Shameless (The Therapist #2), стр. 45
The next thing that comes through is a short video. It’s only thirty seconds long, but it’s of Ava rubbing her clit with two fingers. She moves in small, rigid circles, and I can tell what's about to happen from the way her body is tightened. Her legs are stiff and her eyes are closed. She's biting her lip, and I can hear her breathing starting to peak. Then, she comes hard and loud. Her body shakes so much the video blurs the last five seconds before she turns it off.
By the time the video is finished playing, I’m breathing hard like I just came. Ava knows the type of man I am, and she knows how to use it against me. She has also broken a rule by bringing herself to orgasm, something she knows she’s not allowed to do. She can edge with my permission, but she's not supposed to come. She’s pushing me on purpose, and from how hard my cock is throbbing, it’s working.
I want to call her. I want to fuck her. I want to drag her into the Black House and tie her to the bed while I take my time using every toy at my disposal, until she comes fifty times and passes out from the bliss. I want it more than I can stand, and if I don't do something, I feel like I’m going to crack. So, I take advantage of the fact that Keisha is gone, and slide my hand down my pants.
My cock is as hard as any time I can remember, and although I don't usually masturbate, I’m going to enjoy it tonight. I open my phone and press play on Ava’s video again, stroking my cock while she rubs her pussy. I can't come in thirty seconds, but when I play the video a second time, I end up coming at the same time Ava does in the video.
I get myself cleaned up, taking extra time to inspect the floor and desk to make sure I haven't left any evidence behind. The last thing I need is a patient’s brow furrowing as they notice hardened cum on the floor during a session.
I also don't need Ava knowing that I masturbated to her video, so when I leave, I do it without replying to her. I shove my phone in my pocket, turn off the lights, and walk out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
~ Malcolm ~
Do you ever feel like someone is watching you? You know those moments when you're doing something mundane, something completely normal, then you get that nagging feeling in your gut. You get something that feels like a tug at the bottom of your shirt, something like a warning, like a Spidey Sense. Well, I just got it.
Standing in my living room, I hold three pieces of mail in my hand. Two of them are credit card companies trying to reach out and ruin my good credit. The other is a statement for my mortgage. I still owe six figures on my house. Thanks for the reminder, mortgage people. When I toss the mail onto the coffee table, that’s when I hear it.
There’s a tap at one of my windows in the living room. It’s not continuous, so I can't follow the sound. It only happens once, just enough to draw my attention. My head snaps up and to the right. My blinds are closed, but there's a tiny sliver of darkness peeking inside from the bottom of the blinds where one of the slats is stuck on the cord. If there's darkness sneaking in, that means someone can see through that spot if they try hard enough. Someone like Ava.
Forgetting about the mail, I dart over to the window, drop to my knees and shove my face into the blinds. Only darkness greets me. There’s no extra people walking around outside. No mysterious cars parked at the end of my driveway. Ava isn't here. I suppose it’s just my imagination.
I lift myself off the floor and try to shake off the fact that I feel like an idiot. Why am I so paranoid? I’ve let my time as Ava’s therapist take control of my mind and start playing tricks on me.
It’s understandable. Ava stalked her most recent boyfriend, and was accused of trying to burn his house down. That kind of thing tends to stick with you, even after the therapy is over and the sex has begun. Nonetheless, I brush it off and try to settle myself in for the night.
I walk over to my fireplace and fire it up. The flames start low and build themselves up like orange bodybuilders right before my eyes, glowing bigger and brighter by the second. As the fire starts to crackle, I hear another tap from behind me. This one from a different window.
Was it a tap at the window, or the crackle of the wooden logs as they burn in the fireplace? Damn it. I’m stressing myself out. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I get up from the fireplace and start walking to the kitchen, where I plan to pour myself a rather strong drink of vodka. However, before I can leave the living room, I hear another tap at the window.
“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself. I’m instantly filled with a combination of anxiety and annoyance, because no one likes feeling afraid. “Fuck this,” I snap, then I walk to the window and yank on the cord, sending the blinds shooting towards the top of the window frame.
“What the fuck!” I scream, as a darkened silhouette of Ava stares back at me.
When she sees me, Ava jumps back,