by Dani René
I offer my hand, giving him a fake smile. “Good morning, Dr. Sterling.”
He slips his hand in mine, which makes me giddy. I didn’t want to come here today, but I didn’t have a choice. However, the electric shock that skitters through me at the contact is strange, exciting, and I wonder if I’ll feel his touch again, somewhere other than my hand.
“I hope you don’t mind. I’ve taken out my notes already.” He turns, gesturing to the table where documents are strewn haphazardly across the surface.
“Sure,” I tell him as we seat ourselves opposite each other. The chair I’m perched on is soft and welcoming, making me feel less nervous about this. I hate talking to people. Especially doctors who think they can fix what’s broken inside.
Lifting the iPad to his lap, he glances at me over the black rim of his glasses. “Are you ready to begin?” Those five words which always make me nervous don’t anymore with his sky-colored eyes on me. His hair is black, reminding me of raven’s feathers, with one lock falling across his forehead, pointing toward his left eye. The stark contrast of black and gray is captivating.
“Yes.” I sit back, attempting to calm my racing heart.
He taps on the screen, then glances up at me again, taking in my black tights with shorts over them, heavy boots, and the tank top I’m wearing. The torn neckline draws his attention for a moment before he clears his throat.
My long, white hair that looks like snow hangs over my shoulders in a sleek, straight style. The smooth skin that shows off the ink I got the moment I turned eighteen is next on his perusal over me.
Then he meets my stare. “Let’s start at the beginning—your parents’ funeral.”
My heart kicks in my chest at the moment of impact at his words. Memories flood my mind, images far too painful to fathom, but I breathe.
One. Two. Three.
The moment passes, and I blink.
One. Two. Three.
Then I recall my parents’ death. I shouldn’t have seen them. The gruesome images still haunt me, they haunt us, but there’s nothing I can do about it now because I’ll live with them forever.
“Tell me, Doctor.” I smile at him, staring at him with an arched brow. “Do you like listening to girls tell you their sordid stories?”
His Adam’s apple moves when he swallows. He’s uncomfortable; it’s so clear, written all over his expression.
“Does it make you hard?” This time, I cross my legs on the cushion, which offers him a flash between my thighs where the tight shorts I’m wearing fit snugly.
“Rose, don’t fight this,” he tells me earnestly, eliciting a laugh from me.
I lower my legs, dropping to my knees as I crawl toward him on all fours. His eyes widen in shock at my actions, but when I reach his leg, he doesn’t move away. I was almost certain he would. “Did you enjoy the show last night, doctor?”
“You’re acting out,” he tells me in a husky tone.
Tipping my head to the side, I regard him with amusement. “Am I?” I lay my head on his knee, and he looks almost horrified . . . almost. There’s an evident bulge in his slacks, and I know he did enjoy it. “Did you wish you were the one inside me?”
“Rose.” My name is a warning in his husky tone. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I want to toy with him even more. I’ve always found it easy to break men, to bend them to my will. That’s why they call me the bad one.
“Doctor,” I whimper, glancing up at him from my knees. “I bet you fucked that stupid blonde. Didn’t you? You needed it, just like I do.”
There’s a low growl that rumbles in his chest before his hand fists in my long, stark-white hair, tugging my head backward so far my neck aches. Prickles tingle through my scalp the more he pulls, but I know he doesn’t care. This is what he needs.
As he rises from his seat, he pulls me to my feet. I stumble behind him. Ansel slams me against the wall of bookshelves in his office, pinning me between him and wood.
“Are you trying to fuck with me, Rose? Where is Katya?” he grits out through clenched teeth. His jaw ticks, his eyes burning with fire so hot I feel as if I’m burnt to a crisp. His hips roll, and his bulge pushes against my core, just where I need him most.
“Please,” I whimper when his one hand grips my throat in a vise-like hold, and the other hand tangles in my strands, holding me at his mercy.
“Please? Now you want to be a meek little toy?” His words are low, dangerous, filled with lust that drips from every word. It turns me molten from the inside out.
“Isn’t that what you like?” I quip. “Katya is a meek, little flower for you.” His body vibrates with rage as he presses against me. I can feel every hard ridge of him. His muscles have filled out since the last time I saw him, and I’m even more intoxicated by him.
“Don’t fucking say her name,” he bites out.
The corner of my mouth kicks up, “Why? She’ll never challenge you like I do. She’ll never make your dick ache from being so fucking hard.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rose. I came here to help you,” he seethes, his eyes blazing with fury, which only fuels my game.
“And that’s why you need to go back to where you came from. Katya and I don’t need a fucking savior.” I shove against him, but he’s too strong, pushing me harder into the shelves, causing me to wince.
“You like it to hurt. Don’t you?” The smirk on his face is fury and lust, desire and rage, and I’m dying to feel him hate-fuck me into the wall.
“Soon, Rose. I’ll fix you, and when I do, I’ll finally have Katya.”
His words hurt. They slice into my chest, causing me to suck in a sharp breath. Each uttered word reminds me of his need for us both. His love for Katya is pure, but he has a sordid craving for me.
Chapter 5
Dear Diary,
He came today.
He didn’t talk to me much, but soon he will. He remembered me. I knew he would. There will never be a time he doesn’t think of it. Even while he’s with her, he’ll think of me, see me. I’ve made sure that my face, my moans haunt him. I wish it were forever. If she’d just leave, I can have him. He wants me. I know he does. There’s nothing more to it than that. Surely, he can understand that she’s not me. She can never give him what I can. What I already did give him.
I hate being here. Stuck in the darkness with nothing but memories to keep me sane. To keep me real and alive. As much as I tried, she wouldn’t let me see him. She locked me in the dark and made me feel as if I was the bad one. Nobody knows she’s the one that’s broken. It’s her fault we’re in this mess. If only he’d heard me, just listened, I know he would’ve saved me. I’ll try again when he returns.
Ansel.
Even his name sends shivers through me. I wanted him to touch me, the way he did her. Just his hand in mine. I pray for it, oh how I pray. But God no longer lives here, in my head. He’s forsaken me, and I’ll have to find my own light.
Only, I don’t want the light.
It’s so beautiful in the dark. With Ansel.
All my secrets hide in the dusty corners of my mind, in the shadows.
In oblivion.
She’s going to take me there tonight. Like she does every night. Those sweet-flavored pills she swallows. If she doesn’t have those, it will be the white powder that laces the hidden mirror in the top drawer of her nightstand.
The rolled-up hundred-dollar bill that lies beside the credit card—a black Amex.
Growing up with as much money as she did, we did, it’s rather fitting that a rich kid could fall so deep into the abyss of destruction. The ink on her skin, the black clothes—it’s all the rage. Isn’t it?
The ringing of the phone is loud, disruptive, and I can’t think.
I have to go before she catches me.
Please remember me. Fight. It’s all you can do.
I’ll be back as soon as she’s sleeping. When she’s alone in the darkness, and her guard is down, I’ll come back. I’ll soon be free. Counting down
the hours until . . .
Oblivion.
Chapter 6
Katya
There’s a reminder whenever I walk into Ansel’s office that I’m the broken one. Even though he brought me to The Serenity Institute, I know he’s trying his hardest to fix me. To glue the pieces of me together so Rose can no longer come between us.
Sadly, there’s nothing he can do because I’m always going to be her, and she’ll always be me. I push open his office door without knocking. I find Ansel behind his desk, typing on his laptop.
He doesn’t look at me when I enter. I shut the door behind me and focus on the man who stole me from my life and brought me to an asylum where I’m locked up for my own good.
His choice came when he found me in an alleyway. I was so drunk I had passed out. Well . . . not me. Rose was. When he carried me to his car, I opened my eyes and found him looking down at me with so much affection my breath stuck in my throat.
Nobody has ever looked at me the way he does. I don’t know how he looks at Rose, but if it’s anything like he is with me, then I know he loves us both. I settle in the chair which overlooks his desk. The sun is streaming through the two glass doors leading onto a small Juliet balcony. The warmth hits my skin, and I can’t help but bask in it.
“You’re early,” Ansel says but still doesn’t look at me.
“I wanted to see you,” I tell him. It’s not like I won’t see him if I’m not in session with him, but it feels more . . . personal when we’re alone in his office. Locked behind the heavy wooden door for an hour. We could do anything, and I know when he looks at me, I’ll want his body near mine.
I fell in love with Ansel Sterling over a year ago. It wasn’t right. He was my doctor, and even though I couldn’t stop my feelings, I knew I could never be with him. Not like I wanted to. But Rose, she’s been with him. I know she has because she wrote about it in her diary.
“You’re looking pretty today,” he remarks with a smile when he finally stops typing and looks up at me.
“I try to look pretty for you,” I tell him honestly. “I wonder when you’ll realize that.” I push off the chair and pad over to him. I’m barefoot, and the carpet feels so soft when I step on it.
“Are you trying to taunt me?”
“I want what she has, Ansel,” I plead. It’s the same thing over and over again. We’ve been here for a couple of months, and every time I make a move, he tells me to wait. He doesn’t want to taint our relationship, but we can’t be normal. I can’t be normal, and he knows it.
“If we do anything, Katya,” he warns. He doesn’t say what he wants to, leaving it lingering like a heavy fog around me. “I want you.” The honesty in his tone is heartbreaking. “But she’s still there.”
“She’s never going to go away,” I tell him. It doesn’t matter what we do, how he treats me, I will always be broken.
“I know.” he sighs. “There are so many things I want for us. But . . . ”
I settle on the top of his desk, my legs dangling as I look down at him. With the time that’s passed, his hair has gone just a tad grayer than it was when I first walked into his office. And now as I look at him, I notice how tired he is.
“Stop fighting it,” I plead once more. I’m tired of begging. I shouldn’t, but he brings out the petulant teenager in me. I want something I can’t have, and so does he.
His hands land on my thighs. His fingers digging into the flesh. He grips me so hard, I can’t help wincing at the pain. Silently, he shifts his chair over so he’s seated between my thighs. Ansel pushes them wider, my skirt shifting as his fingers tug at the hemline.
Soon, I’m bared to him. My panties are being scorched by his hungry gaze. I watch in awe as he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, the shimmering saliva making his mouth a tempting treat.
“I want to devour you so badly,” he growls, but his eyes are hard on my core. He doesn’t look away as he trails his thumbs higher up my legs until he reaches the soft material of my panties. With one thumb, he circles my clit, sending my need spiraling into the clouds, and my toes curl as pleasure rockets through me.
He doesn’t stop. Gently, he presses down on the hardened nub, teasing and taunting me as if I were a toy to play with. A low growl vibrates in his chest, but I can’t focus on anything other than his touch.
Heat pools between my legs, and my cheeks burn when I realize my panties are wet. The spot growing by the second with every circle of his fingers.
“Put your feet on the desk,” Ansel says in a voice so low I barely hear him. I fall to my elbows as I lift my feet. Placing them on the smooth veneer, I look down to see him smile. He shifts the wet material aside and runs the very tip of his tongue along my seam.
“Shit.” The word falls from my mouth as my body reacts. My nipples are hard, rubbing against my tank top. I don’t have a bra on, and the roughness of my clothing only seems to turn me on even more.
His mouth crashes down on my mound, his tongue snaking into me. He licks into my core, tasting, lapping as if I’m a treat he’s been salivating over for months, years.
Ansel Sterling eats my pussy like a man near death needing sustenance. His thumbs open me, and his tongue flicks against my clit, sending stars shooting behind my eyelids. And the moment he dips two fingers inside, I cry out as an orgasm explodes every nerve-ending in my body.
It feels like an earthquake wracking through my body when he finally relents and sits back. His gray eyes locked on me. My arousal dripping down onto his desk.
“Thank you,” I mutter when I finally come down from the high. “I . . . I just don’t . . . I mean . . .”
“Come here,” he orders, scooting backward, allowing me space. I hop off the slick surface, and Ansel’s hands are on my waist, twisting me to face the desk. He pushes me down, my tits squashed against the cold wood. Without a word, he kicks my legs apart and tugs my panties off. Once I’ve stepped out of them, he grips my ass hard, roughly pulling me open to his hungry gaze.
Again, his fingers taunt me. But he doesn’t finger-fuck me like I want. He coats his hand in my juices before he circles the tight ring of muscle, causing my body to lock in fear.
“Breathe, Katya,” he tells me gently. “I won’t hurt you.” It’s a promise, one I believe because Ansel loves me. My vision blurs for a moment, and I know what’s coming.
“Ansel, she’s here,” I mumble quickly before darkness takes over me.
Chapter 7
Rose
When I open my eyes, I feel my ass being prodded by two strong fingers, and I smile. I wonder if he knows it’s me. I wonder if he is going to fuck Katya like he does me.
“Why are you here?” His deep, gravely tone comes from behind me, but I don’t move, and neither does he. His fingers still taunting me, teasing me, forcing me to tremble as he dips his fingers into my ass.
“Because it’s me you want,” I tell him. Perhaps I’m fucking with his mind, but I can’t stop myself from craving him. I fight my mind every day to come back here, to feel his touch burn me.
He scissors his fingers, opening me to his gaze, and I can’t stop the whimper that falls from my lips. He continues his ministrations, turning me on, making me wetter than I was before. I want his dick. I crave it inside me, just like I know my little Katya does. She’s as ravenous for him as I am.
“Is this the way you treat her?” I question, and finally, Ansel stills behind me. He pulls his fingers from my body, swatting me harshly against the globe of my ass.
“You have no idea—”
“I know everything,” I tell him as I rise to full height. Turning my attention to him over my shoulder, I smile as he regards me. “You want to fuck her.”
“Yes, I do, because I love her.”
His words slice deep within me. I never thought I would hurt, that my feelings would be shattered by someone, but right now, in this moment, I feel the agony of heartbreak.
“I’m her,” I tell him, attempting to act nonchalant, but t
he break in my voice is a dead giveaway for what I’m feeling. I turn away, fixing my stare on the desk, on the folder with Katya’s name on it. I want nothing more than to burn the fucking thing, but I can’t. I know I can’t, because as much as I want to fight her, to fight this fucked-up disorder, I can’t.
“Look at me,” Ansel orders calmly, but the gentle tick in his voice is there. The same one he used to give me when I was outside this fucking facility.
Casting my glance to him, I arch a brow to look at him. He’s handsome, but he’s tired. I know why. It’s because of me. Even though I know he loves her, and me, even though he doesn’t admit it, we’re causing him pain.
I drop to my knees. My hands land on his thighs, and I look up at him. Those steel eyes that remind me of dark, stormy skies pin me with their worried stare.
“I’ll be good,” I tell him. I don’t know if it’s a lie because sometimes my mind plays tricks on me, and I do things that are violent. They’re reminders that I’m not invincible.
“I don’t know if you can be,” he finally responds gently, dragging me from the thoughts that take over my mind when I’m here.
He’s right.
“But I can try,” I offer. “Before I am, though . . .” I allow my eyes to drop to his crotch where his thick, yet flaccid cock lies. “Let’s have one more devious fuck,” I tell him and grab him. My lips wrap around his soft dick before he has time to think or time to push me away.
If he does, he’ll feel my teeth. He’s done it before, and I’ve warned him before. He won’t take that chance again. I’m almost broken enough to bite his penis off, and he knows it.
I suck him harder, feeling how he thickens in my mouth. His hands are fisting my hair, tugging at the almost-white strands. He holds me down on his shaft, his hips thrusting into my throat. There is no relenting when he’s angry like this, and I’m drenched just watching him lose all control.