Page 84 of Fixation

“Call someone else.” The pressure in my head intensifies. I need Harper. I need this call to be over. “Respectfully, I don’t care what he promised them. You can tell Bennet to talk to me if he doesn’t appreciate my answer.”

“It’s okay.” I hear him in the background, exasperated. “His cousin is sick. Or in town. I forgot.”

Fuck that and fuck this call.

I hang up, throwing my phone on the couch. Then I go to her. To the basement.

As I enter, the door clicks shut behind me. The sound is soft, a contradiction to the storm raging inside my heart. My soul.

If anyone thinks they can take me away from Harper, they’re dead wrong.

Standing at the edge of her bed, I watch her as she sleeps.

I roll my tongue over the top row of my teeth, sliding a finger over her delicate throat.

Remembering her taste taps into the darkness in me. It controls my movements as I remove her blanket and bunch it at the end of the bed.

She remains fast asleep while I tear at the restraints. Lifting her, I remove her clothes and lay her back down again.

All the while, she sleeps. Her throat is begging to be fucked. My cock jerks at the sight and feel of her. My nerves light up.

A part of me still doesn’t believe that I have her here.

Maybe it was dumb luck. Maybe it was the sign I needed to snap out of it and take matters into my own hands.

Whatever it was, the end result is the same.

Harper is mine.

That conviction plays on repeat in my head while I brush my fingertips over her neck, cupping her cheek.

I restrain her naked body to the bed again, now that she’s naked.

This isn’t ethical, what I’m doing. Climbing onto the hospital bed. Settling between her spread legs.

This approach would likely result in my being banned from practicing medicine.

Those are rational thoughts, belonging to the sensible man I once was.

Before I met Harper.

I’m hard to the point of pain.

My lips are on her clit. Fingers in her pussy.

This is how she’ll wake up for as long as I can help it.

I start slow. Giving her pussy an open-mouthed kiss. Pushing my middle finger in, up to the first knuckle.

Pressure starts building inside me the longer I lick and devour her.

Though she’s asleep, her cunt is dripping at my touch. She’s swollen. Her clit is taut against my lips and tongue, her body’s way of accepting me. Needing me.

That’s how I know she doesn’t mean it when she tells me to stop.

It’s a façade. A game.

A way to test the depths of my obsession. To see how far I’m willing to go to have her.