“I’ll never let you go. You need to come to terms with that. All that seed you’ve taken? That’s me, staking my claim. I’m in it to win it, baby.”
Our movements turn feral. He bucks up as I move down, one finger, then two pushing into my back entrance, making wicked, fevered bliss roll up on me out of nowhere.
The orgasm knocks the air from my lungs as King bellows to the ceiling, filling me with another round of sticky heat, and I wonder where the old Emee has gone.
After I come down, King eases me off, and I lie back on the pillow, spent, out of breath and happier than I’ve ever been in my life. We’re together, one, and I have to accept that. It wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t go out looking for this with one of my clients, but he loves me. He’s shown me in so many ways, and doesn’t everyone just want to be loved like that, in the end?
So, here I am, watching his chest rise and fall ignoring the potential impending doom of my actions.
Something inside me has shifted. There are so many reasons this could blow up in both of our faces.
What if King’s no sex superstition would actually hurt his game?
Then, there’s the chance things could go sour and he could even turn me in to the ethics board.
So many hurdles but apparently none of them could have stopped this freight train.
But, it does make me think of the reason he walked into my office that first day.
“You need me to sign off on you going back to the team,” I say. It’s not a question.
King cocks his brow on a shrug. “Big game in two days, firecracker. Our last chance to get to the playoffs.” His fingers twirl my hair around and around.
I pause. “Do you think you’re ready?”
“You’re the therapist,” he says like it doesn’t matter, drumming his fingers on the flat plane of his chest. “You tell me.”
“I wouldn’t sign off if I didn’t think you were.”
I have crossed a hundred ethical lines, but I’m not a liar. I wouldn’t sign off if I thought he was really a danger to others.
He’s ready.
And, selfishly, I want to see him play.
And win.
“From what I’ve seen,” I tell him, “you’ve turned a corner.”
“I’ll turn every corner if I get to have you, baby.”
“You’ll need to keep seeing me if the league requires it. We need to keep things between us a secret.”
“I’ll be coming to your sessions for the rest of my life. But keeping us a secret, that’s not gonna work,” he says, turningserious, his hand trailing down my bare stomach, down between my legs, making me gasp when his fingers wiggle against my overworked clitoris.
I squirm, stifling a yelp. “Real sessions,” I tell him. “Let’s see what the league says.”
“I love you. I want the world to know. We will figure it out.”
I blink at him, my mouth opening and closing, puzzling out how to keep him doing the thing he loves, while keeping me doing what I’ve worked so hard for.
One seems to cancel out the other, but the look in his eyes tells me, I need to trust him. Let him take control of this conundrum, and let go.
“I love you, too,” I say, as his lips crush onto mine.
As his magic fingers and mouth send me flying again, there’s the landing.
When I reach the ground, guilt slinks through me.
