Page 3 of Lonely (Wellard Asylum #4)

A nna exited my office as I walked down the hallway, unwinding my red scarf from around my neck. The umbrella tucked beneath my elbow left a trail of rainwater on the freshly polished floors.

Annoyance flared when she smoothed her too-short skirt. Of course, she was there bright and early, lighting up the dreary halls of Wellard with her excessive energy.

“Good morning, sir,” she said, smiling brightly.

I didn’t return the smile as I approached. “Nurse Anna.”

She nibbled on her lip, nervous. It seemed we were destined for stilted conversations. If she hoped I’d eventually warm to her, she was wrong. The other nurses thought I was grumpy. But even so, Anna wasn’t deterred by my frown or the downward tilt of my mouth.

She stepped aside so she was no longer blocking the doorway, and I caught a whiff of her vanilla perfume.

“Another rainy day, sir.”

“It’s always raining here,” I responded, casting a disapproving look at the trail of rainwater on the floor. “Clean this up. We wouldn’t want anyone to have an unfortunate accident.”

I went to open the door, but my eyes caught on her ankles, and darkened. “What’s that?”

She glanced down at the ankle bracelet, a tacky heart pendant. “Do you like it? I found it in this charming little village boutique and thought it was cute.”

My eye twitched. “Anna. Do I need to remind you of the dress code? Short dresses and ankle bracelets aren’t suitable work attire.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

She didn’t sound sorry at all.

A huff escaped me as I disappeared into the office and slammed the door in her face. Call me rude, but I didn’t need a woman like Anna sniffing around. She was already too intrigued by my alkaline personality.

A breeze drifted through the open window and chilled the cold sweat on my neck as I discarded my scarf and trench coat onto the hatstand. Like every other morning, I crossed the room to shut the window. Heavy rain had lashed my windshield on the drive in, but now it had softened to a drizzle.

A crow cawed in the distance, its haunted notes sending a shiver racing down my spine.

“Good morning, Carter,” I said as I turned and finally offered my attention to the young man seated in the armchair.

A different kind of shiver slithered down my spine when his silence thickened the air.

That morning I’d woken up filled with anticipation at the thought of seeing him.

I couldn’t wait to have him to myself.

With my hands clasped behind me, I rounded the desk, considering what approach to take that day. Carter would soon be introduced to the other patients and begin group therapy, but not until I decided he was ready to integrate. Until then, he was mine to dissect and pick apart.

“I hope you’re settling in okay here at Wellard.”

Silence.

He was still staring out the window like I didn’t exist, which made my fingers itch to grab him by the jaw and force his attention on me. But I wanted him to give it to me willingly.

What was his surrender worth if it was taken by force?

Nothing.

Maybe he responded to bribes. Positive reinforcement, perhaps.

What if I took away even the smallest luxuries, like his toothbrush and soap bar?

Would that make him more compliant?

It was an intriguing thought.

I cleaned my glasses with my tie before sliding them on and reaching for the paper folder.

“Why don’t you tell me about the murders?”

His silence stirred my cock, and I lifted my gaze, peering at him from beneath my glasses, brows raised.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about that night yet. We can start lighter.”

Zilch. Nada.

Savoring his defiance, I fought a smirk. Why had I felt compelled to start with such a direct question? It went against my training. But I wanted to push his buttons. I wanted to see if he’d crack.

While Carter watched a crow circle the sky outside, I trailed my eyes across his broad shoulders, wondering how tall he was.

Easily 6’3.

Taller than me.

Taller and stronger.

Crossed at the ankles, his long legs stretched out in front of him. I gazed at them as I abandoned the paperwork. Everything about him intrigued me, and I couldn’t quite understand why.

I kept the conversation light as I walked to the medicine cabinet.

“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other, Carter. And while I don’t expect you to open up right away, you’ll have to talk to me eventually. There’s no hope for improvement unless you do.”

After removing a sedative, I opened one of the drawers and retrieved a syringe. Piercing the vial’s rubber lid, I watched as the clear fluid filled the barrel. My heart began to thrum harder, my cock twitching in my pants.

I peered at the back of his head. He took up far too much space in my small office with all that unruly, dark hair and those broad shoulders. The urge to trail my fingers across them, to tease the dark hairs at his nape, made my mouth water.

The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I slowly walked up behind him, hovering close enough to touch him if I wanted to, but not so close that his intoxicating scent could cloud my thoughts.

This man, with his tree-trunk thighs and long, interlaced fingers resting in his lap, made me desire things I hadn’t felt since I was a pubescent boy.

He made me want to do bad things.

Things worse than what awaited in my house.

“Tell me, Carter. Do you wish to talk to me today?” I asked, inching closer.

Reaching out to touch him, I stopped when he slightly turned his head to gauge where I was.

He said nothing, and the silence thickened as the seconds ticked by.

“Very well.”

I fisted his dark hair and sank the needle into his neck before he could thrash too hard.

A sharp hiss escaped his lips, followed by a string of curses. When I withdrew the needle, a pearl of blood formed on his skin.

Crouching beside him, I waited and watched.

“There’s a good boy,” I murmured, brushing a lock of hair from his brow. His chin finally dropped to his chest, and a heavy breath inflated his muscular frame. I patted his cheek too hard, but he was too far gone to lift his head.

Good. That was good.

The bead of blood finally gave up the fight and trailed down his corded neck, soaking into his collar.

“Such perfection.” The silky strands felt amazing between my fingers as I played with his dark hair. I’d never seen a man so beautiful and full of potential.

I rose to my knees and pressed my lips to the trail of blood, tasting it. All the while, his breathing remained deep and steady.

A groan escaped me as I swirled my tongue from his collarbone to the puncture wound. They said wine improved with age, but this young man tasted of youth and of things forbidden. I doubted he’d ever taste as ripe as he did right then.

Before I knew it, my hand slid up his thigh to cup his soft cock through the thin cotton. I tugged down the waistband and bit back a satisfied sound at the sight of him nestled between his spread thighs like a sleeping snake.

“You’re so perfect,” I murmured, shifting to settle between his legs. “So strong.”

His dark hair had fallen over his brows again, so I slid my fingers through the strands.

A low, unintelligible sound rose in his throat, and I quieted it with my lips on his.

“Yes,” I whispered, brushing my fingers over his stubbled jaw. “You’re my favorite patient, Mr. Carter.”

Voices drifted through the thin walls as a group of nurses passed by, but I was too mesmerized by the young man before me to feel the usual spike of annoyance at their endless chatter. No one here seemed to know how to do their job.

“What did you say?” I asked Carter as I pulled his pants down to his ankles and stroked my hands up his muscular, hairy thighs.

His muscle mass was impressive, every inch of his thighs carved and tense beneath my hands.

Rising to my feet, I circled the desk and opened the drawer.

My Polaroid camera sat at the very back, resting atop a thick envelope—images of former patients cataloged in private, preserved moments.

Still, something told me the man in front of me was remarkable. He wasn’t like the others.

I walked around the desk again and leaned against the edge, camera at the ready. With each click, it whirred in the silence, spitting out photographs.

I wafted them gently, all while studying him from head to toe.

He peeked at me through hooded lids, but he was too far gone to hold his head up for long. It slumped again, heavy with sedation.

Pushing off the desk, I grabbed his jaw and pressed my fingers into his cheeks to pry his mouth open. The camera clicked and whirred. More photographs fell onto his lap and the floor, a sea of sexual sin.

I lowered the lens between his legs and photographed his flaccid cock.

He wasn’t even hard yet, and he was already a thick fucking handful.

I reached down and started to stroke him.

A groan rumbled from his chest.

I faltered mid-stroke, but the twitch of his hard length beneath my hand urged me on. I repeated the movement until he was fully erect and leaking precum.

It was time to snap more photographs. The prints stuck to the soles of my shoes as I circled his chair.

My own cock was rock hard, but I wasn’t ready to give in to his wicked charms just yet. No, whores like him deserved a taste of their own medicine.

As I came to stand in front of him, my hands fisted at my sides. I took in his engorged balls. They were full, round, and flushed, and bursting to the brim with semen-rich cum.

A young man like him could come and then be hard again within minutes.

A stallion.

A dirty, disgusting young man who needed to be handled properly.

I snapped another photograph. My cock strained against my pressed pants, the ache settling the storm brewing inside me.

Pain was good.

Pain was what separated boys from men.

I set the camera down on the desk and moved to the metal wheelie tray in the corner, where I kept the tools for minor surgical procedures. The scalpel I left out last night gleamed in the dim light.

I picked it up, smiling as I returned to my patient.

When I stroked my hands over his shoulders and neck, he tried to lift his heavy head, but it would be a long time before the sedative wore off. I’d sedated enough people in my time to know exactly what kept them awake and screaming . . . and what killed them.

I lowered myself to my haunches in front of him and trailed the scalpel over his swollen balls, admiring how round they were. A young man like him had to be stopped before he spread his evil beyond these walls.

God knew he had Anna in his sights.

A stab of jealousy hit me, and I ground my teeth to stop myself from doing something I’d regret.

As I nicked his skin, the wet patch on the front of my pants pressed tighter against my throbbing crown.

I paused and inhaled deeply.

God help me.

This man had already crawled beneath my skin.

Gripping the armrests, I leaned in and sucked the crimson pearl from his balls.

The moment the coarse hairs tickled my lips, I closed my mouth around the sensitive flesh and drew his testicle in.

His musky taste, mixed with the tang of copper, was a heady blend of sin and destruction.

I nicked his other testicle, too.

When he made a low sound of pain, I sealed my lips around it.

One day soon, when he was strapped to my table and covered in cum, his balls shrivelled and empty, I would have his testicles cut out so I could keep them for myself.

At least then Anna, with her tacky ankle bracelet, wouldn’t be able to steal what was mine.

I glanced up from between his legs and swirled my tongue over his balls. His eyes were closed. His lips parted slightly.

What I craved were his thoughts. Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to cut out each one and dissect them in the midnight hour while an owl hooted in the woods outside.

If only I could sit at my desk, my small lamp the only light, and pick apart his deepest desires.

I rose to my feet and lifted his chin between my finger and thumb. “That’s enough for our session today. I will see you again real soon.”