Psyched (Taboo 101 #2)

by Havana Scott

  She nods, humming sounds of “yes” vibrating all around my cock.

  “Don’t close your legs, Alice. Keep them open. Use one hand to play with your clit. I want you to touch yourself while I fuck your mouth. Got it? I told you you were in trouble.” But she’s not really, because this was what she wanted on the first night. She wanted to get off on my pleasure.

  Hand sliding down, she begins rubbing, dipping into her wetness to pull some up and play with her clit in circles as she swallows my cock, slurping and gagging to my heart’s content. “Beautiful. You love having this massive thing in your mouth, don’t you? You love looking up at me. You trust me. You know I won’t hurt you. Tell me, Alice.”

  She mumbles, pulls my cock out of her mouth and gasps, “I fucking love it. Fuck my mouth harder, doctor. I trust you.” And then she shoves my cock back into her mouth and resumes the slurping, gagging noises.

  Holy fuck.

  “Keep rubbing yourself, and I will.” I slide into her, pushing on the back of her throat, my cock going deeper, as I listen to those amazing sounds. I can’t take much more of it—it’s too beautiful a thing to see such a lovely creature, such an innocent daddy’s girl, enjoying her mouth full of meat. If only the old man knew what she was up to instead of studying.

  The thought is enough to push me over the edge, and after a minute of this veritable torture, I do. “I’m coming. Open your throat, swallow my cum like a good girl.” She does, feverishly rubbing herself, as I spill my seed into her mouth. Like the little devil she is, she opens up to show me my own spillage, sucking on the head of my cock one last time, then swallowing the whole damn thing.

  And. I. Am. In. Love.

  “I love it,” she gasps, gripping my cock, rubbing it all over her face. “Thank you for telling me what to do, doctor. I needed your guidance.”

  Gripping her golden hair, I lean down and plunge a kiss into her mouth, exploring the infusion of scents and tastes there, while reaching down and patting her clit at the same time. I make circles until she tightens like a nuclear fusion in my arms, until her guard is completely stripped free and she lets me take over. I continue my onslaught, tilting her head back and ravaging her throat, fiddling her core until she can’t take it anymore.

  She comes hard, poised on the edge of the couch, looking up like her life depends on me.

  And maybe it does.

  And maybe that gives me a twinge of guilt.

  But I don’t care, because Alice Verano is the most incredible, boundary-pushing thing I’ve ever known, and I need to explore more of her. “We will be seeing each other again,” I tell her, fully committed to her therapy. If our being together brings this nuclear reaction out of us every time, then I’m as lucky as I am fucked. “Our next appointment is tomorrow. Same place, same time.”

  She wipes her mouth. “Yes, doctor.”

  9

  ALICE

  When I’m with Dr. Lee, I feel bold and fearless. My body is in control, not my brain. I want him, and I won’t say no. Can’t say no. It’s an attraction I’ve never felt before, and honestly, it scares me.

  When I’m away from him, however, my brain takes back possession. Suddenly, I remember how dangerous our situation is. I remember that staying away is best. All reason seeps back into my consciousness. That’s what happens the rest of the week. I stay focused on school, far away from the lure of pheromones.

  But there’s no blocking him out completely. As I walk around campus or do chores at home, I still see him in my mind’s eye, feel his touch on my skin, smell his unique scent all over me. He has infiltrated my soul, and if that’s not the best reason for forgetting him completely, then I don’t know what is. Nobody should have that much power over me.

  He calls during lunch time on Thursday, and I stare at the phone. Don’t pick up, don’t pick up, I tell myself. Yes, I told him I was ready to see more of him. And yes, he told me we’d be seeing each other again, but I have to at least try to be good. The call goes to voicemail. I sigh in relief. But then, he calls again, and I answer this time, thinking something might be wrong.

  “Hey, you,” I say, melancholy tone in my voice.

  “Ignoring me, Alice?” he asks with an amused tone.

  “It’s not you. I have so much work to do, I’m trying to stay focused. We’re thick in the middle of a robotics project, and my teammate gets ornery if I’m distracted.”

  “Hey, I get it, and I respect that. I can stay away if you like. I only wanted to see if you wanted to meet me for lunch today. I’m headed to the food court at Baylord Mall, and there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  It sounds innocent enough—a public place, food, conversation. I can do it without too much guilt, I think. Baylord Mall is fifteen minutes from campus, and I can Uber there no problem. Taking a break from classes would be nice, if only to decompress, reset my energies, and stare into the doctor’s emerald eyes. “I can’t stay long,” I say to safeguard my efforts. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Great.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  When I stroll into the busy mall teeming with students on vacation or local parents with their out-of-school kids, I breathe a sigh of relief. There’s no way I can jump Dr. Lee here. It’s easy to spot him—always handsome, always well-dressed man, always with those sexy glasses that defy his dark side.

  I stand beside him without a word to see how long before he notices. He senses my presence and looks up quietly. I’m surprised by how much his smile warms my heart. He’s not in doctor mode right now. He’s my friend, and he’s happy to see me. “Knew you were here.”

  “It’s called air displacement,” I laugh, taking a seat.

  “It’s called I can smell you,” he says, gazing at me.

  My stomach clenches, sending an impulse between my legs. I know exactly what he means. The same thing has been happening to me. In the time we’ve spent together, I’ve already familiarized myself with his scent. I could pick him out of a line-up blindfolded. It’s primal, sexy as hell, and proves we have a deeper connection than I was hoping to have at this point.

  He gestures to the teriyaki chicken he’s bought me. “Go ahead, eat. I’m going to talk at you, if that’s okay.”

  Pulling the plastic bowl toward me, I shudder. “I’m scared. What is this about?”

  “Nothing to be scared about. Just something I want to share with you.” He folds his hands and watches as I tear open my fork package and begin mixing my chicken into my white rice. He examines my every move, but then again, Dr. Lee is a scientist who studies human behavior. And I know I’ve given him a lot to think about lately. I know I’m a piece of work, a hot mess if you will. “You came to me for answers,” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “I have them.” The tilt of his head reminds me he’s in analytical mode, a mode I don’t altogether dislike. I love how he can deconstruct the human mind and find answers. It’s a talent I wish I had.

  “Okay…” I laugh nervously. “What is it? Am I a nymphomaniac or something?”

  “Far from it. Your libido might be healthy, Alice, but don’t think of yourself negatively. Remember, if you were a man, nobody would question your appetite. Personally, I love it.” He gives me a mischievous smile that sends a blush creeping up my neck and cheeks.

  Good God, the way he looks at me. “Then, what’s wrong with me?”

  “Well…” He takes a breath. “In terms of mental health, nothing, except that you’re dissociating, which we already knew. But there’s something else…” I can hear him holding his breath now. “You’re also compensating.”

  “Compensating?” I dig into my lunch and begin stuffing my mouth full of food, grateful for the distraction while I sit opposite the most awe-inspiring man I’ve ever known listening to his conclusion about what’s going on in my mind.

  “Yes. You use submissive sex to allow yourself to feel love for men.” He doles out his diagnosis, and my chewing slows down. I stare at him mid-bite. “Stic
k with me here…”

  I’m listening. I know I’m not going to like what I hear.

  “Feeling affection and-or love for men at this point in your life is difficult. You’re angry at your father, frustrated by your male peers, all of whom are extensions of your dad to your subconscious mind. Every man is. So, when you play the submissive, you’re giving up your everyday power.” I think I get it. “You know how you say you have to fight all the time for respect?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s tiring, isn’t it? Sometimes you just want to love men, be on the same side, instead of battling all the time. With submissive sex, you put yourself in the position of looking up. Literally.”

  Okay—I can see that.

  “It became evident to me when we role-played, Alice,” he adds.

  I swallow. Oh, my God—THAT. How embarrassing. I was never one to role-play before, but Dr. Lee brought that out in me these last two times we’ve been together. Sex with other boys, like Gunther, was cold. I didn’t want to feel. But with Roman, I allow those emotions to emerge, even expand on it with newfound playfulness.

  He shifts in his chair, hands accentuating his words. “You fight for what’s rightfully yours, but it shouldn’t be that way. If you were in a traditionally female role, the men in your life wouldn’t feel threatened, but because you threaten to take their positions of power, you put up walls. During sex, you take down those walls and then some.” I love the way he’s taking the time to explain this to me.

  “But why dissociate? Why not feel love all the time? Wouldn’t it be healthier?” I ask.

  “It’s hard to change a dynamic that’s existed for years. You’re angry at your male peers—”

  “Some of them,” I say.

  “Maybe more, unconsciously,” he explains. Well, guys like Aaron, yeah, but could I be mad at Gunther and Parker, too? “So, with sex, you want them in, but then you quickly want them out. You don’t want a relationship past that, because you don’t want to have to fight for respect after sex. Are you following me so far?”

  I nod. This is so hard to hear. Tears threaten to rise, but I swallow them down.

  “All of this is a big strain on you, because you really want to feel love, attraction, and respect. Am I right?” His eyes are full of concern, and the wall of tears won’t quit. A few escape, but I wipe them away.

  His hand slides forward to hold mine, but I don’t know whether to accept his gesture or push him away. Pushing him away seems so much easier. I nod.

  “Love, attraction, and respect are the emotions we all want when making love. It’s why your body releases endorphins, to help create a bond with a sex partner in order to procreate. I know you’re not in it to procreate right now, but that’s how we’re wired.”

  “I get that.”

  “I know this might be overwhelming,” he says, and I let go of his hand. A hint of disappointment crosses his lips.

  “It is. You don’t know how hard it’s been for me since my parents split up.”

  “I do. My parents split up, too. You’re holding back on giving love and respect, because you feel like men don’t deserve it. It has to be the right man—someone who earns it, who allows you to feel what you’re supposed to feel, what you desperately want to feel.”

  Shit.

  He’s so right. He’s so right, it hurts.

  “Alice, did you role play before me?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Why? What does that mean?” I wipe my eyes and blow out a slow breath.

  “It means you’re testing out that love and respect in a safe environment. Normally, you’re scared it will make you appear weak, but with the right person, you’re practicing what makes you happy. Add in your desire to appease your father, make him proud of you, and you basically have a delicate heart that needs the right person to handle it.”

  Dr. Lee.

  That person has become Roman Lee, a man completely unlike any of the boys I’ve ever been with, a man completely different from my father, too. The man sitting across from me right now, the one slaying my emotions and lifting a veil off my eyes.

  “You might be seeing that person as me,” he adds in a matter-of-fact way. “It makes sense. We’re not competing for the same things, I’m not in the age range of the men you’re working with…do you feel safe with me?”

  All I can do is stare at him. I can’t eat. I can’t answer him. Yes. Yes, I feel safe with him sexually. But emotionally, my heart is in a minefield. I think I nod at him. The tears are back.

  “You want to be swept up, Alice,” he continues, taking my hand again. “You want a man to take control from you, show you what you want, take burdens off your shoulders. You want to feel secure. That’s how you used to feel when you weren’t angry at your father—cared for and loved. And that’s the feeling you’re trying to recover when you role-play.”

  MIND. BLOWN.

  If I didn’t love, admire, and respect this man before, I definitely do now.

  It’s no wonder he’s the best, but now I’m terrified. TERRIFIED. How am I supposed to go on without him? How do I live day-to-day without him in my life? How did he get past my gate and climb the ranks so quickly? Yes, I do admire you, Dr. Lee. Yes, you are the man I needed.

  Holy. Shit.

  The detachment part was easy. I could’ve figured that out myself, and maybe I already had by the time I entered Dr. Lee’s office for the first time. I detach in order to not feel love, because it’s reserved for a special person. I’m also too busy because of school. But not wanting the guy I’ve slept with to feel like they’ve gained control of me, made me weak? Eye-opener but not a shock.

  What I couldn’t have realized was how much deeper this iceberg goes.

  “I do want to feel cared for,” I say.

  I didn’t realize that’s how I was feeling until the words slide out of my mouth just now, but there it is—I want to feel cared for. I want someone to take the burden of being a woman in a man’s world off my shoulders. I want to feel safe, protected, all those girly things I never get to feel while I’m busy being strong.

  My throat tightens, and the tears return. Tears equal weakness.

  Dr. Lee stretches his hand across the table again and slips it into mine. “I know.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  I feel so grateful and ashamed at the same time. This handsome, sexy, smart man can see right through me like I’m a looking glass. He’s got me so figured out, it’s not even funny. If that’s not the prime example of a man having control over me, then I don’t know what is.

  Without realizing it, I have given him the keys to my soul, the password to my psyche. He’s my therapist, sex partner, even my friend now. That makes him Roman, not Dr. Lee. Roman, the man who removed the fog and replaced it with admiration and respect. When I’m looking up at him, when he stands over me—that’s what overwhelms me. I adore that position with him. I have from the first night I spent with him.

  SHIT. I’m starting to fall for him—the exact opposite of what I wanted right now. I’ve never opened up to anyone, shown my true nature or desires like this before, and this was why—I feel vulnerable as hell. Abort mission.

  “You’re an incredibly talented therapist, Roman. Thank you for lunch.” And for the diagnosis. I stand and gather my bag.

  I bolt out of the food court, my brain on fire. I know I look like a scared, silly girl, but I have to get away from Roman as quickly as possible, away from his X-ray glasses and all-knowing eyes. I need to get back to class and regular business or risk falling in love with him right here, right now.

  It may already be too late.

  10

  ROMAN

  Two and a half weeks since I saw Alice.

  When she gets the urge to run off now, I let her go. I know better than to push someone when they’re not ready to feel. I’m not ready either. If she stays away for good, then it wasn’t meant to be. I don’t know if I’ll se
e her again, but I miss her.

  Have I come close to calling her late at night while lying in bed wanting nothing more than to kiss and plow into her? Or when I receive yet more booty call requests from different women who aren’t half as hot as she is? Or when I receive yet another note, flower, or naked pic on my car’s windshield? Hell, yeah. But Alice isn’t a booty call. She doesn’t fangirl, she genuinely admires me for my mind and talent, and I won’t run after her again.

  She might deal with life immaturely at times, but she’s twenty. She’s still figuring shit out. I’ve known more immature women in their thirties. When I was in college, half the girls could have majored in Alcohol Consumption or Airheadedness. Meanwhile, Alice is being considered for an internship at Tesla, Inc. She’s smart, beautiful, and is quickly becoming my kryptonite.

  But it would be wise to forget her.

  Too many issues to work through, even though they spell sexual benefits for me.

  Also, she’s on a mission to graduate with top honors, and the last thing I need to do is interrupt her goals. She knows herself better than anybody. If she’s staying away from men in order to concentrate, it can only be because she knows she’ll get easily distracted.

  Much like the way I’m distracted now.

  Closing a patient file, I open up my browser to the DSM-5 website and get my ass back to work.

  Mrs. Gio files folder after folder in the filing case on the wall while I read through an article on bipolar disorder. All of my clients today have been female undergrads. All of them. Only one had a real issue to work through, and it was bipolar disorder. I recommended her to a psychiatrist in town and feel good for helping her, not that anyone will notice. Therapy is a thankless job.

  The paycheck is nice, but no one cares about my skills—my real skills. At some point, I’m going to have to find another practice closer to the city, one that doesn’t involve so many impressionable college women.