Se connecterBethI stared at my reflection in the elevator doors.Hair curled, check. Mascara layered but not clumpy, check. Lip gloss? Subtle.I looked… normal. Like a girl going in for a normal check-up. Not like someone who’d been spiraling for two weeks straight over whether or not her doctor has been flirting with her. God.The doors opened with a muted ding, and I stepped into the now-too-familiar waiting room. It was almost surreal how calm everything looked. As if the couch I sat on two weeks ago hadn’t been the scene of a full-blown internal panic attack. As if Dr. Cole hadn’t handed me a little white pill with clinical detachment while I tried not to cry.I arrived at exactly 11:28, just early enough to seem responsible but not so early that it looked like I was anxious.Even though I kind of was.Not because of the thought of repeating an invasive exam—okay, maybe like five percent because of that—but mostly because this was my first time seeing Dr. Cole again since I… texted him. On
BethI stared at my phone for a full five minutes before hitting send.I hope it’s ok to text you but I was just working on putting together social media posts and wanted to run them by you first.The moment the message whooshed into cyberspace, I wanted to yank it back.Too formal. Too wordy. Too eager.Why did I suddenly sound like I was trying to email a boss I had a crush on? Maybe because… I was.“God,” I muttered, dropping my head to the kitchen table. “You need help.”It was barely 9 a.m., and I already felt like I’d downed three espresso shots—nerves buzzing, stomach fluttering, brain moving at double speed. I’d been up since six, staring at Canva and second-guessing every damn font and filter.All because Dr. Cole had looked at me yesterday. Really looked at me. Not in a creepy, predatory way. But in a way that said he saw something I hadn’t shown anyone in a long time.Respect. Curiosity. Heat. And that had somehow been worse than all of Tommy’s horny stares combined. Becau
Dr. ColeI woke up hard.Frustrated.Achingly so.The kind of tension that didn’t fade with cold showers or midnight distractions. Not after the week I’d had. Not after watching Beth walk out of my office with Rachel—laughing, radiant, utterly unaware of the chaos she left in her wake.I ran a hand over my face, groaning as I stared up at the ceiling.I had already taken care of it once the night before, jacking off in the shower to the image of Beth’s thighs spread beneath me, her lips whispering my name—not “Dr. Cole,” not “sir,” but soft and breathless: Stacy.But here I was again. Still hard. Still haunted.Get her out of your system, I thought to myself. I grabbed my phone, thumb hovering over a name I hadn’t called in a while.Madison.I didn’t even bother with hello.“I woke up hard and irritated,” I said flatly. “I need relief.”There was a pause—then her voice turned to syrup.“Well good morning to you too, Doctor. To what do I owe this… very carnal house call?”“You know ex
BethThe sun isn’t even up when I feel Tommy’s arm slide around my waist.“Hey, babe,” he murmurs into my neck. “I gotta be outta here early—got a game this morning.”I groan, burrowing deeper into the blankets.He kisses my shoulder. “You should make me breakfast. Send me off with a full stomach. You know how hectic my Sundays are.”My voice is muffled by the pillow. “What time is it?”“Six.”“Ugh.” I peek one eye open and squint toward the window, still draped in predawn darkness. “Can’t you just grab something on the way?”He chuckles softly. “Come on, babe. You wanted the label, remember? Being a girlfriend means taking care of your man.” His lips graze my temple. “Don’t you wanna take care of your man?”The way he says it—your man—tugs something loose inside me. I know he’s playing me, just a little, but it still works.I sigh and push the covers off. “I don’t even know if I have anything.”In the kitchen, I dig through the fridge. Two eggs. A few slices of bread. A half-used sti
BethWe hadn’t even made it out of the car.We were parked outside my apartment building, the soft purr of the engine still humming beneath us, my heart still trying to reconcile the whiplash of dinner—how quickly things had gone from dreamy to… this.Tommy leaned back against the headrest, eyes on me, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel like we were just talking about the weather.“Why don’t you prove it to me?” he said, voice low. “Suck my dick. Right here.”I blinked at him. “Are you serious?”
BethMy phone buzzes on the kitchen counter just as I’m twisting my hair into a clip. I expect it to be Rachel, possibly trying to convince me again to hit Masquerade for another round of bad decisions and glitter cocktails.But no.Tommy.I swipe to answer, smiling despite myself.“Hey you.”“Hey, beautiful.” His voice is all confident swagger. “I’ve got a rare Saturday night off from sports agent duties. So here’s what we’re gonna do: be ready at eight. Dress sexy. I’m taking you to dinner.”My eyebrows shoot up.Oh.Well then.“Okay, then go off,” I say, laughing softly. “Take control.”It actually turns me on a little—how sure he sounds. Like he’s been thinking about this all day and already made the reservations. Like he knows exactly what he wants.And what he wants is me.







