Doctor Shane Nelson occupies a leather armchair in what appears to be a comfortable sitting room. There’s no other way to describe how he seems to take up every inch of space and molecule of breathable air.
I can’t guess his height from his sitting position, but his limbs are long and muscular, powerful. He has to be over six feet tall. Worst of all, he’s so goddamn handsome it’s painful, and he’s smiling at me.
Breathless and speechless, I know I will have to say something soon, but my brain short-circuits. Tim doesn’t catch my reaction as he speaks for me again. Doctor Shane responds, smiling easily at Tim, but then his eyes flick back to me.
The casual set of his lips freezes in place as if he didn’t see me correctly the first time and now recognizes me. His warm expression turns into something forced. His deep ocean-blue eyes remind me of the chilly wind blowing up my spine, and I must be feeling an echo of that now. Simply looking at him can’t be enough to pebble my skin.
A brief look of confusion crosses Shane’s face before a strong hand shakes my shoulder.
“Earth to Sera!” Tim grunts, finally drawing me out of the spell Doctor Shane cast on me.
Guilt floods my stomach as I drift back into my husband’s sky-blue eyes. Eyes that appear dull when compared to the oceanic depths of our doctor’s. I don’t believe in love at first sight, especially not for married women, but I do believe in evil, and the Devil himself plopped this man in my path. Temptation and sin incarnate.
Doctor Shane recovers quicker than I do. “Why don’t you two have a seat, and we can chat a bit?” He waves to the couch and armchair opposite him. The cozy cluster of seating reminds me of a living room. “It’s our first session, so this is nothing more than a warm-up, a way for us to get to know each other as doctor and patients and ultimately get an idea of what type of work we need to do.”
“Okay, Doctor Nelson,” I gulp.
“Please, call me Shane. Doctor Nelson is my father,” his voice wraps around my skin, smooth and deep, encouraging another wave of goosebumps.
“Shane,” I agree, cursing the blush rising to my cheeks.
His fair skin contrast with his ink-black hair, and his blue eyes shine even brighter between the two. Before I notice the strength of his shoulders or how soft his mouth seems, my pulse is racing. I thank God I’m seated and take a steadying breath as I realize Tim has never made me feel this way—not once.
As if to cement the thought, Tim sits in the armchair rather than beside me on the couch. He gestures toward me.
“Sera is the one who insisted we come. So, she can start.”
My eyebrow lifts in question. Tim’s aggravated because he’s embarrassed, and while I understand, this is not my fault. He thinks I won’t be able to stomach telling this doctor what happened because of our intense religious upbringing, and that the words themselves are so weighted and burdened with shame that I’ll balk. Well, he’s wrong. As hard as it was, I turned my back on those beliefs, and it’s time for the rest of my life to catch up.
“I caught him masturbating.” There’s not an ounce of shame to be heard in my declaration, but that’s not a true reflection of the storm brewing in my heart.
I’m mortified.
A moment of tense silence surrounds us. Tim’s shock thickens the air as it attempts to shove my words back down my throat.
“Okay.” The doctor’s tone is neither dismissive nor shocked. “I gather from your tone you find that unacceptable within the agreed-upon terms of your marriage. Is that correct?”
I flounder. My cheeks burn bright red, and Tim watches me with a self-satisfied smirk. He has been against this from the start, believing the damage our upbringing did to us is enough to keep us from speaking about our burdens and feelings ever. He thinks our baggage is too dark and heavy to let free in front of anyone.
He also can’t explain why his friends seemed shocked when I corrected them about me being his wife rather than his girlfriend, and I think there’s more to his aversion than he wants to let on. So for once in my life, I won’t let things go.
“That’s not the problem exactly. We’ve never discussed whether we’re okay with that or not. Tim and I had a very…” I hesitate as I try to think of the right way to say it, “conservative upbringing. So I can’t pretend I’m entirely comfortable with masturbation, but I think in other circumstances, I might not mind so much.” I run my finger along my bottom lip as I think.
“So, you would be okay with what you saw after a proper discussion?”
The doctor’s gentle gaze probes me.
“I don’t know if that’s true. Is lying to a therapist a sin? I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” My eyebrows crease as I navigate my thoughts.
He laughs softly, “No, there are absolutely no sins in therapy. Well, at least not when it comes to you working through your thoughts.”
The gentle sound of his amusement warms my insides. The idea of thought and speech without sin sounds titillating. I want him to show me what that could be like.
Tim sits completely aghast, staring at me like he’s never seen me. I suppose it’s true that I’m usually quiet and, up until now, I never dared to utter a word like masturbation. Hell, just thinking it makes me sick and a little hot. But I’m not sure why he’s looking at me like he’s seen a ghost.
“Part of me does feel like masturbation is dirty, but I don’t truly believe that,” I admit, hating that my father’s lessons have taken root, even when I know he’s wrong.
“Cognitive dissonance, Seraphina.”
When Doctor Shane says my name, my insides melt. Usually, I hate my full name, but the way he says it does something to me. I want to hear him grunt it like he’s both angry and pleased with me, like in that one video I watched the first night I tried to touch myself.
“Sera,” Tim corrects, disliking the use of my first name more than I do. Any reminder of home is too much for him. We fought for a month when we first moved away because he didn’t understand why I wasn’t comfortable going by Sarah.
“What?” I ask Shane, like Tim never spoke, feeling as stupid as I sound.
“Cognitive dissonance. Holding two opposing beliefs at once. It’s one of the more interesting parts of the human condition.” Judging from his smile, the human condition fascinates him more than anything, and I think I like that about him. “But that’s okay. Talking about these difficult topics is a great way to make sense of them. So, you caught your husband masturbating, and while you intellectually comprehend that’s not bad, you’re having trouble believing it?”
The question in his voice is to be polite. Shane carries a calm efficiency that tells me he believes wholeheartedly in his ability to fix our problems and anything else he sets his mind on. I envy his confidence with a burning flash in my stomach that shocks me.
“There’s more to it than that,” I argue. “It’s not that I’m some prude who can’t accept that my husband has needs. We, we—”
Tim’s face burns scarlet as he barks, “Go ahead and tell him, Sera! You made us come here.”
He’s not always an asshole. He’s not, but this whole situation embarrasses him and makes him feel like less of a man. I’m hurt but not heartless. I’m not sure what’s been happening with him these last few months, but I love him.
Shane’s deep blue eyes level on my husband. “Tim, I think it’s best if both you and Seraphina take your time. As I said, today is more about getting—”
“We’ve never had sex.” I don’t know why it’s easier to say when they’re distracted, but it is. “We’re virgins.” The truth flows, bringing an intense sense of relief. I laugh at the lightness in my chest, the utter freedom of the moment. “And his friends had no idea we were married. He didn’t even want me at his birthday dinner.” I drop my face into my hands, letting the pain he’s caused crush me. I’m still laughing even though it’s agonizing.
Thank God, Tim doesn’t say anything. But again, I’m not sure what to expect from Shane. From what I’ve seen of him, I anticipate level-headed neutrality, and that’s what I get. Kind of.
“Okay. I understand you’ve been married a while, so that’s a little unusual, but unusual isn’t bad. I’m interested to hear Tim’s opinion on both subjects.”
That’s what the doctor’s lips say, but his eyes bore into mine like he’s reading every sinful slutty thought I’ve ever had right out of my soul. Why does Dr. Nelson, Shane, make me feel like he’s done more to me with his gaze than Tim ever has? My nipples harden, and I die a molten death as I watch his eyes flick to them. He licks his lips, and no matter how innocent I am, my center throbs at the promise implicit in his action.
“We’ve been married two years, Doc,” Tim snarks after a moment’s thought.
“Eighteen months,” I correct. “If we get to two years and still haven’t done it…” I don’t even want to think.
Tim grits his teeth.
“Do you have any idea why it hasn’t happened yet?” There’s a note of caution in Shane’s voice, and I wonder if he can tell how close Tim is to an outburst.
“Not a fucking clue!” He shouts, even more embarrassed than when I caught him masturbating.
“Seraphina,” Shane’s gaze swivels back to me, and I swallow hard. “Do you know why the two of you haven’t been… intimate?” He tests the word, but a crazed part of me wishes he said something much more vulgar, offered me something much nastier.
I know precisely why we haven’t had sex, and they aren’t easy words to say under the best of circumstances. Here, they should be impossible. But Shane’s presence is so magnetic I can’t resist speaking the truth.
“He can’t get hard for me.”
“What the fuck, Sera?! That’s not fucking true!”
“Yes, it is, Tim. When we tried to have sex, you couldn’t get hard for me, but when you were watching Pornhub in the bathroom, that was plenty for you. We’ve been together since we were sixteen, Tim, and that was the first time I have ever seen you hard!” Tears stream down my face. I try to scrub them away, but they’re coming too fast.
Tim slaps the leather. “You know what, Sera? The last time someone thought I fucked you, I got my legs broken. This was your idea. You stay for therapy.”
With that, he pushes up from the chair and storms out of the office. The door slams shut behind him, causing me to jump. My tears pick up in intensity, and for a painful moment, I don’t realize I’m alone with Doctor Shane. Tim can’t get hard for me because he associates it with bone-breaking pain. Something deep inside me shatters because as much as I love Tim, I have no clue how to fix this. I don’t think we can fix this. I stare at the door long after it closes.
“Seraphina,” Shane begins softly. “Are you okay?” Now that we’re alone, his voice sounds deeper, smokier, and even more tempting than when Tim stood between us. The pain still ricochets through my body, but Shane has grown more prominent in Tim’s absence, somehow taking up the space Tim occupied rather than leaving it empty between us. I’m losing my mind because I’m sure he’s filling my lungs next, and I hardly want him to stop there.
“No.”
That single word is so insignificant in the face of my pain and the intense attraction to the man across from me. I know I don’t love my psychiatrist. I love Tim, but the connection between Shane and me is so intense it makes me ache for everything that Tim and I aren’t and perhaps never will be.
Shane’s eyes are so blue they feel like an act of God. Like the ocean far away from shore where the depths plummet halfway to the Earth’s center, untamable white caps crashing on top of pressure so intense it could easily crush you. They meet my own, and I swear he sees every emotion crushing my insides, everything I’ve ever felt. The charge between us draws him out of his chair and across the room.
I don’t know much about therapy, but I’m sure his next move goes against a few ethical codes. Strong arms band beneath my legs as he hoists me out of my seat and into his arms. He takes the spot I’d been sitting in and nestles me into his lap, holding me against his chest. I’m tense at first, so stiff it’s almost comical.
I’m not sure why Shane is doing this. For a split second, I think I’ve lost my mind out of a sheer, intense desire for this man. I know I should protest, but I don’t want to. Has anyone ever held me so tightly?
“Relax, Seraphina,” he speaks against my ear, and the subtle vibrations of his voice send a shiver straight to my nipples and the spot between my legs. No one calls me that anymore, and I’m more than a little alarmed by my reaction. I should be tense, but instead, I relax into him. His hold on me warms me, an intimacy I can barely comprehend.
Maybe I knew a little of it once, but it’s so far in the back of my memory that I can’t scrounge it up. My mother’s affection felt like home, and this is more than that. Except it can’t be because Shane isn’t anyone or anything special to me. I’m so starved for physical affection and intimacy that I must have gone insane.
“You can cry if you need to. Everything is going to be okay.” His words are my undoing, and the tears I was sure I could hold in spill over my cheeks. Rubbing circles onto my back and stroking my hair as I cry into his incredible-smelling chest, he doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the forty-five minutes of our session.
I settle eventually, tears drying on my cheeks, then his shirt, yet I still don’t climb off. The sculpted muscles of his chest are under my palms, and I desperately want to run my hands over them, test how firm they are beneath my fingertips. Instinctually, I know where I can lead this, but that’s so wrong I can’t believe I’d even think of it. I hate myself for not getting up the moment he placed me in his lap, and I hate myself more for not being able to pretend I regret it.
Instead, I sit stock still, terrified of the most incredible excitement I’ve ever had in my life ending, and terrified for it to go any further because I have no intention of cheating on my husband. I may have let religious extremism go when I ended my relationship with my father, but I don’t believe adultery is okay. Plus, I haven’t suddenly stopped loving the man with whom I’ve spent half my teens and entire adult life.
I love Tim. I love Tim.
I chant those words in my mind when one of Shane’s hands stops just above the curve of my butt; I shudder as I force myself to think of the word ass. I tell myself I feel his struggle, how badly he wants to drift that hand further. But in reality, I only feel how badly I want him to drift that hand lower and dig those strong soothing fingers into my round flesh.
“Our time is up, Seraphina,” he finally says, removing his hands and leaving my skin aching for more. Heat floods me at his words, both from my arousal and embarrassment. The pain the end of this session brings is akin to crushing and grinding my heart beneath a millstone. He’s right when he says our time is up, and this whole thing has been a disaster. My entire life is a disaster.
“I intended to set up individual sessions with you and Tim today and make your appointments for next week. Is that something the two of you are interested in pursuing?” He lifts me from his lap as firmly as he placed me there and sets me on my feet. He stands in front of me a second later, close enough that if I leaned forward a fraction, I’d press against the length of his body. I might have if not for what he just said.
Instead, my mouth hangs open as I process the question. There has to be more to say than that. Shane sounds so normal, like nothing at all happened.
I clear my throat, “He will be. I’ll make him.”
“Okay, that’s great. I think there’s a lot of work for us all,” he says as he guides me to the door.
Shane leads me down the hall with his hand on the small of my back. The point of contact between the two of us is subtle after the time we spent cuddling up, but the intimacy of this gesture vibrates in every part of me. I stare at him out of the corner of my eye, and I think he sees me because he wears a crooked smile that makes my heart race. Tingles zip along my skin, radiating from where he touches me, and at that moment, I have forgotten that Tim is outside, mad at me.
The thought of going to hell crosses my mind when I glance over at the crotch of his pants, trying to glimpse if Shane’s shameful arousal matches my own. But, unfortunately, I’m not skilled in the art of noticing a well-hidden erection. I’ve only seen two live penises before and one belonged to a flasher when I was twelve.
Seeing Tim hard for the first time was… Well, it was hot but also heartbreaking. I’ve wanted to see him that way so many times, and he’s left me feeling beyond rejected for so long. It’s complicated with Tim. Every damn thing is complex, but I don’t care as I notice the thick outline in Shane’s pants. He is hard for me.
Someone wants me. Shane wants me.
Undeniable heat floods my lower belly, and moisture slicks my thighs. I thought I had experienced arousal before. I thought I was hard-up and desperate to know what sex felt like, but I was wrong. I have intellectually and physically wanted sex for a long time, but I have never needed a man to fill me, and right now, I do.
There’s a stupefied expression on my face as Shane pushes me toward his secretary. “Tasha, Seraphina here needs to make a few appointments for next week.”
“Of course, Shane.” She smiles in obedience at him as he leaves us with a friendly wave.
We arrange the appointments, and I leave the office, doing my best to keep my face straight as I head out and look for Tim. My heart sinks as I find he’s not out front or in the space we parked the car. I check my purse for my phone, sighing loudly when I come up empty.
I’ll have to call a cab if he doesn’t come back for me. After a few minutes of hoping and procrastinating, I head back inside, planning to use the phone at the reception desk in Doctor Shane’s office. I’m embarrassed to be heading back there so soon. After what happened between us, it feels like an excuse to ask him to do all the sinful things I scarcely understand swirling around in my head.
When I get there, no one is sitting at reception. I consider just using the phone, but I don’t know the number of any cab companies, and there is probably a code to dial out. So I head back to Shane’s office with my heart slamming the entire way. The hall seems longer than when Tim and I followed Shane’s pretty secretary. I’m somehow even more nervous than I was before. This is absurd, considering I will only ask him to use his phone, not take my virginity on one of his small couches.
I swallow hard at the thought of him doing just that. Finally, I stop and take a few deep breaths, forcing away the lump in my throat. I’m aware of the bright flush coloring my cheeks, but I hope he interprets that as me being upset about Tim leaving me here. That is reasonable, a hell of a lot more understandable than being physically affected by my doctor so intensely that I’m dripping and palpitating.
I take one more breath before I knock. I hear nothing but muffled noises, then the word “Yeah,”
I take it as permission to enter but am shocked to find that he didn’t expect me.
Shane sits at his desk. The light pine finish blends into the tan walls behind it, so I didn’t see it when Tim and I first came in, but it’s impossible to miss now. Shane sits behind it like it’s his damned throne. One elbow leans on the desk, and his chin rests in his hand. He must be the Devil because I immediately imagine him with a crown around his head, a dark prince.
His dark slacks are open. His belt buckle catches the light, resembling a jewel pointing to his erection. He’s gripping it so tightly in his hand I swear it has to hurt. Beyond how delicious he looks, my first thought is how thoroughly he puts Tim to shame. He’s huge, but his length isn’t what scares me: it’s the circumference.
Watching his strokes in fascination, he thickens further as he works himself, his brow furrowing in concentration and his white teeth pressing into his plush pink lips. I can’t help but notice how similar his lips look to the gleaming head and how his white teeth match the pearly substance bubbling up invitingly at the tip. I have the wild urge to suck that lip into my mouth and bite it harder than he is. Then proceed to lick up his mess.
I make a noise, something hungry and a little feral. Shane’s gaze flicks up, meeting mine.
He groans, “Seraphina,”
Cum spurts out of him, thick and white. His face is intense as he stares into my eyes and empties himself. I watch each pulse, each twitch, as he empties. The deep slit in his head spills into a river of thick white, but his hand continues to pump his shaft. The occasional spurt launches into the air to celebrate the sexiest man alive finding his release.
I want to drop to my knees and taste him so badly that my hand falls from the door I still held open. I need to get away. The door swings closed, slamming so hard between us that I jump in surprise. I’m not thinking about anything other than escaping and the taste of his orgasm as I run away as fast as I can.
I go the wrong way down the hall and take the stairs instead of the elevator, not caring how I get home anymore—it’s only a few miles, so walking isn’t a big deal. As I’m convincing myself this isn’t one of the worst days of my life, I come face to face with Shane’s receptionist. She’s leaning against the wall on the landing between flights and wearing a stupid smile as she types on her phone. The sound of my stomping feet makes her jump, and her wide eyes shoot to me.
“Sera?” she asks, and her gaze flicks nervously back to her phone.
“I’m fine!” I squeak as I continue past her, down another flight, and through the lobby.
The whole way home, I work to dislodge the feel of Shane’s body against mine and the heat that watching him come stoked in me. Did he say my name because I was there? Or was he thinking of me? And why am I enough for this man I just met when I am not enough for Tim?
