Page 91 of Rather: The Therapist

“Sounds doable.”

“Thursdays are no good for Princeton,” I interjected.

“Tuesdays?”

“As long as you agree to take him and get him back home,” I demanded, speaking to my father.

For my sake and the sake of our family, sending me to Rather’s house weekly would be catastrophic. I wouldn’t be able to keep my dick out of her.

“Without hesitation.”

“Then, Tuesdays?” She asked.

“Yes. Does two work for you?” My father questioned.

“It does.”

“Then, see you Tuesday at two.”

Her hand rested on Princeton’s head. Her eyes rested on me. My heart, it opened for her. She left it with no choice.

SEVEN

Large hands pulled me backward and into his pelvis. My pleasure was visible on his dick, making his strokes flawless and nearly effortless. My climax had slammed my body against the bed and I was still trying to recover as his neared.

He felt like a slice of heaven. If losing to Priest resulted in mind-boggling strokes and back to back orgasms, I’d meet him on the court every fucking day. He was addictive. I was dreading the day I had to end this thing we had begun two years ago.

“Wh— where you want it?”

His muscles tightened as he grew harder inside of me. I deepened my arch and assisted his elevation by pushing back into him, driving him mad.

“Fuck.”

I slid up and down his dick so effortlessly. I was soaking. He’d unstopped my well and allowed my juices to flow freely.

“Wher— shit. Where yo– you wan–”

“Right there.”

Admitting one of my deepest desires was difficult but necessary. I wanted him to fill me to capacity with his minions, though the consequences weren’t of interest.

“Rose–” he grunted.

“Right there,” I repeated, hoping he wouldn’t fight with himself or his logic.

All logic was out of the window. The emergency contraceptive tablets I’d emptied into the drawer right beneath the condoms should’ve made my intentions clear, but he’d ignored them just like he was attempting to ignore my request.

I rounded my ass in search of the hole that wasn’t occupied. Upon locating it, I submerged my index finger.

“Uhhhhhh.”

“You not playing fair, dear.”

“Right there,” I reminded him, massaging my asshole with my finger.

“Right whe– where?” he inquired, exposing his hand. He couldn’t resist. He wouldn’t deny me.

“Deep insiiiiiide—uh of me.”

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