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Shit, when did I become so depraved?
Too lost in my lusting, I don't notice that he’s leaning over my desk, inches from my face with an evil-looking grin, licking his lips like he is about to quench an eternal thirst.
Without thinking about what I should say, I blurt out what comes to mind.
"You're late." I close my mouth, dismayed at how stern that sounded. Who the fuck am I right now? This mess is not me. He cants his head to the side, assessing my face.
"Excited to see me, Chase?" he asks. That gravelly voice is so fucking erotic. He missed his calling, charging for that voice. It's pure sex and lust wrapped up in one dangerous package.
"No, but I expect you to be on time or to at least inform me that you will be late for our session. I’ve other responsibilities and patients. It's not fair to them," I state. I’m spewing bullshit right now.
Noah pulls himself back up to his full height and, without a word, turns to walk away. I panic at first, thinking he’s about to leave, but he meanders over to the chair where he sat before.
Getting comfortable in his seat, he remains silent and waits, eyes remaining on me. Has he even blinked yet? The therapist training in me notes his eye contact habit. He doesn’t seem to notice that it's awkward and a behavior that most people would find uncomfortable, but because he fascinates me, I do the worst thing possible and ignore the signs. I stand from behind my desk on wobbly legs similar to Bambi, and tentatively walk over to the chair opposite him, his notes from our previous meeting in my hands, and I sit and study him.
"So Noah, it's been a week. How have things been going?"
He fixates his gaze on me without emotion, making it impossible to gauge his mood.
"Fine," he says.
Okay, I guess we are back to one-word answers. I decide on more open-ended questions to try and get at least a sentence from him.
"What are you hoping to get out of these sessions, Noah?"
A low chuckle leaves him, and I swear to god, goosebumps prickle over my neck and arms, the tiny hairs on my forearms stand tall, my traitorous nipples springing to full attention. Why does everything he does make me think of sex?
"I haven't quite worked that out yet, Chase, but I'm hopeful," he says in a cocky tone that he hasn’t used with me before. It sounds more "normal" than his usual tone, which slightly takes me off guard. It's like I’m not in on some kind of joke or plan he’s hinting at.
I try to dig some more.
"Hopeful? Hopeful for what, Noah?"
He takes a minute to ponder that question, still focusing intensely on me. I feel so seen with him, like I’m an open bookwith all my secrets bared and I’m left with nowhere to hide. It's like a rush of adrenaline has been pumped into me, and it causes my body to tremble all over.
"Well, do you want the truth to that question, Chase, or would you like a more socially structured response that won't offend or hurt your pretty little feelings?" He doesn't say that mockingly. He’s actually serious, and I find myself a little reluctant but also overwhelmingly intrigued to have a truthful answer.
"Let's go with the truth. I can handle it, Noah, it's my job." And I do feel confident in that response. In this job, you have to be prepared for all outcomes. There’s no sensitivity to my feelings in this room as a therapist. I’m the pillar of help, trust, and strength to guide others to a better place in their mind.
Noah leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, making the leather on his jacket make that cracking sound, and the potent aroma of leather and cigarettes with an undertone of sandalwood from his aftershave hits my senses. The smell is so good, my cock chubs at the sudden overflow of sensory triggers, the smells, his voice, and his looks.
"I’m hopeful that I’ll get what I want.You." He continues to watch me closely as I find myself frozen in utter shock and disbelief. I wasn’t expecting that response.
Fuck. I’m panting. He laid out his intentions with nothing but truth and confidence in his tone, and it should scare me. I don't know him. But my body is reacting like a nymphomaniac that is coming out of hiding. How the fuck do I respond to that?
"That’s completely inappropriate, Noah. You can’t speak to me in that way. I can assure you there is no cause to be ‘hopeful’ as it will not happen. Do I make myself clear?" I've gone into full professional mode now. He can’t speak to me that way, and it felt somewhat threatening(and sexy).Another red flag that really should force me away from any involvement with him.
What I say has no effect. He grins and stands, gliding over to me like a graceful animal on the prowl. He hovers above me, and I let my head fall back to look up at him. Gripping my jaw in a tight hold, I instinctively reach out to grab his wrist.
"Don't," I whisper. He smiles again, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip. I want to submit and explode at the same time. I briefly close my eyes, greedily enjoying his touch. It’s been so long since someone has touched me, that I could weep at the feel of it. When he pulls away I slowly open my eyes, gazing at him as I feel myself relax, awaiting whatever command he has. This feeling is what I’ve craved for so long.
“See you soon, Chase," he says like a promise and walks out of my office, leaving me breathless, scared, and so turned on I could hammer nails into the wall with my dick. I groan and rub both hands over my face in frustration. It dawns on me I have no fucking clue how to handle this.
CHAPTER 8
NOAH
Sitting outside Chase's house, I think back to our meeting earlier today. His response amused me. He really thought he could take an authoritative tone with me, and it would work. I’m going to have to teach my innocent Chase who the one with the control is and how things will be going forward, but I don’t think he’ll mind. The way he leaned into my touch when he closed his eyes, screamed of a malleable nature.
