Chapter Three: Psycho Seduction

Charlotte point of view 

Psycho seduction 

“I like you, Charlotte. Be my wife.” I have heard this a thousand times already, and I wasn’t even going to lie it was starting to get annoying.

Okay, wait. Yes, I know I’m a fucking therapist; I’m supposed to heal this man and maybe reset his brain, but it’s quite sad to admit that he was making me go nuts. There was something about the way he stared at me; it was chilling yet satisfying. 

In a way that made me go crazy, in a way that made me want to moan his name over and over again.

Fuck, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head no matter how much I tried.

“Ms. Charlotte,” I was called out again by him. His name, he is Mr. Adrian Blackwood, the grandson of the mogul Blackwood, the CEO of Jupith. 

Everyone knows the company, even the poor. The type of rich they were wasn't something that needed an introduction.

I cleared my throat while staring into his muddy brown eyes.

“You have a case file of murder and…”

“And I was released,” he cut me off, gritting his teeth in a smirk right at me.

Yes, that was his usual behavior; nothing was ever wrong with what he did, and he never felt bad about a single action.

“You have antisocial personality disorder. Have you been taking your medication, sir?” I tried to maintain professionalism each time, but no, he had a way of sliding through the cracked doors.

“I like you, Charlotte,” Adrian said again, this time drawing his chair closer to the table while staring at my face, or maybe at my lips. I couldn't have cared less.

“It would be quite nice to have an attractive man as your boyfriend, and I'm quite good in bed.” I rolled my eyes, burying my face deep into the file, yet I took a minute to glance at his cock , which was poking slightly.

How big was it?

This was it, the con of working for an organization that only serves the rich; you would always find advances like this, but this man, he was fast in deciding. It was just like he was holding out for something unknown.

“For you to get cured of this disorder, you have to take your medication, drink more water, and practice self-meditation.”

His hands slammed against the table, the sound echoing in the air. ”I'm not fucking sick!” I stood up, walking towards the small fridge that had been placed on the other side of the office to grab water.

He followed me, and this time around I felt something. Rather than fear, I felt pleasure, enough to want to be wanted by the psychopath I treated.

He slammed my back against the wall while reaching for my chin.

“I'm not sick, Charlotte. I'm not fucking sick. Stop treating me like a patient.” His eyes dilated while he held my chin tightly, refusing to let go, while I struggled to breathe, his body resting fully on mine.

“Okay,” I muffled, escaping his eyes from the danger I couldn't stand. I tried freeing myself from the way his hands held me tightly against the wall. Before I could understand what was happening, his nose went closer to my ear while he breathed gently.

I felt something; shivers were running down my spine. It was the way my breathing accelerated and my heart began to bang boldly against my chest. I felt something, something I couldn't quite lay my hands on.

He retreated, pointing towards my top while smirking.

“That's more like it. Wasn't expecting your nipples to get that hard,” he said gently but dangerously.

I know, right? It was quite unprofessional to come to work without following ethics, but I had totally forgotten to wear a bra under my yellow chiffon top. It wasn't transparent; I couldn't put my finger on how he actually knew.

“I didn't expect you to be that hard against my touch.” He sat down swiftly, rolling the chair while waiting for me to take a seat.

“Let's continue with the therapy.” I swallowed the lump in my throat while trying to regain my composure, but honestly, I fucking struggled with trying to get myself back on track.

I fucking struggled with it. The first question I was supposed to ask him was whether he filled in the blank sheets which were on the table.

“How do you feel when you hurt someone?”

I took my pen, supporting my hand with my other palm in order to be stable.

“I feel good, just like when I'm fucking a damsel, like I'm going to do to you soon.” 

My pen shook, falling off the table while I bent to pick it up.

“That's not the answer to the question.” Rolling my eyes, I diverted my gaze towards his clothes. “If you keep turning a blind eye to this disorder, you might have to actually live with it."

He started to laugh, and the room felt suddenly cold like something was wrong. His lips parted wide, his perfectly aligned teeth showing.

“I mean, my disorder can wait, but it wouldn't be quite nice if I can't discover the walls of your pussy.”

I threw the files on the floor. “Get out of my office, Mr. Adrian Blackwood!” He rotated his chair while staring right into my face.

“My therapy time isn't over yet.” Quickly, he glanced at his watch while muttering something serious.

“Get out now!” He stared at me while picking up his keys which he had dropped on the table.

“Just like the knight gets the pawn, we will be aligned, my muse,” he said with no remorse.

This was out of the normal, and immediately after I felt the door bang, I felt peace.

I walked slowly towards the full-length brown couch and fell on it, stretching my legs wide while I let out a relieved moan.

Was I really irritated... or was I liking the thought of fucking him?