Page 17 of Asylum (The Wellard Asylum #9)

I ’m dreading my session with him today.

After last night, or this morning, there’s no sense of time in this place, I’m confused and hurt.

For the first time since I arrived in this hell, well over a month ago, I wish I could stay locked in this dark prison cell, alone. I’m losing myself piece by piece. Hell, the sedatives are becoming more appealing. At least I could sleep and escape this fucked up reality.

Atlas is cruel, and the longer I’m here, the more I realize just how sadistic he truly is. While my instincts scream to stay away from him, my heart can’t ignore our time alone together.

Until last night.

As I fight to push away those memories, they assault my mind until they’re clear as day.

The way he treats me in his office during those quiet moments, I forget I’m in an asylum. The doctor/patient relationship becomes blurred while I’m in his arms. Every day I see him, just for a little while, I feel normal. I’ll do anything to hang on to that.

If I could only stay in control and stop questioning him, I think we’ll be okay.

The door opens to my room, Nurse Carter striding in. “Time to go, Miss Sterling.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, I follow her quietly, completing my morning routine.

I take my time, scrubbing the evidence of last night’s fuck from between my thighs, a lone tear sliding down my cheek, mingling with the cool water spraying from the shower head.

Shame slithers through me. He may have forced himself on me, but my body reacted, wanting his intrusion.

I came.

I didn’t beg and plead for him to stop. I didn’t push him away. I let him take what he wanted while my mind silently pleaded for it to be over.

Then I came.

I don’t want to see him this morning, not after what he did to Mr. Henderson. What he did to me.

But I do care about him, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make those feelings go away.

He isn’t my stepbrother.

He cares about me. He didn’t want to hurt me last night; he just needed the connection. Right?

Once I’m dressed, I find Nurse Carter waiting for me outside the bathroom. She leads me to Atlas’s office, and the door is already open. I step inside, closing it behind me, and take a seat on the couch.

He looks up from his computer, his face unreadable. “How are you feeling today, Olivia?”

As I meet his darkening gaze, all my worries from earlier fade away. “I’m okay.”

He pushes his chair back, rising gracefully, circling the desk. He squats in front of me, taking my hands in his own. “Are you upset with me?”

My chest tightens. “Why did you do it?”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Do what?”

“Take me the way you did?” I grit out, heat spreading across the surface of my skin. He may care about me, but he doesn’t get to use me and play dumb afterwards.

The back and forth in my mind is exhausting. Part of me wants to beat the shit out of him for what he did. But the other part likes that he wants me the way he does. Unapologetically.

Fuck, this place is making me crazier than I already was.

My fingers ache as his grip tightens around them. “I’ll take you any way I want, any time I want. You belong to me, Olivia. I thought I made that clear the day you arrived.”

My skin heats further, my breaths becoming shorter and quicker. Sweat beads across my hairline, my vision zeroing in on the set of his clenched jaw.

He’s really a beautiful man, but all I can think about is ripping his fucking throat out. I continue staring as his lips tug into a smirk, his arrogance shining through like the sun’s rays after a storm.

“There she is.” He smiles widely. “Time for a new exercise in control.” He releases my hands, taking the seat next to me.

Unbuttoning his pants, he pushes them down his thighs along with his briefs, freeing his cock, and I lick my lips as it slaps against his abdomen.

“Instead of fighting me, you’re going to fuck me. ”

“What?” I snarl.

He fists my hair, pulling me until I’m straddling his lap. He leans in, his mouth too close to mine. “You’re going to fuck me like you hate me, little doll.”

My vision begins to dim at the edges, and I hyperfocus on his face. “I do fucking hate you.”

He chuckles darkly. “Prove it.”

My hands curl into fists as he lifts me up, positioning his cock at my entrance.

A growl fills the room, and it takes a moment to realize it’s coming from me.

My back straightens, and I raise my arm, ready to knock him the fuck out when he drops me onto his cock, filling me so full it steals my breath, paralyzing me.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and if Nurse Carter is hanging around, I’m sure she heard him along with the torturous scream ripped from my throat.

“You motherfucker!” I sneer, slapping him across the face.

His entire body stiffens, his eyes snapping to mine. I don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking, but I don’t have to wait long as his lips curve into a sadistic smile. “That’s my girl. Let it out. Don’t let it control you.”

His words strike their mark, and the earlier signs of an episode slowly recede into the corners of my mind.

He lifts my hips, thrusting up as he slams me down onto his big, beautiful cock.

I bite my lip to muffle the moans threatening to escape from the heady mix of pain and pleasure.

It’s wreaking havoc on my body; my pussy craving his demented push and pull.

My feelings for him border on wanting to kill him and never wanting this to end.

My core aches for him, my skin burns for him, but my mind wants to kill him.

He groans as I pin him to the couch, my hands on his chest. I find my rhythm, grinding my clit against him every time I drop my pussy onto his thick cock. My nails dig into the fabric of his shirt, and before I realize what I’m doing, I rip it open, buttons pinging off every surface around us.

He growls like the predator he is, and I rake my nails down his chest, mesmerized by the blood rising to the surface. He hums with satisfaction. “Fuck, little doll. Harder. This is what you need.”

I grin, his skin gathering under my fingernails soothing the violence I crave. “Let me guess. Your cock will cure my disorder?”

“There’s my smart girl.” He grins, his grip on my hips tightening, threatening bruises and tender skin for days.

His arrogance enrages me, and I raise my fist, punching him in the fucking eye. He grunts, his head whipping to the side, but his hips never stop moving. “No dick is that good, asshole.”

His gaze snaps to mine, and before I can get a read on him, I’m on my back, my hands pinned above my head. “Let’s test that theory.” Gripping both my wrists in one of his hands, he raises the other, backhanding me across the face.

My body goes rigid, every cell of my anatomy focusing on the stinging pain. It spreads across my skin, igniting a rage so deep within me, it feels like I may implode. “I’m going to kill you.” The words are low, and I don’t recognize my own voice.

He leans in, brushing his lips across mine. I snap my teeth, and he chuckles. “You’re not going to do a fucking thing except lay there and take what I give you like an obedient, little slut.”

He rises to his knees, bringing my wrists to my stomach, pinning them in place. One of my legs is trapped between his body and the back of the couch. The other is hanging over his shoulder, and I curve it inwards, trying to kick him in the back of the head.

He slams into me, hitting my g-spot just right, and all the fight leaves my body.

Using his grip on my wrists as leverage, he pistons into me over and over, and I lose all my senses.

The bright light shining through the window disappears.

The low hum of the electronics in his office fade away.

I no longer feel the leather couch beneath me.

The heavy weight on my chest dissipates, the throbbing in my head subsiding.

The incessant need to slit his throat fades, as well as the voice encouraging me to do so.

There’s nothing.

Only him.

His spicy scent surrounds me. The tight features of his face are all I see. The muscles of his chiseled body are all I feel. His short pants and deep groans are all I hear. He consumes me in every way, and I fucking hate him for it. “Atlas,” I whimper.

His eyes widen a fraction before he falls on top of me, his forearms catching the brunt of his weight.

“Olivia.” He groans as if he’s in pain. His eyes search my face before sliding his hands beneath my back, gripping my shoulders roughly.

His thrusts deepen, hitting every secret place inside me I didn’t know existed. “You’ll never fucking escape me.”

My core tightens at his words, something explosive coiling deep in my belly. He drives inside me as if he’s possessed, and it’s painful in a way that brings me pleasure beyond anything words can describe.

“Let go.” I groan, and he does. My hands slide up his chest, trailing up his neck, sinking my fingers into his hair. Tugging roughly, his head snaps back, his hips thrusting faster, and deliciously harder.

He circles his hips, and I’m careening towards a wave of terrifyingly beautiful oblivion.

He must sense it as my lips part, and he slams his palm over my mouth.

A muffled scream tears through my throat, instantly raw from the force of it.

My vision darkens as pleasure barrels through my limbs, a mixture of agony and bliss.

My muscles clench so tightly, pricks of pain assault my nerves.

The orgasm burns through me, hot and wild for long minutes before fading into flickering embers, my body feeling weightless and satiated.

In the distance, I sense his thrusts becoming erratic, a deep growl leaving his chest. His warm cum fills me so completely, it leaks out around him, sliding down my ass.

His hips come to a halt, and our gazes lock. Without breaking eye contact, he slides my leg from his shoulder, wrapping it around his waist. He frees my other leg to do the same, and he shifts, his forearms on either side of my head taking the brunt of his weight. “How do you feel?”

I blink. “I don’t have the urge to kill you anymore, but I still don’t like you.”

“That’s fair.” He chuckles.

The death glare I send his way should cut off his amusement, but the bastard just smiles.

Is this what my life will be? Having an infuriating doctor who I’ll fuck constantly so I don’t murder him?

The thought has the walls closing in on me, and he must sense the shift.

His body presses into me with more weight, and I’m unsure if it’s for comfort, or he thinks I’m about to bolt.

“What?” He asks.

“I’m never getting out of here, am I?”

His jaw clenches as if I’ve offended him. “No one leaves Wellard Asylum.”