Reckless (A Carolina Coastal Novel Book 3)

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  We haven’t always lived this way. My parents work for every dime they make. I grew up in a small home, sharing a room with Carson when we were much younger. Things changed, but people’s perception of me has remained the same.

  I’m just a young, hot, rich girl.

  I keep cycling back to the question weighing me down: why the fuck am I so angry all of the time? Why am I afraid of commitment when my parents are still in love after a million years together? Why can’t I feel normal, whatever that is?

  I’ve barely talked to my siblings for the majority of my life and I don’t even know why. Carson should be the angry one with how much shit the universe has put her through. But no, she’s happily married with a daughter, a niece I hardly know.

  My brother is even engaged to a goody-two-shoes. My stoner older brother is a freaking teacher for Christ’s sake. Terrifying. Yet, he’s happy and his life is on track.

  But me? I’m fucking my therapist. If that doesn’t say how screwed up I am, what will? Christian Grey better watch out. I’m coming for his title of fifty shades of fucked up.

  The saddest part is, if you told me a year ago I’d be screwing me therapist, I wouldn’t even be surprised. I’d probably high-five myself and brag to all of my friends.

  Yeah, you already did that, my subconscious reminds me. In part, I am who I am and I shouldn’t have to change. But also, I’m affecting the lives of others around me. I’m endangering people. I’m not a kid anymore and I should take some personal responsibility. But…how? The concept is foreign and uncomfortable.

  A knock on my window pulls me from my mental spiral.

  “Sweetheart, are you okay? You’ve been sitting out here for a while letting your car run.” I push the button on my car to turn it off and step out. “Come in here before you head to your room.” I follow my mom inside with an eye roll.

  I know I should be easier on her because she’s only worried about me, and for good reason. Still, the two of us have always bumped heads and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. “What’s up?”

  “Our invitations came today.” She’s sing-songy, so thrilled that I wouldn’t be surprised to see a rainbow coming out of her Pilates-toned ass.

  She hands me a thick envelope with my name written in calligraphy across the front. Ms. Flynn Fletcher + Guest. I open the envelope and am assaulted by a gray and blush colored invite stating a September 1st wedding. It’s only a few weeks away, which I would’ve remembered if I paid any attention to the save the date I threw in the trash the minute I opened it.

  “I assume you’ll bring one of your girlfriends, unless you’re back together with that guy you were seeing? What was his name? David or something? He seemed to really care about you at Carson’s wedding.”

  “No, Damon is so far out of the picture he’s barely in this stratosphere. I’ll figure it out.”

  I walk through the house to go out the back doors to my room in the pool house. I debate asking Dani or Cara to be my wedding date, but I have eight weeks to go. I’m sure something better will come along. It’s not like I’ll still be fucking my therapist in eight weeks, I’m sure.

  I still message them, but it’s to fill them in on what happened after I left Bottomless. Or, well, to tell them the fake version of events. I say Liam dumped me. Cara suggests getting over him by getting under someone else, which used to be my life motto, but now I have to think of another bullshit lie to work around that. I decide to worry about that later. For now, I send off one last text.

  Flynn: When can I see you next?

  Liam: Soon.

  Eleven

  Flynn

  I can’t stop picturing Liam’s cock driving in and out of me. The timing isn’t exactly ideal considering we’re in the middle of a session. I promised him I’d cooperate and we’d keep therapy separate from sex.

  I’m an adult with a history of commitment issues—why does the first time I yearn for a relationship have to be with my fucking therapist? It’s something I’m sure will come up and then we’ll have to discuss it. I can’t fucking wait for that session, insert eye roll here.

  “Flynn, you seem lost in thought. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking about since it seems to be your primary focus?” Hell. No. We’re not talking about it today. No fucking way.

  “Do you really want to know?” I give him a pointed look, but he has his metaphorical therapist hat on and he doesn’t read between the lines.

  “Of course. I need to know, Flynn. It’s my job and I need and want you to be completely honest with me.” His pen hovers above his yellow legal pad, ready to jot down my miraculous revelation.

  You asked for it. “I’m thinking about how your cock feels when it drives into me. I’m trying here, really, I am, but all I can imagine is bending over your desk and letting you take me from behind.”

  Needless to say, he doesn’t write any of that down.

  He clears his throat before responding and rubs a hand over his scruff. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. I roll my eyes and my palm tingles, itching to slap him.

  “You wanted honesty and here’s more. We both knew this was a terrible idea, but we can’t seem to stop. If you want full honesty and to get into my head during these sessions, you can’t get skittish when I tell you the truth.”

  A long, pregnant pause stretches between us until it’s interrupted by his sigh. “You’re right.” I wasn’t expecting that. It also doesn’t escape me how he adjusts his pants in a not-so-subtle way. If I look at his crotch, I know he’ll be hard, but I do everything in my power to not glance down.

  I take a deep breath. Fuck it. There’s no better time than the present, right? “That’s also what’s weighing on my mind…why I can’t give you up. I’ve never become…attached…before. I’ve never wanted anyone this bad after we’ve already had sex. Normally I can hit it and quit it, to put it bluntly, but I can’t seem to quit you. And…I don’t want to.” I bite my lip and divert my gaze, scared of what I’ll find if I look in his eyes.

  Being vulnerable is not my strong suit. Until recently, I didn’t even know I was capable of emotions. To sit here and admit I might like someone for more than a one night is unnatural to me. But to be telling the person I like to their face that I like them…it’s uncomfortable to say the least.

  When I look up to finally catch his gaze, I notice his dilated pupils. They sing all the dirty things he wants to do to me and I’m sure my eyes sing right back. I’ve wanted him to take me over his desk since our first session and my panties are already wet at the possibility.

  I stand, keeping my eyes on his to gauge his reaction. He’s trying to remain stoic, but I note how his jaw is clenched like it’s the last thing restraining him. If I take one more step, he might break, and I hope he does.

  I slink closer, masking my nerves with faux confidence, knowing that at any minute he could put a halt to this. The rejection would burn and I know I’d lash out. He sits up straight. “Flynn,” he says and this could be it.

  But, no, his resolve is fading. His tone is weak and his swallow is thick.

  “Just once. I just need to live out this fantasy one time, and then I’ll behave. I promise.” If he didn’t want me to push the limits, he shouldn’t show up looking like that. In perfectly-tailored navy suit pants and a white collared shirt, he looks fucking edible. He left the top buttons open and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. His expensive watch catches the sunlight where it rests on the arm of his chair.

  I walk to him and stand between his open legs. Leaning down, his eyes fall and catch my cleavage. He isn’t ashamed to stare down my shirt and when his hazel eyes find mine, they sparkle with devilish desire.

  Liam’s mouth curves into a mischievous grin and his hands reach out to grab onto my hips.

  “I’m going to hell for this.” He tugs me onto his lap and our mouths collide hungrily. He nips at my lip and I moan into his mouth. I’m straddling his thighs and the bulge in his pants is growing by th
e second. I rub my pussy over his nice slacks and if I’m not careful I’ll leave a stain.

  “Lift up, let me pull my cock out.”

  I’ll do him one better.

  I stand on already wobbly legs and walk around the back of his chair to his desk. I reach up under my skirt to tug my panties down my thighs and shimmy out of them. They’re still around my ankles as I spread my legs and press my chest onto his desk.

  “I’m ready for you, Dr. Whitmore.” He must beat a world record with how fast he runs over to me.

  His zipper seems loud knowing we have to stay quiet and yet, as his fingers find my dripping core, he groans. “You need to stay quiet,” he tells me. Speak for yourself, I want to retort, but I don’t get a chance. “Do you need me to gag you?”

  I love to be vocal in bed and yet the thought of being gagged shoots an electric current of excitement straight to my soaked center.

  “Yes, Dr. Whitmore.” I’m breathy and on edge. The moment he touches me, I’m going to explode.

  His hand travels down the outside of my leg before he lifts each of my feet in turn and removes my panties. When his hand appears in front of my face, my pink, lace underwear are wadded in his palm.

  “Open your mouth.” I comply and he shoves the fabric into my mouth. I can taste my arousal covering my panties and I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

  In the next instant, while I’m still adjusting to being gagged, his hands hind my ass. As if this is a scene straight out of a porno, he spits down my crack and uses his fingers to lube my tight hole. His thumb pushes inside and my back arches, needing more.

  I’m distracted by the intrusion in my ass and aside from a few quick slaps of his cock against my pussy, he doesn’t prepare me at all. He pushes my chest flat against his desk and braces one hand on my shoulder as he slams into me.

  I’m glad the lace muffled my voice because I scream with the sudden fullness.

  I’m grateful there’s always a constant, low hum of music playing in the background to give us some semblance of masking the sounds. Though, the furious slapping of skin is like a gunshot in this quiet building—loud and unexpected.

  “Baby, are you with me? I can’t hold off much longer.” Nor should he. Every second that passes brings us closer to getting caught.

  I nod, the gag leaving me unable to speak. His thumb leaves my ass and his hand wraps around the front of my thigh, searching for my clit. The slightest graze from the minute he comes in contact with it has me coming all over his thick cock. I come hard, squeezing and milking his dick for everything he can give me.

  “Fuck, Flynn.” He grunts and pumps a few more times before stilling inside me. He rubs a hand over my back, brushing my hair to the side before leaning down and kissing my shoulder. “How have I never noticed this before?” He trails a finger across the back of my neck across my tattoo, I’m sure.

  When he pulls out, I instantly feel the mess spilling down between my legs. His cum makes a trail down my thigh and he’s quick to grab a tissue to clean up the evidence of our intimacy. Once my clothes are straightened out, I turn around to face and answer him.

  “You mean my tattoo?” He nods and I shrug. “For a therapist, I guess you’re not very observant.”

  “It’s sexy. What does it mean?”

  “Téméraire. It’s French for reckless.”

  “Fitting.” I smirk at him and catch him glance at his watch. “Perfect timing. Looks like our hour is up.” He walks back over to me and places his hands on my arms. Leaning down, he places a soft, chaste kiss on my lips.

  I have to admit, I’m glad he’s not freaking out like I expected him to. I broke his one rule about keeping sex and therapy separate. With the way he reacted after we fucked in his bed, I thought fucking in his office would be worse. Apparently, I was wrong.

  A rap of knuckles against the door has him sprinting halfway across the room.

  “Dr. Whitmore, I’m sorry to bother you, but your next appointment is here and she says it’s an emergency.” That was close. Five minutes earlier and we would’ve been caught.

  “Coming, Amanda. Thank you.”

  Liam pockets my panties that I spit onto his desk and refuse to put back on seeing as they’re drenched. It makes me ready for round two knowing he’ll be holding onto them for at least the next hour, probably longer.

  Before I have a chance to grab my things and go, the door flies open. A blonde chick in a trashy outfit stomps into the room shrieking and fake crying.

  “Lauren, you can’t barge in here. I’m with a patient.” The bimbo side-eyes me with a cold glare. There’s no doubt in my mind that her emergency involves wanting to get in Liam’s pants.

  And…has she? Have they slept together? How many of his patients has he bent the rules for? He claims it’s only me, but can I believe him considering he gave in to me so easily?

  “I’ll see you next week, Flynn.” He throws me a pointed look filled with regret and a tinge of anger. Maybe he’s upset with me after all?

  My shoulders sag as I make my way out of the room. As I pass by Lauren, she sneers. It looks like Liam is dropping me for her and she’s cocky about it. Then again, I was cocky five minutes ago too when I was full of his cock, but now I’m second guessing everything.

  “I’ll take extra good care of him,” the bitch snickers under her breath and I slam the door behind me.

  I’m already sick of the rollercoaster that is Liam Whitmore.

  Twelve

  Flynn

  “What are you doing here, Flynn?” His tone of voice tells me he’s pissed and the man is giving me whiplash with how hot and cold he is. Hasn’t he ever heard the expression, it takes two to have a romp against your therapist’s desk? He didn’t exactly give me any indication that he wanted me to stop.

  I’ve been outside of his apartment for twenty minutes, impatiently waiting for him to get home from work. His greeting was less than ideal and even less friendly, but I’ll have to take what I can get.

  He unlocks his door but doesn’t push it open and doesn’t even begin to invite me in. “We need to talk,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes and a mask of arrogance clouds his handsome features.

  “Are we back in high school, Flynn? Are you breaking up with me?” Tilting his head, his hazel eyes roam over my body from head to toe. “I guess you basically did just graduate, so I shouldn’t be surprised by your immaturity.”

  “Why are you being such a dick?” Instead of acting like a normal girl and getting sad and weepy over his behavior, I get pissed. It’s my fatal flaw.

  He finally opens his apartment door, and once he does, he latches onto my bicep and drags me inside. Slamming the door, he tosses his keys and phone on his entryway table and spins to face me.

  “I don’t know, Flynn, maybe because you seduced me in my office, the one place I told you was off limits. We were moments away from getting caught. You’re going to get me fired and get my license taken away.”

  “I seduced you? Last I checked, you had the ability to say no.”

  “As if that would’ve stopped you.”

  I rear back. “I’m not the one to shove my dick in you. You’re just as guilty as I am and that’s why you’re pissed.”

  “Dammit, Flynn.” He flips the table beside his door, causing his personal effects to go flying. “Don’t you think I know that? I can’t control myself around you. So, yeah, that’s why I’m pissed.” He crowds me against the door and I inhale the scent of alcohol wafting off his breath. No wonder he’s all over the place. “You’re inside me, Flynn. I can’t get enough of you. I can’t even stop saying your name. Flynn. God, I love how it sounds. Sexy and unique, just like you.”

  He kisses me and half of me wants to shove his drunken ass away, but my pussy is in control of my brain and rules my every action. I claw at him, wanting to scratch him, scar him. I want to draw blood and leave marks.

  He wants it rough, he’s got it.

  We’re savages, ravaging one another
. I’ll feel him for days after this. He lifts me and slams me against the wall. My back will be bruised from the door and his fingers are sure to leave marks where he’s gripping my ass.

  He slams into me once, twice, three times. I don’t know how long we’re at it; it could be seconds, minutes, days, but I’m lost in him and he loses himself in me, too. It’s harder than I’ve ever had it and it doesn’t take me long to get off on the aggressiveness.

  Once I come back down to Earth and he stops being a huge fuckwad, we order Chinese food and curl up on his couch. I’m getting fully accustomed to my constant whiplash from being around Liam Whitmore. As he’s taking a bite of General Tso’s, I ask the question that I came here to get answered in the first place.

  “How many patients are you fucking? Or, well, have you fucked?” I take a large bite of an eggroll while I wait for his anger to return.

  “None, ever. Just like I told you before, the answer hasn’t changed.” He’s nonchalant and I want to push him.

  “I’m really your first? In all the years you’ve been doing this, it’s never happened before?”

  “You’re my first and last. Patient, I mean. That I’ve fucked. Or will fuck.” I think he’s still a little drunk. “You’re forgetting I was married before you came along. I’m not a cheater.”

  Right, how could I forget the ex-wife? “That girl wanted to eat you alive today. Laura.” The way I mess up her name is intentional. “I think Hall & Oates wrote Maneater about her based on all the crazy in her eyes.”

  He laughs at that. I’m sure the booze is keeping him loose. “You’re funny when you actually open yourself up.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I see how you are with your mom and your friends. It’s like night and day, two different people. You’re not just a closed off bitch, there’s an actual person under there. I mean, no offense, just an observation.”