Chapter 4

I stare at the picture at the top of the Seattle Times article and shake my head. Samuel looks so alive and happy at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for his new restaurant on Mercer Island. I don’t want to do what I’m about to do to him, but I have no choice.

It’s 7:30 a.m., ninety minutes earlier than I need to be here in my office. Last night was my first sleepless night in a week, since Samuel began telling me bedside stories in his soothing voice.

I open up my email client and begin typing a new message.

I hit send on the email, then I open up the patient file for Owen Grassley, the patient who will be coming in for an appointment later this morning. I click on a video of our last session, to carefully watch his body language and study his words and mood. As I watch the video, I write down questions and topics I can broach during our session. In the video, Owen, who has DID — dissociative identity disorder — appears agitated and extremely alert, a possible sign of stimulant use. This doesn’t mesh with Owen’s normal behavior.

One of Owen’s alternate identities — or alters, as they are more commonly referred to – is an alcoholic. Owen was ordered to complete court-mandated therapy after being arrested for his second DUI this year. I watch closely as twenty-six-year-old Owen talks about his forty-one-year-old alcoholic alter Ralph. His body language and tone make it clear Ralph is an unwelcome presence in his life. In the video, I ask Owen if Ralph would like to speak with me today.

“Ralph isn’t feeling well. He had a bit too much to drink last night. I think he’s trying to sleep it off.”

“Well, would Jesse like to come out and speak with me today? I have a few questions for him if he’s up to chatting.”

Jesse is Owens six-year-old alter, and the only identity who will discuss the sexual abuse Owen endured at the hands of his father. Owen is about to answer my question when a Skype notification comes through, automatically pausing my video and making my heart race.

It’s Samuel.

I close my eyes to try to ignore the notification, confident in my knowledge I turned off the auto-answer feature in my Skype settings before I sent the email to Samuel. But as I move my pointer over the red button to reject the call, I’m startled by the sound of the coffee machine in my office beeping loudly. I accidentally hit the green video button.

I pull my shoulders back and straighten up in my desk chair. “Mr. Paxson. I believe I already told you we cannot communicate anymore. That involves any type of communication, be it written, telephonic, radio, or video.”

He leans back and rests one arm on the back of his midnight-blue sofa, opening up that rock hard chest for my viewing pleasure. “I understand your need for discretion. And I respect your need for boundaries, as you have respected mine. But I figured we can do our final session in person. And you can give me some more insight into the therapists you recommended, so I can make a more informed decision.”

I take a deep breath and try to listen to the voice in my head that’s telling me he only wants to meet in person so he can influence me with his sexy voice and spellbinding touch, but it’s as if my brain shuts down around this man. “Would you like me to print a copy of your file for you to take with you?”

He smiles. “No need for that, Dr. Grayson.”

He ends the call and no more than ten minutes later, there’s a knock at my open office door. “You should really lock the front door when you’re here alone in the office, Leah” he says, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as he enters my office.

Just the sight of him, the broad shoulders, that perfectly symmetrical face, the devious curve in his lips, the piercing blue eyes… Blood rushes to my pussy, my swollen lips throbbing as I watch him approach my desk.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Paxson,” I mutter as I stand from my chair and smooth the fabric of my pencil skirt.

He smiles as he takes his seat on the end of the gray tweed sofa closest to my desk. I grab my cell phone, my fingers trembling as I open up my voice recorder at and hit the red record button. I set the phone down on the coffee table in front of the couch, before I take a seat at the opposite and of the sofa.

Samuel shakes his head. “No recording devices. Please.”

I nod as I reach toward the phone and touch the red button to stop the recording feature. “Okay, what do you want to talk about? I believe you said you wanted more information on the therapists I recommended. Is there any particular therapist on the list you’d like to know about? I am pretty familiar with all of them, though a few I mostly know through conferences and associations.”

He tilts his head as he watches me clasp my hands together on my lap, probably aware I’m doing this to hide the way I’m trembling with need. “Leah, you know as well as I do I’m not here to discuss the qualifications of therapists I will never see.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “I know it seems like no one else will be able to get through to you,” I begin. “I know how that feels, trust me. I’ve been there. But you have to believe me when I say that this is what is best for you. There is a reason why a patient-doctor relationship must remain limited to what is needed to help the patient.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You are assuming you know what is good for me. You are telling me what you think I need, rather than asking me what I need. What I need is you…like I need the air I breathe.” He stares at me for a while, possibly waiting for me to respond, before he raises his hand and beckons me with his finger. “And you know as well as I do that you need me.”

I swallow hard and bolt up from the couch, heading toward the door, but he stands up immediately and says five words that stop me in my tracks.

“I love you, little bird.”

I stand just to the right of the open door, facing the wall as I breathe heavily, trying desperately to think of a response. But with each breath I take, I can sense him somewhere behind me, getting closer by the second, and all I can think of is how much I don’t want to stop this. I want his hands on me. I want his mouth on me. I want his cock inside me.

Suddenly, I can feel the heat of his body next to me. I open my eyes and place my hand on the wall to steady myself. He looks even better up close. He pushes the office door closed, then he turns the lock as he positions himself behind me, his chin touching the back of my head as I face the wall.

As soon as his hands land on my hips, satisfying my need to be touched, the trembling in my hands and chest subsides.

“I mean it, Leah,” he murmurs in my ear. “I’m falling in love with you. And not because I can’t have you.” He kisses my neck and my breathing quickens. “We both know I can have you anytime I want. You don’t just want me, Leah. You need me.” His right hand cups my breast and I inhale a sharp breath. “You need my hands on your body.” He slides both hands down to my waist and spins me around so my back is to the wall. “You need my tongue on your wet pussy.”

His eyes are locked on mine as he pulls up the hem of my skirt until it’s bunched up around my waist, then he kneels before me and slowly slides down my panties, slipping my feet out of my heels as he removes my underwear and tosses them behind him. His gaze is still holding mine as he holds my skirt up so he can plant a soft kiss on my hipbone. I grab onto the door handle to steady myself as he trails the tips of his fingers up the inside of my leg until he reaches my pussy.

“Oh, my God,” I breathe as he slides two fingers inside me.

He lays a trail of soft kisses from one hip bone to the other as his right hand fucks me and his other hand and untucks my blouse. “Take off your shirt, little bird. I want to see those beautiful tits.”

My chest is heaving as I unbutton my blouse and toss it behind him. “This is highly…inappropriate.”

He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver coursing through me. “It’s highly inappropriate how soaking wet you are for me,” he says, smiling at the slurping sounds it makes when he slides his fingers in and out of me. “I guess I’ll just have to clean you up.”

My legs tremble as he places a tender kiss on my mound while sliding his fingers out of me. Looking up at me, he takes the hand that is not holding the door handle and places it on his shoulder. Then, he lifts my leg and drapes it over his other shoulder, exposing my swollen center to him.

He nods in approval. “Oh, yes. It’s even more beautiful in person.”

He uses his fingers to spread my lips, revealing my throbbing clit. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall as his mouth lands on my aching flesh. He wastes no time bringing me to orgasm, and drinking in my arousal as if it were sacred water in a vast desert.

“Not yet,” he says as I attempt to slide my leg off of his shoulder. “One is not enough for you, little bird. The first orgasm is on the house. The second is the one that counts. That’s the one I have to work for.”

Oh, God.

Without warning, he takes my other leg and lifts it on top of his other shoulder, so I am completely off the ground with my back against the wall. I grab onto his head as he stands up with my legs wrapped around his neck and my fingers tangled in his hair. I glance up and mentally thank Bernard for insisting we get an office space with ten-foot ceilings.

“Oh, my God!” I scream as he sucks my clit, slurping it up into his puckered lips and holding it there as he flicks it with the tip of his tongue. “Oh, Samuel. I’m going to come.” I can feel strands of his hair being ripped from his scalp as I curl over and tighten my grip. “Oh, God. Oh, please… Please… Please fuck me.”

He practically inhales me as I explode with orgasm number two. And only when he is satisfied he has squeezed every last drop of arousal out of me, does he finally set my sweaty, trembling body down. But he doesn’t give me any time to recover.

Turning me around again so I’m facing the wall, he undoes his pants. Then, he unclasps my bra and slips it off, so he can hold onto my breast as he slides his cock inside me from behind. It happens so fast, I’m caught off guard by the sheer size of him. I let out a piercing shriek as he slams into me and bites down on my neck.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Your pussy feels even tighter and warmer than I imagined.” He kisses my neck hungrily as one of his hands rolls my hard nipple and the other slides between my legs to massage my clit. “That’s right,” he growls as I let out a rhythmic series of high-pitched whimpers in time with each of his thrusts. “Sing for me. Sing for me, little bird.” He grabs my breast roughly as he pounds me even harder and pinches my clit, causing me to cry out in sweet, delicious pain. “Scream for me,” he commands as he thrusts deeper inside me than any man has ever been.

And I gladly oblige.

The third orgasm is the most intense of them all. It detonates in my pussy, rockets up my spine, and explodes in every nerve ending from my scalp down to the soles of my feet. My breath is ragged as I splay my sweaty hands against the wall for support.

His throbbing cock is still inside me, sending a chill through me every time it twitches. But instead of trying to pull out, he wraps his arms around my waist, holding me even tighter as he buries his face in my neck. His breath is hot on my skin and loud in my ear, but he makes no attempt to let go. And I don’t want him to.

Finally, he loosens his arms and his cock slides out of me as he turns me around to face him. “If this is the last time I ever see you,” he says, taking my face in his hands, “I want you to know you have meant more to me than any woman ever has.” He places a soft kiss on my forehead and another on my cheek. “And I want you to know you did nothing wrong. And you are perfect exactly as you are.”

He kisses me the way I have always wanted to be kissed, slow, tender, assertive, and as if it is our last kiss. He tugs playfully on my bottom lip and I smile as he plants a soft peck on the corner of my mouth.

“Will you be okay?” I ask as we both — well, mostly me — get dressed. “You’ll keep me up-to-date on your status?”

He smiles as he retrieves my heels and kneels before me to slide them onto my feet. “If we can’t be together, it’s probably best if we don’t stay in touch. I don’t think I would be able to stay away from you. But I don’t want you to risk your job for us. This is the last you’ll see of me, Leah.”

A painful ache twists inside me at the prospect that this could be the last time I see him, last time I hear him say my name in the voice I’ve come to love. But do I love this man? Or am I addicted to how he makes me feel?

He watches me as I finish tucking in my blouse and fixing my hair, his eyes never letting me out of his sight. When I’m finished, I offer to walk him out. But the moment I unlock the door and we step out into the corridor, my stomach drops at the sight of Jennifer and Bernard walking toward the employee break room. They stare at Samuel and I with wide eyes and mouths agape.

“I’ll see you out, Mr. Paxson,” I say in a very formal tone.

Samuel is quiet as I rush him out into the corridor. “I will do anything you need me to do,” he says. “I’ll write a letter, sign an affidavit, whatever it is you need me to do to prove nothing went on between us. Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

I shake my head adamantly. “No, I am not going to lie anymore. But you need to go. I have to go inside. I’m sorry, Samuel. I… I…”

He smiles. “I know… So do I, little bird,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on my temple.

As he walks away, I feel as if my heart, my soul, my true self is walking away with him. Reluctantly, I head back inside and immediately go to the break room, where I find Jennifer preparing a pot of coffee and Bernard placing his lunch in the refrigerator.

“We need to talk,” I declare as Bernard turns around. “Jennifer, can you please leave us?”

Jennifer nods. “Of course. I’ll be out front if you need anything.”

I wait until Jennifer is gone, and I shut the break room door. I want to tell him the truth. I want to believe I’m truly done with the lies, as I just told Samuel I am. But panic sets into my bones and I know I can’t lose this job.

“This is not what it looks like, Bernard,” I begin.

“What happened in there, Leah?” he demands.

“He just needed to talk about the therapists I recommended, and he wanted to get a paper copy of his health record.”

Bernard cocks an eyebrow. “He didn’t seem to be carrying any papers when he left.”

My mouth drops open as my brain scrambles for another explanation. “I normally don’t oblige those types of requests, but he was very upset having to switch therapists, so I wanted to set his mind at ease.”

He shakes his head. “Well, he looked very pleased when he left. It seems you really eased his mind.”

I swallow hard as I search my mind for a better lie, but I can’t think of anything other than how much I loved being fucked by Samuel. “I don’t know what to say.”

Bernard lets out a heavy sigh. “You know I have a duty to report. Not only is it illegal, it’s a violation of trust, Leah. That is the main reason why a therapist is not allowed to have a relationship with the patient. You know this!”

I nod in agreement, but I don’t respond. He is right and his passionate response is warranted. One of the first things you learn in psychology 101 is relationship dynamics. In relationship dynamics, each person wants something from the other person. To prevent the therapist and the patient from violating trust, they must not have any type of relationship outside the therapy environment. Wanting something from the other person changes the advice you give them, and the way they perceive that advice.

I nod again as I reach for the door. “Do what you feel you have to do, Bernard. I trust your judgment and I understand if you have to report me. If it were you, I probably would, too. I’m sorry I violated your trust. I hope you can forgive me…someday.”