On the walk home, Opal is between us, holding both our hands, and talking a mile a minute the way she does when she’s excited but tired. She will crash out when we get home.
It’s not the observant doctor in me who knows that. It’s the other guy.
I feel odd in a way I don’t have existing language for. Not dizzy anymore. Not uncomfortable. Just—outside of my usual experience of myself. It is peculiar to be centered in a child’s life.
As a doctor, I’m important to my patients. I’ve saved lives. I matter to the people who need my services. Opal has been one of those people. So, it’s rational that she’d think of me as important.
But I know it’s more than that.
Lena glances at me over Opal’s head. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.
When we get home, Lena takes Opal straight to bed. She stays in there longer than I expect, much to my disappointment. I had hoped we’d have some time alone after all that confusing wholesomeness.
Stripping down for bed, I hope she joins me soon. But she might stay with Opal for all I know. Sometimes she still does that. If Opal had a long day—she has—or if she has nightmares.
Just to check in, I text:“All good?”
It takes a while, but then she sends back:“No.”
“What’s wrong? Need me?”
No response at first. And then she sends me a picture from the hall bathroom. Her reflection.
Her naked reflection. Tits out, lights low. Fingers delicately plucking at her nipple.
Then another text:“I need you right now.”
The urge to meet her there is almost a force of nature. But I’m going to make her wait. If she wants to play games, let’s play.
I text:“Put your hand on your pussy and send me a pic.”
A moment later, there it is.“Well done, pet. Now play with your clit for me. Do it until you’re very, very wet. Do not come yet.”
“I’m wet now.”
“Do it.”I lie back, thinking of her touching herself in the other room simply because I ordered her to. It’s a heady sense of power. My hand is on my cock without a thought.
I’ve killed… a number of men. Never kept track of the total. Taking a life can be a thrill, especially if they deserve it. Same with saving a life or tormenting someone. All afford their own kind of elation. A similar sense of power.
This is something else. Something truly intoxicating. Lena’s small hand, working her clit for me. Riding close to the edge. Trembling, breathless, sweat gathering on her lip.
Bringing Lena pleasure is the most addictive thrill I have ever known.
I imagine her getting weak in the knees, leaning on the sink as her body takes over. Aching to come. Aching for me.
My body goes rigid from the thought of her wet pussy throbbing for me. I’m right?—
A beep. I reach over in a rush and almost miss my phone. There’s a pic of her glossy fingers.“Oops. Guess you’ll have to punish me.”
I laugh and come at the same time, which is new for me. The sensations aren’t supposed to line up. My hands are too sticky to text back fast—that got messy.
I’m still cleaning my hands when she walks in, wearing a robe.
She closes the door. “You came too?”
“Seems we were both due for it.”
“Does that mean we’re not going to?—”
