Epilogue

Sarah

T he clock ticks beside my head, and I hear every millisecond of time as it passes. It’s hard for me to focus on my clients today. I have way too much on my mind.

How can I parade around like an ethical, well-respected therapist when I’ll drop to my knees for a client if he so much as slips the zipper down? Well, not just any client.

Only him. Only Maxim.

And as if thinking his name makes him appear like some kind of fucked-up apparition, he materializes in the doorway. His eyes dip to my chest as he comes into my office and takes a seat on the chair across from me.

“Hey, doc,” he says as those haunting eyes rise to mine. They hold a whole different meaning now.

“Maxim,” I say as I sit in my chair across from him.

His gaze watches my every move. The way I cross my legs. The clipboard as I set it in my lap. My eyes as they meet his.

“I brought you a little snack,” he says as he holds a container filled with cantaloupe toward me. “No surprises in it this time.”

“Surprises?” I ask, though maybe I don’t want to know.

He clears his throat and shakes his head. “We can talk about it later.”

I slide a manila folder toward him, and he smirks before he grabs it.

“Is this my sentence?” he asks as his massive fingers rove over the folder.

“Something like that.”

He opens it and flips a couple of pages. His eyes track the words as he reads. Those full lips slowly part.

Maxim lets the file slip off his lap, and the sheets of paper documenting his entire criminal history flitter across the floor. As he stands up and steps into me, his legs push my thighs together. He leans over me and grips the arms of the chair. My breath hitches, and he forces the air from my lungs as he kisses me.

“I can’t believe you lied for me, doc. A model patient? Made great strides in therapy? Isn’t the same person who walked into your office? Doc...you know all that is a lie. I’ve never been a model anything. Not a model child. A model prisoner. And definitely not a model patient.”

He lifts his leg and puts it between mine, spreading them. I gasp at his touch, despite the words coming out of his mouth. But he’s right. I’m lying for him. I don’t have another choice. If I told the truth, he’d be taken from me, and that can’t happen. Somehow, I went from trying to change people like him to playing into his deepest, darkest desires.

Probably because his deepest desire is me .

“I won’t let you go back to prison,” I say.

“You’re a very bad girl.”

“I thought you’d think I was a good one.”

“For lying about me? Risking your career for me? Doc, that’s a bad and very stupid thing to do.”

“Then I’m stupid. I’ve already risked it all, and it’s my choice to keep doing it. You’ve given me so little choice. Let me have this one.”

“If you want to let me ruin your life, then so be it.”

My chin rises. “Ruin me, Maxim.”

He shoves his hand between my legs, pushing the fabric aside and sinking his fingers inside me. My fingers curl beneath the arms of the chair.

“Oh, doc, I’ll fucking ruin you, alright. You’ll be broken for any other man. Unable to come the way I make you come. No one can fuck you like I can.” His free hand rises to my neck and squeezes. His arm flexes as he slams his fingers into me with every syllable. He punctuates them with a curl of his fingers as he fucks me with them. “Because I live and breathe you, Doctor Sarah Reeves.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

He smirks. “Nothing about this is healthy. Or smart.” He lifts me by my throat and bends me over the chair. “Now put those hands on the armrests and let us both be pretty fucking sick.”

He spreads my legs with his knee and rips my panties from my body as he unzips his jeans. His familiar cock rubs against my inner thigh before he pushes inside me. The strength of his thrusts moves the chair backward. There’s no reservation between each thrust, and he fills me to my limit. He’s always pushed me past my limits.

“I can’t last with you like this,” he groans. “Bent over in the way I’ve fantasized about so many times. Your perfect ass against me. Your sweet, wet cunt dripping for me.” He lifts me and pulls my back against his chest.

I bite the back of my arm to stifle a cry of pleasure as he numbs my mind with each vicious thrust inside me. Though I may be a bad doctor, I’m his good girl, and it’s all I want to be.

I am unethical.

But I am his.

Unethical originated as a newsletter short story and became a serial romance novella on Patreon, where Patrons had first access to this story. Prior Spicy Story Sunday novellas include:

Last Mistake ( Books2read.com/LastMistake ) and Protect Me ( Books2read.com/ProtectMeNovella ).

If you want to join my Patreon, check out patreon.com/laurenbielauthor

If you want more possessive and unhinged MMCs, take the road trip of a lifetime with the Ride or Die romance standalones:

Hitched : Books2read.com/Hitched

Along for the Ride : Books2read.com/MFMHitchhiker

Driving my Obsession : Books2read.com/DrivingmyObsession

Across State Lines : Books2read.com/AcrossStateLines

Don’t Stop : Books2read.com/Dont-Stop

If you want to stay on the dark side of things but want to laugh, check out my dark romantic comedy series. Start with Sinners Retreat : Books2read.com/SinnersRetreat