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Mewling in bliss.
Now Dr. Dangerfield was being flipped on her back.
More thrusting. More pounding. More deep fucking, primal grunts and low groans snatched the air around them. Each man’s orgasm spun out of their bodies, bursting through swollen dickheads, splashing out in thick ropes of white cream.
And then they took turns licking over her pussy, sinking their mouths where each one’s dick had been, their individual tongues swirling in hot, rhythmic circles on her engorged clit.
Dr. Dangerfield whimpered helplessly as more pleasure spiraled through her and instinctively, she thrust upward into their alternating mouths, basking in the sensations that ebbed and flowed through her body.
Her pussy surged with fresh juices, even after having just come—for the third time.
“Oh yes, oh yes,” she murmured. “Lick my pussy. Bite my clit . . . oooh, yes . . .”
Saint, Sin, and Soul licked and kissed over her body. Three male mouths on her flesh one at a time. Dr. Dangerfield shut her eyes, drank in the pleasure, felt it pulsating through her pussy.
And then cried out.
Thirty-Eight
Investment . . .
The giving of one’s self to a relationship.
It required honesty and respect.
It required time, energy, and emotion.
It required letting go of ego and pride.
It required attention and affection.
And, most importantly, it required effort.
Partners needed to put something into the relationship in order to get something out of it. And in doing so, it created the possibility of long-term sustainability—the weathering of life storms, together, with purpose and passion.
Dr. Dangerfield saw more too often than not many couples who were simply staying in relationships with men and women who they saw no real future with just for the sake of not being alone. They we
re staying in marriages that were lacking in trust, intimacy, openness, and love. Expecting something for nothing. Expecting change when they weren’t willing to change. Expecting respect when they themselves were not willing to give respect.
Yes, investing in any relationship came with risk and a certain level of vulnerability. But the more couples put into their relationships (and in their partners), the greater were the returns.
So the question always remained: Was the relationship an asset or an endless debt? Bad investments, even in relationships, never ended with a happy return.
“Mr. Lewis, how are things going with you and your wife?” Dr. Dangerfield asked, not expecting love and light at the end of the proverbial rainbow. But the couple was due for their next session together and she wanted to know how many Excedrin she’d need to pack in her bag the day of.
Isaiah shrugged. “It’s a’ight. I guess. Quandra’s Quandra.” He tilted his head and raised a brow. “Need I say more?”
Dr. Dangerfield gave him a sympathetic look. Not because she felt sorry for him. No. She held no pity toward him, or for him. Fact of the matter was, Isaiah was responsible for his own misery. And he’d sit in it, drown in it, and—more likely than not, die in it—unless he did something different. But. There was always a but.
Isaiah seemed unmotivated. And he seemed to be attracted to drama—some men were. From all outward appearances, Isaiah was unmoved and unbothered by the fact that his marriage was rapidly deteriorating. And Dr. Dangerfield wanted to know if his aloofness was a defense mechanism or did he simply not give a damn.
“Do you want your marriage, Mr. Lewis?” Dr. Dangerfield asked.
Isaiah leaned forward in his seat, fixing her with a hard stare. “If I say no?”
It was on the tip of Dr. Dangerfield’s tongue to congratulate him for getting the hell out of it, if he didn’t want to be chained to his miserable state or to the likes of his wife anymore. But that wouldn’t have been professional of her, so she settled on, “Is that what you’re telling me?”
Isaiah shook his head. “Nah. That’s not what I’m saying.” He pushed out a curse. “Shit. I don’t know if I do or don’t. All I know is, shit has to change.” His voice took on a more purposeful tone, and he leaned back, surveying Dr. Dangerfield with appraising eyes. “Tell me, Doc. You married?”
