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“Hell yes,” she whispers, moving her hands behind her back. She unhooks her bra and removes it. “Please come on my breasts. Please.” She squeezes them in her hands.
That’s all I need to hear. I lean over her body, my hand up near her head, and explode, shooting ribbon after ribbon of cum all over her soft skin.
She watches me with a satisfied smile on her face, cheeks tinged pink and her hair in a sexy disarray.
I jerk my dick a few more times, getting the last of the demons out. I’m spent, but I have so much more I want to do with her.
“You’re so pretty, Greer,” I tell her, staring at my release all over her luscious tits. I swipe my fingers through my seed, and rub it over her, mesmerized by her beautiful round breasts.
She sits up, eyes sparkling. “You made me come. I can’t believe I came so easily.”
I smile as I hop off the bed and rush into the bathroom to get a cloth to clean her chest. “Did you doubt my skills?” I ask as I walk back into the room.
She smiles wider. “No, I never doubt you, Roman. I’ve just never had an orgasm from somebody doing that before.”
“Good.” I gently clean her chest. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Even if that’s doing the job other men were too incompetent to handle?”
“That wasn’t a job.” I make my way to the closet and put the cloth into the hamper. “But they were definitely incompetent,” I say with pride as I return to the bed and pull the covers back.
She snuggles next to me, and I wrap her in my arms. My body comes back to life at the feel of her soft curves pressed against me.
She lays her head against my chest. “I think it has a lot to do with trust. I never trusted anyone enough to let go.”
I mull over her words. Think about how Greer’s had trust issues for as long as I’ve known her. Ever since she thought her mother killed herself because they got into a fight. Now, even though she knows the truth about her mother, I bet it’s still hard to let the trust issues go. “I’m glad you can trust me. And I never want you to think you can’t.” I just want her to be happy.
We lay in silence for a few moments, and my mind drifts to all the ways I can make Greer come tonight. However, that’s when I realize she’s fallen asleep.
“Greer,” I say. “You asleep?”
My answer is her slow and steady breathing. I hold on to her, not wanting to let her go.
This is where she belongs. In my arms. I breathe in a deep sense of satisfaction as everything feels right.
“Prozac?” I shoot Dr. Marley Dale a skeptical look. “I don’t really want to take medication. I’d rather find the root cause of my issues.” Now I’m wondering if she’s a quick-fix type of doctor, and I’m not sure I want to be here anymore.
When I was doing my due diligence to find a doctor here in Saint Pierce, Marley Dale was highly recommended by many. Her husband, Dr. Houston Dale is some hot-shot surgeon, and together they moved to Saint Pierce a few years ago so she could open up her own practice.
She scowls in my direction, her green eyes boring into me. “I’m not the type of doctor to push drugs onto my patients unless I really think it can help.” Ah. It’s like she can read my mind. “We can discuss things during our sessions. I just think the medication will help you while we uncover the root cause of your anxiety.”
Good answer, but I still don’t want to take the meds. However, I mask my reluctance and agree with her course of treatment. “Right, Dr. Dale,” I mutter.
“Please call me Marley.”
I nod. “Okay, Marley.”
When you think of a psychiatrist’s office, you picture a leather couch where you lay while discussing feelings. However, Marley's office defies this stereotype entirely. She sits behind a white desk, with pictures of her and a man, assuming it’s her husband. Many other frames have a few kids in the frames, and I’m guessing they’re her kids.
“When did you first start noticing your anxiety?” she asks me.
I try to recall what was going on when I had my first panic attack, but nothing stands out. “I don’t know,” I tell her, unable to think of anything pertinent going on in my life. “Greer has a high-profile case, and we’re all worried about her safety with all the press and such.”
“Greer? Is she your girlfriend?”
Shit. I know doctors are bound by confidentiality, but I promised Greer I wouldn't tell anyone about our fake relationship. “Yes. It’s new.” I give her an overview of how I first met Greer when we were just children. How we grew up together. How we’ve remained close over the years, and how it blossomed into more.
“So your anxiety started right after you began dating Greer?”
