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I miss you.
I still love you.
I need you.
You mean everything to me.
These sentiments die before they reach my lips. They wouldn’t make it over the wall between us anyway. She’s already miles away.
Three
Dean
“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” I mutter through my teeth as I slam into the woman on her knees in front of me. She whines and moans with her face pressed into the mattress.
“Yes,” she cries. “Harder.”
I pick up my pace, practically bruising her backside with my hips. Her wrists are pinned together behind her back, held in place by my hand.
With every thrust, I gauge her reactions. She doesn’t pull away or make any noises of pain. She’s not shaking or trembling; from what I can tell, she feels good.
Mentally, I’m aware that there are only about twenty minutes left in our session, which means I need to start wrapping this up so we have time for aftercare.
Digging my free hand into her hair, I hoist her upright and bring my mouth to her ear. “Let me hear you come for me.”
“I’m almost there,” she says through panting breaths.
I quickly lean down and snatch the vibrator off the bed, clicking it on while I keep up my thrusts. When I press the low power of the wand against her clit, she starts bucking in my arms.
“That’s my girl,” I say in her ear. “Come on my cock. Don’t you dare let me down.”
She lets out a screaming wail of a moan as her body tenses. It sounds feral and wild. Once I know she’s just about finished, I realize it’s time to focus on myself.
I hate having to come at work. And I realize how ridiculous of a complaint that is. Most guys would think my job is a dream.
But my focus isn’t getting myself off. That’s what makes me good at my craft. It’s the reason I’m scheduled months out. I’m not here to shoot my load. I’m here to be the best at what I do.
And judging by the way my client is howling and quaking with her ass in the air for me, I’d say I am the fucking best.
But as much as I hate it, I have to come in order for her to be satisfied. If I don’t get my orgasm, then she will take it personally or assume it’s not over until I do, neither of which is true.
Shutting my eyes, I take myself somewhere else. I drown out the noise and sensations of the moment. It has nothing to do with this beautiful creature in my bed. She’s stunning and fun, and I genuinely like her a lot.
But for some reason, there’s a block.
And it’s been getting worse. Although I’m trying not to think about that. My sessions over the last few weeks have been difficult. Men, women, couples, groups…doesn’t matter.
Sadie suggested I see a therapist about it. Or take some time off.
There I go again…getting lost in my thoughts and no closer to my climax.
My client’s orgasm has ended, and she’s melting into the mattress while I’m trying to finish.
Come on, Dean. Figure it out.
“Come inside me,” she purrs, thinking it’s what I need to finish.
“You want me to fucking come inside you?” I ask with a grunt. “Want me to fill you up?”
