Page 124 of Stranger to Love

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The word had barely been a syllable, a half-formed slip of the tongue fuelled by wine, Mia’s voice in my head, and the sheer, overwhelming weight of Carrie’s care this week. But in the silence of the room, it sounded like a gunshot. I was going to fucking murder Mia.

Carrie stayed frozen for what felt like a fucking eternity. I could feel the tension radiating through her arms, her muscles locking like steel. Then, very slowly, she peeled herself away from my chest. She didn't sit back; she loomed over me, her face inches from mine, her eyes two dark, bottomless pits of intensity.

"What," she whispered, the word vibrating with a low, dangerous frequency, "was that, Alex?"

"Nothing," I rasped, my voice cracking. "I... I tripped over my tongue. I’ve been drinking, Carrie. I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean to call me Mommy?" She said the word with a clinical, terrifyingly fucking soft precision.

She shifted her weight, her hand moving gently from my core to lace around my throat. She didn't squeeze, but the weight of her palm was a heavy, silent reminder of exactly who was in control. I could fucking feel my own wetness coating the skin on my neck. Her pupils were so blown out they’d swallowed the irises.

"Is that how you see me, princess?" she murmured, her voice dropping into a register I’ve never heard before—something darker, something that made my entire body turn to fucking liquid. "After I’ve spent the week taking care of your family? Stocking your cupboards? Buying the very furniture you’re currently spread out on? You think I’m doing this because I want to be your parent?"

"No," I breathed, my eyes searching hers. "No, Dr. Carter, I just... I felt so looked after. I felt safe. I—"

What the fuck was I even saying?

"Safe," she repeated, a wicked, jagged little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. "You made a very bold choice, Alex. A very... provocative claim."

She bit my earlobe, hard enough to make me fucking hiss, before her hand slid back down between my thighs, her fingers re-entering me with a sudden, forceful depth that made my back arch completely off the sofa. Shit.

"If you wanted me to take care of you like that," she growled, her pace becoming relentless, "then you had better be prepared for the consequences. Because if I’m your Mommy, then you are going to be a very, very disciplined little girl for the rest of this holiday."

I felt a hot, dizzying rush of fucking shame and pleasure collide in my gut. I never thought I’d be this person. I never thought a single word could make my brain melt into a puddle of pure, unadulterated fucking need—but hearing it fall from her lips changed everything.

It was the way she fucking reacted. It was like that one illicit word unlocked a door inside of her, releasing a version of Dr. Carter that was even more possessive, even more consuming than before.

She kept her pace hard, her fingers driving into me with a rhythmic, punishing depth that had me fucking sobbing for release. But every time I got close—every time my muscles started to quiver and the white light began to bleed into the corners of my vision—she slowed down. I wanted to fucking scream. She stilled her hand, keeping her fingers buried deep inside me while her thumb merely grazed my clit, keeping me suspended right on the jagged edge of a cliff.

"Not yet," she murmured, her voice a dark, velvety command. "Look at me, Alex."

I forced my eyes open, my vision fucking swimming. She was watching me with a look of terrifyingly calm adoration.

"You don't get to go anywhere until I tell you to," she whispered, her hand twitching inside me, just enough to make me moan. "You’re going to be a good girl and control yourself. You’re going to stay right here on this edge for as long as I want. Do you understand?"

I nodded fucking frantically, my head thrashing against the cushion. "Yes... please, I—"

"Use your words, darling," she coaxed, her eyes sparkling with a wicked, maternal warmth that was so wrong it was fucking perfect. "Tell me you’ll stay right here. Tell me that’s what Mommy wants."

A splintered, high-pitched whimper escaped me. The word felt like a physical weight in my mouth, heavy and sweet. "It's... it's what Mommy wants," I rasped brokenly.

Carrie’s pupils blew out until her eyes were fucking solid black. She let out a shaky, triumphant breath, her composure finally fracturing. "Good girl," she growled.

She didn't wait another second. She attacked. Her fingers moved with a sudden, blurring speed, and her thumb pressed down hard, grinding against my clit in a way that shattered my fucking control instantly. I didn't just come; I fucking exploded. My body jerked, my legs locking around her waist as I screamed into her mouth, the sound muffled by her lips as she drank in my surrender.

I was vibrating, my entire nervous system on fire, as she held me through the most violent climax of my life. I was hers. Completely, utterly, and devastatingly hers. And I knew she was going to keep reminding me of that until my brain was fucking mush.

Carrie pulled me closer, her arms wrapping around me with a sudden, overwhelming tenderness that was almost as fucking intense as the sex. She gushed over me, her voice a low, prideful murmur against my temple. "Look at you," she whispered, sounding genuinely impressed. "You did so well for me, Alex. My clever, perfect girl."

I couldn’t even look at her. I was a fucking mess of raw nerves and lingering tremors, so I did the only thing I could: I shoved my face into the crook of her neck, hiding my burning cheeks against her skin. The scent of her—expensive perfume and the sharp, salt-tang of the night—was the only thing keeping me grounded.

I heard a wet, rhythmic sound and realised she was fucking licking her fingers clean, a low groan vibrating through her chest and into mine. Then, she let out a dark, amused huff of laughter.

"I have to say," she smirked, her hand smoothing over the charcoal fabric of the cushion beside my hip, "I’m very glad I paid the premium for the wipeable upholstery. You’ve made quite a mess of my gift, princess."

I froze, my brain fucking short-circuiting. I didn't don’t know how to respond to that. I didn't think there was a fucking response to that. I just groaned into her neck, my face feeling like it was actually on fire. "Carrie, shut up," I whined, though we both knew I had zero authority left. If I ever fucking had any.