Indiscretions Read online

  “Did you have sex with him?”

  There was a different tone to his voice, strained and forced, as he asked the question. I knew it was crazy, but it made me think he might’ve been a little jealous. Reassuring him, I shook my head. “No. We’d only been kissing for a few minutes, when someone came barging through the door. I got embarrassed and rushed out. I never even spoke to him, but I’ll never forget that night.”

  Without skipping a beat, he asked, “How many men have you been with?”

  It was one of those questions that brought out the liar in all women. You don’t ask about our weight, our age, or the number of men we’ve slept with.

  None of us want to come off being too fat or too slim, too young or too old, and we certainly don’t want to come off being a prude or a dirty, rotten slut. So, when a man asks us how many partners we’ve had, we lie—mainly because there was no good answer. I had no idea how to reply to his question, and an anxious feeling started to creep over me. After mulling it over for a few seconds, I decided I’d probably never see Dr. Pratt again, so there was no point in lying. “Four.”

  Okay, I fudged a little, but it was a very close number. He didn’t respond, so I was left wondering if he thought that was too many. Needing to defend myself, I spoke way too quickly as I explained, “My first time was with Sam, my boyfriend in high school. He was also my first real kiss. We were together for over a year before we decided to sleep together. Then there was Matt. We dated for a couple of years in college, but it never really went anywhere. Then, Luke, we didn’t date long. He was very good-looking, and that was pretty much all there was to him. And finally, my latest ex, Jax, we were together for almost three years.”

  I took a deep breath as I looked back at him. For the life of me, I couldn’t read his expression. His body language gave me an unsettled feeling, and I suddenly missed the way he’d looked at me earlier—hungry and seductive. For some absurd reason, I found myself longing for it, needing it, and worried it wouldn’t return. After several long, agonizing seconds, he asked, “In these past relationships, would you say that your sexual needs were fulfilled by these men?”

  His voice was low and strained, almost a growl, as he spoke. You heard correctly. He’d actually growled at me, and while I had no idea why, he’d just asked the one question I prayed he wouldn’t. I thought back to each of the men I’d been with and remembered all the fake heavy breathing and the overdramatic moans of pleasure. Yes. I faked it. Hell, I could’ve given a porn star a run for her money with the show I’d put on. I knew it was wrong to pretend that I was having the time of my life, and that could be construed as lying, but I didn’t do it just for them. I did it for myself. I was doing what I could to manipulate myself into believing that I was actually enjoying it, that I loved it all just as much as he did.

  In my defense, it wasn’t always like that. At first, I tried to guide them and show them what I liked. But they didn’t listen, or they just didn’t care, and it always ended the same. Each of them would have this spectacular orgasm, while I remained consumed with frustration. Thankfully, I had Bob, my battery-operated boyfriend, at my side, otherwise I would’ve given up on sex altogether. My vibrator was the only way I knew I wasn’t broken. There wasn’t anything physically wrong with me. I just hadn’t found a man that had actually satisfied me sexually.

  I knew it was a risk. I knew it might turn him off completely, but I’d already divulged so much; I didn’t see a point in lying. So, I took a deep breath and answered truthfully. “No.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Dr. Michael Pratt

  She completely and utterly captivated me. With every morsel of information she’d divulge, she left me wanting to know more—even when some of it was difficult to hear. Listening to her talk about her past lovers brought on a sense of jealousy I hadn’t expected. I wasn’t so naïve as to think she hadn’t been with other men. Grace was a beautiful, twenty-eight-year-old woman, but there was a side to me—the dark, hungry, savage side—that liked to imagine myself as her first. I wanted my hands to be the first to trail up her inner thigh as my fingers delved deep into her tight, wet pussy, tormenting her G-spot as she writhed beneath me. I wanted my mouth to be the first to nip and suck along delicate curve of her breast as my cock drove deep inside her, making her come undone for the first time. I wanted to be the first to make all of her most carnal desires a reality, and I thought that chance was gone, until I heard her answer to my question.

  I thought it was too good to be true, so I had to push for more. “No?”

  Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, as she replied, “No. They did not fulfill my sexual needs. In fact, I never had an orgasm with any of them.”

  With that, the mind of Dr. Michael Pratt left the room, leaving only the brain between my legs to proceed. I knew in my gut it was wrong, but I could no longer think like a therapist. I couldn’t filter through all the correct processes for analyzing what she’d just revealed to me. All the clinical responses had evaporated from my brain, and the side of me that should be concerned with her feelings of dissatisfaction was taken over by my own selfish needs. Knowing I had no other choice, I got up from my chair and walked over to my desk. After writing a note on one of my business cards, I slipped it into my pocket, and then pulled open my bottom drawer. I took out a slip of paper and took it over to her. As she took it from my hand, I said, “I need you to sign this.”

  “Okay.”

  As I sat down, I watched as confused look crossed her face as she signed her name on the dotted line. Once she was done, her eyes skimmed over the page. Before she had a chance to thoroughly read the document, I needed to distract her. “Do you masturbate?”

  She quickly looked up from the paper as she stammered, “Umm…what?”

  “Do you masturbate?”

  “Umm…Yes. I have Bob in my bedside drawer.” She quickly forgot about the paper in her hand as she started to giggle. “Bob is my battery-operated boyfriend.”

  “Are you able to come when you use it?”

  Her back stiffened and her jaw became rigid. It was clear that she was becoming uncomfortable as she answered, “Yes.”

  I was walking on shaky ground and didn’t want her to close up on me altogether, so decided to try focusing on the positive side of her experiences. “Remember our discussion on the complexity of men and women?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is one of the things I was referring to when I mentioned that women can be complicated.”

  “Um hmm,” she mumbled as she crossed her arms, drawing my attention to her perfectly round breasts.

  “My point is…it’s not just a physical, but a mental release for a woman.”

  “Yes. I’ve heard that mentioned before,” she replied with sarcasm.

  “It’s important for you as a sexual partner to know what you like.” She looked to the side as she considered what I’d just said. Hoping she understood what I was saying, I continued, “For instance, what attracts you to a man?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think about it,” I pushed once again. “What’s the draw? What about them turns you on?”

  “There’s something appealing about a man that is self-assured. I mean, I like a guy that’s hot, with a great body and nice eyes, but it’s really not all that important to me. It’s more about the way he carries himself…It’s his confidence that draws me to him.”

  “What else do you like…Give me some specifics.”

  She uncrossed her arms and rested her hands in her lap as she sighed. “Like the things they do?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s the little things that get to me most, like the protected feeling I get when he puts his hand on my hip as we walk across the street. The smell of his cologne…the warmth of his breath on my skin as he whispers something in my ear…The softness in his voice when he’s tired and just about to fall asleep.”

  “Now, look who’s the romantic,” I teased.

  “I n
ever said I wasn’t.”

  She smiled, and I could feel it down to my bones. Not wanting to lose my momentum, I asked, “You mentioned that you liked to be kissed below your ear. What else does a man do that turns you on?”

  “These aren’t exactly easy questions to answer.”

  “They aren’t meant to be.”

  She toyed with one of her fingernails as she answered, “Umm…I like to know that I’m turning him on…to hear his heavy breathing or feel his arousal.”

  “Do you like oral sex?”

  “Giving or receiving?”

  “Both.”

  My eyes dropped to her mouth, and my cock nearly broke my fucking zipper as I thought about her beautiful, full lips wrapped around me. I only got harder when I heard her say, “I like to give it…a lot. There is something empowering about having a man lose all sense of control. To look up at him and see the pained anticipation on his face is a huge turn on.”

  My throbbing dick forced me to shift in my seat. “And your thoughts on receiving?”

  Her nose crinkled with repugnance. “It’s okay, I guess.”

  “Have you ever had an orgasm through oral?”

  “I’ve come close, but no.”

  “And when a man uses his hands?”

  “I enjoy it. It feels good,” she sighed once again. “But I haven’t had an orgasm that way either.”

  “What about when you touch yourself?” My mind was suddenly filled with images of her sprawled across my bed, with her fingers deep in her warm, wet pussy, while I watched her come. My dick throbbed against my zipper, forcing me once again to reposition myself. In all my life, I’d never been so enamored by a woman. She had me coming apart at the seams, and she hadn’t even touched me.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me, Grace. What do you think about when you masturbate?”

  A flush of red crept along her chest and neck, letting me know she was becoming aroused as she answered, “I think about a man’s hands touching me… He does everything right. I don’t see his face. I don’t know his name. I’m not concerned with him at all…just the way he makes me feel.”

  I thought back to her story of the stranger she’d kissed in the men’s bathroom, and the effect he’d had on her, and I suddenly realized the root of her problem. If she were sitting in front of Dr. Michael Pratt, he would’ve disclosed his discovery, but she was no longer dealing with him. I was about to ask my next questions, when she surprised me by asking, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you like your women to be confident?” she boldly asked, once again confirming that she was equally intrigued by our connection.

  “Yes, especially when I’m making love to her. I want her to be confident in the way she looks. I don’t want her hiding any part of her body from me. I wouldn’t be with her if I didn’t find her attractive.”

  “You said your biggest turn on was making a woman come.”

  “I did.”

  “What else turns you on?”

  “That moment when I’m still fully-dressed, and she runs her hand over me and feels how hard she’s made me. That knowing smile that crosses her face that gets me like none other, because that smile lets me know, something good is about to follow.”

  “And?” she pushed, and it was then that I was done holding back.

  “The feel of a woman against my skin…the way she feels as I slowly ease my hand down the nape of her neck to the swell of her breast, then down her hip and up her thigh, only to find her soaking wet.” I thought I’d gone too far, that I was too vulgar in the way that I spoke, and then I was hit with the scent of her arousal as she uncrossed her legs, eased her hips to the side, and crossed them again. Seeing that I was getting to her, I continued, “The sounds her soft whimpers and moans as I toy with her clit and her taste as I suck along her neck.”

  With a captivated expression, she sat quietly nibbling on her bottom lip. I could’ve said more, plenty more, but I could see by the look on her face; I’d made my point. Trying to hide her aroused state, she giggled as she replied, “Umm…Yeah. I can see why that would turn you on.”

  I smiled as I said, “I’m glad I made my point.”

  “And how do you feel about oral sex? Do you like that, too?”

  “Yes. Very much. Giving and receiving.”

  “One more than the other?”

  “No. I like them equally for different reasons.” Seeing her fight the urge to squirm in her seat made the room suddenly felt extremely warm, like the heat had kicked on, and I could feel sweat bead across my brow as I spoke. “There’s no other feeling like the warmth of a women’s mouth and the sensation of her soft fingers stroking me until I come…it’s awesome. And tasting a woman, teasing her, tormenting her with my mouth, and watching her as she comes unglued…Now, that gets me every time.”

  “Oh,” she gasped, and it was all I could do to stop myself from going over to that sofa and showing her exactly what I meant. I could see that she wanted it just as much as I did. At first her signs were subtle, a blush or a simple spark in her eyes, but the longer we’d sat there talking, those subtleties became much more pronounced. She’d made it clear by her questions and reactions to them; she wanted to do more than talk about our most intimate desires. She wanted to act on them. I wanted that too, more than I could’ve imagined, and I feared my chance was gone when the paper she’d signed earlier fell to the floor. She bent down and picked up. I could feel the tension radiating from her as she read the agreement. Once she was done, she looked up at me and asked, “What is this?”

  “That paper states, I will no longer be your therapist. If you’d like, I will have my secretary refer you to one of my associates.”

  “Oh.”

  Deciding not to divulge too much, I simply said, “I think it would be for the best.”

  “I see.” She stared at the paper for a moment longer, then reached for her purse and stood. “Well, thank you for your time. It was nice meeting you.

  After she’d given me the paper, she turned and quickly rushed toward the door.

  “Grace.” She stopped, but didn’t turn to face me. As I’d feared, she completely misunderstood my reason for her signing that paper. I walked up behind her and placed my hand securely on her hip. I leaned forward, placing my mouth close to her ear as I whispered, “This session isn’t over.”

  “It’s not?”

  When she turned to face me, I replied, “No. Not even close.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Grace

  Every word from his mouth was like the perfect aphrodisiac. As I listened to him talk, I imagined him doing all those sexually explicit things to me, like his hand trailing up my thigh, only to find that I was drenched. Because at that moment; I was. In fact, I’d never been so turned on in my entire life. He had me completely enchanted, and I felt like my world was crashing down around me when I read the words on that piece of paper. I thought I’d misread him, that he wasn’t really interested at me at all, and I’d worked myself up over nothing. I was humiliated and hurt, and I had to fight back the tears as I rushed toward the door. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, but the way he called out my name made me stop, dead in my tracks. Then, he told me our session wasn’t over, and I was more confused than ever, until he reached into his pocket and offered me a business card.

  “What is this?”

  “The address on the back is where I’ll be tonight.”

  “Okay?” I took the card from his hand and asked, “But I don’t understand, why you are giving me this, Dr. Pratt?”

  “No more Dr. Pratt. It’s Michael from now on. After you signed that piece of paper, I’m no longer your therapist, Grace.” His eyes locked on mine, and I felt my knees tremble as he said, “I gave you that address, because I’ll be there…at that hotel, waiting for you.”

  I was speechless. All my sensibilities went flying out the window, and I could only stand there and stare at him with bewilderment. Aft
er several seconds, I looked down at the card and read the name of the hotel. I hadn’t realized I’d actually said the words aloud, until he responded, “Yes. The Regency Downtown. Come to the bar tonight at eight o’clock. I’ll be waiting.”

  “But why?”

  “All those things I said about pleasing a woman…” He brought his hand up to my face and softly brushed the pad of his thumb across my cheek, sending chills down my spine. “I plan to do each and every one those things to you, Grace.”

  Between the low, seductive sound of his voice and the intensity of his stare, I thought I would melt, right there on the spot. I wanted nothing more than to spend the night making wild, passionate love to him, but the thought of it also terrified me. Again, I had no idea what to say and barely managed to mutter, “Oh.”

  “Come tonight, and let me make all your fantasies come true,” he pleaded.

  There was no way I could go through with it. There was too much at stake. Even though I’d signed that paper, I knew being with him could not only jeopardize his career, but also my sanity. I couldn’t take another letdown, especially with him.

  Even though I knew there was no way I’d take that risk, I said, “I’ll think about it, Michael.”

  “Good. I want you to think about. I want you to think long and hard about everything we talked about…but while you’re doing all this thinking, I need you to do something for me.”

  “Okay?”

  “Until we meet…no Bob. Leave it in the drawer.” He leaned toward me; placing his mouth close to my ear as he whispered, “Save that hot, little pussy just for me.”

  It was all too much. I felt like my brain was going to short circuit if I didn’t get away from him. Before he had a chance to say anything more, I turned and rushed out the door. As I headed for my car, I caught myself looking back toward his building, hoping to get one last glimpse of him. I needed some kind of proof that he really did exist outside of those walls, that I hadn’t concocted him and everything that was said inside my head. I got in my car and just as I was about to pull out onto the road, I spotted him standing at the door. His eyes locked on mine, and it was then that I knew, he was no made-up fantasy. Michael Pratt was a living, breathing force of nature that I feared would be impossible to resist. He was just too perfect, and I wanted him too much. I swallowed hard; trying to push back the anxious feeling that was creeping up my chest, and pressed my foot to the accelerator. I needed to get the hell out of there and fast, or I was bound to do something I’d regret.