14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Marcus

H er first reaction is to blink.

My little doll gapes at me. She's confused by the change in my approach.

There's no denying the venom in my voice. The images of Leighton and Milo in college, miles away from me, materialize in my head. Each one more vulgar.

They poison me.

This isn't her fault.

She must've missed me. Must've been lonely. Could've given up to temptation with a simple "Get on your knees" command. She'd have hated herself for betraying Ry. For choosing another man over me.

But he didn't care. He used her.

That motherfucker.

I don't let my resentment for him show. I even swallow down the hate so it wouldn't show in my voice.

I've been seeing patients long enough to slip into my psychiatrist role easily.

"Well?" I ask.

Her lips pinch together as she's figuring out who the fuck am I. What's happened to me. How could she have missed Mr. Hyde who's been lurking underneath my Dr. Jekyll fa?ade.

She hasn't missed a damn thing.

She loved the man who'd been jerking off with the door ajar while she—my daughter's best friend—was sleeping over. She can't deny she sensed something was off about me.

She can't sit here and tell herself she hasn't seen the deviant side of me.

She can't say she doesn't love that it just the same.

Yet she does. Denying what's so obvious to the both of us.

Not for long.

One of these days, she'll learn to accept both sides of this twisted coin.

There's no fighting it. I'm not going anywhere until she does.

The other two items placed on the table earlier today were my legal pad and a pen. I pick them up, jotting at the top of the page— Leighton June Irvine, session 1 .

Her eyes skate to my cursive handwriting. Her fingers stroke the arms of her chair.

She hates me. She loves me. She's intrigued by me.

All good signs .

"You're awfully quiet." I cock my head. "Care to tell me what's been bothering you?"

Leighton's blue eyes rise to mine. I recognize her conviction and the rest of her emotions that are out there on display.

"You're sick," she hisses.

"The first sessions are almost always the most challenging ones. Especially for patients who haven't visited a psychiatrist before." I tap my pen on the notepad. "So, in order to earn your trust—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Her cheeks flush with rage. My dick thickens in my pants. "What trust? I'll never trust you again. Ever."

I'm more trustworthy than she'll ever realize. Without me, she would've been dead right now.

An untrustworthy man would've left things as they were back home. Would've chosen to ignore the signs Rylan had been displaying over the last few weeks. Weeks .

That man—that fucking irresponsible prick she thinks I am—would've chosen the easy way out. Leave Ry to do her thing. He wouldn't have come up with an elaborate contingency plan like I have.

That man wouldn't have bothered trying to stop Rylan from killing her.

These thoughts are counterproductive. They won't help me extract the information I'm desperate for.

"Here's a truth for you, Leighton." Being the professional that I am, I refrain from calling her by her nickname. "I've built this house for you. "

Her jaw drops. She had to have guessed this by now, but hearing it hits different, I'm sure.

I curb the need to touch her. I refrain from placing a finger under her chin and snapping her pretty little mouth shut.

This could deteriorate really fast once I have my hands on her.

"You're serious." Her words are whispered.

They're felt through my body, nonetheless. Hope and accusation. That's what it feels like.

On my pad, I scribble trust issues . She growls at me. I offer her a stern frown.

"I am. Even though I, myself, had no idea whether I'd ever bring you here. Still, I went ahead and built it." With my gaze fixed on hers, I give her access inside my head. Exposing my obsession to her. "I couldn't tell you I loved you because it was never the right time. Always too complicated."

Forever too fucking risky.

"Okay." Leighton's lips snap shut, and she mimics my posture.

Her ankle crosses her knee, subtly making the shirt ride up higher. She's baring her pussy to me. Teasing me. Playing on my weakness.

And I fall for it. I'm wrapped up in her, so of course I fucking would.

Continuing her seduction plan, Leighton slides her foot lower, down her shin. Her curvy thighs press together. One knee locks on top of the other. Then she pushes her shirt up a little higher before returning her hands to the arms of the chair.

"Doctor Kingston?" she purrs .

I straighten up, evaluating my opponent. My patient. My love.

How quickly she's pulled herself together to fuck with my head.

Well played.

"I asked you a question," I say, my voice flat. "How do you feel today?"

"I feel horny." She puts everything into manipulating me. One of her hands slithers over to where my elbow leans on the arm of my chair, her nails lighting up my nerve endings. "What can we do about that?"

"You're crossing a line." I release the legal pad to rest on my lap. My fingers lock on Leighton's wrist. The touch is electrifying. Placing her hand back on the arm of her chair is pure anguish. "I'm looking for a straightforward, honest answer. Think you can give me one?"

Her stomach rumbles again. She frowns, and I smirk. Her bratty mouth won't be honest with me. Her body will. Every part of it.

Resting the pen and legal pad on the table, I lean over to grab the water bottle.

"You need more persuasion, I gather." I'm not gentle when I shove the straw against her closed lips. "Open up."

Her eyebrows lower, suspicion written on her face.

"Listen to me. I'm not going to spike your water or poison your food. I had no other option when I used the needle back home. I have plenty now." I edge my body closer to her, my cock thickening from the simple touch of her foot on my calf. "All I have to say is moo — "

Leighton's fear of her trance trigger is sufficient. It does the work of eliminating her resistance. She takes the straw in her mouth, slurping on the water.

My smirk widens, knowing she'll beg me to use this word plenty in no time.

"Enough." As much as I enjoy watching her suck on the straw like it's my cock, I don't need her to throw up.

I return the bottle to the table, then swipe a drop of water from the corner of Leighton's mouth.

Fucking Milo better not have been anywhere near those lips.

"I'm doing okay," she finally answers when I turn to grab the ravioli plate. The sass in her tone is undeniable, and she's no longer suggestible, but I'll take it. As long as she's talking. "All things considered."

"Very well." I stab one piece with a fork, starting with a more benign question for the sake of my sanity. "The move to New York. How do you feel about it?"

Her nose twitches, sniffing the familiar aroma of the food. Her hunger for me and food alike transforms her face into a delicious picture of want. I've stripped her literally and figuratively.

Soon, she'll confess.

"Is this…?" Leighton glances at me beneath her lashes.

Any time now.

"Yes, it is. Your favorite." I drag the ravioli in repetitive motions over the sauce on the plate. "Would you like one?"

"Marcus." Leighton's eyebrows furl infinitesimally. "You're being cruel. "

"I'd feed it to you, except…" Being the sadist I am, I hover the ravioli an inch from her parted lips, only to snatch it back. "Your cooperation is required."

"You have it," she snaps. "You know you do."

I don't engage in this back and forth. Instead, I avert the conversation to where I want it. "New York. Why did you really want to move?"

"My pa—"

"You break my rules, you can forget about dinner." To show her I'm not fucking around, I shove the ravioli meant for Leighton into my mouth.

"You're a monster," she cries out. She acted as if she wasn't hungry before. She can't anymore. "Please, Marcus."

Pretending to be unperturbed by her outburst, I chew deliberately slow. Swallow. Her desperate, hushed sigh gets my dick so fucking hard. I ignore that too.

"Why did you insist you and Rylan find a job there, of all places?"

"Why did you insist we go to college in Texas?"

"You needed the space. Ry needed to spread her wings." Grow less territorial. She hasn't. I consider my earlier question, rephrasing it to get the answer I need. "Why move halfway across the country?"

"Food first."

"That's cute. No."

Leighton sucks in a deep breath, and her tits stretch my T-shirt she's wearing. Her nipples react to me, hardening despite my cruelty .

"You," she huffs eventually, her shoulders sagging. "Happy now? You didn't want me the way I wanted you. I had to get away. I couldn't sit there and pine for a man who'd never look at me. A man I couldn't have."

When I raise an eyebrow, she corrects herself, "I didn't think you wanted me. I had to move on. I deserved better than that. I deserve better than this ."

I'd suspected that had been her reasoning.

Adrenaline pulses through my veins. The raging need to claim what's mine is almost too large to be contained.

"Good girl," is all I say behind gritted teeth.

Staying true to my word, I stab into a new ravioli piece with my fork and feed it to Leighton. Saliva rushes into her mouth when her tongue peeks to accept the food. I groan from hearing her chew hungrily, from the wet noises her mouth makes.

"Knowing your self-worth is important." I nod, composing myself. "Despite how misguided your notion was."

Starving to see her chewing again, I pick up another ravioli and place it on her eager tongue.

While she chews, I continue, "What would've made you give up New York?"

Her eyes dart between the plate and my face. Her lips glisten with the ravioli sauce.

Fuck, the scent of Leighton's arousal is everywhere in the closed room.

"What would I do if you'd given me a reason to stay?"

I tap the fork on the porcelain plate. "Answer the question. "

"Honest?"

I nod.

"I'm not sure."

The boost to my ego disintegrates. In its place, the visual of Milo standing over her returns in full force. I hear his belt unbuckling and his fly lowering. His groans. His fingers thread into her hair.

My blood boils. My jaw tics, tics, tics.

"Why not?"

"You're the shrink." Tears brim in Leighton's eyes, and I wonder if that's guilt. "Who claims he's loved and watched me for years. You tell me."

Along with my inflated ego, my restraint slips, slips, slips.

Still, I don't blame her for being with Milo. I blame myself.

I'm ready to rectify the damage I've done. I'll abolish the memories of him and replace them with me.

Right the fuck now.

I'm no longer her psychiatrist when I toss the plate to the table. Not that composed man when I get up and spin Leighton's chair so I can stand between her legs.

She looks up at me. Me, the one towering over her. The one with my dick hard in her face. Not fucking Milo.

"It was that boy, wasn't it? You tasted him and gave in." Wrapping my fingers around her silky pink hair, I yank her head back so she'll look at my face. "That's why you wanted to go. You thought you could be with him there. That he could offer you the life I wouldn't. I bet you thought Rylan would never accept us, but she'd support your relationship with him. Is that it?"

I almost laugh at my own words. The men in Rylan's life are a hard limit. I know it. Leighton sure as fuck knows it. At least when it comes to Milo.

My daughter won't be okay with Leighton and Milo hooking up. Just like she won't accept Leigh and me. Unless I do my fucking best to change her mind.

" That boy ?" Tears of pain leak from the corners of Leighton's bright blue eyes. "Who are you talking about?"

"Now's not the time to fuck with me." My free hand grabs my cock over my pants. A relief. A warning. "You know exactly who I'm talking about."

Her lips pout, then part when realization dawns on her. "Milo?"

His name alone triggers my possessiveness. I can hardly see straight.

I take a step back, dragging her right along with me to the floor. "On your knees."

"I've never touched him," Leighton argues, but gets on her knees anyway. "Never ever wanted him. I've only kissed a boy in ninth grade. That's how pathetic I am. I've never wanted anyone but you, you asshole."

She doesn't add that she doesn't want me anymore. She just ends the sentence, glaring at me from the floor. Turned-on and angry. Begging to be subdued.

And I'm the man who's desperate to be inside her. The sight of her kneeling for me—of my fingers laced in her pink locks—is hotter than any fantasy I've ever jacked off to .

But I have to make sure first. "You rubbed your pussy in my doorway for years. Am I supposed to believe that with all this sexual energy, you haven't sucked another man's cock, little doll?"

"I told you," she whispers, somewhat defeated. "Pathetic. That's what I am."

The loss of her fight does it for me. It's the proof I've needed to know she's telling the truth.

"I haven't been with anyone for the last five years, either."

I could've had one-night stands without endangering them. I haven't.

No one could compare to Leighton. My woman. My beautiful doll who stares at me from below.

"That's how badly I want you, Leighton. The rest of them have been less than." Deliberately slow, I slide my hand across her jaw to her mouth. I grip her bottom lip, pressing her plump flesh between my fingers. "The days when Rylan snuck out were the best of them all. You know why?"

Leighton gasps. "You knew?"

"Of course. I knew you slept over to cover for her. I heard her climbing out the window even though I warned her she shouldn't have."

Leighton's mouth relaxes, and her eyes widen a fraction. I caught her off guard. The shock has her softening for me. It's loosening her resistance.

She and Rylan had hardly ever slept at the Irvines' home. Leighton's parents weren't bad people. They're great.

It's Rylan. I'm sure she hasn't wanted to let me out of her sight. I suspect Leighton—who's as in love with me as I am with her—has agreed willingly to sleep over at our home. Any excuse to spend more time around me.

Leighton was always a welcome guest.

Always.

"After you turned eighteen, I'd stay up. Wait for Ry to drive off." Leighton's bottom lip lowers when I pull it down some more. "Those nights, I pretended to sleep while you fucked your hand outside my bedroom. Then I'd wait two, three hours until you fell asleep. Fuck, Leighton, I used to be so fucking hard during these hours. Until I'd finally come into Ry's room…"

"You're sick." Her accusation carries much less conviction than before.

Because of how I grip her lip, saliva dribbles down her chin when she speaks. So goddamn hot.

"Obsessed." I release her. With Leighton's spit on my fingers, I flick the button of my slacks. "I'd been obsessed when I moved my hard cock on your cheeks while you slept alone in that room. When I squeezed and stroked myself while you breathed on my throbbing head. When I came between your lips."

As soon as the confession comes out of my mouth, Leighton's reflexes react. She raises her hand to her lips. I shake my head slowly, and my obedient woman drops them.

"I haven't stopped obsessing over you, Leighton. Not for a second." I tug on her hair for emphasis. "I never will."

"Obsessed in a crazy way," she murmurs.

"Enough with this word." My eyes narrow. "Neither of us is crazy. "

"You ki—ugh, took me, Marcus." Her rage turns me even more feral. "That's psychotic. At least tell me you're aware of that ."

Saltwater cascades down her soft, pretty cheeks. I fucking love that I'm the one to put those tears there.

"Why would I?" I yank her hair again, smirking at the sound of her cry. "So you can tell yourself there's something wrong with you? So you can hate how wet you are for me? You think it's a sickness, Leighton? Something to be cured? Is that it?"

"I…" She doesn't close her mouth, pausing to think of her answer.

This is it. Her heart craves this, us . The outer world, what society taught her was normal , that's the problem.

Society can eat shit and die.

It's gone as far as she's concerned. There's only me. Just fucking me.

"Sorry to disappoint you, beautiful. We—you and me—are not a disease. We're not an affliction. Not a motherfucking condition. There's nothing that'd cure what we have." My tongue swipes across my teeth, my head shaking subtly. "Even if there were, you can bet your pretty little cunt I wouldn't have given it to you. That I'd swap your prescription for placebo."

I could stop here. I should stop here.

The chaos agent in me strongly disagrees.

"It won't be the first time I've done it."

Her eyebrows scrunch together. "What are you—"

I shove my pants and boxers down, freeing my cock. She's mid-speech when I thrust myself into her mouth .

"Fuck," I breathe out. "Fuck."

Her lips wrap around my length, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Consumed by the pleasure of my dick in her mouth, filling her. Soothing her.

"That's it." I hold still for those first few minutes. "Take my cock, little doll. You make it fit so pretty in your mouth. It's my cock there. Not Milo's. Not any other boy that ever looked at you a second too long. Fucking mine."

Precum trickles from my head on Leighton's tongue. She swallows, gags, tries swallowing her spit and my precum. Some goes down her throat. Most of her slobber trickles out, dampening her chin.

I pull her by the hair, forcing more of my length into her. I teach her how to accept it instead of gagging on it. To accept me. Accept us.

I'm overcome by the need to conquer her, starting to thrust into her mouth. Using her for my pleasure. Her glare sears into my soul. She's looking at me as though I'm the only man in her world.

She idolizes me. Lives to please me and me alone.

Her accusations have been forgotten. The shame of who and what we are is gone.

I'll make sure to keep it that way.

I shove her forward, not being gentle about mashing her to my pubis.

"Suck, Leighton."

She chokes, her saliva finally soaking my balls. Her tears make a mess of her cheeks. Yet here she is, my good girl doing as I say. She sucks me. Explores my dick with her tongue .

"Yes. Just like that," I grit out. The pressure in my balls is maddening. I need the release. Need to finish inside her. "Milking my cock so well. You want my cum?"

Leighton blinks once. A smirk hikes the corner of my mouth up. She remembered.

"Good girl." I cup her jaw, while the hand holding her hair rams her head into me. My movements get more jerky the closer my climax is.

"My"— pound —"good"— fuck —"girl."

My orgasm slams into me, unlike any other one I've had before. I shoot my cum into Leighton's mouth, except this isn't a climax. This isn't the finish line.

I've only just begun giving her everything I have in me.

Her life will be a mixture of filthy and sweet. I'll make her my sex doll and my princess. She'll be sated, horny, praised, and degraded.

She'll learn what it means to be mine. She'll love it.

Fuck, I get hard all over again at the thought.

Releasing her, I kick off my pants and boxers. Undo the buttons of my shirt. I'm naked as I kneel before Leighton. She's floating, even though I haven't put her in a trance yet.

My forbidden fruit. The other half of me.

"You did so well." My thumb gathers the cum that spilled out of her mouth. I push it back in.

She sucks, her tongue swirling on my finger while she inhales every drop. Her eyes never leave mine.

"Stop," I order, and my cock twitches as her mouth pops open. She's not manipulating me. She's pleasing me. "Still think I'm sick? That you're sick? "

"Very," she breathes out. "But I can't stop what I'm feeling."

Her response doesn't hurt anymore. I'm too riled up to be offended. I'll fight everyone, her included, to prove that we belong together. Starting with eating out her sweet pussy.

"Arms up." I hook my fingers on the bottom of my shirt she's wearing, drawing it up her curves. "We're not sick," I repeat. "We're not wrong."

"We are." Her voice is a needy sigh.

I wait for more denial that doesn't come. Leighton's throat, mind, and every thought are clogged by her lust. I use her desperation to my advantage, flattening her back on the floor and settling myself between her legs.

"This"—sliding my finger along her inner thigh, I groan at how wet she is—"doesn't feel wrong."

The glow of the lamp shines a soft light on my fingers when I pull out. She gulps at the sight of her arousal. At how her juices soak me to the last knuckle.

"Anyone's ever made you drip like this?" I lower my mouth to her pussy, placing Leighton's legs over my shoulders. " Need like this?"

When she's quiet, I bite the seam connecting her thigh and her pussy, reveling in her pained scream.

"Answer me." I bite the other side.

"No one." Her cry earns her a swipe of my tongue on her swollen pussy.

Leighton's clit tightens beneath my tongue. Her heels dig into my back .

"I just wish…" Her words dissolve the second I push two fingers into her.

"You wish for me, little doll. Only ever fucking me."

I pump hard in and out of her. Add my mouth and kiss her pretty pussy to convince Leighton we're so right.

I lick and suck her. Circle her clit with my tongue. Stretch her wider with a third finger in her cunt. Breathe on her heated skin. Do everything to make her feel good.

Her hands lift to my hair, her thighs pressing to my ears.

I don't stop her. If that's what she needs from me, I'll let her choke me.

There are worse ways to go than with Leighton's pussy in my face.

"Marcus!" she screams, her orgasm wreaking through her body. She shakes, pants, cries out my name.

I don't let up, don't stop adoring her until Leighton's hands flail to the floor. Her legs give in. The muscles of her thighs shake this one final time, then relaxes against me.

Slowly, she opens her eyes, careful as she watches me.

My job means I read people. Study behaviors. Draw conclusions.

She's expecting me to repeat what happened at the poolside. She's dreading another set of extreme declarations that'd have her running for the hills.

This approach failed me the first time. I showed her tenderness, bared my soul to her when she wasn't ready. Leighton requires a different kind of touch. A sterner approach before we transition smoothly into the cuddling stage.

And she claims she hates the monster in me .

She needs him. Practically begging for me to let it out.

"You did well." I move up her body, capture her throat in my palm. I slant my lips on hers and kiss her. She responds to me, letting me taste myself on her tongue. Tasting herself on mine. "So well."

"Thank you." There are so many questions in her eyes, yet she's being cautious.

As she should.

"I hope you like this room."

Leighton tenses beneath me. "Why?"

"Because you're spending the night here. On my therapist's couch."

"What? Why? You said I did well."

"Today." I slap her tit. "Yesterday, not so much."

"What do you expect of me? Just what?" She's quick to snap, no longer sated. My Leighton is enraged. My assessment was on point. She needs a harsh approach. "You kidnapped me. You haven't even told me if we're ever going back home. What. Do. You. Expect?"

"See? You're still clinging on to anger." I pat her nose affectionately, acting like her words don't trigger me.

Like I'm not seconds from tying her up and spanking her ass raw for throwing more accusations my way. For not really seeing me or the new tattoo on my arm.

"I'm not angry, Marcus." The decibels of her voice rachet up. "I'm fucking terrified."

"Staying here would be good for you, Leigh." Ignore, ignore, ignore. "You'll have this quiet, peaceful space to reflect. You'll learn to embrace your new reality without outside distractions."

As in me.

Gathering her in my arms, I walk her to the large couch in the corner of the room. I bought this comfortable piece of furniture for the hypnosis sessions I had in mind for Leighton. I didn't know our time here would be so intense. That our sessions would be this extreme.

But she's here. With me.

And now she'll get to sleep on it.

"What happens if I can't embrace this?" she asks as I lay her on the soft, beige cushions.

"Impossible." I grab the heavy throw blanket from the end of the couch, spreading it over Leighton. "We're the same, you and me. Your needs are my needs. My depravity is yours. Society has told you that a relationship like ours is wrong. That being taken—even if it's by the person you love—is a felony. Society lied to you, little doll. I'm here to make this right."

"Society?" Leighton leans on her elbows, defiant and gorgeous even when she's infuriating. " I am not okay with this. With any of this."

"Yes, you are." I kneel beside her. Her lips are sweeter every time I kiss them, moreso when she doesn't fight me. Her hitched breath intoxicates me. "You just need to see reason. By yourself. Call me if you need to use the bathroom."

I get up to leave, halting at the sound of her voice. "When are you coming back? "

"I'm not leaving." I look at her over my shoulder. At her silky pink hair. At the eyes that hold a myriad of emotions behind them.

I'll make sense of the mess inside your head, beautiful.

"I'm always here," I promise her. "I know that this isn't how you wanted this to be. It's what you need, though. Good night, little doll."

"Marcus!" she yells.

Again and again.

With her shirt in my hand, I'm already out the door.