Page 10 of Lonely (Wellard Asylum #4)

C arter had misbehaved the night Anna played buckaroo on my cock.

As a result, he spent the following week in solitary after a session of shock treatment, much to my disappointment.

Doctor Andersen had overseen that decision, and I’d had to keep my mouth shut or risk getting into trouble.

I didn’t want eyes on me. Secrets were harder to keep when people started noticing you.

Andersen was slowly coming to, making low, indistinguishable noises in the bathtub where he lay naked, lips sewn shut.

He could sense me. He couldn’t move, but his harsh breaths were growing more labored.

I crouched and plugged the bathtub.

“I injected you with a paralytic agent.”

His eyes went wide, and his pathetic whimpers echoed in the small bathroom. I turned on the tap, making sure the water was cold enough to shrivel his balls, then shook the excess from my hand.

“I didn’t like what you did, you know.”

I flicked droplets into his eyes, savoring the fear leaking from his pores.

“Touching what’s mine.”

I shook my head in disapproval before standing and tapping the edge of the tub with a finger.

“You shouldn’t have touched Carter. Now I have no choice but to punish you.”

Andersen’s ragged breaths barely rose above the sound of the rushing water.

I sat on the toilet and rested my elbows on my thighs. The tub filled slowly. I estimated I had about twenty minutes before the paralytic wore off. Andersen would be dead by then.

“You don’t get it, do you?” I said quietly. “The moment I saw him, I knew he was special.”

His lashes fluttered. His thighs were nearly fully submerged.

“Did he scream when you strapped him to the table? Did he fight?” I ground my teeth, flexing my hand into a tight fist. A storm churned inside me, just like the one last week.

“I bet you felt powerful when you pumped him full of electricity.” I raised my gaze and exhaled slowly through my nose.

“I bet it got you hard.”

One of his big toes twitched. I watched the small movement while the sound of the water filling the tub drowned out all thoughts except those of Carter.

Those thoughts were vivid . . . the tendon in Carter’s neck straining to the point of snapping when Andersen had flipped the switch. The hair-raising scream that followed.

I closed my eyes and pressed my hands over my ears to block out the distant echo. The noise pressed in from all sides, relentless and unforgiving. Breathing deeply, I shook my head to clear it.

When I opened my eyes, water slid across Andersen’s hairy chest and merged in the center.

His other toe wiggled as he blinked.

Intrigued, I slid off the toilet and knelt before the tub, watching the water climb higher along his neck.

“Mesmerizing, isn’t it? You can’t move, but you can feel everything.”

Reaching over the edge, I pinched his nose. “You can’t even open your mouth.”

My cock twitched at the fear swimming in his blown pupils. Everyone lucid enough feared death in their final moments. Especially a violent end like this.

I released his nose and then plugged it again.

My gaze drifted down his body to the soft length floating between his legs and heat settled in my groin. I looked back at his face, then let go of his nostrils.

A rushing inhale and a crashing exhale disturbed the water around his sewn lips. I reached up and pressed on his head.

Silent tears trailed down his cheeks as I shushed him.

“I can’t let you touch Carter again,” I whispered. “He’s mine.”

Then I shoved him down, holding his head under.

His feet twitched, rippling the water.

I waited.

Waited for my heart to stop hammering.

Waited for the Lord to smite me, but He never did.

Minutes passed. The grandfather clock struck the hour. Water spilled over the sides of the tub, soaking the floor.

I reached down and pulled the plug. Andersen’s dead eyes stared straight ahead, his knees bent against the sides of the tub.

The last of the water gurgled as it finally disappeared down the drain.

Death whispered sweet, sweet oblivion.

I stood and grabbed him beneath the armpits, then hauled him out of the tub with a grunt.

Dead men were heavy.

After dragging his limp body through the house, I finally settled him in bed. He looked peaceful on his front, legs tangled in my sheets, arms resting at his sides. I wanted a few days with him before he started to smell.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t Carter. But he could be, if I imagined hard enough.

I stared at his firm, round ass. Unlike Anna’s, it wasn’t soft and jiggly. It looked like I could bounce a quarter off it.

Muted orange streetlight bled through the vertical blinds, casting stripes across his skin. When a car passed, headlights swept across the room and the man in my bed.

I stripped out of my clothes and climbed onto the soft mattress. It dipped beneath my weight as I draped myself over his cold body.

I nuzzled his neck, breathing him in and securing his wrists at the small of his back.

“You want me, Carter?” I asked, nestling my aching cock between his wet ass cheeks. “It’s okay. I want you, too.” A breath escaped me as my crown bumped up against his tight hole.

“Carter, Carter, Carter. Be real quiet for me.”

The following day, nurses gossiped in the hallway.

It was unlike Andersen not to show up for his shifts.

He was reliable, they said.

I didn’t tell them I’d slept curled up against his naked body all night. Nor did I tell them I’d come inside him that morning, twice. My thick cum had trickled from his stretched rim as I dressed for work.

I took note of Carter’s medication before setting the file down and easing back into my chair.

My heart had danced in my chest earlier that morning when I stepped out of my car and stared up at Carter’s window.

Crows had squabbled on the lawn, tearing strips of flesh from a fresh carcass.

A carcass small enough to be a field mouse this time.

I couldn’t wait to see him again.

And now that he was here, slouching in his chair and looking more tired than usual, I had to keep myself in check. I couldn’t let him see how eager I was.

I didn’t want him to know how much I’d missed him.

“You refused your medication again,” I said, breaking the silence. “Have you learned nothing, Carter? You get locked away if you don’t follow the rules.”

“Why don’t you just go fuck yourself,” he spat, legs spread wide like he owned the place. But this was my office. I was in charge here.

Even so, my heart quickened, because I’d missed that fire in his eyes. Group therapy had been the same old boring shit without his jiggling knee and that hard, bitter glare.

“You’re angry,” I noted, shifting in my seat as the chair creaked beneath me.

He scoffed and then shook his head before he looked out the window.

Dismissed.

“Do you want to get better, Carter?” I asked, circling my thumbs. “Do you want a life outside these walls?”

He turned back slowly, his stormy eyes locking onto mine. “I want you and every fucker in here to die.” His voice, like his gaze, held no inflection.

We stared at each other. I touched my tongue to the roof of my mouth, watching as he tapped his knuckles on the armrest.

“Did Andersen touch you?” I asked, studying him.

My colleague, like me, had his vices.

Carter’s knee jiggled restlessly.

I looked away as a foul taste rose in my mouth. “He’s dead.”

Carter stayed quiet for a moment. Then he chuckled bitterly and dragged a hand over his dark brows. “What do you want from me?”

“I killed him.”

He dropped his hand and gave me a flat, bored look, as if my effort to show him affection meant nothing. “Just like you severed Anna’s head?”

Sarcasm.

He didn’t believe me. I’d said I would sever Anna’s head. But she still walked these halls in her short skirts.

Sliding open the desk drawer, I retrieved the Polaroid I’d taken that morning and tossed it at him. It sailed to the floor and landed near his feet.

Carter bent down to pick it up, eyes flicking to mine with something unreadable before landing on the photo.

I saw the exact moment his face paled. My dick twitched, because there it was.

That flash of fear I loved.

“Mother’s coming over tomorrow night for our weekly dinner,” I said. “So I need to dispose of him tonight.”

He said nothing.

I sighed. “Don’t you appreciate what I did for you?”

Was it so damn hard for him to show some appreciation?

His throat jumped. He cleared it. But then he masked his emotions behind a blank stare and threw the Polaroid back at me. “So you’re a sick fuck like everyone else in this place.”

Sometimes I wanted to wring his fucking neck.

I shot to my feet, barely suppressing the sudden flood of irrational rage his bored expression stirred in me.

Hands planted on the desk, I stared him down. “Don’t you appreciate my effort to ensure your safety?”

The defiance in his gaze had me both hard and on edge. My eye twitched, and my pulse thundered in my ears.

Like a heartbeat.

I slammed my hand down on the desk. Hard.

He didn’t even so much as blink, as though he knew his defiance was the key to my undoing.

But fuck him.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

“You want to rot in this place?” I asked, lowering my voice. “You want me to turn you into a drooling vegetable and leave you to rot in solitary until you die of old age?” I smirked. “You’d belong to me, you know. No one else would care. The things I could do to you . . .”

“Is this what gets you off?” he asked, calm as anything, almost flippant. “Asserting your power over vulnerable patients? Let me guess. You want me to feel hopeless, locked in this place.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs.

“Let me ask you something, Doctor. What will you do when I finally roll over and show my belly, like I’m sure countless patients did before me?

Will you kill me like you did the doctor?

Is that what you do? Kill people to satisfy your sick needs? ”