Page 20 of Unethical

I come with a groan, catching it in my hand, then bringing my palm to my mouth and closing my eyes as I tongue my flesh the same way I lapped at her pussy. With long, driven strokes, I clean myself off so I can go into that little office and try to talk about my past. I swallow the salty, slick come and wipe a drop from my lower lip before smirking at myself in the rearview mirror.

“Showtime, doc,” I whisper, brushing my hair from my face with my clean hand.

I get out of the car and head into the office, careful not to wipe the last bit of residue off my palm. The bell above the entrance goes off as soon as I walk in, announcing to the otherwise empty office that I’ve arrived. I head right for the big white door at the end of the hall, the one with Dr. Sarah Reeves’ placard next to it.

When I step inside, she’s crying at her desk. I should have knocked, but then I would have missed out on seeing this painful, raw emotion oozing out of her.

“Maxim, I-I’m so sorry,” she stammers, wiping the tears from her face. “I can’t?—”

I step closer and put my hand over hers, pressing my come into her skin as I feign a human emotion that comes naturally for everyone else. It’s a comforting gesture that she meets with her hand over mine.

Well, Ithoughtit was comforting. She actually grips my wrist and plucks my hand off hers.

“I can’t do a session today,” she says.

I take a step back from her. “But what if I’m in the mood to talk, doc? What if I came in here wanting to spill all my guts for you?”

“You aren’t and you didn’t. We both know that.” The ghosts of her tears dry on her face. I’ve distracted her from whatever has her so upset, at least.

Believe it or not, I don’t love seeing her cry, even if I like being the reason she’s crying. I like that she’s distraught because she doesn’t know what to do with her feelings about the masked man pleasing her—mepleasing her.

I stride toward the couch and plop down, dropping my hands to my knees before my fingers intertwine on my lap. “What do you want to know about me?”

Sarah stands and walks to the chair right across from me. She sits down. Her chin rises. I can hardly tell she was crying any longer. “I don’t think you’ll tell me anything that isn’t a lie.”

“I’ll tell you a truth if you tell me why you were crying.”

She scoffs but leans back in the chair. Her eyes dance around as she stares at me, as if she’s trying to figure out if it’s worth spilling her secret to get out one of mine. It’s the only chance she has of getting that out of me, so she should take this opportunity.

“Fine,” she says. “But you have to talk first.”

“What do you want to know, doc?”

She circles her chin with her fingers. “Did you kill your foster parents?”

“Bold question.” I lean back, my shirt riding up as I put my hands behind my head. “But yes, I did.”

She blinks at me with much less of a reaction than I expected. It’s because she knew that answer already. She knew all along.

“Why?” she asks.

“Ah, one question at a time. My turn. Why were you crying?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not comfortable talking about this with you.”

“I’m not comfortable talking about my dead fucking foster parents with you either, but here I am. Spill.”

She rolls her eyes, but they land on me again before sinking to the floor. “I think I have a stalker. And he broke into my house last night...” She exhales.

“What’d he do to you?” I ask, leaning forward and putting my forearms on my lap. A spark of jealousy ignites in my gut. Why the fuck am I getting jealous of myself? It was my mouth on her. My tongue that made her come. “What’d he fucking do to you?”

Her cheeks flame red at the protective bite to my tone that’s even surprising to me. “Nothing,” she whispers, refusing to look at me.

“Tell me, doc. What did that man do to you?”

She sighs. “He used his mouth on me.”

A twisted flare of arousal eats away at that jealousy and possessiveness as she tells me what I did to her.

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