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Psychology hits like a gun to the head when it’s aimed at a soft, unsuspecting woman. One look at our doctor and Romi was hooked—breathless, wet, legs unsteady. He smiled. She followed. Inside the office he bent her over the desk, lifted her skirt, shoved two fingers deep until she clenched around him like she’d been starving for it. He worked her open, slow and cruel, while he whispered exactly what he’d do next. She begged without words—just parted thighs and the low animal sound she made when he freed his cock and pushed inside in one long thrust. Sweat on her spine. Fingernails scraping wood. He fucked her hard enough to rattle the diplomas on the wall, every stroke grinding out the last scrap of reason she had left. When she came she bit her own wrist so no one would hear, thighs trembling, cunt pulsing hot around him. He stayed buried to the hilt, grinding the last tremors out of her until she begged for more.