Malia lay naked on her bed, the silken blanket pushed carelessly to her hips. The warm light of the early morning fell through the curtains and painted soft shadows on her skin. Her breathing was calm, but a storm of anticipation and desire raged inside her. The words of her friend Clara echoed in her head: “Dr. Lennart is not only a brilliant psychologist – his hands are magical. When he touches you, you forget that the world exists. And believe me, his presence is… overwhelming.”
With a mischievous smile, she let her fingers glide over the silky bed linen as she waited for the knock on the door. At five o’clock on the dot, she heard it. She threw on her robe before opening the door. There he stood – perfectly dressed, with a briefcase and that penetrating smile that unsettled and captivated her every time.
“Good morning, Malia,” he said, his voice calm, but his gaze slid over her as usual, lingering just a moment too long.
“Good morning, Dr. Lennart,” she replied as she led him into the bedroom. With a smooth movement, she let her robe slide to the floor and lay naked on the bed. Her posture was relaxed, but the throbbing in her womanhood became more urgent and the warmth inside her spread.
He hesitated for a moment before sitting down, putting the notebook aside and placing his hands gently on her shoulder. His fingers slid over her neck, over her collarbone, lower to her chest. “Your muscles are tense,” he murmured as he touched her gently but purposefully.
Her breathing became shallower and the soft throbbing in her womanhood became more urgent. “What do you feel, Malia?” he asked softly as his hands slid lower, over her hips, her thighs opening for him as if of their own accord. … read more
