Page 7 of Asylum (The Wellard Asylum #9)

“ D o you have a home?” I ask, sitting on the black leather couch, waiting for our session to begin today.

He looks up from his paperwork, tilting his head to the side. “I do. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. It seems like you’re always here.”

“I have a home in the country, but I stay here most of the time due to the long drive. There are a few spare rooms available in case the doctors need to stay overnight.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure where I was going with this.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know about me, Olivia?” He smirks, and my stomach flutters.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “You spend a lot of time with me. Doesn’t it cut into your time with other patients?”

“I’ve transferred a few of my patients to other doctors. Your treatment is my top priority. You have a chance at a life outside this hospital, and I want to make sure you receive the help you need.”

My chest tightens. He seems like he actually cares. “Thank you,” I whisper.

He looks down at his paperwork once again. “Change into your examination gown. It’s in the bathroom, hanging on the back of the door.”

My heart damn near beats out of my chest. Silently, I rise from the chair, quickly entering the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I push the ill-fitting fabric over my shoulders.

It falls down my body, hitting the floor, my white, cotton underwear following closely behind.

Reaching for the paper gown on the back of the door, I slide it over my shoulders, the front hanging open.

Standing in front of the mirror, I truly look at myself for the first time in a long while.

My hair is long, the red and orange color looking dull and lifeless.

I used to think it was strawberry blonde, but I’m not quite sure what color you’d call it now.

When it’s shiny and full, it’s beautiful and wavy, but now, it’s straight and thin.

My skin is pale, my green eyes full of pain and sorrow.

The bags beneath them are dark and hollow, my cheeks sunken in as if I’m malnourished.

I do eat a little, but the food here is a mystery most days.

I usually taste test before every meal, when they shove it through the slot of my door.

If I don’t gag, I eat it. I’ve lost some weight since arriving at Wellard Asylum, but my body is still appealing.

Too bad I can’t say the same for my face and hair.

Taking one last look in the mirror before opening the door, I sigh, heading back into the office. Atlas is standing, leaning against his desk, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“On the table.”

Climbing onto the cushioned table positioned next to the gynecological chair, I sit straight as a board, my heart thumping in my chest. He hasn’t touched me since my last exam, where he made me come for the first, and only time in my life.

I’ve tried multiple times in the last week to bring myself pleasure the way he did, but it never comes.

I never come.

He pushes off the desk, crossing the room and halting in front of me. “You seem like you’re under the weather, little doll. I’m going to listen to your chest and examine your throat.”

My brows furrow. “I don’t feel sick.”

He smirks. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

“I have to be naked for this?”

His jaw clenches as his hands move to his waist. My body goes rigid, expecting to fly into a rage as soon as the metal clinks, but the triggering sound never comes.

Meeting his gaze, his eyes soften. “I took it off before you came in.”

My chest constricts, grateful tears threatening to fall. I’ve never met anyone so considerate, so understanding. He’s my doctor, and what we’re doing is wrong, but I want him.

He unbuttons his pants, sliding down his zipper, pushing them down his thighs along with his briefs. All the air rushes from my lungs as my eyes land on his huge fucking cock. My lips part, a tightness coiling in my lower belly, and I’m not sure if it’s excitement or fear. Maybe a little of both.

His fingers grip my chin, lifting my face up to his. He pulls a bottle from his back pocket, flicking the lid open, squirting clear liquid into his palm. He palms his thick cock, spreading the lube over himself, slow and steady, his eyes darkening.

I’m conflicted about so many things in this moment.

The only other person I’ve had sex with forced himself on me.

The emotional scars of having my innocence stolen by a family member is something I’ve never truly dealt with.

Killing him brought me a measure of peace, but the memories continue to haunt me.

While I want Atlas, my anxiety spikes, terrified I’ll slip into one of my episodes if he does something unintentionally triggering me. I meet his gaze, allowing him to see my trepidation.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He steps between my legs, his thumbs moving slowly to spread my pussy open. He bites his bottom lip, his cock sliding along my slit, working himself back and forth, and I grip the table, my head falling back on a gasp.

He fists my hair, forcing me to look at him. “Eyes. On. Me.” He growls, pushing himself inside me.

The burning stretch is too much, and it feels like he’s going to rip me in half. “Atlas. It’s too much.”

“Relax, little doll. I’m not fucking you today. You’re just keeping my cock warm while I examine you.”

My brows furrow because I don’t understand the pleasure in that, but I don’t dare question him.

I’m uncomfortable, too full, and stretched beyond my limit, but I won’t risk saying anything to cause him to change his mind.

The longer we’re like this, I realize there’s pleasure in pain, and I want to experience it.

With his cock buried impossibly deep inside me, he raises the end of the stethoscope to my chest. He listens intently as I remain quiet, attempting to think of anything other than his dick just hanging out inside my pussy.

The reprieve is short lived as he leans back, standing at his full height.

His hips punch forward, a scream tearing from throat.

His hand flies to my mouth, his lips pressing against my ear.

“Quiet, or someone will hear you being my little slut.” My face flames at his words, and he smirks, removing his hand slowly. “Open wide.”

I stretch my mouth wide, and he leans forward, shining the light down my throat. The shift of his body causes his hips to pull back, giving me some relief. He takes his time looking inside my mouth, and my jaw begins to ache from holding it open.

“Your throat looks good,” he murmurs, his hips punching forward as his hand flies to my mouth once again. He rubs my clit furiously, and just when I think I can’t take anymore, my body explodes. This is so much more intense than using his fingers.

It’s fucking life altering.

My entire body burns with the pleasure racing through my veins, and my back arches, pushing him deeper inside me. My vision dims, but not in the way of an oncoming episode. Little bursts of light peek through the darkness, a feeling of euphoria tingling across my skin.

Trailing his nose up my neck, he whispers against my ear. “Filthy girl. Coming around your doctor’s cock while he examines you.”

Something snaps inside me, and I reach up, gripping the back of his neck, crashing our lips together. I pull him forward as I lean back, grinding my sensitive pussy on this cock.

He growls as my tongue sweeps inside his mouth, taking what I want. “I said I wouldn’t fuck you today,” he grits out, and I nip his bottom lip. He breaks the kiss, his piercing, dark eyes penetrating me just as deeply as his cock. “Fuck it.”

He grips my hips, and I wrap myself around him as he walks us over to the couch, tossing me onto the plush cushions.

He sheds his clothes quickly, and all I can do is stare at his toned body, biting my bottom lip.

He lowers his body on top of me, sliding inside me easily thanks to my orgasm moments ago.

“You’re fucking trouble.” He groans, gripping my ass, tilting my hips so he can slide deeper.

“So fucking tight.” I swear I feel him in my womb, and when I whimper in both pain and pleasure, he grips the back of my head, burying my face in his neck.

“Bite me to quiet those sexy fucking noises you make.”

My tongue darts out, licking the salty musk from his skin, making him groan, his strokes becoming harder and deeper.

I know I’ll be sore. I’ll have bruises. But I can’t bring myself to care. My mind is quiet, nothing strong enough to penetrate the world he’s created for us.

I’ll do anything to stay in this place.

He circles his hips, rubbing himself against my clit as he thrusts inside me.

I can’t stop the desperate pleas escaping my lips, so I do the only thing I can to muffle the sounds.

I sink my teeth into his neck as the most mind-blowing orgasm hits me, stealing the breath from my lungs.

He growls menacingly like an apex predator as I cling to him, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

“Harder,” he demands, gripping my hips painfully, pounding into me like I’m nothing more than his little fuck hole.

My teeth sink deeper, the copper taste of blood overwhelming my taste buds.

He grunts, his strokes becoming erratic, more punishing.

My body reacts, pulling tightly like the string of a bow, and just as he buries his face in my hair to muffle his release, I come again, crying out against his skin.

His hips slowly rock into me, dragging out our combined orgasms as I rake my nails down his back.

His body shudders as he lifts his head, his gaze locking onto mine. “There’s no escaping me, little doll. You’re mine.”

“Yes, Dr. Stone.” I agree, licking the remnants of his blood from my lips.