Unmoved, Rather stood with her hands folded and her breast pushed up on her chest.

The fact she’d attempted to leave me leaking with blood staining my clothes and the concrete beneath me meant almost nothing. Her beauty forced me to look past it all and focus on those pursed lips and annoyance in her stance.

“You’re in my way,” she fumed.

“You needed someone on the court with you. Here I am.”

“Wanted,” she corrected, “I didn’t need anyone, Priest. I still don’t.”

The way my name rolled off her tongue, even in frustration, did things to me. Good things to me.

“You’re frustrated,” I revealed, wanting and needing to step closer to her.

So I didn’t raise any red flags or go back on my promise to maintain her comfort, I stayed put.

“Sexually.”

Her breath hiked in her throat, swelling her chest.

“Pri–” she tried, but was unable to finish because she was interrupted.

“It’s written all over that pretty face of yours.”

She looked off, peeking back at our people. They weren’t interested in our conversation. They were occupied with Killian’s humor.

“They’re not worried about us, Rather, but I am.”

“There’s no us, Priest. Not here. Not right now.”

“Then tell me why you’re flustered? Tell me why you’re short of breath? Tell me why your heart is racing? And, tell me why, without a doubt, I know that if I invited you to that restroom right down there, you’d come?”

“Because I would,” she admitted with a sigh.

Now that we’d established that, I moved forward. There was no need to dwell.

“Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“But, not enough to make it clear? Not enough to let me know?”

“Is that what you want, Rather? For me to put effort into–”

“It’s been far too easy. I’ve been too easy. Effort, yes. That’s what I’m requesting.”

“My command,” I told her, heading toward the center of the court on the side where I’d be playing.

Separation was eating me to shreds, but it was necessary. I wanted nothing more than to lift Rather into my arms, slide her shorts aside, and dip my dick in her filling.

“I don’t play for free.”

Her warning was enticing. We neared each other and brought our rackets together. They collided just before we began to step backward, slowly.

“My dick is hard, Rather. I don’t plan to play for free, either.”

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