Caitlyn's POV

"I... I..." I am about to reply to Serg, but my phone interrupts me, the sharp ring shattering the thick silence between us. I flinch, the sound far too loud for my liking. For a moment, I consider ignoring it-letting it ring out while I demand answers, scream, cry, something-but my hand moves on instinct, swiping it and pressing it to my ear.

My boss' voice come bubbles through the phone-steady and firm, "Sorry to bother you, but I'm calling to remind you about your new appointment at the prison."

The prison.

I blink, my mind struggling to catch up.

Right. The assessment. My new patient. His scheduled release is next month. The files the secretary left on my desk this afternoon.

Oh no!

I inhale sharply. "I've got it covered. I'm on my way."

Sergey watches me as I start the engine. "Cait, are you really just going to leave?"

I glance at him, something cold settling in my chest. "Yeah. No time to mope around. Some of us don't have Daddy's money to throw around on women just to keep up appearances."

His lips part slightly, like my words sting.

Good.

"Leave." My voice is steady-despite the storm still brewing inside me.

Sergey hesitates before murmuring, "I'm sorry. I hope one day you'll understand."

I don't respond. I don't owe him anything.

As he steps out, I crank up the volume on the stereo, drowning out the chaos in my head with music.

Twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes to pull myself together before I step into that prison.

By the time I reach the prison gates I have managed to calm my nerves a little.

The sight before me is nothing short of suffocating. Tall, wrought iron bars loom ahead, their cold, unfeeling presence a stark contrast to the fire still burning in my veins.

"To hell with him and his goddamn boyfriend," I mutter under my breath as the guards inspect my bag before leading me down a long, narrow hallway lined with cells.

"Good luck with this one... he's a tough one," he says, and my lips curve into what I would assume is a genuine smile as I push the cell door shut.

The tiny cell is dark except for the light coming from a dim reading lamp that casts long, eerie shadows across the walls. Almost instantly, I feel eyes on my back, the ones that bore into your skin and make your hair stand in a nerve-wracking sensation. I turn toward the small, worn desk at the center of the cramped space.

There he is-slumped in a chair far too small for his broad frame, his presence hogging the room, making the space feel suffocatingly smaller than it is.

He is shirtless, the only thing on him is a pair of boxer briefs hanging low on his hips, exposing the deep cut of his waistline. Every rational part of me is screaming to turn around and walk away, yet my feet are refusing to move.

I am tongue-tied, helpless as my gaze roams over him, drinking in every hard, rough edge. His body is all lean muscle, powerful without being bulky, his tanned skin catching the dim light just right. Every shift makes his biceps and triceps tighten ever so slightly, and I hate the way a thrill snakes down my spine because of it.

His caramel-toned skin looks unfairly smooth, stretched over the hard ridges of his tattooed chest. My gaze keeps drifting upward, pulled to his face-rugged, sharp-edged, stupidly handsome, even with that scowl tugging at his lips.

Then, he lifts his head, and our eyes meet. Hazel. Deep. Piercing. Framed by thick lashes, his stare is cutting right into my soul. The teardown moment is stretching, each second unraveling something inside me. His gaze isn't just meeting mine-it is consuming me, wreaking havoc in my chest, leaving me breathless.

This is... weird. I have never been affected like this by any of my patients, let alone Sergey, who had love-bombed me with everything a girl should swoon for. But let's not get it twisted-this isn't a boy. He is a man.

And by a man, I mean way older than me.

"What are you doing? And who are you? Where is Dr. Chavez?" The deep rumble in his voice, dispassionate, neutral, and absolutely monotonous. His left cheek dimples, and my body betrays me-heat is pooling low in my stomach, my thighs pressing together as my now-wet panties cling to me.

All from just this man's voice.

But don't judge a girl.

It is deep-huskier than sin, layered in all shades of grey, masculine, and sexy as hell.

"Never mind, get over here already, I am not so patient," that hot voice rings again, and now I can swear my pair of underwear are dripping. But this time, I try to force my mind to reason and tell him I am actually his new therapist.

But strangely, I can't. His voice is commanding, and I find myself moving before I even realize it, my wet thighs clamping together.

A low, rough chuckle rumbles from his chest as he leans back in his chair, watching me like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. His fingers drum lazily against his thigh-slow, deliberate, like he has all the time in the world.

But that's until...

"Well, well," he taunts, tilting his head with a smirk so damn smug it made my palms itch to slap it off. "Chavez must've been desperate to send me a fresh one. Tell me, sweetheart, do they give you a handbook on how to shrink the minds of men like me, or do they just toss you in and hope you don't cry in the corner?"

I open my mouth to retort, but his sharp gaze flicks to my lips, that goddamn smirk widening like he'd just won a game I didn't know I was playing.

"Ohhh, don't be shy now," he drawls, stretching his arms over the back of the chair like he owned the damn room. "You're already looking at me like I just ruined your favorite fairytale. What's wrong? Never seen a real monster up close?"

The silence stretches, his eyes practically drinking in my every reaction. He is enjoying this. Testing me. And worse? My body is betraying me, heat pooling low in my stomach, my pulse drumming in my ears.

Then, his voice drops-low, smooth, dangerous. "But hey, I'll make it easy for you, doc. Let's skip the mind games. How about you get those pretty little knees on the floor and show me just how dedicated you are to... rehabilitation?"

Then, sharper. "Now!"

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

Every rational instinct is screaming at me to walk away-to maintain control.

But this...this is insane. I was trained to understand people like him, to analyze, diagnose, and contain. And yet... the weight of his stare, the sheer dominance in his voice, sent a deep, reckless thrill through me.

I should run.

Instead, I obey.

I sink to my knees, pulse hammering, my breath coming too fast. I don't even flinch.

His smirk darkens into something far more wicked as he reaches for the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down without hesitation.

I should look away. But I don't.

And... holy. Fuck.

Caitlyn's POV

It isn't big-it is huge. And that is only semi-hard. How much bigger can it even get?

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dries up. My gaze drifts to the tip of his cock, which is already glistening with pre-cum.

Very sensitive!

He clicks his tongue, amusement flickering in his hazel eyes, wagging his finger, "Tsk. You're staring, doc."

Then, sharper, "Hands. Mouth. Now."

And that's when it registers with me- I am already too far gone.

What the hell has gotten into me?

I don't know what kind of ghouls have possessed me, but I find my hands reaching out to touch his now fully hard dick, tensing at the way it throbs with my mere touch as I try to wrap both my hands around the thick shaft, as that is the only way I could get his dick wrapped up-I mean, the whole fucking length.

With both hands! Crazy right?

I gulp hard as I stare down at the head that is glistening with pre-cum.

"Lick the tip, bitch. And use your hands too," he hisses those dirty words that made my pussy drip instead of knocking me back to my senses. And that's when I realise how much I need to have his cock deep down my throat, choking me.

Without hesitation, I move my face closer to the cock before spitting on it, rubbing the saliva all over it using my fingers. I had watched this in a few porn videos and even practised it using a makeshift dildo, but not in my grandmother's memory had I envisioned I would be giving a blowjob this soon, especially with one of my patients inside a prison cell!

I pepper sloppy kisses down his length.

"Fuck...that feels so good... you're doing great, baby." I hear him mutter under his breath, and taking that as a compliment, I dart my tongue out, licking his salty pre-cum before sucking the tip of his cock.

I am definitely going insane! And out of my mind too! But this too... feels heavenly.

I spit on the older man's bobbing cock a bit and bobbed my head, my movements smoother this time, but I bet it felt better for him too, as I heard him utter some incoherent curses under his breath, definitely in pleasure.

"Take all of me into your fucking mouth already," his fingers suddenly dig into my hair, pulling me down onto his cock, and choked noises spew out of my lips while moisture stings out of my eyes.

Out of survival instincts, my hands slap his thighs, trying to slap him away, but I am too weak to move him.

If I were capable of reasoning at this point, I would yell at him, but I have lost the ability to think.

My lips part, spreading wide to let his huge, thick cock into my mouth, stretching out the sides of my mouth. Despite my mouth hurting, my pussy is definitely having an entirely different opinion; it is unmistakably enjoying the intrusion.

"You little slut has a tight mouth," he groans, and his hand pulls my head again, driving his dick deep into my throat. He keeps it there until tiny beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead as I try to pull my face back with a grunt that comes out more like a moan.

"How small is your mouth, bitch?" he sneers, his gruff voice sending streaks of heat through me.

He moves to pull me back to his dick, but I tighten my grip on his thighs as I look up to his cold eyes, and as if getting my quiet plea, he lets me take the lead.

I squeezed his dick in my hand, jerking him off before dragging my tongue to the tip of his cock and letting it linger at the spot where I definitely know it is sensitive.

"Holy shit, suck on it and there...Yeah, lick it like you mean it," he growls, tilting his head back in absolute pleasure.

I like the taste of his pre-cum, I enjoy the way this thick, veiny cock feels under the mercy of my tongue, and the way my pussy throbs from the feeling of having power over this man, the way his fingers are pulling my hair.

A soft, uncensored moan slips out of my lips before I can muff it up.

"Getting off from having my dick in your mouth? Never took you for a dirty slut," he taunts.

"Get those lean long fingers to my ball and play with them," he orders, and my free hand slides down to his balls, matching the rhythm of my bobbing head.

"Aaaargh," he lets out a groan, unable to control himself, before he yanks my head back, gets on his feet, and slaps my face with that huge cock, "Beg me to fuck your mouth," a moan echoes in the air as my pussy grows slicker with my juices.

"Please fuck my mout..." I moan.

"Nah! That's too plain. Beg for my cock like the fucking little dirty slut you are. Again what do you want me to do to your mouth?"

"I...I want you to fill my mouth with your dick." I find myself uttering those words that even stun me. "P...Please, Daddy."

"Urggh! Perfect, what I was looking for, little butterfly."

Little butterfly?

I like it, I fucking adore it, but I have no time to relish my new nickname before he rams his huge cock at my lips. Over and over again.

Tears sting my eyes as they roll down my face, joining the mixture of drool and pre-cum that runs down my chin and neck as he steadily thrusts in and out of my mouth.

And when I thought I was on the verge of passing out, he slides out enough to allow me to take a breath, but I don't even get a whiff of it before he slams in again, more violently than before.

I try not to think about what is happening between my legs, my coochie is clenching, begging for his cock to drive inside it and tear it apart as I beg him for more.

"Is this just how tight your cunt is?" He sneers, pulling out before slamming back again. And if he isn't holding my head, I would be rolling over from the intensity.

I can't imagine having him inside my tight virgin pussy.

Caitlyn's POV

"Ease up for me slut. Your mouth is fucking small for my dick," and with those words, I submit, opening my mouth wide, my jaws fucking hurt, my panties grow warm with my juices that drip more with those dirty words, which I surprisingly like and enjoy more by being treated like a filthy whore.

"I'm gonna cum down this goddamn throat. I want to stuff your throat with my cum," He jerks a few powerful strokes, and I feel his cock swell inside my mouth, and a salty taste explodes in my mouth, and I gulp it down my throat.

Once he is done emptying himself into me, he releases my hair and gathers the mixture of his cum and my saliva that was dripping from the side of my lips using his middle and ring finger before jamming it back into my mouth.

His fingers choke me, forcing me to swallow the very last drop of his cum, "I want you to swallow every drop of my cum."

He pulls his fingers from my mouth and then uses them to tuck my hair behind my ear while his free hand runs its finger on my lips in a slow motion.

"You might want to fix your lipstick and hair, babochka."

He then pulls away from me and moves to the edge of his metal bed that has a thin mattress on it, and watches as I wipe the remainder of his cum from my tongue.

At first, he stares with a blank expression, but a low, sadistic chuckle comes from his mouth, and some light whiffs through his eyes-just for a second, one you wouldn't catch if you looked away.

After riding from my mini-orgasm high, I suddenly come to my senses when the guard bangs the door, signaling that we should be winding down our session- if he only knew what had transpired between us!

I scramble to my feet, picking up what is left of my dignity and my bag before rushing to the wrought steel door, and as if the guard hears my footsteps, he swings it open.

My heart pounds as I slip out of the dimly lit prison cell, the heavy door creaking as it settles back into place. I tag at my wrinkled dress, smoothing it down in a desperate attempt to look less noticeable.

The last thing I need is to draw attention to myself, but there is no hiding the state I am in: smudged lipstick, hair in a mess, and the faint scent of orgasm and regret clinging to my skin.

I keep my head down, forcing my steps to be steady and controlled.

Act normal.

But the sharp gazes of the guards slice through my composure. The guy who opened for me leans against the wall, arms crossed, except for the flicker of amusement that dances through his eyes. Another one gives me a slow once-over, his mouth twitching like he wants to smirk but knows better.

I tighten my hold on my bag's straps and walk faster, the click of my footsteps deafening against the cold concrete floor. Someone clears their throat behind me, a gesture that carries the weight of the words he can't dare speak to my face.

Heat crawls up my neck, but I am determined to finish my Cersei walk of shame to the restroom sign that gleams like a beacon of salvation, where I would get a chance to salvage the last shred of my dignity left.

I shove the door open and exhale sharply, gripping the sink for balance. The huge floor-length mirror confirms what I already know- I look precisely like someone sneaking out of a mistake, one that I already enjoyed.

"Jesus Christ, Caitlyn..." I whisper to myself, voice trembling.

What the hell is wrong with you?

What kind of therapist does that? What kind of woman lets herself be used like that?

With a groan, I splash cold water on my face, hoping it would wash away more than just the evidence.

A while later, my car's engine hums softly as I sit there, fingers gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. The dim glow of the dashboard cast eerie shadows across my lap, but my mind is elsewhere, stuck in the tangled mess of not more than half an hour ago.

But this man, he didn't look at me like I was broken.

He looked at me like I was his to break.

And I let him.

"Who the hell is he?" I whisper to the silence.

I reach for my phone, my hands slightly trembling as I type his name on the search bar. Vladislav Mikhailov. The name alone seems familiar; it sends a flicker of unease through me. Something feels... oddly familiar.

With a deep breath, I tap search.

And then the world shifts.

There he is-broad-shouldered, effortlessly commanding, standing beside another man-a younger version of him except for the warm ocean-blue eyes.

One I know too well.

My stomach twists violently as I stare at the screen.

"No. No, no, this can't be true!"

Vladislav Mikhailov isn't some mistake I would easily pretend to forget. He isn't just my new patient.

He is my ex-boyfriend's father!!!

A cold, nauseating wave crashes over me, my body locking in place. My brain scrambles to process the sheer weight of what I have done, but all I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears.

I groan, banging my forehead lightly against the steering wheel as I risk another glance at the man whose cock I had rolled my tongue over and begged him to fill my mouth. The man who had said obscene words to me and my pussy clamped wet was my ex-boyfriend's father!!!

What the hell have I just done?