Page 61 of Nine Months to Bear
I shouldn’t admit this. It’s twisted, wrong. But we’re past the point of pretty lies.Yes. It did.
STEFAN:You’re a surprise, Dr. Aster. So proper on the outside. So improper underneath. It’s intriguing.
If someone had told me a few weeks ago that Boston’s most infamous billionaire would find me “intriguing,” I would’ve laughed.
If someone had told me I’d be touching myself to a criminal’s sexts, I would’ve checked the nearest carbon monoxide detector.
But this is really, truly happening. My thighs are spread, my hand buried between my legs as I reread his messages. With eyes half-closed, body shaking, I fumble through a message.
I’m close, Stefan.
No,he orders.Be a good girl. Wait for me.
I try to slow my hand, but God, I’ve needed this release. This little glimpse of fantasy in the midst of the horror show of my life.
I’m not sure I can.
You can and you will. I want you to wait.
I remember what he said to me in his office, the words whispered against my neck as he held me on the edge.I want to see your face when you come apart for me.
The man likes control.
And I like giving it to him.
I slide a finger inside me. I’m sweat-slicked and trembling on the edge.
OLIVIA:I’m too close. I can’t wait.
STEFAN:I’m close, too. Thinking about how tight you felt around me.
I moan. It echoes in my empty apartment.
STEFAN: I might have to use my third choice after all.
The thought of him alone, jerking himself off to thoughts of me while I’m not there to witness his surrender—it drives me to the edge. Not of an orgasm, but of sanity itself.
Before I can stop myself, I’m texting him.
OLIVIA:I wish you were here.
His response is immediate.
Twenty minutes. Leave your door unlocked.
26
OLIVIA
I fling a throw pillow around yet again, trying to decide if it looks better on the left or right side of my couch. Or maybe right in the middle? Which one saysI’m A Cool Girl and I’m Totally Unbothered About This Impromptu Booty Call?
Flyaways stick to my sweaty neck as I frantically scan my apartment. I’m trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes.
Does the bookshelf with medical journals screaming “workaholic” send the wrong message?
Should I hide the framed photo of me receiving an award from my unsmiling mother?
Does showering beforehand make me look desperate? Does not showering make me look disgusting?
