Page 20 of Under Your Care

“My horny baby. Can’t even wait to hear why you’re here before needing to be fucked,” he growled, pushing a second finger in.

I let out a long moan while rocking back to meet each thrust of his fingers. My legs began to shake as he nailed my prostate with each thrust. I could feel the pressure quickly building inside.

“I’m gonna–” I couldn’t finish speaking as Greyson suddenly leaned over and sucked my pulsing cock into his mouth. I shouted and instantly released, trembling with pleasure.

Our eyes connected as he eagerly swallowed down my load. I collapsed against the bed, my chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. Greyson leaned back, propping himself up with an elbow. He gently brushed the hair from my face, then placed a chaste kiss on my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut as post-nut clarity slammed into me.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

God.

I hadn’t even tried to resist.

I wanted it.

He could’ve been coming into the room to kill me, and I fucking begged him to finger me?

“Get out,” I whispered.

Greyson - no - Dr. Cohen’s eyes switched from the look of pure adoration to something dangerous. Still, he put a tight smile on his face, his jaw clenched, as he too-sweetly asked, “What was that, Lane?”

I flung both arms over my face before shouting, “Get OUT! Get out, get out, get out!” I heard as he took a deep, measured breath. I felt the bed shift as he stood.

“I know you’re confused, sweetheart. I’m trying to make this as comfortable as possible for you,” he gritted out, sighing as he continued, “I’ll give you some time. I’ll be back with a late breakfast in an hour. You’re not to leave this room.”

The door clicked as it locked behind him.

“FUCK!” I yelled, balling up my fists and pressing them into my eye sockets.

I laid in my bed for a long time, staring blankly up into the bed canopy. I was brought out of my stupor by Chloe jumping back onto the bed. She eased my racing mind a little, meowing at me. I took a deep breath in as I looked at her sitting on her haunches, fitting right in with the room’s princess aesthetic. Carefully, I got down from the bed, startled to find fuzzy slippers waiting for me on the floor. I slid my feet into them, pushing my toes down into the soft cushion inside. My head hurt as I tried to make sense of the situation.

I wandered around the room, finding some of my things from home. I ran my fingers across the top of the gorgeous vanity mirror. Sitting down on the vanity’s cushioned seat, I stared at my reflection.

Was this a psychotic break?

Had I finally gone completely insane?

I took stock of the newly purchased, high-end cosmetics and a few fancy-looking perfume bottles. Why go to the length of buying me these things? The more I thought about it, the more I saw that potentially the entire room was styled to suit my preferences. But, why? Could this all be acoincidence? Maybe he had a sister and this was her room? I didn’t think he did, but Iobviouslydidn’t know him as well as I thought.

None of this was okay, even if he had decorated this room for me. He was my therapist. Didn’t they have rules about relationships with patients? Oliver had mentioned something about ethics. Oh, God. Oliver. He’d warned me several times about there being something off about Dr. Cohen. Why did I ignore him? Why did I ignore my own concerns? I knew he was weird. I knew he did and said things to me that he shouldn’t to a patient. I knew it was all technically wrong. Why had I allowed it? Why didn’t I report him or why didn’t I find a different therapist? I kept telling myself over and over that I was misinterpreting his actions - there was no way he was flirting with me; there was no way he was interested in me. Was it because I truly thought that there was no way or was it because I liked it and wanted to see how far it could go?

I had literally told him during therapy that I liked my stalker’s attention. I had a voice inside from the start, constantly screaming that he was danger personified.

To run.

To not entertain his advances.

To not keep every single tulip.

And yet, I ignored it. Even when I first saw him, I clocked that he was masking his disinterest when speaking with that client.

Had I wanted this to happen?

I held my head in my hands, letting my hair fall around my face like a curtain. I should’ve been searching for a way to escape. I should’ve been crying and screaming. I should’ve been contemplating fighting back. He’d already killed Tate - would he kill me too?

Greyson had known this was what I wanted from the moment I told him I hadn’t called the police for the break-in.

In truth, I had fantasized about him doing something like this. I just hadn’t expected it to actually happen. But now that it was, I felt stuck, unsurewhether to respond to the situation like a “normal” person or to give in to what I wanted.

---