Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Nine

The dining room is a blur of movement and sensation as Frost takes me hard against the chair, his erection plunging through my clenching cunt even as it bears down on him. The feeling is unconscionable; a crash of fire and ecstasy and loss of control.

Merciless. Absolutely merciless.

He fucks me through the orgasm, his cock spearing my pussy hard and fast. Fast and hard. Wringing every last drop of release splashing over him. The sturdy seat beneath us shifts and groans with every movement, wet smacks of his drenched pants hitting my thighs.

Primal.

That’s the only way I can describe this.

He pumps me raw, hot and nasty, forcing me to bounce and jiggle on his cock in the open dining room, moaning with increasing urgency around the ice melting in my mouth. Cold liquid dribbles down my chin along with saliva to meet the hand releasing my jaw to wrap around my throat.

He runs his tongue along the column of my throat and chin, licking the trail of drool and melting ice. He drags it over my lips. Hard. His wet heat lapping up the liquid escaping mine to quench his obscene thirst. My lips pulse with the taste of him, pursing around the ice cube in search of his, wanting to feel them. A naughty impulse to feed it to him hits me, but his hold on my throat prevents me from acting on it, squeezing and releasing in a rhythm that aligns with the relentless pounding of his cock. Then he licks further up my face, collecting the tears streaming down my cheek. Tasting. Savoring my humiliation.

Don’t break your bond.

Don’t lose your electron.

He never commanded me to hold onto the ice cube, but his previous words resound in my scattered brain nonetheless, imploring me to keep the numbing, dissolving crystal gagging my mouth inside it, muffling the horrible, crazed, wanton sounds he’s forcing from me.

Despite his warning not to touch him without permission, my fingernails dig into his veined forearms, bracing for dear life against the onslaught.

“Pinch your nipples for me,” he growls, his breath hot against the shell of my ear. The command is rough, almost feral, and it sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

Practically hyperventilating, I release the wrist locked on my throat, my fingers trembling as they make their way to my swaying breast. The sensation of my own touch is almost too much, and I gasp as I latch on with a surprisingly hard pinch.

“Nnnngh!!” I sob, squirming against the delicious sting, my thighs tensing as my back arches away from his chest, the motion seeming to tighten his grip on my neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales, balls slapping wetly against my puffy lips, the sound singing my ears. His acknowledgment invoking both embarrassment and unfiltered lust. His icy eyes are dark and hungry as they watch me, his gaze locked on my fingers as they roll and tug at my nipple. His thrusts become faster, his pelvis smacking my ass hard as he fills me again and again, forcing my thighs obscenely wide beneath his spread-apart ones, practically straddling the seat of the chair.

Oh my god, oh my god!

It’s too much.

Too.

Much.

And yet…I can’t pull in enough air to tell him to stop.

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