The Therapist (Chase Walker Book 5)

by J. A. Belfield

  Silky skin brushed across his cheek. The skin of her breasts. He wanted to grasp hold of its fleshiness, suck its tip deep into his mouth. Show her the joy she could gain from the affections of another. Instead, he held himself as rigid as his cock had grown in his pants.

  Arms pressed in either side of his head, over his shoulders. A flat stomach aligned with his own. At the gentle rock of her hips, he was already moaning before her cunt had even made the first contact with his dick.

  Not daring to move, not daring to even open his eyes, he held his breath. Waiting for her next move. Giving her full control.

  Her hips shifted back, and she brought them forward again, sweeping her cunt across his solid shaft with a tiny upward flick that had the head of his cock flinching while crying out for more. His muttered, “Fuck,” left his lips before he could tame it, another moan eking out when she repeated the move.

  With each brush of her pussy across his hardness, her breaths hastened, her quiet groan merged with those he made. With each nudge against him, her breasts caressed his chest and made him wish like fucking hell he’d had chance to shuck his damned shirt.

  “How does that feel to you?” he asked, his voice little more than a growl.

  All he received in response was a heightened whimper, her hips grinding into him with an urgency that met his own.

  “How does that feel, Abi?” he demanded.

  “Good—” A gasp broke through her whisper. “It feels good.”

  It felt more than good to him. It felt fucking amazing, and within seconds his hips had found their own rhythm, rising up to meet her, to grind harder against her cunt as it stroked around his cock. His head tipped back further, his jaw locked tight against the grunts bubbling up his throat, and as the first eruption dived from his cock, his grip of the chair set it groaning beneath the pressure, his body bucking into the trailing releases that shot free one after another.

  The breath he freed burst past his lips, his chest rising and dipping with those that followed, and he finally allowed himself a glimpse at the temptress who’d taken him across the finish so fucking fast.

  Except, Abi didn’t sit astride him, as he’d allowed himself to imagine. She still lay back on the bed. Her hips pushing her cunt into where he fingers plunged in and out, the fingers of her free hand tugging hard at her nipple and twisting with each drive into her pussy, and her lips circled around the stifled cries she gave on the pinnacle of climax. All while she stared directly at him.

  With his hips still thrusting at air in a way he scarcely noticed, he allowed his gaze to lock with hers, forced a stuck swallow along his throat. “Let go,” he ordered.

  And her body arched into the orgasm that seemed to rip through her from head to toe. Like a ripple effect that had her entire body undulating into its force, as she allowed herself to ride the wave of euphoria rather than fight its demands.

  The cry that spilled from her hit the highest pitch he’d heard from her yet, as her hips jerked into the spasm of her muscles. Quieting when her hand slowed its strokes of her cunt and she steadied the trembles of her body, until she lay there, a quivering form of panted breaths and heaving bosom.

  It was only as a slight frown crept across her brow and she averted her eyes like he’d flashed her that Chase realised how much she might have seen. How much of him she might have witnessed, as he’d forgotten his surroundings and his role, his stern composure to which he held so tightly, as he’d laid himself bare, with a rawness he never allowed in his work.

  Suddenly all too aware of the soggy mess inside his boxers, he pushed to his feet and tapped a knuckle against the glass of the fake mirror. “Sam will be in very soon.” He barely glanced at Abi as he said the words, and by the lack of movement in his periphery, she paid him the same respect. “I’ll see you in my office once you’ve had time to clean up.” An act he dearly needed to get on for himself.

  As soon as the door swung inward, and Sam stepped inside with a questioning glare she fired on a direct path for Chase, he pushed his way out into the corridor and made a beeline for the staff quarters. Something that seemed to be becoming habit wherever Abi O’Shay was involved.

  ***

  Freshly cleansed and freshly clothed, Chase pushed forward a step when the door to his office swung open. He stared like a fucking idiot as Abi entered and Sam closed them in together. Stared like an idiot as Abi’s feet quit moving and she just stood there returning his interest.

  “Abi …” He trailed off. Mostly because he didn’t know what to say. Mostly because he didn’t know how much she’d seen of his control slip and didn’t want to give himself up any more than necessary.

  “Mr Walker,” she replied, and her gaze finally snapped from his, sweeping the room as a blush began smothering her pale cheeks.

  He jerked a hand toward the chaise. “Take a seat. Please.”

  Her movements slow, she crossed to the low sofa and sat her arse down. Chase really didn’t want to think about how that same arse had ground against the bed not so long before. He already had a big enough hole to climb his way out of.

  His thoughts didn’t seem connected to his brain much, lately, though.

  Drawing his own chair closer, he sank down until eye level, his hands instantly entwining between his knees. His eyes seeking out some kind of signal for her feelings.

  “Abi …” His mouth seemed stuck on that one word, yet again—though what the hell was he supposed to say to her? Look, I’m really sorry if you spotted my ejaculating in there, but you just have this effect on me my body seems defenceless against.

  No woman had gotten Chase so outside of his own command. Not even Nicolette.

  “Mr Walker,” she shot back at him for a second time, and Chase could’ve sworn her lips twitched at the corners before she glanced away again.

  Clearing his throat, he straightened in his seat a little. Maybe even a tiny amount of extra distance might help with his focus. “How did you feel today’s session went?” Safe question, safe ground. So long as he stuck within that territory, he could deal.

  Except, the stare she sent him from beneath lowered lashes held a whole lot of intent he had no idea how to interpret. “How did you feel it went, Mr Walker?”

  Okay, so she’d definitely seen something. The real question was how much?. “You breached a new barrier.” So had Chase. “Pushed yourself that little bit higher.” She’d pushed a whole lot harder against Chase’s resolve, too. “Did you enjoy today’s session?”

  Her cheeks darkened to red. “Yes, I enjoyed it.” Her lips full-on curved for an instant, before she seemed to curb the smile and stared off toward the window. “It was very enjoyable.” Her gaze sliced back to him, all probing and direct. “Don’t you think, Mr Walker?”

  She was playing with him. She had to be. Otherwise, why the coy glances and shy smiles, and eyes full of an understanding she seemed to want him to be privy to? “My enjoyment of the session is not what we’re here to discuss, Abi.” He had no idea how he kept his voice level. Giving a sharp clearing of his throat, he leaned in a little closer—totally, one-hundred percent against his better judgement. “You’ve been practising for your sessions, I saw.”

  “You told me to,” she said, almost defensive in her tone. “You gave me homework.”

  “Do you always do your homework?” He should’ve bit down on his own tongue before those words had left his mouth. Fuck, he sounded flirtatious and suggestive as hell.

  “Yes, Mr Walker.” Her lips inched up again, her left eyebrow doing the same. “I always have, and always do, complete my studies. It’s important, don’t you think?”

  The direct way she stared at him, the expression she didn’t even seem to be attempting to hide, Chase could’ve sworn she’d mentally climbed on a train designated for an eighteen-to-thirties weekend, because she’d have been smashing it out of the park on a trip like that. A trip for which Chase definitely wanted to board. Even her body sat poised without a hint of nerves—which only bro
ught Chase’s own to the forefront with what appeared to be a switcheroo of roles.

  Abi, the controlled and poised one.

  Chase in a mode of What the fuck am I even supposed to be doing.

  He barely pulled off his swallow as he nodded. “Yes, very important, yes.”

  He waited for her to respond to that. She didn’t. Just sat there with some kind of smugness hiding just beneath the surface of her features, a shine in her pale eyes he couldn’t quite fathom. Fidgeting in his seat, Chase pushed up to sit straight. Away from Abi. Away from whatever spell she’d cast to set a subtle tingling throughout his body that tugged at his groin.

  “Next week …” he said.

  Again, she didn’t speak, but continued with her quiet studying of him.

  He probably sounded like he had a cough on the way with all the throat clearing he did. “I think we should be ready for you to progress to the next stage of your plan.”

  Her eyebrow quirked up a fraction more. “And what is the next stage of my plan, Mr Walker?”

  Something about the way she said his name had his body responding, and he rubbed his palms along his thighs like that’d distract him enough for his dick to calm the fuck down. “Nudity.” He watched for her reaction. She barely even flinched.

  “My robe fell all the way open today,” she said, her expression unmoving, but Chase knew he’d relocated those nerves she’d been covering from the slight waver to her tone. For some reason, it offered him a little of his own confidence back.

  “Your robe could be shrugged off all the way down to your elbows, and that still wouldn’t classify as you being naked.” Clutching onto the shred of returning control, he leaned forward again, trying his damnedest to hold back his smile. “And I didn’t mean for only you to be nude, Abi.”

  Her eyes widened for an instant, before she narrowed them on him. “I don’t think I quite understand what you’re saying, Mr Walker.”

  He allowed his smile through, moulding it into something he hoped represented patience and understanding. “When you finally become intimate with a man … with your husband …” God, he hated that fucking word lately. “… he will most likely get naked to be with you. And there’s a high chance he will like for you to be naked, also.”

  Because who the hell wouldn’t want Abi O’Shay naked alongside them. Skin brushing on skin, heat transferring from one body to another, the kind of merging perspiration that only occurs during a hard round of satisfying sex ....

  Chase did, and he wasn’t even marrying her.

  “Surely, you’re aware of this?” he added.

  Her hands twitched in her lap and her expression shielded over—like she was more than aware of it but had so far been burying the fact under whatever rock she could find. He wanted to smile at the slip in her façade. He didn’t want to smile, at the same time. After all, wasn’t finding her confidence what treating Abi O’Shay was supposed to be about? After two beats, her face lined, lips set with a tiny twist at their corners—almost as if she felt only disgust at the very idea.

  “I mean, that’s how most sexual acts are carried out between married couples.” Chase had to wonder how much of her demeanour change had to do with the act itself … and how much of it was aimed at the man with whom she’d eventually be getting unclothed. “But that’s what we’re here for. To prepare you for such an eventuality.” He sensed his professionalism edging back in with each word he spoke, relieved to be back on less foreign ground.

  “By my getting naked?” she asked.

  “Yes. With another.”

  It seemed to be Abi’s turn to swallow. “I’m going to be naked with a naked man?”

  Chase nodded, watching her expression, gauging her reaction.

  “Who?” she said, her voice pitched a fraction higher than usual.

  Usually, CW Consult would bring in a third party. Get them to strip down and cover the kind of task Abi would be faced with. Because Chase never ‘just got naked’ with clients—not a single client had tried undressing him completely since he’d started the practice. What would be the point, when the rules clearly stated they couldn’t ask him for anything resembling full intercourse?

  Not a single one of his regular rules seemed applicable where Abi was concerned, though, and Chase didn’t even pause to consider the consequences, as he threw out his, “Me.”

  That time, her eyebrows winged high into her forehead. Her chest shifted up and down with the few hastened breaths that followed. And as she visibly gained control of herself, her features resettled into a quiet calm, through which he could only just see the nerves. “Okay.” She said it real quiet. Like saying it quiet would make it less out there, less explosive in her mind.

  “Okay?” he asked, because he needed to be sure—though, of what, even he didn’t quite know.

  She nodded, a small gesture that told him she still processed everything he’d told her.

  “Okay, then,” he said, climbing to his feet and gesturing for Abi to join him. “I want you to continue with your homework,” he said as he guided her across the room. His dipping back into what’d almost become a shaky subject for them probably made him a dick, but he didn’t care. Reaching the door, he pulled it open and waved for her to go through, turning to Rae and Sam behind the desk as Abi pattered over to them. “Can you book Abi in for next week, please?”

  As Sam nodded and started tapping on her keyboard, Abi sent a glance back toward Chase. “I can only do Thursday next week.”

  “Thursday works for me. Sam?”

  A few clicks, then, “We can do Thursday.”

  “Well, then.” Chase smiled—grinned—as he met Abi’s wide stare. “I will see you then.”

  He would definitely be seeing her then. A heapeded-whole fucking lot of her.

  He couldn’t quite wipe the smile away as he turned back for his office.

  ***

  Chase really should’ve been heading home. Taking some alone time to unwind.

  Since his after-appointment with Abi, though, all he’d thought about was her, naked, and himself so fucking close to that soft skin of hers, and he knew he’d have just ended up jacking off half a dozen times in an effort to get his bastard imaginings out of his skull.

  So, instead, he’d dragged his hide off to The Trafalgar to try and dull his rotten thoughts with a drink, or ten.

  The noise of inside hit him as soon as he pushed on the door, voices and laughter and music bleeding through the smallest gap. Even for a Friday, the place sounded busy for that time of evening—it didn’t usually fill until at least nine.

  In the lounge of the pub, only a handful of tables hadn’t been claimed, and bodies hovered around the bar in huddles of those who’d come with friends. Heading straight for them, Chase shouldered his way through until his feel hit the walnut fronting of the chest-high bar. Even once there, he waited over a minute for a barman to separate him from the crowd and saunter over with a smile.

  “What’ll it be?”

  Chase only spared him half a glance as he ordered a pint, his gaze trying to see around the bar huggers as the tender grabbed a glass. He scanned the lounge, from one four-man booth to the next, from one age-old seat to the next, until his gaze landed on a familiar set of eyes, and he smirked to himself as he paid for his drink and carried it out through the bodies.

  Halfway across the floor, his presence seemed to get noticed, and as those dark eyes swung around to land on Chase, a smile tugged across the face of the guy hogging a whole table to himself.

  “What the fuck is this I see?” he said, as soon as Chase reached him. He pushed to his feet, his hand reaching out to clasp Chase’s, his other slapping him on the shoulder. “Zookeepers must be slacking on the job if you’ve escaped your cage. How’re you doing, man?”

  “Still rollin’ like a motherfucker,” Chase said, and his friend let out a hearty laugh at the familiar saying they’d shared for years.

  As with Jones, Chase had known Ade Atkins since school. Jus
t another of their circle who’d hung in the same spots, got lost in the same activities, and trod the same path through the forest of a life filled with sex. Growing up, Ade’s dark eyes had spelled of trouble and brought the girls running. His unkempt mop of chestnut hair had only added to his bad boy image, though he’d kept that a lot neater since the clientele he attracted had shifted a whole heap upward.

  “Haven’t heard from you in a while,” Chase said as he sank onto the bench seat facing Ade across the table.

  He gave a vague nod, but Chase couldn’t help noticing how his eyes sliced away. “Been busy working. You know how it is.”

  Chase nodded himself, taking a swig of his beer. He did know how it was.

  “What about you?” Ade asked. “Where the hell you been hiding?”

  “Work mostly.” And in his shower, wanking like it’d become his new favourite pastime. Mostly to thoughts of Abi O’Shay. He shrugged with a small smile. “Okay, pretty much just work.”

  “Hey, when business is good, you gotta climb on board the rollercoaster and scream that you wanna go faster, right?”

  Chase pointed a finger his way. “Right.”

  The smiles they’d just shared faded, their eyes skimming away from each other. To anyone else, they probably appeared to have sank into a comfortable silence, but Chase had spotted the tight lines of Ade’s shoulders as soon as he’d chosen his table to sit. Knowing if he pushed him Ade would clam up, Chase downed another shot of his drink and waited. It was how Ade had always been, growing up. Whenever he’d had something on his mind, or a problem he didn’t know how to fix, he’d shut everyone out with a stony expression and hunched shoulders, only opening his mouth for support when he was good and ready.

  It took almost seven long minutes of his blank expression before Ade swung his gaze back toward Chase. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  Chase noted the twitch of his fingers against his glass, but pretended he hadn’t. “About what?”