The Fallout (The Therapist #3) - W.S. Greer Page 0,39

… Oh god,” Dr. Monroe lets out a barely muffled moan just before releasing a soft gasp and shriek. I hear the slap of her hand as it flies up and slams over her mouth as she comes to the thought of me caressing her clit with my tongue. She moans and gasps again, before the room goes completely silent.

All I can hear is my own breathing as I stare at the outside of the office door. I know she just came, but I still want to go in and make her come again and again. If she thinks thoughts of me are good enough to bring her to orgasm, wait until she gets a taste of the real thing. Fuck, I want to taste her real thing.

I still want to go in, and just as I decide I’m going to do it, the door to the corridor opens and an older Black woman with short hair comes striding in. She’s wearing comfortable sweats and the look of a woman who’s ready to talk about whatever problem is weighing her down, and as she walks toward me, I think I’m safe in assuming she’s Dr. Monroe’s next patient.

In a hurry, I straighten myself out as nonchalantly as I can, and speed-walk toward the exit. The woman and I brush past each other, and she looks at me with wonder on her face, but I don't stick around long enough for her to ask what the hell I was doing with my ear pressed to Dr. Monroe’s door.

I walk into the lobby and dart for the building’s exit, knowing full well that my therapist wants my head between her legs just as badly as I do. The next step is to figure out how to actually put it there.

21

~ Malcolm ~

Showers can be therapeutic. There's something about hot water bouncing off of your sensitive skin, washing away your stress and sadness. It’s a great way to start fresh, both literally and metaphorically.

I use this opportunity to let my shower be therapy for me. It’s been a whirlwind these past few weeks, and the water feels like heaven raining down on me this morning. I have a long day of sessions on my schedule today, and after my own therapy session with Dr. Monroe last night, I need to take the time to prepare myself to face the world today.

The water kisses my skin with each droplet, and I close my eyes, letting myself melt beneath it. I don't even use soap yet, I just stand under my raindrop shower head and enjoy the heat. Thoughts of my life flash across my closed eyelids like a movie playing in fast forward, and I exhale to release the stress of it all.

In one scene, I see Ava on her knees. She looks up at me and smiles, knowing I’m about to give her the best pleasure of her life before the scene speeds ahead to memories of countless patients in my office. I see them sitting on my brown and black couch, some of them clutching the pillow while they cry, others smiling from ear to ear after successfully completing therapy and moving on with their lives. I also see current patients, like Demi and Eli Lane, still struggling through their sessions together. I see them stressed and in need of my help, just before the scene flashes ahead to Dr. Monroe.

I see myself in my therapist’s office, laid across her couch with my feet up. She sits across from me with a smile on her face, and the scene doesn't look like a normal therapy session. In my head, the only therapy Dr. Monroe and me are conducting is sex therapy, and I’m about to teach her things she’s never experienced before until she's able to earn an A in my class.

As I reach down and grab ahold of my cock in the shower, the Dr. Monroe in my head lifts herself out of her navy blue chair and saunters over to me. We smile at each other, but my smile fades fast as I take on the role of the Dom and grab Dr. Monroe by her hips, forcing her to straddle me. Her red hair dangles down, hovering over me and smelling like the sweetest shampoo infused with coconut. I run my fingers through it, and when my hand reaches the back of her head, I tug until her head bends back enough for me to see her neck. She