We Shouldn't (The Raven Brothers Book 2) Page 12

  I saw the tug on her lips as she tried not to smile. “We agreed.”

  “I want you, Doc. So bad it hurts.” Taking a chance, I put her hand on my hard cock. “He was like that all during yoga.”

  “That must be uncomfortable.”

  I was jubilant when she didn’t remove her hand. “It is. Only you can help.” I could see the tug of war in her eyes. “You’re not my therapist, now Grace.”

  I pushed a little more. If she held her resolve, I’d respect it. But I hoped to hell she gave in. Then I wondered if maybe she was afraid of me, not that I’d hurt her, but of having sex again with me. I hadn’t been particularly gentle that first time. There hadn’t been much finesse. “I’ll make it good for you this time. I promise.”

  “It was good the first time.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and I could see that she was about to give in.

  “I’ll make it better, Grace. I’ll make it so much better for you this time.” I wanted to kiss her and push her the last bit over the top, but I held back. She needed to make the final move. I needed her to want this for herself.

  Her hand rubbed my cock, and I closed my eyes as pleasure shot through me. I felt her move and was afraid she was getting up to leave. But when I opened my eyes, she was moving to straddle my thighs. Oh, thank fuck. I rested my hands on her hips.

  Before I could say anything, she was kissing me. Yes, yes, yes, ran like a chant in my head. I brought a hand to the back of her neck to hold her to me. I could fucking kiss her forever. Her hot tongue danced with mine. I’d kissed a lot of women but never noted the feel of their tongues or the taste of them. With Grace, everything was noted. Her tongue was soft, and she tasted sweet.

  “I want to see you, baby,” I said not wanting to mess up this time. This could be the only time she’d give in, and I was going to get my fill. I took her glasses off and set them aside, then I pulled her sweatshirt and her tiny stretching top off. Her breasts bounced in front of me and I was hypnotized by their beauty. Round, firm, lush, with pink nipples. I leaned forward sucking one into my mouth.

  She gasped. “I feel that between my thighs.”

  Good, I thought. “I love your tits. They’re perfect.” I kneaded one while I sucked and bit and licked the other until she was writhing over my cock.

  She slid her hands under my shirt. “I want to see you too.”

  When my shirt was off, her hands slid over my chest, her gaze following them like she was taking me in, soaking me up.

  “Do you like what you see?” I’d never much cared whether a woman liked my body. For the most part, they’d seemed pleased with the pleasure I could bring them, so I never cared if they like my body.

  “I do. I want to see more.” She shifted off of me, tugging at the waistband of my sweats.

  “Take yours off too. Get naked for me,” I said as I pushed my pants and boxer briefs down. I quickly grabbed a condom out of my wallet and set it on the arm of the couch next to her glasses.

  Her gaze was glued to my erection as she pushed her yoga pants down.

  “You like that too, baby?” I asked her.

  “Yes.”

  I wrapped my hand around my dick, giving him a stroke. “He likes you too.”

  Instead of jumping back up on me, she dropped to her knees between my thighs and ran a finger from base to tip of my dick.

  “Fuck,” I groaned. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to get a better view.” She wrapped her small hand around him and stroked as I’d done. “Is that what you like?”

  Need roared through me, and I bit my lip to keep from hauling her up and driving my dick into her. I promised I’d make it good for her, so I would.

  “I do like that.” I reached down and used my finger under her chin to have her look up at me. “But what he’d like best is your sweet pussy.”

  Desire flashed in her eyes. My sweet librarian liked it when I talked dirty. Good, because I had dirty thoughts in spades.

  I guided her back up to straddle my thighs.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said, and for the first time, I saw uncertainty in her eyes.

  “Yes, you do. Your body knows.” I took the condom and slipped it on. “Let’s make sure you’re good and wet, shall we?”

  I leaned forward sucking her tits again as my fingers slid through her nest of curls between her thighs. She was slick with wetness. All for me. I wanted to lap it up with my tongue but that would have to wait until next time. God, I hoped there was a next time.

  I inserted one, then two fingers inside her. Her pussy squeezed them and her body rocked. “See, you know what to do.”

  “I want you,” she gasped.

  “I’m right here, baby.” I withdrew my fingers and then pulled her over my dick. “This is your show. Go at your pace.”

  She rested her hands on my shoulders, and her gaze caught mine as she lowered herself until the tip of my dick teased her entrance. I fought the urge to thrust up.

  She arched her back slightly and took the hood of my dick inside her.

  I groaned. “Take more, baby.”

  Slowly, so fucking, painfully slowly, she took him inch by inch, until finally, we were pelvis to pelvis.

  “You okay?” I asked. “Does it hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No. It feels good.”

  “It feels so fucking good.” I felt like I was about to go cross-eyed if she didn’t start moving.

  With a slight nudge from my hands on her hips, she rocked and electricity shot through me.

  “You’re going to make me come so hard,” I said in a growl.

  She began to move, and I could tell that within a few slides she’d found her natural rhythm. Like in yoga, she moved with grace and beauty.

  I wanted to watch her, but I was careening like a car out of control towards orgasm.

  “Kiss me, Grace.” I hoped the distraction would help me hold back.

  She leaned forward and fused her mouth to mine. Grace had been right that I’d used sex in the past to numb the mind and body in hopes of a dreamless night. But right now, with her riding me, her lips dancing with mine, I felt anything but numb. It was like every neuron in my body was firing, but not in the agitated, panicky way that I usually felt. No, this was something altogether different. I felt alive and whole. I knew the orgasm would be spectacular, and yet, I didn’t want to come. I wanted to hold on to his amazing high for as long as possible.

  18

  Grace

  Tuesday

  He was right. My body knew exactly what to do. The minute he was steeped inside me, the urge to move, to feel this long, thick length slide along my smooth walls, took over. I rose and fell, loving the friction as it built. I swore I could feel him getting larger inside me.

  I kissed him as he asked me to, and it was like it completed a circuit between our bodies. I couldn’t ever remember feeling so alive. Like every cell in my body was vibrating. Was it like this during sex for everyone or was this something special? I wanted to ask but was afraid of the answer. Hunter had been with so many women who had experience in all the ways to please a man, I couldn’t imagine that I came anywhere close to comparing.

  Fortunately, I understood men’s anatomy and sexual responses well enough to know that it often didn’t take much for them to get hard or interested in sex. Hunter was having sex with me because he was essentially a slave to his penis, and it didn’t require much to make it respond.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice warned me that I shouldn’t be doing this. I might have tried to heed it, except he broke the kiss, and lifting one of my breasts, he sucked the nipple deep into his mouth.

  I cried out as a shock of sensation shot to my center. My body throbbed and ached. In response, I tightened and began to move on him faster.

  “You’re so tight,” he groaned against my breast. “I love how fucking tight you are.”

  “I feel you, Hunter. Everywhere…inside me…” I gasped as I rose higher and higher, m
y body flooding with electric need. Tension coiled tight, until I was panting. I rode him fast, chasing the release that promised to be so delicious.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled as his fingers gripped my hips. “I’m gonna come…ah fuck, I’m gonna come.”

  His words were like a match that lit my fuse and sent me flaming into bliss. I cried out as my entire body clenched tight, and pleasure shot through me.

  “Oh, God, Hunter.” I held onto him to keep from breaking apart from the wild, crazy blast of sensation.

  “Yes!” he yelled. “Come on me, baby…ah fuck, so good…”

  I rode him fast and hard as my body drew out my orgasm. He thrust up, throwing his head back as his own release consumed him. It was magnificent to watch the always-in-control Hunter as he surrendered to pleasure. Surrendered to me.

  Even as my physical strength broke and I sagged against him, my body pulsed around him, squeezing and massaging.

  He groaned against my neck. “Your pussy is amazing.”

  I managed a smile. It was silly, but it did my ego good to hear him praise my body. I might not have the moves or techniques, but at least he liked my body.

  Our breaths labored for several minutes as the haze of pleasure subsided. But once the endorphins receded, the guilt consumed me. God, how did this happen again? This was wrong.

  I lifted my head, intending to move away from him. I looked into his dark eyes, his sated smile, and had to drop my head feeling such shame and failure. He was calm and at peace, which should have been a good thing, but it only reinforced his use of sex as a coping mechanism. It was bad enough that I broke my ethical vow, but to engage in this destructive behavior with him made it worse.

  “Hey?” his voice is soft and gentle. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” I said putting on my glasses and moving to get off of him.

  He gripped me, holding me close. “This isn’t wrong, Grace.”

  I could see the need for him to believe that in his eyes, and I hated myself more for putting him in this position.

  “You’re so sexy. I can’t resist you.” His hands caressed my thighs. Hunter was a large, often imposing man, but sometimes, like now, he could be so sweet and gentle. My heart ached for this to be real and lasting. But it wasn’t. Sex was his therapy. His emotions were related to my being his therapist. And those two wrongs made this all the more wrong, and not something that could last. I couldn’t continue.

  Finally, I got the strength to pull away. “We can’t be doing this.” I reached for my clothes.

  He watched me from the couch. He was naked, but didn’t seem to feel vulnerable as I did, as I hurriedly put on my shirt.

  “I can’t promise it won’t happen again. I want you. Even now, I want you again. I’ve never had that before with a woman.”

  I wished it was real, but I knew that his attachment was more to do with transference than true emotion. I was the worst therapist ever. I had to reject him, which would hurt him and he was already a wounded soul. At the same time, if he pushed, I knew I’d be unable to resist.

  “I need you to respect my feelings on this,” I said feeling a bit desperate.

  He sighed and took the condom off, tying the end. “Where’s your bathroom?”

  I nodded toward the door of the tiny room.

  “Let me deal with this, then we can talk.”

  I didn’t want to talk, which was ironic since my advice to so many clients was to communicate. But I was sure talking would lead to me being weak and letting him stay.

  I grabbed a glass of water and waited for him by the window.

  The bathroom door opened and he came to stand with me, still naked. God, how I wanted to touch him again. Instead I took a drink of water.

  “Sex isn’t bad or dirty,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Then what’s going on? You’re not my therapist anymore, so this isn’t wrong.”

  I closed my eyes. “It is wrong, Hunter.” When I opened them, he was staring at me, but I couldn’t read his feelings.

  “I like how I feel when I’m with you, Grace. That can’t be wrong.”

  I swallowed because that’s exactly what made it wrong. “Those feelings aren’t real. They’re from our therapeutic relationship.”

  “Bullshit,” he snapped.

  “There’s even a name for it; transference.”

  He simply glared at me.

  “It’s when you develop personal feelings for your therapist. But it’s not real, Hunter.”

  “Don’t tell me how I feel, Grace.”

  “I’m not helping you by encouraging this or by having sex with you.”

  “Don’t. Don’t tell me you regretted what we did. I saw and heard you. I felt you come on my cock. You liked that. A lot.”

  I nodded, admitting the truth. “But that doesn’t make it right. Your solution to your difficult feelings is sex. And I just participated in that, reinforcing a behavior that won’t help you in the long run.”

  “Stop looking at me like a patient then, because I don’t see you as a therapist. I see you as a woman I can’t stop craving.”

  God, when he said words like that, the woman in me wanted to melt.

  “You don’t crave me. You’ve conditioned yourself to equate sex with relief from your problems.”

  “Wrong again, Doc. If that were true, any woman would do, but since the moment I met you, I haven’t had sex or wanted to have sex with anyone but you.”

  “It’s the transf—”

  “No!” he growled in frustration. “It’s you, Grace. Since the minute I met you, I’ve been drawn to you. I only agreed to the counseling just so I could figure out what it was about you. Perhaps you didn’t notice that I wasn’t into actually sharing during much of it.”

  My lips twitched upward. “I noticed.”

  “I just wanted to be around you.” He shook his head. “There’s no transfer or whatever it’s called, because I’ve never seen you as a therapist.”

  That hurt for some reason. “Oh.”

  He rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “I’ve always just seen a woman. Yes, a woman that I wanted fuck, but also one that I found intriguing because she could stand up to me and my brothers. She’s smart and insightful. And if you could turn that therapeutic thinking on yourself, you’d be wondering if maybe there wasn’t something about me. Think about it, Grace. A smart, professional woman like you doesn’t sleep with her client. She certainly doesn’t give him her virginity. So, unless you’re transferring, or whatever, to me, there’s something here that doesn’t have anything to do with therapy.”

  He had a point that I’d need to reflect on, but it didn’t mean any of my insights on what was going on were wrong. What I couldn’t do was think with him standing there in all his naked glory.

  “I need some time. I think you should go.”

  He let out a long breath, then he left my side, putting on his clothes. I was grateful he was giving up fighting me on this. When he was dressed, he pulled me to him, dropping his forehead against mine. I wanted to weep at his tenderness.

  “There’s something here, Grace. I know you’re worried about the rules, but you’re not my therapist anymore. More importantly, I’m hung up on you and how I feel when we’re together. I don’t want this to end, and I don’t think you do either.”

  No, I didn’t, but that wasn’t the point, was it? He was right that I wasn’t his therapist, but I had been. I was his therapist the first time I had sex with him. That act alone made me unethical. So even though I wasn’t treating him anymore, that one act of betrayal to my work, and to him, was still there. To continue this relationship would be unethical. His feelings for me were related to the help and sense of peace I was giving him, not love or affection. As much as I wanted him, I couldn’t continue this and lead him on.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed me sweetly on the mouth and then left.

  I sank down on the couch and cried. I couldn’t be sure why, exce
pt that I felt torn and confused. Mostly, I wanted him. I wanted to believe what he’d said; that there was something different between us. His insight was spot on. There was something about him that had me throwing my ethics aside and giving him something I hadn’t given anyone, hadn’t wanted to give anyone. Of course, that had never been in question. I was sure about my feelings. It was his that I couldn’t trust.

  I thought he believed what he was saying, but Hunter was a man that had been disconnected from his emotional self. Was he attracted to me? Yes, but that didn’t mean his feelings were real. Many people confused attraction for emotion. I was a woman who listened, challenged him, and made him feel safe. Of course, he could easily think it meant more.

  At the same time, Hunter wasn’t a man easily deceived even by his own emotions. I felt sure that he knew the entire time I’d been meeting with him that guilt was what was eating him alive. Guilt at not stopping his commander in the military and guilt at not preventing Sara’s abduction. He knew it, he just didn’t want to talk about it, probably because it made him feel shame. He didn’t like failing people.

  I also had to concede that we didn’t make very much headway when I was counseling him. It was only after the night at the bar, and then when he started going to the group, that he seemed calmer than normal for him. Was it possible that a healthy emotional reaction to me was the catalyst to that? I’ve never seen you as a therapist, he’d said. While I couldn’t be sure that was true, it was clear that he didn’t want counseling, and yet, he always came. I’d thought it was because of his brothers, and yet, a part of me thought he’d not only be okay with being tossed from the company, but that he’d be relieved. The relationship with his brothers wasn’t helpful in his healing. He didn’t seem to have any interest in his father’s strange new inheritance plan.

  Thinking of the new inheritance plan reminded me that Hunter didn’t see himself as marriage or father material. The man I knew so far could actually make a wonderful family man if he’d learn to forgive himself and trust his feelings.