Bad for Me: An Anthology of Dark and

Forbidden Romances 1st Edition M.T.

Addams
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 BAD FOR ME
A COLLECTION OF DARK AND FORBIDDEN ROMANCES
 POPPY JACOBSON MT ADDAMS SAVVY ROSE GREER RIVERS JUNIPER COLE REBECCA RATHE M. BONNET
MICHAELLA DIETER ADARA WOLF R. PHOENIX WILLOW SINCLAIR JENN BULLARD A.N. STAUBER S.J. RANSOM
HELEVA RISQUE
 CONTENTS

Note from the Authors

You’re All Ours
Author’s Note
1. Isaac
2. Bernard
3. Meredith
4. Meredith
5. Meredith
6. Bernard
7. Meredith
8. Isaac
9. Meredith
10. Bernard
11. Isaac
12. Meredith
13. Bernard
14. Meredith
15. Isaac
About MT Addams
Also By MT Addams
Savage Temptation
About Savage Temptation
Kinks, tropes, and content notes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
About Poppy Jacobson
Also by Poppy Jacobson
Cheer for Me
Author’s Note
Prologue
1. Begin Again
2. Pure Perfection
3. Freakshow
4. Change it All
5. Hello, Mary
6. It Ends Tonight
7. Fake it ‘till you Make it
8. Get Witchy With it
9. Practice Makes Perfect
10. Bare
11. Lucky Charm
12. Bad Girl
13. I Think Were Alone Now
14. Go Home, Mary
15. You Lied
16. Exposed
17. One Drunk Nun
18. Party Crasher
19. Game Day
20. The Empress
21. Halloween
22. “Sorry Mr. Kelly”
23. Let’s face it
24. What’s it Gonna Be?
About Savvy Rose
 Also by Savvy Rose
Bully Sunshine
Author’s Note
1. Woods
2. Everly
3. Woods
4. Everly
5. Everly
6. Woods
7. Everly
8. Woods
9. Everly
Epilogue
About Greer Rivers
Also by Greer Rivers
Poison
Content Notes
Prologue
1. Ashby
2. Storm
3. Ashby
4. Storm
5. Ashby
6. Ashby
7. Storm
8. Ashby
9. Ashby
About Juniper Cole
Also By Juniper Cole
Light Me Up
Author’s Note
1. Henry
2. Ian
3. Henry
4. Ian
5. Henry
6. Ian
7. Henry
8. Ian
9. Henry
10. Ian
11. Henry
Epilogue
About Rebecca Rathe
Also By Rebecca Rathe
Sinister
About Sinister
Author’s Note
1. Sinclair
2. Sinister
3. Dolly
4. Dolly
5. Sinister
6. Sinister
7. Dolly
8. Sinister
9. Wren
10. Sinister
11. Dolly
12. Wren
Epilogue
About Michaella Dieter
Also by Michaella Dieter
Bounty
Before You Read
Prologue
1. Willa Jean
2. Willa Jean
3. Colin
4. Wisteria
5. Cain
6. Jude
7. Wisteria
8. Colin
9. Jude
10. Wisteria
11. Cain
12. Jude
13. Wisteria
14. Colin
Also By M. Bonnet
About M. Bonnet
Chained
About Chained
Authors’ Notes
1. Raul
2. Misha
3. Raul
4. Misha
5. Raul
6. Misha
7. Raul
8. Raul
About the Authors
Also by Adara Wolf & R. Phoenix
His Obsession
Author’s Notes
1. Natalie
2. Oliver
3. Natalie
4. Oliver
5. Natalie
6. Natalie
7. Oliver
8. Nathalie
9. Oliver
10. Natalie
11. Oliver
12. Natalie
13. Oliver
14. Natalie
15. Oliver
16. Natalie
17. Oliver
18. Natalie
19. Oliver
20. Natalie
21. Oliver
22. Natalie
About Willow Sinclair
Also by Willow Sinclair
A Step-Bully Hookup
Author’s Note
Prologue
1. Kyna
2. Jameson
3. Adrian
 4. Braxton
About Jenn Bullard
Also by Jenn Bullard
Never Ever
Before You Read
Prologue
1. Alessio
2. Alessio
3. Hadley
4. Alessio
5. Hadley
6. Alessio
7. Hadley
8. Hadley
9. Alessio
10. Hadley
About A.N. Stauber
Also By A.N. Stauber
Dark Ornaments
Content Warning
Prologue
1. Rosie
2. Fred
3. Mitchell
4. Rosie
5. Mitchell
6. Rosie
7. Mitchell
8. Fred
9. Rosie
10. Mitchell
11. Rosie
12. Mitchel
13. Rosie
Epilogue
About S.J. Ransom
Also by S.J. Ransom
Scar Steals
Content Warnings
1. Fourteen Years Ago
2. Scarlett
3. Scarlett
4. Scarlett
5. Scarlett
6. Judas
7. Judas
8. Judas
Sinners of Covenant Hollow
About Heleva Risque
Also by Heleva Risque
 Each story in this anthology is copyright © 2024 the individual author(s).

You’re All Ours copyright © 2024 MT Addams

Savage Temptation copyright © 2024 Poppy Jacobson
Cheer for Me copyright © 2024 Savvy Rose
Bully Sunshine copyright © 2024 Greer Rivers
Poison copyright © 2024 Juniper Cole
Light Me Up copyright © 2024 Rebecca Rathe
Sinister copyright © 2024 Michaella Dieter
Bounty copyright © 2024 M. Bonnet
Chained copyright © 2024 Adara Wolf & R. Phoenix
His Obsession copyright © 2024 Willow Sinclair
A Step-Bully Hookup copyright © 2024 Jenn Bullard
Never Ever copyright © 2024 A.N. Stauber
Dark Ornaments copyright © 2024 S.J. Ransom
Scar Steals copyright © 2024 Heleva Risque

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For
permissions contact poppyjacobsonbooks@gmail.com.
 NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS

DEAR READER,
Bad for Me is an anthology of dark and forbidden romances. You can look forward to forced power exchanges, sharing,
manipulation, dubious consent (or none at all), and content notes with trigger warnings you can use as a shopping list.
None of these relationships are a model for a safe, sane, and consensual BDSM relationship.
If any of that gives you pause, this may not be the anthology for you. But if all of that sounds amazing, keep reading. We
think you’ll love it (and be sure to check the author’s note prior to each story for a list of kinks, tropes, triggers, and content
notes).

Love,
The Authors
YOU’RE ALL OURS
MT ADDAMS
 ABOUT YOU’RE ALL OURS

Isaac
I was the trap he set, and she was his prey. Yet when I meet the woman at the center of my father’s twisted fixation,
there’s suddenly nothing I want more than a piece of her for myself. Together, we’ll claim Dr. Moore and make her ours. And if
we have to rock her world to do it? So be it.

Bernard
She’s everything I’ve wanted and everything I’m not allowed to have. The rules of society have grown increasingly
trivial as my desire and obsession grows for the sweet, young therapist who works beneath me—so I’ve decided to break
them. I’m going to drag Meredith into my world and one day, maybe she’ll thank me for it.

Meredith
They’re a sin that will damn me if I indulge in their insanity. Yet the more time I spend around these two, the deeper I
sink into their delusion. Will I let these two men destroy everything I’ve built? Or will we somehow find a way to make this
work, here in the deep, dark shadows?

You’re All Ours is a MFM story where the father and son share their captive.
 AUTHOR’S NOTE

This is an extension of Her Risqué Prescription and a full-length novella with a HEA. The story is set in first person with
multiple POVs. The story contains material that may be upsetting for some readers. Content includes, but is not limited to:
forbidden love, reverse age gap, kidnapping, captivity, dubcon, non con, blackmail, stalking, birth control tampering, drugging,
painful edging, forced orgasms, father - son sharing, light manipulation, morally gray characters.
1
 ISAAC

I’ M SINKING INTO THE LEATHER SOFA.

The cushion is well broken in, the leather itself is soft to the touch. It’s an expensive piece of furniture. Probably the most
valuable thing in the room. The wall of bookshelves to my right is newish. Having been installed a month ago, I’ve noted the
increase in books being displayed. The literature is all about the advancement of mental health, a few how-tos, multiple self-
help novels, and good fucking Lord— how many books on the power of positivity does one person need?
It’s funny, these shelves are the polar opposite of the material found on Dr. Meredith Moore’s shelves at her residence.
I want to ask her about that. Why doesn’t she bring that filth she reads to the office? I’m sure a few of her patients would get
a kick out of them. But asking her about the contents of her home would reveal a secret I’m not quite ready to share.
Soon though.
Curiosity led me to steal a few of the well-loved paperbacks a few months back. I made sure to grab the ones where the
spines were cracked and creased, with pages that have old watermarks from spilled drinks and bent corners. Books that she
goes back to time and time again out of comfort or simply due to the graphic content.
Those stories are certainly entertaining to read. But I prefer real pussy to the fictional kind. In fact, there is one in particular
that I’m absolutely ravenous for…
I hold the gaze of the woman who sits across the room from me. She’s in the middle of some spiel about how to handle the
stress of the holidays. Most of it I tune out, though I do enjoy the sound of Dr. Moore’s deep, sultry voice.
“So, you do think you’ll be ok going home to experience a proper Christmas, Isaac?”
The way she says my name… Inwardly, I moan. My dick, always at half-mast when I’m around her, twitches.
Soon buddy, I promise it.
Clearing my throat, I consider my answer before responding. “You know what? I think things might be different this year. I
feel like things might be looking up for me.”
One of Dr. Moore’s perfectly manicured brows slides upward in interest. At the same time, her skirt shifts. It’s barely
noticeable, but I’m ultra aware of everything she does. My smile grows. It doesn’t matter that my therapist dresses like a
fucking nun, acts like a saint, and speaks with the patience of a wise priestess. Beneath this facade is a fucking slut, and there is
nothing I’d love more than to see her unravel beneath me.
As it is, her nipples strain against her blouse—they’re so taut I’m surprised they haven’t torn through the material. Saliva
gathers in my mouth. What I wouldn’t give to wrap my lips around one hardened bud.
“Well, given that you’re not going to be alone this year, I’m not surprised. How do you feel about that?”
No, I certainly will not be alone this year. But I haven’t really ever been alone during the holidays. She just thinks I have.
It’s all part of the game I’ve been invited to play by another. Meredith has no idea there’s been a trap set for her of her own
making. Maybe, if she was the composed, professional therapist she pretended to be, she wouldn’t be in the mess that’s about
to unfold.
But, unfortunately for her, she is not. The provocative after-hour activities she indulges in have put her on a path that will
lead to her undoing and straight into the jaws of two hungry predators.
“I’m pretty fucking stoked about it actually.”
Her gaze doesn’t leave my face. Dr. Moore’s carefully schooled expression gives nothing away as she waits for more of an
explanation. I lean back against the couch, loving how she’s trying so hard not to give her thoughts, and her desire, away.
Because while her expression says nothing, her eyes are another story.
Her pupils are blown so wide that I can hardly see the brown in them. Her lips, painted a natural pink, are slightly parted
as she sucks in short, sharp breaths. Her skirt moves again. A tell if I’ve ever seen one. God, she’s going to look so fucking
good looking up at me like this when I have her on her knees.
“I’m pleased to hear you’re looking forward to the holidays. For a lot of people, this is a rough time of year.”
“Oh yeah? What’s it like for you? You going anywhere or is anyone coming over?”
I already know the answer. The other predator in this game has done his research. Meredith doesn’t speak to her father.
Hasn’t in years. And her mother has passed. The only other family she has is an older brother who’s been in the wind for the
past decade. She’s very much alone.
“Not quite,” she admits, giving no other insight into her personal situation as always.
It doesn’t matter how casually, or directly, I ask about her life. Meredith is a closed book. That’s why I resorted to breaking
and entering at her home. How else was I supposed to know who I was dealing with? When I was first asked to seduce this
woman, I was given very little information. Since then, our file on Meredith has grown significantly, thanks to my efforts.
“This year is going to be different for the both of us, I can feel it,” I promise her as I drop my foot off the couch cushion,
where it’s been resting for the past twenty minutes. My mouth pulls wider as excitement leaches into my veins. “But there’s
another reason I’m excited about being around this year. I’m gifting myself something extra special.”
Casually, Meredith recrosses her ankles. Damn, can she press her thighs together any tighter? “Oh? What are you giving
yourself this year?”
“I’ll tell you—” I glance at the clock behind her, “—next time I see you. Looks like our time is up, doc.”
Disappointment flickers across her face, the first break in her professional guise. I knew it. She enjoys our sessions
together just as much as I do.
Don’t worry, beautiful. I’ll be seeing you real soon.
I just need to grab one thing…
2
 BERNARD

“HELLO , J USTIN , THIS IS DR. BERNARD CARLTON . I’ M CALLING IN REGARD TO OUR MISSED APPOINTMENT TODAY. I KNOW WITH
the holidays sometimes people forget, but I’m concerned. I haven’t seen you in two months now.” I glance at the file in my lap
and the notes I’d written after our last appointment.

Possibly stopped taking meds. Paranoid and jumpy. Whispering to self.

“Anyway, if you no longer wish to participate in therapy, that’s fine. However, could you please do me a favor and let me
know you’re alright?” I give him the office phone number before hanging up.
Grabbing the pen resting behind my ear, I write the time and date of the phone call in his file. Unease slithers down my
spine. Justin is a good man suffering from a broken mind after a terrible accident. It would be a shame if he fell back into old
habits.
Closing his file, I shove it into the briefcase that’s been sitting open in the passenger seat. As the case clicks shut, I toss it
into the backseat where it’s immediately forgotten. All my work has been concluded for the rest of the year. Now, I can indulge
in other activities.
Tapping on my phone screen, I pull up the security system in my company’s office. I had it installed and written off as a
business expense, but security isn’t what the small cameras set up in several rooms throughout my practice are for.
If one of my patients told me they stalked someone at this level, I would consider a stint in a special ward and suggest for
them to be put on heavy medication. But the same rules don’t apply to me. I’m not one of my patients. Their rationale for this
type of behavior is all wrong. There are many reasons people stalk others. But mine are so much more. More in the sense that I
know, under my watch, the information I gather and keep will make for a happy wife. Isn’t that a noble reason? I know all of
Meredith’s likes and dislikes. Her fears and fantasies. They’re all mine to use to carve out a place for myself in her life.
How else would I obtain information about the young, pretentious therapist whose modesty is just a veil to hide the wanton
woman she so desperately wants to be if not for the cameras I hide in her office?
By asking her?
I roll my eyes as I pull up the camera feed to her office.
Dr. Meredith Moore is a woman who doesn’t break the law. Toes it perhaps, but she doesn’t outright break it. The evidence
of this is as clear as day as I watch Isaac turn his back to the camera and walk to her door, getting ready to leave. Without his
gaze pinned to her, Meredith fans herself.
A smile yanks my lips wide and up at the corners.
Without the cameras hidden in the air vent of her room, how would I have ever found just how much she desires my son? I
mean, I knew she had a crush on him. Even before I manipulated some judicial paperwork in order to make it appear like Isaac
was court ordered to attend therapy, Meredith was drawn to Isaac.
And I knew that because of the cameras as well.
It was a curious discovery to find that Meredith didn’t stay late in her office after everyone left on Fridays to catch up on
paperwork. That she stayed at all was revealed by simply sitting in my car and watching when she comes and goes. But to
learn why? I suppress a shiver that runs down my spine and sends a pleasant shock shooting up my stiff dick.
I’d set out a picture of me and my son simply to introduce her to my only family without actually doing an introduction.
Since she’s taken to sneaking in and poking around, why not give her something else to study? That little addition was the in I
needed to make this all come together.
I watch her now as she presses her ear against her office door, listening for the sounds of Isaac’s departure. When she’s
sure he’s left the building entirely, she opens her door and slips out of her office. And now, the adventure I love to watch
begins to play out.
Her slinking around the empty office sealed her fate a little over a year ago.
 Now the consequences are about to unravel. Rather than continue to watch the near habitual routine that never fails to leave
me gasping and cumming into my hand, I switch camera views. I watch as Isaac sprints down the exterior hallway toward the
stairs that lead to the parking garage. Amusement bubbles up in my chest.
The soft chuckle I let escape momentarily eats up the silence of my car.
Less than three minutes later, Isaac is tapping on the glass of my window. “Hurry up.”
I roll down the window. “You know what to do?”
“Are you asking if I know how to fuck?” A look of outrage flickers across his face before exasperation covers it. “Yes, I
know how to make a woman cum.”
Judging by the long line of broken hearts he’s left behind in his lifetime, I have no doubt about that. But that’s not what I’m
asking now.
“You know to stay in view of the camera. We need her face, her body, and her screams all in plain view.” I raise a brow as
he flips his hand upward.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. The keys. Now.”
I reach into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the keys to the front door to the practice. As I pull them out and move to
dump them into my son’s hand, I hesitate.
“You can have your fun, but I’ll be up shortly.”
Isaac’s wide grin has a bite to it. “Just hang back until I’m done. I want her to myself. I did all the hard work to get us here,
I deserve to claim her first.”
I drop the keys into his hand and make a noncommittal huff. Judging by the victorious beam he wears as he turns around,
Isaac takes it as a confirmation. The pounding of his footsteps against the concrete of the parking garage echoes around the
space. Even when I close the window to keep the heat in, I can hear them until he’s completely out of sight.
Pulling up the camera feed in Meredith’s office, I sit back and watch her life begin to implode.
3
 MEREDITH

I’ M A TERRIBLE THERAPIST .
How is it that I struggle this hard to maintain the ethical code of conduct I’ve sworn to uphold? It shouldn’t be this difficult.
Yet every Friday there’s that urge to simply throw caution to the wind and sink to my knees before the young man covered
in tattoos and coated in well defined muscles. Believing that he wants me to do just that is part of the fantasy I’ve concocted.
One that I feed by wearing lacy lingerie beneath my professional attire. The constantly brushing of abrasive material keeps my
nipples hard and makes my breath difficult to catch. It’s a masochistic thing to do. One that I shouldn’t entertain.
But is it not more fun to have the young man wondering at my body’s reaction? Is it the air conditioning keeping my nipples
erect? Or is it something else? I love watching him fight to keep his eyes trained on my face as he speaks. Today, he’s only
looked once. But that look was so heated and pained, I’m convinced that during the rest of our session, he was simply staring
through his peripheral vision to keep the girls in sight.
It’s wrong. I know it is, and I would never act on anything should he make a move I’ve tempted him to take. But with my
panties soaking wet, my heart racing, and my mouth dry—I feel like I’m about to combust and I love living on that proverbial
edge. The suffering is more manageable knowing that, at least in my fantasies, he wants me too. My subtle teasing is a tit for tat.
There’s a thrill in feeling so unabashed inwardly while maintaining my composure for the sake of my job—the risk keeps my
blood pumping.
Taking a shaky breath, I press my ear to my office door. Isaac’s retreating footsteps grow faint as he moves further away.
Soon they disappear altogether. As I listen to his departure, I’m aware of the sound of my heart beating. It’s loud and erratic.
God, I’m so aroused right now, there’s probably a wet spot on the back of my skirt.
At least now I can do something about it.
As Isaac arrived for his appointment, I made sure that the front door was locked from the outside. This way, when he left, I
wouldn’t have to go lock up before I unwound for the day.
Which I get to do now.
But first—I need something.
Opening my door, I saunter in the opposite direction from the reception room and the front door. I head down the hallway,
to the last door on the right. There are only three other therapists that work in this private practice. Two are older women,
creeping up there in age with the possibility of retiring soon. It’s why I was hired three and a half years ago—I’m fresh blood
with much more energy to tackle the harder clients. And then there is Bernard Carlton, the owner of the practice.
And Isaac’s father.
Bernard came to me a year ago asking if I would help uphold his son’s end of the deal they’d struck with a judge. I agreed
without any hesitation. Not because I knew anything about Isaac, but because Bernard asked.
If Isaac gets me all hot and bothered, his father—my boss—has me melting. I would do anything for him. If he asked me to
bark like a dog, by god, I would bark like the greatest dog there is.
Not that he knows that, of course. Just like I do in my sessions with Isaac, I thrive on the challenge of remaining
professional here at Bernard’s practice. At least when others are around. The thigh clenching, panty-melting, heart-racing
feelings I have anytime I see Bernard, or his son, make work exhilarating.
I fan myself as I come to stand in front of Bernard’s office door. It’s locked, but that’s not a problem. Pulling out a bobby
pin, I easily slide it into the keyhole and finangle it around until the lock pops open. With a smile, I open my boss’s door and
walk into his office. It smells of expensive cologne. Sandalwood, a hint of something citrusy, and ferns. It’s a tranquil scent.
Subtle too. I’m more aware of it than any of the clients that he works with, I’m sure, simply because I’m obsessed with it and
the man who wears it.
Making a beeline for his desk, I scoop up the small, framed picture sitting beside his desktop. I also snatch the pocket
square from the suit jacket he left hanging from the back of his chair. With everything I need, I slip from Bernard’s office, lock
the door behind me, and head back to my own.
Humming to myself, I shut my door and place my stolen goodies on the couch. Immediately, I begin to disrobe. My blouse is
tossed onto my desk. The skirt I wore today puddles at my feet. The kitten heels I wear are carefully situated beside the couch,
and then my stockings are pulled off.
When I’m wearing nothing but my deep maroon lingerie, I sink down onto the leather couch cushion Isaac sat on. Already
the material has cooled—his body warmth departing as swiftly as he did.
But his scent lingers. Just like his father, Isaac wears a nice cologne. This one is more woodsy, like pine trees after a
rainstorm. I shiver as I lean back and let it envelop me in a comforting embrace. Turning so that my legs stretch out along the
couch with my feet toward the door, I reach over and grab the picture frame I’d stolen. Lifting it up, I stare at the two men in the
photograph.
Bernard and Isaac stare back at me, standing side by side on the beach.
I can’t help but see the resemblance. It’s almost uncanny how Isaac is practically a young carbon copy of my boss. The only
difference between the two is that while Bernard may have a slight tan from all his time exploring the outdoors, Isaac’s skin is
naturally golden—a trait from his mother who was originally from Trinidad. There’s also the fact that Bernard’s hair is silver,
matching his neatly trimmed beard, while Isaac has dark brown, wavy hair and lacks facial hair. For a man in his early fifties,
Bernard doesn’t look or act old.
Maybe having a twenty-five-year-old son keeps him young.
But other than skin and hair color, Bernard has managed to photocopy himself. Both men are close to six and a half feet tall,
though Bernard might be a smidge taller. They both take good care of their physical form—clearly working out regularly and
eating right. Their jawlines are so strong and straight, they could probably cut through anything. And the intensity of their
gazes? Utterly smoldering.
My free hand slips under my bra to tweak my painfully erect nipple. I gasp at the pleasure that comes with the motion. As I
roll it between my fingers, I squeeze my thighs together harder. I know if I just dive down between my legs to tend to the
throbbing demand of my body, it’ll be over all too quickly.
I won’t be seeing either Isaac or Bernard for almost two weeks, thanks to the holiday season upon us, so I want to make this
last.
I move to the other nipple, giving it the attention it so desperately craves. My hips jerk as I tease myself. The soft moans
that slip past my lips grow louder the wetter and more needy I get. My eyelids lower, but I never take my gaze off the two men
in the photo. I want them to see me, I need their gazes as I⁠—
The door to my office flings open and hits the wall with a bang.
I levitate off the couch with a shriek of surprise. Another shriek slips out when I realize who’s standing there in the
doorway.
Isaac stares down at me. The look on his face is a mixture of victory and hunger. He has one hand outstretched to keep the
door from hitting him as it bounces off the wall and the other one dug deep into his pocket.
Oh no.
“W-what, what are you doing? Get out of here!” My breathless demand is completely ignored as Isaac lowers his hand
slowly. His eyes rake over my body with stark appreciation.
Just like I fantasize about on a nightly basis.
Except, this is no fantasy—it’s a nightmare. A client has just walked in on me practically naked, laying where he was just
sitting with a picture of him and his dad in my hand. Actually, he doesn’t know about the picture yet. Quickly, I scramble to my
feet and hide the frame behind my back. With my other hand, I try to cover my body.
“Get out!” This time my words come out a little stronger.
“No.”
Isaac moves further into the room and slams the door shut behind him. “I knew you would look good under those plain
skirts and dresses but Christ…” his voice trails off as he shakes his head in slow wonderment as his eyes continue to peruse
over me.
“Isaac, this is improper!”
He snorts. “I’m the one being improper?”
“Leave at once or I’ll⁠—”
“You’ll what? Call my father? And what do you think he’ll say when I tell him I found you undressed and pleasuring
yourself in his establishment?” Isaac counters, a slow, devious smile spreading across his face. “What are you hiding behind
your back there? Could it be the picture of me and Dad that he keeps in his office? I’m sure he’ll be surprised to hear that you
had it in here while you were in a state of undress.”
Shit.
This can’t be happening. My whole face feels like it's burning. Humiliation and dread spread like a fire throughout my
body. If he tells his father, I’ll be fired. I suck in a shaky breath and reach for my blouse on my desk. My mind races as I try to
come up with a game plan or an exit strategy.
“Isaac, please… You need to go.”
 “Go?” He tilts his head and regards me with amusement. “But I thought you wanted to know what I was going to treat
myself with for Christmas this year?”
He stalks toward me slowly, obviously in no hurry to end my suffering. With each forward step he takes, I take one
backward. That is, until my back hits the bookshelf and I find myself with nowhere else to go.
Isaac stops in front of me and yanks my blouse out of my hands to toss it aside.
“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me about it?”
Ask him about his Christmas present? Right now? I know Isaac tends to have a one-track mind when it comes to something
he wants, but this is a bit extreme. I shake my head slowly. My eyes hold his as I watch his every move. What’s going on here?
Why is this happening to me? And why the hell are my nipples tighter now than ever before?
“What a shame. I suppose I’ll have to pique your interest.”
He closes the distance between us so that he can reach out to brace his hands on the shelves on either side of my face,
effectively caging me in. His woodsy scent wraps around me, oppressive and heady. I struggle not to take a deep breath,
knowing I’ll love it too much.
“Isaac…” My throat closes as he leans down so that our noses almost touch.
“Yes, Dr. Moore?” His breath hits my face, and for a moment, I’m stupefied. It wouldn’t take much to tilt my head forward
and brush my lips against his. What would it be like to just taste him? I’m already in trouble. What’s one more strike against
me?
The thought of getting in trouble freezes me in place.
“Y-you shouldn’t be here.”
“Where?” One hand comes down and the back of it skims across my cheek.
“Here. In my office.” I gasp at the electricity that rushes through me at the contact.
Isaac hums thoughtfully. “Is that so? Because it certainly feels right to be in here. Especially with you like this. But do you
know where I truly belong? Where I long to be?”
His hand drops so that his fingers brush against my nipple, skimming down my torso, and then he deliberately turns his
hands and cups my mound. I gasp, stiffening with shock at his unabashed claiming.
Then, to my horror, my hips tilt into his large warm hand, and the tension leaches from my body of its own accord.
“What’s the point of keeping these on, as soaked as they are, doctor?” Isaac asks, his voice mocking.
His thumb finds my swollen clit through my panties, and he presses against it. Both of his dimples appear at the sound of
my whimper.
“Such a pretty noise. How many more can I work from those lips of yours?”
I shake my head, swallowing back another as he applies just a little more pressure. I shouldn’t have let myself get this
worked up. My body is trembling in his palm, and he has to feel me leaking through the fabric, as ruined as my panties are.
“You can’t. We can’t…”
“Why not? Worried about what my father will do if he finds out? Or is it because I’m a client? No… that can’t be it. Maybe
you’re concerned about keeping up with the stamina of someone thirteen years younger than you? If that’s the case, I have a
feeling that won’t be a problem.” He chuckles. “Now, don’t stifle those sounds. I want to hear them all.”
His thumb moves in a circular motion over my clit. Again, I whimper. The pleasure is instantaneous and the orgasm that
ripples outward from my core is both amazing and mortifying upon its arrival. The picture frame falls from my hand and
clatters onto the ground. My cry is swallowed whole as Isaac dips down and claims my mouth with his. My mind is wiped
clean at the contact. His lips against mine, his touch, and a surprise orgasm? It’s all too surreal. Rather than ease up, my orgasm
momentarily intensifies. He steps closer to me until his chest is pressed against mine. There’s no way he doesn’t feel each and
every tremor rushing through me.
And for some reason, that excites me even more.
As the shaking subsides, Isaac pulls a few inches away. I stare up at him, utterly stunned. What the hell is happening? Why
did I let him do this to me? I should be pushing him away, getting dressed and running. I can send Bernard my resignation letter
when I get home… After I down an entire bottle of wine… Or two.
Isaac’s pale green eyes hold mine with the confidence of a cat who knows a mouse is trapped.
“Hm, I couldn’t resist capturing that particular sound.” A cocky half-smile pulls at his lips. One dimple reappears.
“You what?” I blink in surprise, not sure if I heard him right. Shaking my head slowly, I push that question to the side. “No.
No, we can’t do this.”
I reach up and force myself to push him away. Too bad I can’t find it in me to apply much pressure. My hands end up just
resting on his firm chest.
“No? No? I don’t know what that word means. It’s not in my vocabulary.” He swoops down and kisses me again.
I stiffen and refuse to kiss him back.
For about half a second.
Then I’m melting against him. I resent the way my body molds against his yet I’m powerless to stop it. His tongue forces its
way into my mouth with a confidence I’ve yet to meet in anyone else. This kiss is harsh and demanding. Isaac steps closer,
pressing me against the bookshelf with his body. His erection sits against my stomach, insisting on being noticed.
Isaac reaches down and grabs my hips. He lifts me up with ease and naturally my legs come around his waist. I’m of
average height and weight, but he’s just picked me up as if I was a child. I don’t realize we’re moving until my butt rests on the
edge of my desk. The coolness of the hard surface snaps me out of… Well, whatever this is. I pull away from Isaac with a
gasp.
“We can’t be here doing this!” I hiss, glancing toward the door.
“How about you ask me what my Christmas present to myself is, rather than worrying about what we can or can’t be
doing?”
“Isaac! You need to⁠—”
His hand comes up and wraps around my throat, squeezing just enough to cut off my words. A heavy scowl furrows his dark
brows as I gasp. I tell myself the sound is from fear because being fiercely turned on by his hold, more so than I already am,
would be totally inappropriate. Isaac lowers his head, holding my gaze, and growls through clenched teeth.
“Ask me, Meredith.”
The casual use of my name is jarring. Not enough to stop the heat climbing up into my face again as my body trembles with
an increasing need at his close proximity. Swallowing hard, I ask,
“What did you get yourself, Isaac?”
His dark scowl vanishes as a pleased smile spreads across his face. “You really want to know?”
No. Yes? Uncertain as to what he really wants, I nod slowly. He rolls his eyes. Suddenly he yanks me up, flips me over and
I find myself bent over my desk on my stomach. I gasp at how easily he can move me.
Don’t swoon, don’t swoon!
“Isaac!” I try to push myself up.
A hand presses against the middle of my back and forces me down. I press my cheek against the cold surface. It doesn’t do
anything to dampen the fire under my skin.
“That didn’t seem particularly convincing, Meredith. So let me see if I can work up a little more curiosity.” His foot kicks
out my legs, spreading them wide, then he steps between them. My panties are pulled to the side, and suddenly my core is
exposed to the room. The cool air down there, where I’m burning up the most, is shocking.
“No, Isaac⁠—”
“Holy shit…” The awe in his voice has my cheeks burning hot. “Look how fucking wet you are. Your body is crying,
Meredith. Crying for me.”
He hums. The sound is deep and animalistic, spurring my pussy to clench around nothing.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Isaac’s voice is almost a soft coo as he speaks to my pussy.
It should be a turn off, really it should. But my pussy clenches again with utter delight.
I am so fucking screwed.
4
 MEREDITH

A FINGER RUNS THROUGH THE MESS BETWEEN MY FOLDS , AND I SHIVER AS THE MOTION SENDS LICKS OF ELECTRIC DELIGHT
running through me.
“You’re so responsive.” Isaac uses his fingers, now slick with my arousal, to tease my clit. My hips arch upward, pushing
my butt closer toward him as I groan. “I thought you’d be more composed, harder to crack. But I’m pleasantly surprised. I
finally get to see the real side of you. The one you hide during our sessions with that infuriating indifferent smile.”
My toes curl as my pleasure mounts. Back and forth, he slides his fingers through my labia, teasing the nerves there before
returning to play with my clit. I’m breathless in no time, and my body shakes with need.
“Isaac, please…” I don’t know what I’m asking for. Mercy from this madness? For him to leave before we can go any
further? To plunge his fingers inside of me? To make me forget about the consequences and take me to new heights?
“Do you really want to know what I got for Christmas?” he asks.
I nod, unable to find enough air to fill my lungs to answer him properly. Suddenly his fingers stop moving, preventing my
impending orgasm from rushing through me.
“Isaac!” I push my butt up further toward him.
“Let me hear you say it.” His voice is biting, leaving no room for argument.
“W-what… what did you get yourself for Christmas?”
His fingers slide through my folds again, this time with deliberate slowness. I groan even as my legs tremble. The laziness
with which he teases my clit this time is just cruel.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
I bite my bottom lip as his touch on my clit becomes feather light. My body is trembling so hard right now, I’m practically
vibrating. Frustration gets the best of me.
“Isaac! Tell me what the fuck you got yourself for Christmas!”
His laughter shakes his hand. I can feel it between my pussy lips. Suddenly his fingers plunge inside of me, diving deep. I
shriek in surprise—unprepared for the sheer thickness of them.
“There’s the curiosity I was looking for.”
His fingers pump in and out of me. They glide effortlessly as my body leaks all around him. It’s embarrassing. But that
embarrassment is overshadowed by how fantastic he feels. There’s no fight in me now as I allow pleasure to consume me. The
sounds of satisfaction and distress build louder as my orgasm approaches.
“Ah, I love hearing you, Meredith. That’s right, don’t muffle those cute little noises. I want to hear them all.”
When I cum, my whole body comes alive. My wail is loud as I grind against Isaac’s hand and my body arches dramatically.
“Look at you all sopping wet.” Isaac’s soft moan echoes mine as my body finally sags and I try to catch my breath. As I lay
there breathing heavily, he grabs my hips and flips me onto my back. As my arousal lessens, shame returns full force. I can’t
meet his gaze, so I stare up at the tiled ceiling. “I knew you’d be the gift that kept on giving.”
His words surprise me.
The shock melts away though as anger surpasses it. I roll onto my back before propping myself up on my elbows. I glare up
into his handsome face. He flashes me a grin worthy of being front and center on a magazine cover.
“A gift that keeps on giving? I’m the gift? What the fuck, Isaac?” I sit up completely and point my finger at him. “My career
and my life are not something to mess with. We shouldn’t have done this. It was a mistake.”
He grabs my wrist and brings my hand up to his mouth where he bites my finger. I try to yank it away, but he bites harder.
“Ouch!” I move to use my other hand to push at him, but he catches that one too.
Isaac sucks my finger, lessening the sting. When he pulls his mouth away, I expect him to let go of my wrists next. He
doesn’t.
“A mistake? Not at all.” His eyes slide down my body. As they come back up, he licks his lips hungrily. “Look at you,
wrapped so nicely in lace. I can’t wait to tear through this.”
“Stop it. There will be no tearing through anything! I’m already going to be fired for this!”
 There’s a lot to be said about someone like me. I’m dependable, trustworthy, and admired. If anyone found out about this,
I’d be ruined. With this on my record, no one will take me seriously again. My stomach drops.
I’ve never broken the rules before. Yet, here I am now, breaking the worst ones.
When I yank my hand back, he releases me, but only so he can reach up and take a firm hold of my chin. I gasp and stare up
into his darkening eyes.
“I don’t think I will stop it.” He lowers his face so that I can only see him. “And I don’t think you want me to, Meredith.”
“You don’t know anything about what I want.”
“Trust me, I know a lot more about you than you think I do.” A sly smile slides across handsome face. “I won’t get you
fired, doctor, I promise.”
I shake my head. “You can’t promise that.”
“I just did, didn’t I?” He leans down and kisses me, effectively cutting off my next round of protests.
When he pulls away, I’m stunned into a moment of silence. My fingers tingle as I think about reaching up, digging them into
his thick hair, and bringing his head back down toward me.
“There, that’s better. Stop thinking so hard. I want to appreciate the gift in front of me.” Still in shock, I can only watch in
wonder as he reaches for my hips. I think he’s going to lift me. Instead, he rips my panties clean off my body with hardly any
effort.
He really meant it when he said he was going to tear through my lacy garments.
I lick my bottom lip nervously as my heart starts to race once more. We shouldn’t be doing this. The trouble I’ll get into
isn’t worth it. My career, my life… It’ll be ruined. Isaac will completely and utterly obliterate me and I’m sitting here letting
him. Why? Why is he doing this and why now?
“What did I say or do to you that would have you attempting to destroy me like this?” My forlorn desperation is thick in the
softly spoken question.
Isaac raises a brow in surprise, even as he sinks to his knees before me. “Destroy you? How dramatic, doctor. It’s so unlike
you.”
I say nothing as I watch him place both hands on my knees and then pull them apart. Those same hands slide up my thighs as
he leans forward and breathes me in. The embarrassment that has heated my face since his arrival intensifies.
“You tease me every fucking Friday. Sitting over here pretending that you’re better than me—all while wishing you could
cum all over my dick like some filthy slut.” He chuckles darkly. “As if I don’t notice that you have undone one too many buttons
of your shirt, or when you squeeze your thighs together oh-so discreetly. Well, you caught my attention. Happy now? I’ve been
craving you for months. I’m a little disappointed though. Did you really expect that I wouldn’t eventually take what I wanted?”
Isaac asks softly, his tone practically conversational. “You should’ve known better than that, doctor.”
Yes, maybe I should have. If I’ve learned anything about Isaac in the past year together, it’s that he’s calculating, passionate,
and deliberate in all things that he does. Yet nothing up to this point would lead me to believe he’d go this far.
A teeny part of me is thrilled he’s taking this chance with me. I try to stomp down that reaction. It’s not healthy.
Then again, I don’t have a great track record when it comes to healthy relationships. Me being very single at thirty-eight is
a testament to my dating failures. Apparently, you can’t fix everyone.
“Here is what’s going to happen, Meredith,” he holds my gaze as he stares up at me. “I’m going to unwrap my Christmas
present one piece of lace at a time. Then I’m going to treat you like the Christmas miracle that you are. I’m going to fuck you
until your womb looks like a snow globe—all full of my cum. After that? Well, I don’t want to give away your Christmas
present.”
The knowing smile on his face has me bracing myself for the madness to come.
5
 MEREDITH

ISAAC DOESN ’ T WAIT FOR A RESPONSE. HE GRABS THE OUTSIDE OF MY THIGHS WITH A BITING GRIP AND YANKS ME CLOSER TO HIS
face. With a squeak of surprise, I throw my hands back to brace myself on the desk. His head dives forward, heading straight
for my core like a homing missile. My head falls back as the air in my lungs evaporates.
Did he realize that giving me time to think would probably result in me pushing him off, getting dressed, and then darting
out of the office? Maybe he does know me.
Isaac’s tongue is diligent in lapping up the arousal he’s coaxed out of me. He licks at my thighs and works inward until his
hot mouth latches onto my core. My groan is loud in the silence of the room. It should make me self-conscious, but Isaac hums
in approval. The sound vibrates through me, and I groan once more. As his tongue dives into my pussy, working me up once
more, I shove my dignity to the side.
Why hold on to it?
If Isaac thinks I’ll be able to stay in this position after this, he’s sorely mistaken. I won’t be able to look him, or his father,
in the eye again. Maybe I can leave before I’m fired, and then my file won’t be stained with this corruption? It’s something I’ll
consider later. For now, I sink into the warm, heady sensation he’s drawing forth.
I don’t fight the urge to reach down this time. My fingers sink into Isaac’s thick curly hair as I gasp and whimper. His
tongue moves from my clit to my entrance, where he plunges it in. With his tongue deep inside me, his nose presses against my
clit and teases it. My hips buck. Without thinking, I pull his face closer between my legs, as if he isn’t already suffocating. I can
feel my orgasm approaching. My nipples bud beneath the fabric of my bra as my breath is stolen from me. It’s as alarming as
this is wonderful. I’ve never been able to get more than two orgasms from my body on my own, and even that requires a great
deal of alcohol and weeks of neglect. And from a lover? Psh, never.
“H-how? How do you know…” My throat closes up as pleasure explodes outward from between my legs, sending me into
full body shakes. Perspiration breaks out on my skin. As my body goes limp and I fall back onto the desk, Isaac rises from his
crouch. My arousal is smeared all over his face.
After swiping his tongue across his lips to clean up the mess, Isaac grins. “Fucking delicious.”
He reaches down with both hands and grabs a handful of each of my breasts. I cry out in surprise as he squeezes them
painfully. I weakly bat him away, but Isaac ignores me as he bends and sucks a nipple through the lacy fabric of my bra. A
weak groan emerges past my lips as his warm mouth suckles me.
When he pulls away, I whine.
“Let me unwrap the rest of you,” Isaac mutters. He rips my bra away without any resistance from the fabric or me. As my
breasts appear on full display, Isaac’s face twists with a tortured expression. “Fucking hell, Meredith. You’re—” his face shifts
into a dark sneer that only enhances his striking features, “—mine.”
His mouth and hands are on my breasts, to worship and torture them. His mouth sucks and his tongue teases, his fingers roll
and tweak my nipples. My legs come up around his hips, and I can’t help but hold his head as he works my body back up to a
needy, responsive mess. My eyes flutter shut, and I bask in the attention of the young man. I’m so engrossed in the pleasure he’s
working throughout my body that I don’t notice when one hand disappears, nor do I hear the sound of a zipper being pulled
down.
I do, however, feel when the tip of his dick presses against my entrance.
My eyes fly open with a gasp. I start to sit up but Isaac’s other hand slides from my breast to hold my chest down.
“I need to know how it feels to be wrapped up in your perfection, Meredith,” he whispers against my chest, his hot breath
hitting my nipple.
No. Yes. God, I want this so badly. My mouth goes dry. Isn’t this what I’ve dreamed about whenever he left my office or
when I was buried beneath my covers at home? God yes, but still…
“Protection?” I’m on birth control, but I’m not consistent with taking the pill. Why would I be when I haven’t been with
anyone else since… well, a long time.
His hard scoff nearly snaps me out of the comfortable haze of pleasure he’d built up.
 “I’m going to breed this pretty little cunt of yours until you’re swollen with my kid,” he snarls against my chest. He sucks
my left nipple hard. I cry out.
“N-no, Isaac!” My protest is weak, and my legs don’t drop from his waist. My pussy spasms greedily at the thought.
“I need to fill you up, doctor. Can you feel how desperately I need you?” Isaac whispers, looking up from my breasts to
stare at me. He pulls his hips back to run his cock through my folds. A tremendous shudder rushes through me as I realize how
thick Isaac is. His eyes hold my gaze. “There’s nothing in this world that I want more than to own you. I’m going to lock you
down and knock you up, doctor.”
This is sick. Twisted. Wrong. Red flags are being metaphorically thrown all over this crazy field. I’m a therapist, I know
better than most that this isn’t healthy. And yet… I find myself relaxing and squeezing my legs tighter around his waist. I’m a
grown-ass woman with a well-paying career that owns a townhouse and spends my money however I please. Yet to be wanted
so desperately and claimed so possessively is a siren call to some primal level I didn’t know even existed within me.
Isaac flashes me a knowing grin before repositioning himself at my entrance. He gives no warning or promises of being
gentle as he thrusts inside of me. The sharp jerk of his hips that has him bottoming out inside of me is so intense, even after
three orgasms and with how wet I am, my wail of surprise and pain is sharp and made in earnest. Isaac chuckles darkly before
his mouth latches back onto one of my nipples.
He pulls out slowly. As he does, I try to relax. Though it’s a smooth progression, my body needs a second to adjust to his
size. I’ve never taken a lover that is both long and thick. It doesn’t help that I haven’t had sex for nearly ten months. Even my
best dildo doesn’t come close to what Isaac is packing. Just as the tip of his dick reaches my entrance, Isaac snaps his hips
forward again. This time, I’m ready for him. Kind of. I breathe through the forward motion and my body relaxes.
Then arousal gushes around him.
As I groan, Isaac swears softly as he pulls away from my nipple. “You clearly need me as much as I need you. I’m being
sucked deeper into your pretty cunt like your body is starving for me.”
Starving? Have I been starving for Isaac? Is that why I’ve been tempting him all these months, session after session?
Possibly, though I don’t give it much thought as I turn my mind off and just give myself over to the moment. As my body
stretches to accommodate my client’s dick, a rush of giddy excitement circulates through me.
I’ve wanted this for so long.
My breathing becomes ragged as Isaac’s thrusts become more urgent. The wet, sloppy sounds our bodies make as he moves
is the soundtrack to this scandalous moment in my life. My chest arches as I gasp and groan. I’ve never felt fuller than I do now.
He feels glorious. Maybe this is a risk well worth the consequences. When I give my notice, I hope my body still feels the
imprint of Isaac's dick.
Impossibly, I feel the coiling of tension gathering in my lower stomach once more.
“That’s right, Meredith. I need to feel you cum around my dick like the dirty doctor you are,” Isaac growls as he hovers
over me. He stares down at me with his teeth bared in a muted growl, his eyes blazing with victory. A small vein in his
forehead bulges and sweat beads at his brow.
“I-I don’t know if I can again.” My voice is breathless, barely audible, as my body rocks back and forth across my desk
with every thrust of his hips.
“You can and you will. Your pleasure is mine. When I say I want to see you cumming, you’re going to fucking cum,” he
hisses before leaning down and claiming my lips with his. Reaching up, I hold his face and savor how his lips and tongue taste
like me. I moan as my pleasure spikes. Just as my body begins to tense, ready to jump again from this new and crazy height, the
door to my office opens.
Shit. Not again.
6
 BERNARD

“NO !” ISAAC SNARLS , GLARING OVER HIS SHOULDER AT ME AS I ENTER THE OFFICE. “YOU’ RE SUPPOSED TO WAIT YOUR FUCKING
turn!”
I ignore him for a moment as I take the time to appreciate Meredith’s body wrapped around my son. Her flawless brown
skin is on display but Isaac’s body blocks much of it. I need her stark naked before me. I breathe through the musky scent of sex
in the air in an attempt to cool the fire in my veins. It doesn’t help. Still, I’m settled enough to know that I’ll get Meredith to
myself soon. No need to rush this.
I watch as she pushes herself up onto her forearms. The dread situated on her pretty heart-shaped face melts away to true
horror when our eyes meet. It’s fucked up how hard this look gets me. But it also pisses me off. She can pretend to be mortified
all she wants. I suppose if she had any sort of dignity, this is the appropriate response when your boss catches you fucking his
son.
And one of her clients.
Still, I’ve seen the carnal hunger she wears when she’s staring at my picture. It always darkens when she brings my
handkerchief, or sometimes even my jacket, up to her face while she falls apart with my name on her lips right here on her
couch.
I shoot her a wink.
As the blood drains from her face and eyes widen, Meredith’s hands come up to push Isaac away. My son doesn’t seem to
notice. He slams his hands down onto the desk on either side of her and continues to glare at me.
This isn’t Isaac. He’s not a rash or territorial individual, nor is he typically this unhinged. In any other situation, I would
find it irritating. But I understand it under the circumstances.
Using just her beauty alone, Meredith seems capable of corrupting even the most even-tempered individuals. It’s a
powerful gift that’s now come around to bite her in the ass.
Rock hard and barely able to breathe evenly, I yank my phone out of my pocket as I move to sit on the couch.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just here to make some new family videos. I’m sure, one day, we’ll look back on this moment quite
fondly.”
Meredith’s back hits the desk. Her weak gasp pulls Isaac’s attention back to her. He looks down at her, lowering his head
so they’re nearly nose to nose.
“Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!”
He grabs her thighs to bring them up to his waist. Then he thrusts into her. Meredith cries out, the sound strangled. My dick
strains against my zipper at the wet sound their bodies make. Unlocking my phone screen, I pull up the camera and push the
record button.
This is going to make an amazing home video.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t love this,” Isaac hisses, leaning down into her face. “Were you not fucking yourself to the
picture of both of us?”
Meredith doesn’t fight Isaac off, and I watch as the muscles in her thighs tighten around my son’s waist. My lips curl
upward.
“Now, now, be nice, Isaac. It’s not every day we can make dreams come true.” I chuckle as I watch her toes curl. “She’s
just reeling over how perfect this moment is.”
Isaac’s answering laughter sounds strained. His thrusts become more erratic, and Meredith’s soft groans grow
incrementally in volume even as she shakes her head back and forth.
“No, we can’t. Stop…”
My dick grows harder as I watch Meredith’s hips lift, meeting Isaac’s thrusts as best she can while she’s pinned down. Her
mind and body seem to be at odds with one another. We’ll correct that soon enough. Then we’ll get her heart into the mix.
Leaning forward to brace my elbows on my thighs, I watch them with rampant interest. The delicious smell of sex grows
thicker in the room. My cock throbs in time to their thrusting. I can feel my control slipping. I’m here and I have my sweet,
young therapist right where I want her.
“Who says we can’t? Your boss?” I ask her. Laughter spills past my lips, sounding maniacal as the blood in my veins
warms. Like a starving vampire drawn to its bloody meal, I’m being pulled toward the woman before me. “Nonsense, you’ll
displease him immensely if you stop on his behalf.”
At the sound of her whine, my control snaps. I can’t not sample the feast before me. Yes, I’ll have plenty of time in the
future to devour the woman before me, but right now, I need to sink myself into her. Connect with her, imprint myself upon her
in some way. Right. Fucking. Now.
I’m on my feet and moving in the next breath. My son hardly spares me half a glare before his attention is back on the
woman beneath him. His soft, exasperated sigh is lost in the wet noises the two of them make. My steps are quick as I move
around her desk. Her breasts jiggle as Isaac’s thrusts send her back and forth across it. Her hooded gaze flickers up to my face
before she slams her eyes shut in apparent shame.
Trying to hide, are we? There will be none of that with me…
“Look at me, Meredith.”
She bites her bottom lip, her head shakes back and forth. “We shouldn’t. I can’t⁠—”
Can’t? Can’t? There’s nothing on this planet that will stop me from having her now. Bitter amusement grips my insides, and
again I’m smiling, though I have a feeling it’s more teeth than mirth.
“We most definitely should be here, bathing you in our cum and letting it soak into your skin. It's what we all want, isn’t it?
And you most certainly can look at me. This is no different from you staring into my eyes while you masturbate to my picture.”
Meredith’s eyes flutter open until they’re wide orbs—her shock is as clear as day. Her lips… oh those pretty fucking lips…
They’d look even better if they were busy. With one hand, I unzip my fly and pull out my cock. My fingers are trembling from
excitement as I wrap them around my stiff length.
“This is for you, Meredith,” I tell her, holding her gaze as I stroke myself. “I’ve cummed alongside you more times than I
can count these last few years. God… I just couldn’t let you go home over the holiday break without you knowing how things
will be from here on out.”
Her body visibly trembles as she stares up at me. With eyelids falling halfway closed, I think she doesn’t even realize when
her tongue darts out and licks her lips hungrily.
“Come on, Meredith. If I cum, you have to as well,” Isaac growls, his thrusting almost frantic now.
“That’s right, be a good girl and cum, that’s an order from this doctor,” I urge. This is it. Everything I’ve set in motion has
come together perfectly. “Let Isaac fill you to the brim. Clearly, you are in need of a heavy dose of Carlton dick. This is a
prescription I’m happy to fill for you.”
Isaac’s hand moves between them. The motion draws a loud gasp from the woman on the desk. I can’t resist. My dick
slides between her lips in a single thrust.
I expected warmth. I expected saliva. I’ve had enough blowjobs over the years to know what to expect from them.
What I didn’t expect was how deep I could slide into her throat. Despite sliding so far that her lips rest against my pelvis,
Meredith doesn’t gag. Her throat squeezes me tight before her tongue slithers along the veins that bulge around my cock.
Good. Fucking. God.
I nearly cum with how fantastic this feels. If there had been any hesitancy about how the three of us would fit together, it
would’ve vanished right in this moment with my cock buried down Dr. Moore’s throat. Back and forth, I pull my dick along her
tongue and through those lips. It smears with lipstick and saliva. The sight of it brings me closer to the edge faster than I thought
possible.
And when she lets all inhibitions go to reach up to hold my sack? I’m pretty sure I’ve died and made it to the pearly white
gates.
Suddenly Meredith’s back arches off her desk. Her mouth becomes a vacuum seal as she sucks in a sharp breath while her
orgasm tears through her. Isaac hunches forward, grunting hard as his hands hit the desk to brace himself, and then he follows
suit. The sight of the two of them finding their releases tips me over the edge.
I cum hard, my body jerking in time with the ropes of cum that fill Meredith's mouth.
Like the good girl that she is, Meredith swallows every drop down.
I groan loudly while Isaac pulls his dick free from between her legs. Breathing heavily, he mutters, “Fuck, I knew it would
be like this.”
His hands slide all over Meredith’s body, aimlessly and greedily, as if he can’t get enough. I laugh as I pull my dick free.
“Did you?” My skepticism isn’t strong. I already knew things had changed. “Well, I’m glad you finally came around to the
idea of having a mother in your life again.”
Meredith stiffens and struggles to sit up, looking between us like cornered prey. My stomach twists with excitement. My
dick is hardly soft. Knowing how it feels to sink into her body, I doubt I’ll ever go truly flaccid in her presence again. The
exhilaration from knowing that the time has come to claim what’s mine is making my head spin.
When she starts to shake her head, I can’t help but taunt her a bit. “Mother, wife, filthy slut… we’re still working out the
titles. Feel free to choose or come up with your own. We’re not picky.”
“W-what are you talking about?” Her voice is small and airy. The pretty flush beneath her brown skin is fading as reality
begins to creep in.
“You’re our joint Christmas gift, Meredith. From here on out, you’re ours.” I shake my head to cut off whatever she’s about
to say as her mouth pops back open. Those swollen lips are tantalizing, but right now, it’s time they remain shut. “It’s not a
question. You’ve wanted us as badly as we’ve wanted you. To say otherwise would be a lie, wouldn’t it? There’s no getting
around this. I know how much you love rules, Meredith. How you cling to them. But I also know what a passionate woman you
can be. I had a feeling, you know, that beyond that pleasant smile, there was more to you than meets the eye. After I put cameras
in here, my theory was confirmed. But you hide it from the world, and I loathe that. If you want something, I believe in going
after it. So rather than allow such wanton behavior to happen behind closed doors, I want to bring you out into the light. You
wanted us both. I made that happen.”
Isaac chuckles as he puts away his dick. “He was pretty creative—falsifying those court-mandated therapy documents, huh?
They looked legit.”
Meredith’s face begins to crumple. “I-I don’t understand.”
Yes she does. It’s as clear as day as realization begins to dawn on her.
“It’s simple.” Isaac shrugs, calmer now that he’s gotten his dick wet. “Dad wanted me to seduce you. Paid me big bucks at
first to come in here and play the broken guy that you’d think you could fix. But then I met you, and after about three sessions, I
found myself actually looking forward to talking to you. And when I watched you touch yourself to the picture of me and him
every Friday after everyone left the office?” He shakes his head with a soft laugh. “Dad didn’t need to pay me to come here
after that. Hell, he had to keep me from scheduling more than one session a week. He couldn’t stop me from following you
around though. Watching you from afar…”
Meredith recoils away from him, unconsciously leaning closer to me.
“And now—” I tell her, gaining Meredith’s attention again “—we’re here. Together. Where we belong.”
She cringes as her head whips back and forth. “No, no! We can’t do this! What about the board? Or patient-doctor⁠—”
“None of that matters.” I tilt my head as I reconsider my answer. “Well, let me rephrase that. While it doesn’t matter to me
or Isaac, I know it matters to you. So I’m going to make this new situation easier to accept.”
Her pupils narrow. “How?”
“By taking away your ability to consider a way out of this.” I speak clearly, spelling out her situation so there can be no
misunderstandings from here on out. “From now on, you’ll be ours, Meredith. Our woman to play with, to lavish gifts upon, to
take on our travels, to fill with our cum… Ours. I’m not above holding the evidence of you breaking into my office or of you
touching yourself against you. Or, better yet, the video that finished recording a few minutes ago, of you screwing my son, your
patient. It’ll be heavily edited so I was never here, but who needs the full story when just a glimpse is all it will take to strip
you of your license?”
Meredith’s lips pop back open. The alarm on her face is priceless.
“But in return—” Isaac squeezes her thighs with his hands “—we’re yours. We all get what we want. You get a nice little
family. And us? We get a woman who craves our attention and touch. I told you this Christmas was going to be different for the
both of us.”
“No.” The word is out of Meredith’s mouth before she’s off the desk and scrambling to grab her clothes. She grabs her shirt
and yanks it back on. Meredith reaches for her skirt next. “This is wrong. Sick!”
“Where are you going, doctor?” Isaac mocks, flashing her a predatory grin. “You don’t think you can run from this, do
you?”
He kicks her shoes toward her. We both watch as she stands there stiffly. Will pride and fear have her forgoing them in
order to run and put space between us? Nope. Not this time. Meredith slips on her shoes while trying to button her shirt. I don’t
miss the way her hands tremble. The fact that she’s so flustered now, after playing along, is adorable. Back to her prudish ways
it seems.
“Do you think you can hide in that fancy townhouse of yours off 3rd and Wayne’s Street? That I won’t slip in through the
sliding glass door around back to come after you?”
Meredith stumbles back, away from both of us, toward the door, as she stares at Isaac. “How do you know that?”
“Because I slip in every once in a while to steal a pair of your used panties to cum in later that night.”
Her shriek of indignation and surprise makes me laugh.
“Let her run, Isaac. Let’s see how far she thinks she can get.” I grin as she reaches for the doorknob. “I told you what I’ll
do, but I don’t mind this game you’re tempting us with. You want to play keep away? Fine, let’s see how long you think you can
keep us at bay.”
Rather than respond, Meredith grabs her purse, yanks open the door, and disappears down the hallway.
Isaac whirls around to face me. “What the fuck? I thought we were going to⁠—”
“We’re bringing her home tonight.” I listen to Meredith’s hurried footsteps as she retreats. “But she wants to be chased.
How can we refuse?”
Understanding dawns on Isaac’s face, brightening it and eliciting a grin. “How much of a head start are we giving her?”
“An hour.” I glance toward him. “Then we’ll let the game begin.”
7
 MEREDITH

I SCREAM THE ENTIRE RIDE HOME.

The sound is internal, never slipping past my lips. Yet it’s so loud, my bones vibrate and my ears ache. Even my throat
grows sore halfway to my destination. The sound is so loud inside my head, it overpowers all thoughts. It shakes my eyeballs
—blurring traffic and street lights—as if the snowfall isn’t hazardous enough to contend with. Is there no air in this car? Why
can’t I breathe? Tears stream down my face. They cool dramatically in the cold car, but heat is the last thing I want right now.
My body is an ember, still burning from the aftermath of the Carlton men’s devastatingly exquisite touches.
Isaac’s cum has dried on my thigh. I’m hyper aware of it as I parallel park across the street from my townhouse. Thank god
most of my neighbors are away for the holidays. Otherwise, there isn’t a chance in hell I would’ve been able to park without
hitting someone’s car. Fumbling with my purse, I get out of the car and hurry across the street. Living close to downtown, right
off one of the main roads where shops and restaurants reside in Annapolis, Maryland, the houses here boast both charm and
history. It was one of the reasons I bought the brick three-story house.
Now, however, I’m regretting the accessibility to my house.
I slip in every once in a while to steal a pair of your used panties to cum in. Isaac’s confession, spoken with a smug
smile and heated gaze, sinks deeper into my psyche. My breathing comes in ragged gasps as I tap my code into the keypad and
shove my front door open.
The motion sensor lights I’d installed in the foyer flicker on. I pause under them. How did Isaac get past the lights? Did he
know this area lit up on its own or was this a trial and error moment for him?
No, wait. He mentioned the back door.
Shit.
Racing through the house, I check the lock on the sliding glass door and put the safety bar behind it. Isaac won’t be getting
in now. I stare out into my small backyard. It contains a deck with enough room for two wicker chairs and an end table. Beyond
it sits a wooden fence that acts as a partition between the small grassy drain off space and my back neighbor’s property.
Did anyone notice Isaac’s nightly escapades? Would they have told me if they did? I’m not close with my neighbors, but I
would hope they’d call the cops if they saw suspicious behavior. Or at least come knock on my door.
Swallowing hard, I take a step back. My eyes remain glued to the snow-covered deck though. There aren’t any footprints.
That means he’s not here yet. But that could change. Will he show up tonight? Tomorrow? Or will Isaac sit and wait to bask in
the crumbling of my sanity as I wonder when he will appear?
With a growl of defiance, I reach up and yank the curtain into place. There. If I crack under the pressure, at least he won’t
be able to watch. My dignity might be long gone, but I’ll be damned if I don’t work to regain it. My foot feels heavy as I lift it
to turn. Every step into my kitchen that follows is unstable. My knees knock together, and every breath I try to take is shaky at
best.
What have I done?
They may have pinned me to my desk and stuffed me full of cock like a Thanksgiving turkey but I could've left. I could’ve
sat up, fought them off, screamed so loud that someone outside would’ve heard and called the cops. Yet I laid there, quivering
with desire and basking in their attention. I drank the cum of my boss like a trophy whore. My pussy milked the cum from my
patient’s cock like it was it’s job.
What was I thinking? Why? Why? WHY did I allow that to happen?
A whimper slips past my lips but the sound of it brings me back into the moment. When did the screaming in my head stop?
I’m not sure. Now that I’m aware of its absence, I’m ultra aware of the deafening silence. It feels oppressive. Bearing down on
me until even the weak breaths I’m trying to scoop into my lungs feel inadequate.
I’m panicking. This out of control feeling is panic.
I wish I could say it has everything to do with the very real fear of being taken advantage of. I am being blackmailed. If they
leak that footage with me and Isaac to the world, I'll be ruined. But as I uncork one bottle of white wine and tuck another under
my armpit, taking them with me while I hurry up the stairs, I can't help but try to outrun the small part of me that is over the
moon about what transpired.
No, no, no! I can’t feel this way. It’s wrong. So terribly wrong. And yet… my body tingles as it replays the last hour in my
office.
The mouth of my wine bottle tips between my lips, and I take a long swig of wine.
I stop in the threshold of my bedroom and flick on the lights. My feet don't take me any further though. I simply stand there,
staring at my private sanctuary. The entire house looks straight out of a magazine, with nothing out of place and neutral colors,
high-end furniture and minimal splashes of me anywhere. I designed the whole house like that on purpose. I like clean lines,
natural accents, and warm lighting. There's something calming about minimal clutter.
But my bedroom?
It's like a whole other person lives here. Bright primary and secondary colors are accents against black walls. The colors
are in the thick mosaic comforter, throw pillows with chaotic patterns, and in the throw rugs that are well worn and handmade
from recycled material placed haphazardly around the room. There's no rhyme or reason to be seen. Knick-knacks adorn the
tops of my dressers, and Mardi Gras beads and fairy lights hang from the corner of the full length mirror in the corner of the
room.
With so much going on in here, there's no way I would've ever known someone had been in here.
Terror, overwhelming humiliation, and a deep stain of disgust spread across my chest, causing it to tighten. Another gulp of
wine works its way down my throat. It's supposed to help. Instead, I feel the alcohol beginning to cloud my better judgment.
Thoughts of Isaac watching me from my closet as I cum over and over again with a vibrator up my pussy and his name on my
lips causes my skin to grow warm.
I'm sick in the head. I have to be if I find being stalked arousing. With that thought, I take another deep swig and step inside
my room.
Well, there’s one way to fix this situation: run.
My eyes flicker to the closet where my suitcase hides. As I take a step into my room, toward its location, I’m aware of
Isaac’s cum on my thigh once more.
Ok first, shower. It’ll have to be quick. God only knows where Bernard or Isaac are now. They could be on their way here
as I stand and mull over what to do. But without one, they’ll be all I can think about.
With that thought, I carry both bottles of wine into the attached bathroom.
8
 ISAAC

DESPITE THE HEAVY SNOWFALL COMING DOWN AND THE WIND THAT ' S PICKED UP — CAUSING ACCIDENTS ALL ALONG THE ROUTE—I
beat my dad to Meredith's house.
I skip going around back.
Knowing Meredith's in a panic, I've no doubt she probably locked it first thing when she arrived home. Instead, I jog up the
front steps—my feet sinking into Meredith’s footprints which are still visible despite the snow trying to fill them.. Once at the
top, I simply punch in the code into the keypad. It unlocks audibly. Pushing open the door, I step inside. Overhead, the lights
flicker on. I ignore them but I do pause to listen for signs of my prey.
The house is silent.
Looking over my shoulder, I do a quick visual sweep of her street. Yup, there's her car. She's definitely home. Is she
attempting to hide from me? The thought makes me chuckle. I know Meredith's house better than I know my own. I've stood in
every corner, sat in every seat, and touched every single item in here—more than once. With how often I'm here, this house is
practically a second home.
There's nowhere she can hide that I won't find her.
My cock, already hard with the thrill of, and winning, the chase, twitches like a dog’s nose as it sniffs the air.
I know boy, we’ll find her.
Moving through the house, I don't bother to keep my footsteps silent. I pass the untouched formal dining room, prod through
the living room, but stop in the kitchen. Everything looks clean and crisp, as always. But something's different. My eyes sweep
across the room. They land on the wine fridge where the door has been partially left open.
Hm...
Is she soaking in her bathtub sipping on a glass of wine? Reminiscing? A grin splits across my face as I shift direction.
When I get to the stairs, I ascend—taking two at a time. Just as I get to the top landing, I hear the front door open.
Dad’s here. Does he think he’s beaten me? The thought makes me chuckle.
I follow the short hallway to Meredith’s bedroom, my footsteps relatively silent despite not bothering to conceal my
presence.
When I get to her room, I step inside and spare it a single glance. I already know the layout of this space and what all it
contains—right down to where she keeps her birth control. Or what she thinks is her birth control. Knowing that it was almost
time to act, last month I removed the little pills she’s been separating in her pill container and replaced them with placebos.
None of us are getting any younger…
Just as I finish my brief scan of the room, Meredith steps out of her bathroom. She freezes, her eyes going large like a doe’s
in headlights. Steam wafts off her bare shoulders, still damp from her soak. The fluffy white towel wrapped around her body
shifts as my eyes drag down it to glimpse Meredith’s bare legs.
My mouth goes dry at the sight.
“My, how good you look.” My teeth clench together as my lips split into a wide smile. Retracing her body until our eyes
lock once more, I can’t help but puff out my chest in pride. I caught her. She’s mine. “Look at that pretty blush under your
skin… I bet I could make it darken. Want to see how?”
Meredith moves one foot back.
Instantly, my muscles bunch. My heart slams against my ribs as adrenaline washes through me. I didn’t picture Dr. Moore to
be a runner, but this has turned out to be another wonderful surprise. Unfortunately for the both of us, there’s nowhere for her to
run.
I lick my lips.
“Aw, come on now.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “No need to make this difficult. We can stroll out of your house,
hand in hand, and head to my place. I’ll make us some hot cocoa. I know you like marshmallows in it—you treat yourself to one
every Monday.”
This is a new habit, one she started back in September. It’d thrown me off the first three weeks of the month until I realized
this must be a Fall routine. During the Spring and Summer months, she goes for a sweet lemonade first thing in the mornings at
a different location.
I take a step towards her but Meredith takes another step backward.
“Stop right there, Isaac.” She holds up one hand as if to fend me off.
“Alright, fine.” Coming to a dead stop in the center of her room, I reach out a hand. “Come here.”
Her eyes drop to my hand incredulously before looking back up into my face. “What? No!”
“Then I’m going to have to come to you.” I take another step forward.
She squeaks with denial and scurries back two more steps until her back meets the wall. Her eyes grow impossibly large
as she realizes she’s trapped. Her throat convulses.
“Listen to me, Isaac. T-this infatuation isn’t real. Whatever attraction you feel toward me is just a construct in your mind.
You’re trying to bring us together, but this is, ah, one-sided.” Meredith stumbles over her lie before picking right back up. “And
while I know you must be disappointed, you have to respect my boundaries. I’m not coming to you, you’re not going to come
near me. Once I find you some help, you’re going to, after a little time, realize that this is inappropriate. You can’t have me. I’m
not some puppy in a pet shop to scoop up o-or…”
Meredith struggles to find the right words as she rambles. With a deep breath, she steadies herself. Straightening, she
attempts to hold my gaze, but I find that she can’t look me directly in my eyes. Is she staring at my nose? My grin grows bigger.
“In my field we call this limerence. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re emotionally attached to me. I don’t know when
this started, or quite frankly why, but I’m sorry I didn’t recognize it sooner. This is my fault for not noticing the signs. I didn’t
realize I was feeding into a delusion…” Her voice trails off as color returns to her cheeks.
I tilt my head, my eyebrows raising incredulously. Amusement springs up my chest like the compressed air in a champagne
bottle. The laughter that spills out of me is loud and hearty.
“Liar. You knew exactly what you were doing.” I lick my lips again. “Judging by the way you kept your blouse unbuttoned
enough to tease me, or the way your gaze shifted to my cock every chance it could—I think it’s safe to say you urged me on.”
“Isaac, please… You need to take a deep breath, and step back. We can talk about this and figure out the appropriate next
steps⁠—”
There’s a heavy sigh behind me. The disapproval that rings in it is familiar and grating. I haven’t been on the receiving end
of it since my teenage years, but still—the sound stirs up the same irritation as it once did.
I look over my shoulder to find my father stepping into the room, looking around with great interest.
“Took you long enough to get up here.”
Dad glances at me, his brows coming together curiously. “Given that I just got here, I’d say it took me just the right amount
of time. You should’ve shut the front door behind you, by the way. We don’t want to alert the neighbors that something is up.
That was sloppy.”
The front door was open? I shake my head. Maybe it didn’t latch behind me… I frown as the rest of the words register.
“You just got here?”
My dad nods but his gaze flickers back to Meredith. Right, focus… Maybe I thought I heard him but was mistaken. As I turn
back toward Meredith, I find her inching toward the bathroom door.
I grin. “Are you going to hide in the bathroom? Do you really think a simple lock would keep me out now that I’ve tasted
you?”
She freezes. Her eyes dart between the two of us as her chest heaves while she gasps nervously.
“What a marvel you are, Meredith,” my dad says, walking past me to look around the room. “Only allowing yourself to
indulge in your more carefree, dare I say, playful nature within your bedroom? I suppose I’m not surprised. You always aim to
please and impress. Clearly that doesn’t just pertain to your professional life. It encompasses all of it. Fascinating. I’m
guessing that’s from a lack of attention from your parents.” He comes to a stop at the edge of the bed. “From the crisp, near
sterile palette downstairs, I was wondering if you ever let your true nature come out. I’m pleased to say that worry has been
squashed. And lucky for you, this,” he twirls an index finger, indicating the room around us, “won’t be the only space where
you can be yourself and find true happiness. We will rain praises down upon you once you’ve taken your rightful place in our
lives.”
Meredith shakes her head slowly. “Look, Dr. Carlton⁠—”
“Bernard, please. Or Bernie if you’re feeling sentimental.”
“Dr. Carlton, you can’t be here! You and your son are either mistaken or confused about the situation.”
I hum thoughtfully. “You can attempt to gaslight us all you want, but it won’t work. You might just want to drop the act since
you’re no saint in this situation.”
Her gasp of outrage is drowned out by my laughter. God, she’s adorable when she’s upset.
“Isaac, collect Meredith’s belongings, please.”
I bristle at the command but do as he says. We’re wasting time when we could be showing her reasons to sink into her new
role. With a heavy sigh, I prowl over to the closet.
 “I’m going to call the cops,” Meredith hisses. Trying to sound angry and failing miserably.
“Go ahead,” my dad says, calling her bluff.
I open the closet doors and pick up the suitcase. It’s heavy, I made sure last night when I slipped in to pack all of her
favorite items. Whatever she could possibly need, we’ll come back for it, when she no longer wants to run.
“N-no, stop. Dr—Bernard! What are you doing?”
I turn to find my dad stalking toward Meredith, the handkerchief she left behind in his hand.
“I can see you’re going to be difficult for a bit, so I’m taking the liberty of making sure you remain calm for the trip back to
your new home.” Dad’s explanation rolls off his tongue easily.
Before she can respond, my father leaps forward. She screeches, dropping the hold on her towel to fend him off. But really,
there’s no point. Not only do both of us tower over her and workout on a consistent basis, she has no leverage, nowhere to run,
nor does she have the advantage of surprise.
My father presses the cloth to her face, ignoring her struggles. They don’t last long. Her whole body goes limp in a matter
of seconds. Dad scoops her up before she can collapse and looks over at me.
“You ready to go?”
I grin. “Absolutely.”
9
 MEREDITH

MY MOUTH IS DRY.
That’s the first thing I notice as I wake. It’s so dry, in fact, that my tongue sticks painfully to the roof of my mouth. The
second thing I notice is the dull ache that throbs at the front of my skull. Each pulse of pain spreads behind my eyes and makes
my stomach protest. I squeeze my eyelids together tight, hoping to mentally force away the discomfort.
It doesn’t help.
Water. I need water. Then aspirin. Or maybe I’ll start with the aspirin and work my way to water. Either way, I need to get
up if I want either of those things. How much wine did I drink last night? I open one eye a crack, bracing myself for sunlight
that will inevitably make the ache so much worse.
To my relief, I’m not struck by a warm beam of light. I must’ve shut the curtains before heading to bed last night. I close my
eye. This time, when I attempt to get my bearings, I open both eyes. My eyelids feel leaden, and my vision is blurry, still—I’ve
managed one small task. Now it’s time to sit up.
I try, really I do. Yet I get nowhere. Trying to get my arms beneath me to push myself up feels impossible with how heavy
they are. When I attempt to lift my head, it throbs harder than before. A groan slips past my lips as I try again but fail to sit
upright.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
I stiffen at the sound of a familiar voice. Dr. Carlton? Why would he be in my house? As I squeeze my eyes tighter, all the
events of the last time we were together replay like a movie on fast forward. And that last scene? The one where he lunges
toward me with a cloth in his hand, is paused for me to remember vividly.
“Let me help you.” He sounds closer.
This time when I open my eyes, I blink rapidly to clear my vision. It comes on slowly. As it does, I realize I’m not in my
room. I’m not back in my office either.
But I’m in someone’s office.
The wood paneling in the room has been painted a modern, light grayish-beige. The floor is a sleek, dark hardwood that
stretches out from beneath a large and colorful oriental rug. There are two sleek, dark-gray chairs facing me with a narrow
wooden side table resting between them. I lay across a comfortable light-brown suede couch. There’s dim recessed lighting
overhead but most of the light in the room, though muffled by curtains, comes from a large window I see just behind the gray
chairs and the large desk sitting behind them.
Where…?
I’m jostled as someone sits by my head. An arm hooks around my back and under my arms. With ease, I’m pulled upright
against a hard body. I try to sit up all the way. Instantly, I regret trying. The room spins too fast and the throb in my head turns
excruciating. I gasp as I slump back against Dr. Carlton.
“Take it easy, Meredith. You’ll be disoriented for a little bit before you’re able to get your bearings.” He moves a little,
jostling my head. Suddenly, there’s a glass of water in front of my face. “Here, you must be parched.”
He brings the glass to my lips and tilts it toward me. I don’t fight him on this. I am parched. The water that slides across my
tongue is ice cold and delicious. My dry, scratchy throat is soothed as the water trickles down it. I clear my throat as Dr.
Carlton pulls the glass away.
“There, you can have more in a minute. I don’t want you to choke if you’re struggling to swallow.” The concern in his voice
sounds oddly genuine.
I lick my dry lips. As I take a steadying breath, I breathe in his fancy cologne. It’s faint but there, and I’m instantly
intoxicated. For a moment my head clouds and my body relaxes, soaking in his scent. How many times have I held up his jacket
and breathed this man in? Now I’m pressed against him, surrounded by his scent.
Stealing a few more seconds to myself, I pretend I’m here with him for anything other than nefarious reasons. When I can no
longer lie to myself, I take a deep breath and attempt to speak.
“Where—?” My voice comes out as a croak. I clear my throat again. “Where am I?”
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Title: The art of music, Vol. 07 (of 14), Pianoforte and chamber
music

Editor: Leland Hall

Edward Burlingame Hill
Daniel Gregory Mason
César Saerchinger

Release date: December 9, 2023 [eBook #72303]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: National Society of Music, 1915

Credits: Andrés V. Galia, Jude Eylander and the Online

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ART OF

MUSIC, VOL. 07 (OF 14), PIANOFORTE AND CHAMBER MUSIC
***
 TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
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THE ART OF MUSIC
 The Art of Music
A Comprehensive Library of Information
for Music Lovers and Musicians

Editor-in-Chief

DANIEL GREGORY MASON

Columbia University

Associate Editors

EDWARD B. HILL LELAND HALL

Harvard University Past Professor, Univ. of
Wisconsin

Managing Editor

CÉSAR SAERCHINGER
Modern Music Society of New York

In Fourteen Volumes
Profusely Illustrated
 NEW YORK
THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC
 Home Concert

Painting by Fritz von Uhde

 THE ART OF MUSIC: VOLUME SEVEN

Pianoforte and Chamber Music

Department Editor:

LELAND HALL, M.A.

Past Professor of Musical History, University of
Wisconsin

Introduction by
HAROLD BAUER
 NEW YORK
THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC
 Copyright, 1915, by
THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC, Inc.
[All Rights Reserved]
 PREFATORY NOTE
The editor has not attempted to give within the limits of this single
volume a detailed history of the development of both pianoforte and
chamber music. He has emphasized but very little the historical
development of either branch of music, and he has not pretended to
discuss exhaustively all the music which might be comprehended
under the two broad titles.

The chapters on pianoforte music are intended to show how the

great masters adapted themselves to the exigencies of the
instrument, and in what manner they furthered the development of
the difficult technique of writing for it. Also, because the piano may
be successfully treated in various ways, and because it lends itself to
the expression of widely diverse moods, there is in these chapters
some discussion of the great masterpieces of pianoforte literature in
detail.

The arrangement of material is perhaps not usual. What little has

been said about the development of the piano, for example, has
been said in connection with Beethoven, who was the first to avail
himself fully of the advantages the piano offered over the
harpsichord. A discussion, or rather an analysis, of the pianoforte
style has been put in the chapter on Chopin, who is even today the
one outstanding master of it.

In the part of the book dealing with chamber music the material has
been somewhat arbitrarily arranged according to combinations of
instruments. The string quartets, the pianoforte trios, quartets, and
quintets, the sonatas for violin and piano, and other combinations
have been treated separately. The selection of some works for a
more or less detailed discussion, and the omission of even the
mention of others, will undoubtedly seem unjustifiable to some; but
the editor trusts at least that those he has chosen for discussion may
illumine somewhat the general progress of chamber music from the
time of Haydn to the present day.

For the chapters on violin music before Corelli and the beginnings of
chamber music we are indebted to Mr. Edward Kilenyi, whose initials
appear at the end of these chapters.

Leland Hall
 INTRODUCTION
The term Chamber Music, in its modern sense, cannot perhaps be
strictly defined. In general it is music which is fine rather than broad,
or in which, at any rate, there is a wealth of detail which can be
followed and appreciated only in a relatively small room. It is not, on
the whole, brilliantly colored like orchestral music. The string quartet,
for example, is conspicuously monochrome. Nor is chamber music
associated with the drama, with ritual, pageantry, or display, as are
the opera and the mass. It is—to use a well worn term—very nearly
always absolute music, and, as such, must be not only perfect in
detail, but beautiful in proportion and line, if it is to be effective.

As far as externals are concerned, chamber music is made up of

music for a solo instrument, with or without accompaniment
(excluding, of course, concertos and other like forms, which require
the orchestra, and music for the organ, which can hardly be
dissociated from cathedrals and other large places), and music for
small groups of instruments, such as the string trio and the string
quartet, and combinations of diverse instruments with the piano.
Many songs, too, sound best in intimate surroundings; but one thinks
of them as in a class by themselves, not as a part of the literature of
chamber music.

With very few exceptions, all the great composers have sought
expression in chamber music at one time or another; and their
compositions in this branch seem often to be the finest and the most
intimate presentation of their genius. Haydn is commonly supposed
to have found himself first in his string quartets. Mozart’s great
quartets are almost unique among his compositions as an
expression of his genius absolutely uninfluenced by external
circumstances and occasion. None of Beethoven’s music is more
profound nor more personal than his last quartets. Even among the
works of the later composers, who might well have been seduced
altogether away from these fine and exacting forms by the
intoxicating glory of the orchestra, one finds chamber music of a rich
and special value.

This special value consists in part in the refined and unfailing

musical skill with which the composers have handled their slender
material; but more in the quality of the music itself. The great works
of chamber music, no matter how profound, speak in the language of
intimacy. They show no signs of the need to impress or overwhelm
an audience. Perhaps no truly great music does. But operas and
even symphonies must be written with more or less consideration for
external circumstances, whereas in the smaller forms, composers
seem to be concerned only with the musical inspiration which they
feel the desire to express. They speak to an audience of
understanding friends, as it were, before whom they may reveal
themselves without thought of the effectiveness of their speech.
They seem in them to have consulted only their ideals. They have
taken for granted the sympathetic attention of their audience.

The piano has always played a commanding rôle in the history of

chamber music. From the early days when the harpsichord with its
figured bass was the foundation for almost all music, both vocal and
instrumental, few forms in chamber music have developed
independently of it, or of the piano, its successor. The string quartet
and a few combinations of wind instruments offer the only
conspicuous exceptions. The mass of chamber music is made up of
pianoforte trios, quartets, and quintets, of sonatas for pianoforte and
various other instruments; and, indeed, the great part of pianoforte
music is essentially chamber music.

It may perhaps seem strange to characterize as remarkably fine and

intimate the music which has been written for an instrument often
stigmatized as essentially unmusical. But the piano has attracted
nearly all the great composers, many of whom were excellent
pianists; and the music which they have written for it is indisputably
of the highest and most lasting worth. There are many pianoforte
sonatas which are all but symphonies, not only in breadth of form,
but in depth of meaning. Some composers, notably Beethoven and
Liszt, demanded of the piano the power of the orchestra. Yet on the
whole the mass of pianoforte music remains chamber music.

The pianoforte style is an intricate style, and to be effective must be

perfectly finished. The instrument sounds at its best in a small hall. In
a large one its worst characteristics are likely to come all too clearly
to the surface. And though it is in many ways the most powerful of all
the instruments, truly beautiful playing does not call upon its limits of
sound, but makes it a medium of fine and delicately shaded musical
thought. To regard it as an instrument suited primarily to big and
grandiose effects is grievously to misunderstand it, and is likely,
furthermore, to make one overlook the possibilities of tone color
which, though often denied it, it none the less possesses.

In order to study intelligently the mechanics, or, if you will, the art of
touch upon the piano, and in order to comprehend the variety of
tone-color which can be produced from it, one must recognize at the
outset the fact that the piano is an instrument of percussion. Its
sounds result from the blows of hammers upon taut metal strings.
With the musical sound given out by these vibrating strings must
inevitably be mixed the dull and unmusical sound of the blow that set
them vibrating. The trained ear will detect not only the thud of the
hammer against the string, but that of the finger against the key, and
that of the key itself upon its base. The study of touch and tone upon
the piano is the study of the combination and the control of these two
elements of sound, the one musical, the other unmusical.

The pianist can acquire but relatively little control over the musical
sounds of his instrument. He can make them soft and loud, but he
cannot, as the violinist can, make a single tone grow from soft to
loud and die away to soft again. The violinist or the singer both
makes and controls tone, the one by his bow, the other by his breath;
the pianist, in comparison with them, but makes tone. Having caused
a string to vibrate by striking it through a key, he cannot even sustain
these vibrations. They begin at once to weaken; the sound at once
grows fainter. Therefore he has to make his effects with a volume of
sounds which has been aptly said to be ever vanishing.

On the other hand, these sounds have more endurance than those
of the xylophone, for example; and in their brief span of failing life the
skillful pianist may work somewhat upon them according to his will.
He may cut them exceedingly short by allowing the dampers to fall
instantaneously upon the strings, thus stopping all vibrations. He
may even prolong a few sounds, a chord let us say, by using the
sustaining pedal. This lifts the dampers from all the strings, so that
all vibrate in sympathy with the tones of the chord and reënforce
them, so to speak. This may be done either at the moment the notes
of the chord are struck, or considerably later, after they have begun
appreciably to weaken. In the latter case the ear can detect the
actual reënforcement of the failing sounds.

Moreover, the use of the pedal serves to affect somewhat the color
of the sounds of the instrument. All differences in timbre depend on
overtones; and if the pianist lifts all dampers from the strings by the
pedals, he will hear the natural overtones of his chord brought into
prominence by means of the sympathetic vibrations of other strings
he has not struck. He can easily produce a mass of sound which
strongly suggests the organ, in the tone color of which the shades of
overtones are markably evident.

The study of such effects will lead him beyond the use of the pedal
into some of the niceties of pianoforte touch. He will find himself able
to suppress some overtones and bring out others by emphasizing a
note here and there in a chord of many notes, especially in an
arpeggio, and by slighting others. Such an emphasis, it is true, may
give to a series of chords an internal polyphonic significance; but if
not made too prominent, will tend rather to color the general sound
than to make an effect of distinct drawing.
It will be observed that in the matter of so handling the volume of
musical sound, prolonging it and slightly coloring it by the use of the
pedal or by skillful emphasis of touch, the pianist’s attention is
directed ever to the after-sounds, so to speak, of his instrument. He
is interested, not in the sharp, clear beginning of the sound, but in
what follows it. He finds in the very deficiencies of the instrument
possibilities of great musical beauty. It is hardly too much to say,
then, that the secret of a beautiful or sympathetic touch, which has
long been considered to be hidden in the method of striking the keys,
may be found quite as much in the treatment of sounds after the
keys have been struck. It is a mystery which can by no means be
wholly solved by a muscular training of the hands; for a great part of
such training is concerned only with the actual striking of the keys.

We have already said that striking the keys must produce more or
less unmusical sounds. These sounds are not without great value.
They emphasize rhythm, for example, and by virtue of them the
piano is second to no instrument in effects of pronounced,
stimulating rhythm. The pianist wields in this regard almost the
power of the drummer to stir men to frenzy, a power which is by no
means to be despised. In martial music and in other kinds of
vigorous music the piano is almost without shortcomings. But
inasmuch as a great part of pianoforte music is not in this vigorous
vein, but rather in a vein of softer, more imaginative beauty, the
pianist must constantly study how to subject these unmusical sounds
to the after-sounds which follow them. In this study he will come
upon the secret of the legato style of playing.

If the violinist wishes to play a phrase in a smooth legato style, he

does not use a new stroke of his bow for each note. If he did so, he
would virtually be attacking the separate notes, consequently
emphasizing them, and punctuating each from the other. Fortunately
for him, he need not do so; but the pianist cannot do otherwise. Each
note he plays must be struck from the strings of his instrument by a
hammer. He can only approximate a legato style—by concealing, in
one way or another, the sounds which accompany this blow.