Page 29 of Unethical

What an absolutely vile piece of shit I am for this. She’ll wonder if I fucked her while she was asleep. She’ll wonder if I used her body as selfishly as I wanted to. The question is, will she like the idea or not?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sarah

I’m trying to avoid his eyes. I feel like I’ve been sucking on a cotton ball, and I keep excusing myself to drink from my water bottle. He notices every move I make. His eyes are like lasers, burning into my very core.

Contrasting feelings intermingle in my gut. One sends jolts between my legs and makes me tighten my thighs. The other sends warning bells to my mind.

I’m uncomfortable. I shouldn’t want to be here with him, but worse, I can’t stop the thoughts I had last night as I touched myself. I have to pull myself out of this downward spiral.

I force my focus onto my work. Even thoughheis my fucking work.

My job is to rip apart his psyche and put it back together. I’m supposed to mend him instead of fuck him in my mind. Or fuck him in real life. Jesus, what am I doing?

“T-tell me about your time in prison, Maxim. Did you struggle with it, or did you adapt well?” I ask.

My voice wavers at the start, but I fall into my routine, and the rest of the sentence glides from my mouth out of habit. I love delving into how they handled being incarcerated, and I like to spend quite a bit of time unpacking those feelings that come from being inside. I tend to find that those who adapt really well to prison often had the rockiest childhoods. There’s a sort of safety and comfort in the structured routine of prison. He seems like he’d be someone who would have adapted well.

“We’re still doing this, doc?” he asks.

“What? My job? Yes. I have certain requirements the court demands I fulfill regarding your treatment. Certain progress that needs to be made for them to consider it successful. This is your second-to-last session with me, and we for sure haven’t made that progress.”

“What do you need from me?” he asks, as if he cares to give it to me.

“I need you to open up. You need to stop being this hollow shell of a person.”

The hollow shell of a man who I let have sex with me. Oh god. The heavy feeling of regret punches me in the gut.

He laughs. “You don’t want me to open up. I’m a bad person. The ‘hollow shell’ you see walls off a psycho from the rest of the world.”

My mouth opens and closes. How do I even respond to this? This man admitted to being a murderer last week, and he just admitted he’s capable of doing it again. I have a moral and legal responsibility to report my findings because he’s a risk to others.

And he’s not just a risk to others.

He’s a risk tome.

“Stop telling me those things, Maxim,” I whisper, shaking my head as I battle with myself.

“You wanted me to be open and honest, and now you want me to stop?”

I sigh. “I have a legal responsibility to report?—”

“Report indecent acts?” Maxim flashes a dark grin at me. “Like fucking your client?”

“You can’t use that against me,” I say, lifting my chest, even though I know he can.

He gets to his feet and walks over to me. I don’t have a chance to stand before he’s in front of me, his hands on each armrest as he leans closer. “I can, and I will, doc. You have everything to lose. I havenothing.”

A light sweat gathers on my palms. There’s nothing scarier than a man with nothing to lose.

“Do you remember the night I left you in your bathroom?” he asks.

I swallow.

“Did you enjoy my come on your cunt the next morning?”

My cheeks flush. I woke up thinking it was my own come from playing with myself because it had mostly soaked into my skin, mixing with my slick excitement.

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