Page 22

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It felt like everything had shifted into play.

Like the cards were in my favor.

Especially tonight.

Octavia answered just after I got home that morning, informing me she was free tonight.

I ended up doing lunch with Zion and Sarai, keeping the details of Kaia to myself.

Just for right now since I want to make sure everything is set in stone before I declare we're friends again.

I also don't know how Zion and Sarai would react, so I just talked about the normal things.

Like school or how their days were.

Later that evening, I started getting ready early, picking out black pants and a matching mesh top to wear over a tiny black bralette.

I did a full wash day, not wanting to wear my hair in the same blowout—and instead, my natural curls.

My makeup was a natural look as I preferred it, but I went for a more mauve lip combo to pop against the black outfit I wore.

It seemed like Dr. Leclair enjoyed wearing black, so I figured I would match that vibe.

It felt like I was quite literally handing her everything on a fucking gold platter.

I just hope she won't break the platter itself before making the correct decision.

This could be good.

Something casual—just us fucking, could be a good thing.

It was something I thought about during my Uber ride.

I also thought about last night—the sounds she evoked from me, the pain and pleasure, it was annoyingly ingrained into the front of my head.

I will never forget it.

I'm not sure if she agrees—if I'm the only one thinking about it like this.

I knew I couldn't be.

That thought alone weighed me down as I entered the familiar bookstore, noticing Octavia browsing the books off to the side as she waited for me.

"Hi beautiful," I murmured as I approached her, my usual smile spreading on my lips.

Octavia immediately glanced up to meet my stare, "Hi," she said, a smile growing on her lips, "Sorry, I'm always an early person."

My smile grew amused, "I think I should be apologizing—I'm quite literally the opposite," I said as I backed away from the book display, "Let's head this way."

Octavia nodded immediately, following me over to the familiar door disguised as a bookcase.

The store worker didn't overly stare or question me once, probably because she remembered me or I looked like I knew what I was doing.

Either way, we smoothly made it past the hidden door—which impressed Octavia as she followed behind me.

My heart nervously ticked in my chest as I walked down the familiar hallway, hearing the jazz music and soft chatter.

The Archive looked lively for a Tuesday night, different groups of people spread throughout the table and booth area.

The bar consisted of couples softly conversing or people who sat alone.

My eyes scanned the bar first, hoping the universe aligned the stars tonight.

That she would be here and my plan would be in effect.

Otherwise, I'm not sure what I would do from here.

Maybe tell her about it?

Or pretend to accidentally send a text to her?

My heart shot up in my chest, noticing her presence at the bar—unsurprisingly in the exact seat as last time.

She seems like the type to have that small of a pattern.

"Let's sit at the bar," I suddenly told Octavia as I pulled her along, knots tying deeply in my stomach.

This would either go my way, or worse.

"This place is so cute," Octavia said, her voice lowered between us as I purposely sat three seats down from Dr. Leclair.

She looked different here.

The sleeves of her black blouse were rolled up to her elbows, revealing her bracelet and emphasizing her rings.

Her dark hair was down as it was earlier, keeping her leg crossed over the other as she focused on her drink.

It was her usual routine, tracing her fingertip against the rim of the shiny glass.

"What can I get for you tonight?" I heard the bartender ask, forcing my focus away from her.

"I'm not sure yet," I said, reaching for the menu.

I could feel her stare shift to me immediately, burning into the side of my face.

"What do you think beautiful?" I suddenly asked Octavia, softening my tone with her.

Octavia pursed her lips as she read over the menu, "It's a lot of options," she admitted with a shy smile.

"How about I give you two some time and—"

"Wait, what about this?" I asked, purposely pointing to the specific drink.

I couldn't pronounce it, but I recalled it was her go-to.

She claimed it was in the interview written about her.

"A Negroni Sbagliato?" the bartender clarified.

I nodded immediately, "Yes—we'll have one of those," I said, glancing over to Octavia, "Did you want to share and make sure we like it first? We've already kissed before."

My ears quickly perked up, hearing Dr. Leclair softly clear her throat.

It made me purse my lips, desperately trying to fight my growing smile.

"That sounds good to me," Octavia determined with a smile, earning a nod from the bartender who backed away to make the drink for us.

That's when I heard her heels click softly against the flooring, grasping my attention.

Out of my peripheral, I noticed her smoothly standing from the barstool—making defeat sink inside of me,

She's leaving.

I guess I don't know what else I expected.

I also didn't think of the idea that she would genuinely leave, but whatever.

I can still have a good time.

Maybe I should just move on—Octavia is here and all.

I subtly glanced over, noticing Dr. Leclair didn't walk toward the familiar hallway leading to the exit.

It was another hallway instead, leaving her untouched drink behind.

"I'll be right back," I said before I could think it through, even if it felt like I'm always the one following her, "Will you be okay for a second?"

"Oh yeah, I need to get my selfies and drink pics," Octavia didn't hesitate to say, which made me feel a lot better.

I wouldn't leave her alone if she stated otherwise.

"I won't be long," I said, sliding down from the barstool as Octavia nodded in acknowledgment.

Then I was off, trying to walk normally toward the hallway I witnessed her go down.

My walking was faster-paced, but not too quick that it was obvious I was chasing my fucking therapist.

I prayed the hallway led to the single occupancy bathrooms she mentioned last time I was here—and that she walked back here on purpose.

She probably did.

Right?

I'm definitely not being delusional.

A smile grew on my lips, noticing the two different bathrooms situated at the end of the hallway.

I didn't waste any time approaching the women's bathroom, glancing down at the handlebar.

It still showed green, which meant it was vacant.

Or she didn't lock the door.

I drew in a deep breath, wrapping my hand around the cold handle and slowly twisting the door open.

Knots tied in my lower stomach as I walked into the bathroom.

Dr. Leclair was already waiting for me, leaning back against the sink with her arms crossed over her chest.

Her expression was neutral, but I knew there was much more to it.

"Oh, sorry, were you using this one?" I said, fighting my smile as I actually pretended to walk in on her on accident.

I needed to be serious right now, but I swear all I could do was smile.

"Close the door, Liberty," she calmly instructed, motioning to the door I held open.

I felt a warmth burn up my body, nodding a few times, "Of course, doc," I said, letting the door close gently behind me and subtly locking it.

Hopefully, it needed to be locked.

"Don't doc me right now, Liberty," she said, leaning away from the sink to step closer to me.

I met her halfway, leaving barely an inch between our bodies.

"You seem tense. Is everything okay?" I whispered, reaching my hands up to her arms.

But she leaned away before I could touch her, making me tilt my head at her.

"You did this on purpose," Dr. Leclair stated, her blue eyes trailing my face, "You deliberately went against me after the conversation I had with you hours ago."

I furrowed my brows, "I don't know what you mean?" I said as if I were genuinely confused, "I can't go to the bars I want now?"

"Drop this act," she demanded, her voice lowered between us, "Or I'll have you referred to another therapist by the end of the night, whether you like it or not."

I rolled my eyes, "You're no fun," I mumbled with a forced frown.

Dr. Leclair shook her head at me, her jaw growing tight as she forced her stare away from me.

"I have been generous," she said, her voice lowered, yet calm, "Very generous, Liberty, and this is what you do in return?"

I shrugged, "I'm not doing anything. I told you I was going out with someone," I pointed out, pursing my lips when a smile threatened to grow on them, "Maybe you're just jealous?"

Dr. Leclair hummed in amusement, "Of the woman out there alone while you stand in this bathroom with me?" she asked, her stare locking with mine again, "Not in the slightest, Liberty."

I narrowed my eyes at her, "Well, she'll be the one taking me home tonight," I purposely said, using what was left of my upper hand.

"It doesn't count when I could offer to take you home myself and you would say yes, no hesitation behind it," Dr. Leclair calmly countered, twisting my words back to me, "You would even beg for it too, wouldn't you, Liberty?"

I clenched my jaw at her words, my face burning up against my own wishes.

But I had nothing.

Nothing to counter her words with after I had been on my knees begging for her just hours ago.

I knew better than to argue her annoying fucking point.

"Whatever, we'll just leave and give you your stupid bar back," I mumbled purposely, my words harsh and petty, "I'll take the festivities back to my place."

Dr. Leclair lazily raised her brows, "Enjoy yourself," was all she said, making my jaw grow tighter.

"Oh I will—maybe I'll even let her fuck me on the blanket you gave me," I mumbled, purposely using a cuss word.

Her eyes narrowed at my words, but I quickly turned away not even wanting to finish this conversation with her anymore.

I'll just let it go since—

I gasped when I felt the firmness of her fingers around the back of my neck, pulling me back to her before I could leave.

"I'm done with this behavior, Liberty," she stated as I tugged against her hold.

She had me turned toward the low sink before I could process it, bending me directly over it as she let go of my neck.

But only to grab my wrists instead, tugging them firmly behind my back.

"Monroe," I gritted her name in warning, feeling the warmth of her body against the back of my legs.

This has to be the most degrading position and at the worst fucking time.

I gasped again when she grabbed my hair, tugging my head up to meet her calm stare through the mirror.

It made my entire body burn up, wanting to be so fucking angry at her for fucking up my hair.

I don't even care about anything else.

Not with her standing behind me, holding my wrists in place behind my back.

I don't think I mind this.

"You're being a brat, Liberty," she calmly observed as I struggled against her hold.

"Fix it then," I purposely challenged her, spreading my legs apart for her.

She tightened her grip on my hair in response, earning a whimper from me.

"You don't want me to fix it, trust me, Liberty," Dr. Leclair stated, her stare not wavering from mine through the mirror, "Now you're going to apologize."

I scoffed, "No, I'm not," I mumbled, trying to relax under her hold, but her tight grip in my hair still remained, making my head ache, "I only said the truth."

Dr. Leclair tightened her grip even more in my hair, making me whine as I tried to tug my hands out of her hold.

But it was no fucking use when her grip also tightened around my wrists.

"You're going to apologize for your language," she calmly instructed, her voice lowered between us, "And for your ungrateful behavior."

I drew in deep breaths, trying not to focus on the pain aching at the back of my head—staring at her through the mirror with burning eyes.

"Fine, just let me go first," I mumbled reluctantly, purposely shifting my ass against her legs, "Please," I asked, softening my tone for her.

But there was nothing, not even a hint of a reaction on her features.

"Apologize, Liberty," she repeated herself, her tight grip in my hair remaining.

I felt more than pathetic, holding her stare through the mirror as I genuinely contemplated the idea of just giving in to her.

The silence stretched between us for a long moment as I contemplated my next move.

Was I really sorry?

Or was I just saying it to please her?

Probably the second one.

"I'm sorry for my language," I whispered, trying to be still under her hold, "And I'm really sorry for being ungrateful," I forced out, my tone genuine as I waited for her to let me go.

Dr. Leclair nodded once in approval, calmly loosening her grip in my hair and letting go of my wrists.

Then she took a step back from me.

I pressed my hands against the cold sink, leaning up from the bent-over position as she watched me.

"This all could've been avoided, Liberty," Dr. Leclair determined as I turned around to meet her stare.

She looked so unaffected while I stood in front of her with fucked up hair that she messed up herself.

"Tell me," she spoke again when I remained silent, taking a step closer to me, "Is this still everything you wanted?"

I clenched my jaw, unable to provide an actual answer.

Or I knew my answer, but I felt almost embarrassed to say it.

To say that I still wanted something with her after she just bent me over a bathroom counter and made me apologize.

"Yes," I quickly said when she raised a brow, suddenly recalling her past words.

You speak when spoken to.

And she said she wouldn't be repeating that again.

Dr. Leclair hummed, her eyes trailing over my face as I anticipated what she would say next.

It was another tense silence that stretched between us, but I knew to be silent for her.

Especially if I wanted my way.

It just felt like the longest silence of my life, watching Dr. Leclair calculate her next move.

"Get on your knees," she suddenly instructed, smoothly sliding her hands into her pant pockets, "You're going to beg for this."

I blinked a few times, feeling excitement course through my body at the fact that she finally gave in.

Even if I had to be bent over a sink to get my way, it felt entirely fucking worth it.

I briefly glanced around the polished bathroom, not minding getting on the floor—it was extremely clean given how upscale the bar was.

I also wore pants rather than a skirt.

I carefully lowered down to my knees, folding my legs underneath me as I felt her openly watch me.

This was pathetic.

It had to be.

No self-respecting person would kneel just because someone told them to.

They also wouldn't feel proud of it.

Yet I do.

I feel proud to do this for her.

"Lean down," she calmly said, still standing over me with a look of disapproval.

Am I doing this wrong?

I furrowed my brows at her, hesitantly leaning forward and pressing my stomach to my knees.

I rested my palms on the cold floor by her shiny stilettos, glancing up to meet her stare.

I definitely felt beyond degraded kneeling before her like this, but I didn't care.

I'm proving the fact that I can handle this.

Even if my ego hates it.

"Go on," she motioned her head at me.

I blinked a few times, "Please," I hesitantly whispered, feeling a little out of my element this time around, "Please can I have this?" I asked, softening my voice even more with desperation.

Her neutral expression didn't shift, making me feel almost embarrassed.

Like I was doing this wrong.

"Say it, Liberty," she murmured, her tone unnervingly calm between us, "Tell me exactly what you're on your knees for."

Her words made my lower stomach ooze with warmth, suddenly finding it hard to breathe in her presence.

The air felt thick around me—a tension burning between us.

"You," I immediately whispered, staring up at her, "Can I please have you?"

Dr. Leclair tilted her head, noticeably unimpressed, "You can do better than that, Liberty," she said, motioning at me to continue.

I furrowed my brows, unsure what else I could say or do.

I had never begged like this for anyone before.

I leaned further down before I could process it—

My lips brushing the smoothness of her glistening stilettos.

A kiss.

It was all I could think of.

"Please," I said again, my tone more pleading with her, "Can I have you please?"

She was silent for a moment, making my heart tick in my chest as I anticipated what she would say.

If I did good for her.

I waited, patiently counting the seconds in my head.

Until I finally heard her hum, the sound soft in her throat.

"Look at yourself, Liberty," she softly whispered, suddenly lowering to my height, "Kneeling at my feet, kissing my shoes, all while another woman sits out there waiting for you."

I felt my face burn up, staring up into her blue eyes with nothing to say, nothing to contribute.

All I wanted was her approval of my previous actions.

I relaxed as soon as her hand gently cupped my cheek, smoothing her thumb across my skin.

My eyes unconsciously fluttered closed, leaning entirely into her touch, "Did I do good?" I asked in a soft whisper.

"Very good, Liberty," she didn't hesitate to say, trailing her hand over to my hair.

But instead of tugging at my curly strands, she smoothed her fingers through them—massaging the spot she previously tugged at.

I let out a soft sigh, keeping my eyes closed as I relaxed into her touch.

"You're going to leave this bathroom, Liberty," she calmly instructed me, gently scratching my head and earning a hum from me, "And you're going to tell your date that you don't feel well—perhaps you feel sick or you got your period," she offered ideas, her voice so soft between us, "Whatever the case is, you will leave here alone."

I nodded at her words, "Okay," I murmured, my eyes slowly fluttering open to meet her stare.

"Tomorrow, you'll be at my office at seven to sign an NDA, among other paperwork," she continued, drawing her hand down from my hair and giving the back of my neck a gentle, yet firm squeeze, "Do you understand?"

I nodded yet again, "Yes," I said, causing her to briefly let go of my neck and rise to her full height again.

"Good," Dr. Leclair said, holding a hand out for me.

I immediately reached up to place my hand in hers, standing from my kneeled position.

"The sink first," she instructed, pressing her hand to my upper back and guiding me toward the bathroom sink.

I naturally reached for the soap dispenser as she turned the water on for me.

After a brief moment of rubbing my hands together and lathering the soap, I rinsed them under the warm water—the sound of it filling the otherwise quiet space.

Dr. Leclair grabbed me paper towels before I had a chance, patting my hands dry for me before throwing them in the trash.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Liberty," she said, her tone lowered between us as she opened the bathroom door for me.

"Tomorrow," I murmured happily, processing how much of a three-sixty this all took.

There was so much irritation.

And now I feel content yet again.

I really like it when she gives me my way.

I just wish it included a lollipop tonight too.

"I'm so sorry," I said as I approached Octavia seated at the bar, sipping on the drink I ordered us.

"You barely took ten minutes—it's all good," Octavia quickly assured me, offering me the drink.

I shook my head, "No-no it's not that..." I trailed off, suddenly aware of Dr. Leclair's presence now approaching the bar.

It made everything inside of me burn up, trying my best to focus on Octavia who looked confused.

"What is it?" Octavia asked me.

"I got my... period," I whispered the last part, leaning into her, "So if you don't mind, I was just going to head home—"

"Oh my god, of course," Octavia cut me short with a concerned look, "I think I would be a bitch if I said otherwise."

I nodded quickly, "I'm so glad you understand," I whispered with a grateful smile.

"Of course, I would—I'll just text you," Octavia offered.

And that's when I felt it.

Her stare shifted to us.

"Okay," I whispered as softly as I could without Dr. Leclair hearing.

Not that I was going to text Octavia, but I also wasn't about to reject her offer after I invited her out.

I just wasn't sure how Dr. Leclair would feel about doing anything but rejecting her.

"You really don't have to do that," Octavia told me when I reached into my wallet to grab a twenty-dollar bill.

"I invited you out," I reminded her with a gracious smile, mostly because without her, I would've never gotten my way, "Have a good night," I said, setting the crisp bill down before Octavia could argue my efforts.

She shook her head with a smile, "You too. Text me when you make it home safely," she said, earning a nod from me as I walked past her, exiting the hidden bar.

A wide smile slowly grew on my lips—practically turning into a fucking grin as I replayed everything that happened in that bathroom.

It felt like I was on another high again, and this time—

No one would ruin it.