Page 8 of Lonely (Wellard Asylum #4)

My cock was rock hard now, harder than it had ever been, and all I could think about was all the ways I could make Anna scream.

A smile touched her lips before she leaned in and licked me from my collarbone, across my jaw, and over the curve of my chin.

“Wait for me after work,” she said, biting me.

My glasses were askew as she sauntered off, hips swaying seductively. I reached up and straightened them.

Anna disappeared into a room farther down the hallway, tossing me a wink.

A throat cleared behind me. I turned to find one of the other nurses watching me, arms crossed, brow raised.

She walked past with a huff, oozing judgment like every other woman.

“Pig,” she muttered under her breath.

I clenched my jaw.

Nurse Claire. Middle-aged. Short purple hair. A matching stud in her ear. Smoke lines carved around her lips from too many cigarette breaks. Worst of all, a small flower tattoo behind her ear.

Where did we find these people?

I straightened my tie and headed back to my office, sneering at her retreating back.

Fucking cunt.

Mother would never know what I was thinking.

Cunt.

Cunt.

CUNT!

“What a day,” I muttered, pausing at my office door.

I could still taste Anna on my tongue, tangy and forbidden. No amount of penance could clean this from me. I blew into my cupped palm, her unholy arousal still on my breath.

Mother was a bloodhound. She’d know.

Maybe I should have tongued Anna before meeting Mother for dinner that week. The thought of Mother hurting me because Anna had squashed my face like a melon and dug her deadly heels into my back was strangely stimulating.

Those shoes, though . . .

A shudder ran through me.

Her heels weren’t made for fashion. They were created for street fights and gouging out eyeballs.

I started to turn the handle, but changed my mind. Carter’s face flashed in my mind, his green eyes brimming with the promise of retribution.

I wanted to see him.

Suddenly, I craved to see him.

Turning around, I hurried toward his sleeping quarters.

My body was buzzing with anticipation as I nodded a greeting to a passing doctor. But my thoughts were already on Carter.

What was he doing, and what was going through his head?

Had he thought of me since I ended the group therapy?

I wanted him to think of me. To feel his cock thicken when his mind strayed to our sessions in my office.

Did he lie awake and think of us at night?

How he’d sucked my cock and drunk my cum?

When I passed, Nurse Miralda said, “Hello, Doctor.”

I noted the other nurses standing with her.

They liked to congregate, didn’t they?

Clucking fucking hens.

“Come with me,” I ordered without looking back, and their heels clicked on the floor as they hurried to keep up.

We entered Carter’s room. I took note of the barren walls, the lone bed, and the dreary view through his window. The man in question was reading a book on his bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

My heart pounded harder as I stared at his socked feet and the dirty soles.

He ignored us, still reading, and one of the nurses glanced at me the way they always did when they weren’t sure what to do.

I supposed I hadn’t told her why we were here.

Why were we here?

My gaze drifted up Carter’s legs, tracing the muscles in his thighs through the gray fabric, lingering on his bulge.

He slammed the book shut, the sound sharp in the silent room, and my cock twitched.

“Doctor?” one of the nurses asked, her voice like sandpaper.

“Strip him,” I said.

“What the hell?” Carter snapped. He tossed the book aside, but didn’t fight the nurses as they removed his clothes one piece at a time.

His eyes stayed locked on mine, burning with rage and violence.

His top slid over his head, revealing stretches of olive skin. I took in every inch. There was a mole just below his collarbone and a small silvery scar along his ribcage.

He didn’t fight, but his jaw tightened when they shoved him down and strapped his wrists into the cuffs.

“That’s all,” I said, and the nurses dipped their knees before leaving.

Silence settled over the room. Carter breathed harshly, his gaze hard and unwavering.

I liked it.

I liked having his full attention, especially when he was at my mercy and helpless. But it was the first time I’d seen him fully naked.

A glorious sight, truly.

I took my time, starting at his bare feet and dragging my gaze up his shins, knees, and thick thighs. His soft cock was just as big as I remembered, resting on his lower abdomen.

I followed the dark trail of hair up to his belly button, then skirted the ridges of muscle, stopping at one of his small, pebbled nipples.

There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, just lean muscle.

I stepped closer and he fisted his hands, veins bulging along his forearms. I paused while his chest rose with a slow, deliberate breath.

His knuckles went white. His eyes were like steel. But he didn’t tell me to stop when I pressed my palm to his chest, his heartbeat pounding beneath it.

Warm. Alive.

Mine.

Our eyes clashed, and his gaze turned cold.

My fingers brushed against his nipple and he sucked in a breath, watching me closely as I pinched and rolled the sensitive bud.

In my periphery, I saw his cock slowly fill with blood and grow hard and thick.

After one of the nurses returned with the disease testing kit, I swabbed his skin and then grabbed his arm, sinking the needle into the vein at the crook of his elbow.

A sharp and sudden hiss escaped him as his muscles tensed, but he stayed silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The syringe filled with his deep-red blood. I slid it out and handed it to the nurse, who left the room.

Once again, we were alone.

Carter kept staring at the ceiling, refusing to give me the attention he knew I craved.

But when I grabbed his cheeks and ordered him to look at me, he finally gave in.

His eyes, dark as pine and lit with a quiet, smoldering rage, made my skin buzz.

I wanted his attention on me. Always. Nowhere else.

His cock looked painfully engorged. Pumped full of blood and desperate for release.

I wanted to touch him there, but instead I bent down and flicked his nipple with my tongue while he struggled against the wrist restraints.

He stopped breathing, eyes fixed on me as I swirled it again.

A breathy curse slipped from his lips as his jaw clenched and his body went taut beneath me

“I liked how you looked at me earlier,” I said, but I didn’t touch him. Not yet. “You wanted to hurt me. Do you fantasize about it? Hurting me?”

“At night,” he said, his throat bobbing. “It’s what keeps me going in here some days.”

I liked that.

“I will get out someday, you know?” he whispered. “When I do, I won’t stop until you’re dead.”

That boy had no idea what kind of fire he was playing with. He needed discipline. And I knew exactly how to deliver it.

I sank my teeth into his nipple, making him hiss in pain. “Are you going to do to me what you did to those men?”

His gaze shifted back to the ceiling, and I hated how easily he dismissed me. My mother used to punish me the same way. Dismiss me like I wasn’t even worth the effort. Like I was no one.

But I wasn’t no one. I was Carter’s worst nightmare. I was what kept him up at night when nothing cut through Wellard’s walls but the wind and the hoot of an owl.

I glanced around the barren room and spotted the chair by the desk.

Walking over, I picked it up and wedged it under the handle to lock the door.

Carter tensed as I crossed the small space and placed my hand on his shin, my fingers sliding lower over the fine hairs.

“I like to start at the ankles,” I whispered, circling the knobby bone. “Well, after I remove the head, of course.”

His breaths were shallow as he watched me silently, but I knew he was scared of me, even if he wanted to pretend otherwise. He was horny, too. Maybe because he was frightened and knew I could do anything to him now.

Helpless. Pathetic.

Mine.

My fingers glided higher along the inside of his leg. “There’s a method to it,” I explained, watching the twitch of his steel jaw.

My fingers grazed the inside of his thigh and then brushed up against the underside of his balls, and all thought flew out of my head.

Fuck, I wanted to see his body contort in pain.

“First, I remove the head to keep their thoughts to myself, and then the feet because I don’t want them running away.

” I cupped his balls, massaging the sensitive skin between my fingers.

“Do you want to run away from me, too, Carter?” I leaned over him, the tip of my nose brushing his, his breath falling over my lips.

“Do I need to sever your Achilles heel?”

Reaching for his cock, I molded my fingers around his thick length and whispered, “I want your thoughts, Carter. That’s all I want.”

His chest caved as I stroked him in slow, deliberate pulls, watching his face twist with pleasure while I worked him over.

“I know what to do with you,” I murmured, rolling my thumb over the weeping crown. “Nurse Anna’s a mystery, but you’re not because you’re a man.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, squirming on the bed, his wrists straining against the leather restraints.

“She’s a slut, Anna, but I knew that the moment I saw her. She bounced on my cock, and I liked it. Those soft breasts swaying in my face. But you . . .” I glanced down at his length, watching my hand coax a bead of precum from his crown. “You’re hard everywhere. And I like that more.”

The milky bead slipped over my finger, and I lifted my hand to my mouth, licking it clean, before reaching for him again.

“Carter, Carter, Carter.” I wet my lips, stroking his thick, veiny cock with each chant. He arched his back, elongating his throat.

Diving down, I sank my teeth into his pulse point, biting hard enough to taste blood on my tongue.

A guttural grunt tore from him as thick strings of cum shot across us both. I bit down harder, stroking him faster, my tongue lapping at the fresh bite mark as he trembled beneath me.

Trailing my lips to his ear, I let go of his cock as my hand slid up to wrap around his throat, his pulse fluttering wild beneath my grip.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Carter.”

When he snapped his mouth shut, I tightened my hold on his throat and snarled low in his ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Every second he didn’t speak, I lost a little more of whatever sanity I had left.

The truth wasn’t hiding in his words. It was lodged somewhere deeper, somewhere that would bleed if touched.

I wanted to split him down the middle, pry him open like a ribcage, and dig the truth out with my bare hands.

Someone wailed outside the room, but Carter’s silence screamed louder.

I dug my fingers into his throat until he started to struggle against the leather restraints.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, and it stops.”

Of course he’d rather choke on silence than give me what I want. At this rate, he’d die before letting me have the upper hand. And I’d fuck him through every second of that defiance, if that’s what it took to make him speak.

Stubborn little martyr.

It made me so fucking hard I could barely see straight.

His face flushed red, his lips tinged blue, but he kept his mouth shut, as if his thoughts were more sacred than his next breath. I hated him.

But I loved him.

God, I loved him so much.

Nuzzling his face, I breathed in his masculine scent and murmured his name against his temple.

“Carter, Carter, Carter.”

When our eyes locked, I pressed my forehead to his. “I’ll think of you tonight as I sever her head.”