“Good,” I say, running my hand over his jeans, enjoying how swollen his cock has become. “Good boy.”
“Thank you, Dr. Barlowe.”
I remove my hand from his thigh, needing to gather myself. Our heavy breaths sync, and we drive through the night, staring out the windshield, knowing Nacho could say the word, and I’d order him to pull over and wrench orgasm after orgasm from his willing body.
The fact that he enjoys me having this much authority over him is heady stuff. But I can’t enjoy that without first acknowledging some important truths.
“As much as I like how wrong this is…”
His chest rises sharply, and I take another breath to wrangle my impulses.
“As much as I like that, there’s wrong, and then there’s not checking in. If you’re willing to be wrong with me, we’ll be wrong together, but consent is important, and I should have been upfront with you way earlier.”
“I definitely want to be wrong with you.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he goes quiet. I raise my chin, silently encouraging him to continue.
“Is it still wrong?” he asks. “I’m not your patient anymore.”
I let out a long breath.
“Legally, we’d have to wait another few months to hit the two-year mark from our last session. But I don’t plan to wait unless you want to.”
He snorts. “Yeah, no. But…what about after the two-year mark?”
“We’re technically in the clear unless someone can prove we had sexual contact prior to that time. However, the power differential that comes with me being your therapist doesn’t go away. The therapeutic community regards any sexual contact with a patient as deeply unethical, regardless of the time passed or the circumstances.”
Worry marks his brow. “Is that…will you being with me fuck up your career?”
Slowly and with absolute certainty, I shake my head.
“I could give a shit about my reputation in the larger therapeutic community. The thing I worry about most, aside from your consent, is Wild Heart’s reputation.”
He nods along. “You love the ranch.”
“I do.”
“But we can keep doing what we’re doing?”
“I’m hoping we can do so much more,” I admit, shocking myself. “That is if you’d like to do more.”
He shifts his hips, looking out the windshield as his chest rises and falls. Finally, I ask the one question a therapist should never ask their patient.
“Will you let me fuck you, Ignacio?”
He nods, gripping the wheel tight.
“I need your words.”
He takes a deep breath and…fuck. His cock is so hard underneath those uncomfortable jeans.
“Yes, Dr. Barlowe. Ineedyou to fuck me.”
“Good.Good boy.That was brave of you to say. It turns me on when you tell me what you want.”
“Thank you, Dr. Barlowe.”
“And to be clear, Ignacio, I like that this is a dynamic we can take in and out of the bedroom, but I don’t want it to always be about the dynamic with you.”
