I grinned. “Absolutely nothing.”
“So damn happy, flower.” He tipped my chin up. “What do you want to do to celebrate?”
I thought for a moment before answering. “Take a nap. Doctor’s orders.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Surreal
Briar
For business cards
“I’D LIKE TO give meds another try.”
Once again, I managed to surprise Dr. Linda and make her bland mask of professionalism slip. “What brought this on?”
I almost ruined the best thing I’ve ever had because my brain is an asshole.
“I think it’s time?”
Her lips tipped. “Is that a question?”
“No?”
She tapped her handy-dandy notebook. “Let’s go at this from the other direction. Why are you apprehensive?”
“I should be stronger. Like, all I need is to go for a hike, be one with nature, snort lavender essential oils. I should be able to overpower my depression and anxiety through sheer willpower and stubbornness. By taking meds, it’s like I’m admitting I’m weak.”
“Would you tell someone with diabetes they should smile away their disease instead of taking insulin?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Do I like the person?”
“Briar,” she chided.
Alexander would’ve laughed.
“Your brain is like any other organ in your body. It’s susceptible to injuries and illnesses, both physical and invisible.” She skewered me with a look and told me exactly what I needed to hear. “You wouldn’t be taking drugs for the high, the stupor, or because it’s the easy thing to do. You’d be taking them to help your brain function as it’s,” she did finger quotes, “supposed to. To correct an imbalance the same way someone with diabetes would need medication to correct their levels. You’re not giving yourself an edge, you’re simply leveling the playing field.”
“I know that. Logically, I get it. But since my brain is the one doing the thinking, and my brain is messed up.” I twirled my hand. “You can see how that muddles my thought process.”
“But you’re willing to try again.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “I trust you. I know you’ll listen to how I’m feeling and won’t overmedicate me.”
“I’m glad you trust me because you’re right, I wouldn’t.”
“So, I’m ready to try again because…” I hesitated before saying something that, while true, was so surreal it almost felt like a lie on my tongue. “Because I’m in control.”
Alexander
“FUUUUUCK,” I GROANED.
“I’m already doing that,” Briar teased as she rode my dick in front of the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Seattle.
Since we were near the top of the high rise—and the window was heavily tinted—no one could see. I’d never let anyone see what’s mine.
But that didn’t stop her from getting off on the risk.
When I’d planned on bringing Briar to the office with me, I’d known it was a win-win. I’d get to spend time with her in between consultations and working on the development of a new interface for a rideshare app. And she wouldn’t fall asleep without me.
While she was awake, Briar was happier. Sure, she still had shadows in her eyes. She still got anxious and depressed. She’d still asked me to cut her once after a rough group therapy session—and once for depraved fun. But in the week since finding out she was still cancer free, she was happy and snarky and beautifully fucked up.
Exactly as I loved her.
When she slept alone, though, was a different story.
If the ghosts who haunted her nightmares weren’t already dead, I’d kill them myself.
As Briar dropped her head back and fucked me so hard, my desk chair rocked, I realized I’d been wrong.
It wasn’t a win-win.
It was a win-win-fucking-win.
Working her clit with one hand, I wrapped the other around her throat, squeezing just a little. Just enough to make her movements frantic.
Nothing in my life was as potent as the power I had over her body. And nothing was more satisying than when I played with her just right, making her pussy squeeze me like a vise without her having to work for it.
When she was too lost to keep the rhythm she needed, I released her throat to grip her hips and shift her up my cock before slamming her back down. I lifted to meet her, putting even more power and force in my thrusts until I couldn’t hold back my own orgasm.
“Can I come to work with you all the time?” she asked once we caught our breath.
“God, yes.”
“Can I wear a suit and everything?”
“I don’t, but go for it.”
“Can I have a desk and a phone with a ridiculous amount of buttons?”
“Will you answer it?” I was very aware of her hatred of talking on the phone.
“I will not.”
“Fair enough.”
“Can