Chapter 7
When I got to school the next morning, Mom still wasn't home. The campus buzz was different—groups of students huddled by the lockers, their voices a mix of gossip and genuine shock.
"I passed by Doctor Jeffrey's office today and found it empty. The nameplate is gone. The receptionist said he's on indefinite leave."
I stopped walking, my books clutched tight to my chest.
"Leave? But he asked me to see him today!" I muttered.
"So much has happened before, but he was always there the next day. He's ruined so many couples, yet nothing ever happened to him. Why now? Is he sick, perhaps?"
"He didn't look sick to me. Seems like he was fired. But if Doctor Jeffrey is fired, I pity the owner of that firm. He doesn't know what he's done. Half the students go there just to watch him, to get hard under that gaze… those full lips…"
"What? Doctor Jeffrey got fired?"
Before I knew it, I was right in front of them, my voice sharp and out of place. "What did you just say?"
They all turned to me, eyebrows raised in judgmental surprise.
"Sorry…" I muttered, heat flooding my cheeks as I quickly turned and power-walked to my class.
"Is he out of his mind?" one of them whispered, not quietly enough.
I slid into my desk, but I couldn't sit still. My knee bounced under the table. He lost his job? This wasn't the first incident, they'd said. So why now? What happened after I left? Did that husband do something else? File a formal complaint? Threaten the firm?
A need, sharp and urgent, clawed at me. I had to know.
"I'll find out myself," I muttered.
I couldn't wait. I stood up, gathered my things, and approached my professor. "I forgot something very important at home, Sir. I'll be back." I didn't wait for an answer before I hurried away.
I couldn't stop thinking about him... if he was really gone, who was going to give me my first release? He had promised, he had made me hungry.
And now, he was gone. And the hunger was all that was left? No, it couldn't be.
In the blink of an eye, I was already at the private therapy office. My footsteps echoed down the hallway as I rushed toward Jeffrey's office, but before I could even reach the familiar door, someone stepped right in front of me, blocking my path. I stopped abruptly and lifted my gaze.
It was the other doctor from yesterday, the one who had stopped the enraged man from punching Jeffrey further.
I drew a breath, lowering my eyes in respect. "Good morning."
He tilted his head at me, studying me carefully. "You're here for Doctor Jeffrey?"
"Yes," I replied quietly, though nervous. "I have an appointment with him. It's very important that I see him, please."
The doctor inhaled slowly and released a sigh. His expression softened, almost as if he pitied me—but why?
"He's on indefinite leave. My advice… is that you return home."
The words stung, and I instinctively stepped closer to him. I wasn't ready to give up. "Can I at least get his address? Or number? The one he gave me doesn't connect."
His face hardened slightly. "I'm sorry, but we can't give out personal information to patients."
I inhaled sharply, frustrated. My chest rose and fell as I pulled out a pen and a small piece of paper from my notebook. Without hesitation, I scribbled down my number. My hands shook faintly as I folded the paper and shoved it into his hand before he could refuse.
"Just in case you change your mind… please send me his number. Or at least tell him I came."
I didn't give him a chance to answer. I turned swiftly on my heels and walked away, ignoring the sound of him calling behind me, "Young man..."
I didn't look back.
By the time I got back to school, my hope was shattering. Still, a part of me clung desperately to the paper I had handed him, praying he would eventually pass my number along.
....
Morning came and faded into night. Then another. And another. Yet no reply.
Three days slipped through my fingers like water, and still nothing came from the private therapy office...or from him.
I was furious at the silence. Furious at myself. Furious at the way my body still ached for him even when he wasn't here.
My mother had returned home during those days, and of course, I wore the mask she expected—the good, obedient son. I smiled, I nodded, I pretended. But reading, studying, even breathing without thinking of him was impossible. What on earth have I gotten myself into?
Three days. Three wasted days. I sat through tests at school, but when I thought back, I doubted I even wrote them myself. My hand moved, my pen scribbled answers, but my mind was elsewhere.
Jeffrey had become that forbidden person who owned my sleep. His was the face that waited behind my closed eyelids.
Every night, his touch followed me there. His hands sliding over me, his lips grazing places I shouldn't want him to touch. I woke trembling, craving, leaking, shaking from desire I didn't know how to tame all by myself.
In the shower, the hot water against my skin only made it worse...his fingers always replaced the drops, his voice whispering against my ear...
I couldn't escape him.
By the fourth evening, after school ended, I collapsed onto my bed. The room was quiet, the clock ticking toward six. I hadn't eaten all day, yet I didn't feel hungry. Hunger had turned into something else...Hunger for food didn't exist anymore; my hunger was for him.
"Why haven't they gotten back to me?" I muttered softly, dragging myself into the bathroom, showering quietly, and slipping into a sleeveless thin shirt that barely reached mid-thigh with loose shorts underneath. When I returned to my desk and forced open a textbook, my phone vibrated against the table.
My heart skipped and I quickly reached for it, opened it, and my eyes widened at the number and address flashing on the screen.
A smile stretched across my lips before I could even stop it.
My fingers trembled as I quickly typed out a message. 'Thank you.'
I set the phone down but couldn't stop smiling. My pulse was wild, my body buzzing with nervous energy.
I checked the clock. 6:30 PM.
My mother was gone until ten. Two hours, the thought whispered—a dark and compelling logic. Two hours will do...enough time to see him.
With that decision made, I stood and went straight to the kitchen. The head chef looked up as I approached.
"Ma'am Qwen," I said sweetly, smiling at her. "I'll be in my room, preparing for an important test. Please don't disturb me, alright?"
She nodded without questioning, and I turned back to my room.
Once inside, I locked the door. My pulse raced faster and faster as I walked to the window with my phone in hand, lifted it, and climbed down carefully. The evening breeze was cool against my skin, making goosebumps rise as I hit the ground.
On the roadside, I flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the address I had memorized. The ride felt both too long and too short. Every bump in the road rattled through me, my heart pounding in anticipation.
When the car finally stopped, I stepped out slowly, lifting my gaze.
His house stood before me.
It was huge. Far larger than I expected, too grand for someone his age. My lips parted in awe, but the admiration was quickly swallowed by my nerves.
The gates weren't locked. I pushed them open and slipped inside, the gravel crunching softly beneath my shoes.
The sky darkened quickly, and within minutes, rain began to fall—cold drops striking my bare skin, soaking through my thin shirt and shorts which clung to my skin. The breeze cut through me, chilling me to the bone.
I hurried to his door, shivering, fumbling with my lips as I debated. Should I knock? Should I turn back? Was I crazy to be here?
Before I could decide, my finger betrayed me and pressed the doorbell.
Seconds passed. Then, slowly, the door opened.
My breath caught in my throat.
Standing before me was Jeffrey.
My mouth went dry. I forced a swallow, my gaze dragging up from the defined lines of his stomach, over the damp skin of his throat, to his face. His hair was wet, water tracing paths down his temples, over the sharp line of his jaw, disappearing into the collar of a robe he hadn't bothered to tie.
My eyes dropped lower, shamelessly betraying me. His cock bulged against the fabric, thick and straining as if daring me to take it. The sight alone made my dick throb, a hot, leaking ache demanding him inside me. Every beat of my pulse screamed with desperate need.
I tried to drag my gaze away, but it was impossible.
Heat burned through me—that kind of heat that had nothing to do with the humid air. My thighs pressed together, helpless against the pulse between them.
His hand shot out, cool fingers grasping my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. His eyes were dark, holding a dark amusement.
A flirty smirk played on his lips, but it didn't touch the intensity in his gaze. "Are you done staring?"
His voice was a low rumble and it sent a fresh wave of need through me. I imagined that voice whispering dark, degrading things in the dark.
"My eyes are up here, Ethan."
I tried to speak but only a shaky breath escaped.
He leaned in closer, his scent dangerously washing over me. His thumb stroked my jawline, a mockery of a caress.
"I asked you a question," he muttered, his eyes dropping to my drenched clothes, to my peaked nipples visible through the soaked fabric, to the rise and fall of my chest.
He saw it all. He drank it in. "Are you that hungry?"
"Huh?"
It was a pathetic, breathy sound.
His smirk widened. "Are you that tormented, little boy," he whispered... "that you decided to come and stalk the monster in his lair?"
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