Page 9 of Edging Sanity

Then Delilah reappeared, tearing Rowan from her near spiral, and sauntered over to the sad excuse for a desk. She’d been granted—as most patients were—a small sheath of paper and markers that were deemed “safe” and “unable to be used as weapons.” Rowan’s jaw ached and her body shook as she watched Delilah scribble something on a sheet of paper before holding it up for Rowan to see.

Together this time.

Rowan’s blood froze, her mind froze, her entire fucking nervous system stalled out. She hadn’t violated Delilah because Delilah wanted her to see it. It was an erotic showing meant specifically for her. Delilah had been counting on her watching, and had only done it because she was watching.

But Rowan couldn’t let her win this one. Because she knew this was a game, a power play, and even if Delilah would never know it, Rowan was not going to give in.

Rowan flexed her hand, trying to shake out the aching stiffness from clutching the chair. She was already moving the computer mouse to switch screens, to do her damn job that she should have been doing this whole time, when Delilah held up another note.

Now Rowan.

Her jaw dropped before she quickly snapped it shut. Then, as if hypnotized, her body acted of its own accord. Delilah had returned quickly to the bed and now Rowan’s own traitorous hand was mirroring Delilah’s movements exactly. Tracking down between her legs. She gasped out loud when her fingers hit slick, wet desire. The sound was loud in the silence of the room.

Choking down her moan, Rowan followed Delilah, and together they pushed two fingers inside, neither meeting any resistance. Rowan curled her fingers, pumping lazily just like Delilah and stifled another moan, unable to stop herself this time from grinding against her palm in a wanton need for more.

Ghosts of Delilah’s gasps echoed in her ears. The ragged breathing she’d been imagining fluttered over her cheek and she forced herself not to close her eyes. Rowan imagined her domineering voice and snide laughter, spurring her closer toward her orgasm. She spread her legs further, as much as she could in the uncomfortable roller chair, and drew out her fingers, swiping furiously over her clit and still doing her best to keep pace with Delilah.

They sped towards their orgasm together. The lazy and languid swiping was over now. Delilah was going hard and fast, a punishment and a reward in one. Rowan watched Delilah’s fingers, imagining how smooth they’d be against her clit, instead of Rowan’s own rough fingers. The idea of Delilah coated in Rowan’s arousal sent her over the edge.

She came with the image of Delilah on screen—just as she had the night before, but this time, Delilah’s eyes were closed, her mouth open and her fingers drenched with arousal. Rowan understood as she came down from her high that Delilah’s promise to break her had well and truly begun. Rowan’s walls were starting to crack.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Rowan washed her hands four times before she collected Delilah for her appointment. If she could have showered and changed clothes without arousing suspicion, she would have done that too. She’d decided it hadn’t meant anything. Delilah didn’t know—no one knew—and Rowan wasn’t about to snitch on herself.

It wasn’t a violation because Delilah had wanted it. She’d been manipulating Rowan and the entire situation to get this—to get Rowan. She would act like this had never happened and continue as usual.

Delilah’s gaze bore into the side of Rowan’s head while they walked down the silent and otherwise empty hallway to her third therapy appointment.

“Did you enjoy yourself this morning?” Delilah whispered, her voice too low for the guards trailing them to hear, as if she actually wanted to keep this a secret. Rowan didn’t answer. She’d prepared for the provocation, and, to be honest, she’d thought that Delilah would have been a lot worse. The whispered taunt was easy to ignore.

Delilah gasped, this time loud enough for the guards behind them to hear. Rowan fought the urge to glare at her. “You did!” Her voice was mocking and entirely too delighted despite the fact that Rowan hadn’t given anything away. Delilah was bluffing and she knew it. “Did you touch yourself? I bet you did,” Delilah said, her voice quiet again.

“Did you time it right? God, I wish I’d been able to see the look on your face when you⁠—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but for the love of god shut the hell up,” Rowan snapped, yanking Delilah to a stop in front of Bronwin’s office.

Delilah hummed, a smile on her face that clearly said I don’t believe you, but she didn’t push back. She just watched Rowan with eerie silence and a knowing, mocking look. It set Rowan on edge. Being watched made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her body tense like a coiled spring, ready to burst at a moment's notice.

When Delilah sat down in her usual chair, she sat so heavily that the metal legs scraped across the pristine white vinyl, making a tooth-aching sound that clung to the very recesses of Rowan’s brain. And when Rowan knelt to affix Delilah’s cuffs against the chair legs, she had to bite her tongue to stop from yelping as a cold finger brushed against her neck. A shiver wracked her body, and she glared up at Delilah, who smiled back down at her like a predator.

Delilah’s eyes stayed on Rowan while she retreated to her spot against the door. She didn’t wait for Bronwin’s meaningless pleasantries to start the session today.

“If a security officer saw someone enjoying a private moment in their room, do you think they’d look away?” Delilah asked with a penetrating stare. Rowan’s jaw was already starting to ache from clenching so hard.

Bronwin frowned, setting her pen down and folding her hands together on top of the desk. “Is there something you’re concerned with, Delilah?”

“More of a curiosity and less of a concern,” Delilah said, biting her lip and shooting a look at Rowan before continuing. “Someone checking the cameras in the morning, for example. If she saw me touching myself, do you think she’d watch?”

Rowan refused to look at either of them, silently fuming at Delilah’s bullshit while she fixed her stare on the cat poster on the opposite wall. Heat crept up the back of her neck and she prayed that no one else could see it. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Bronwin look between her and Delilah with her mouth opening and closing. It was the first time she’d ever seen the therapist at a total loss for words.

“If I invited her to join me, do you think she would?” Delilah pressed. The images from this morning flitted through Rowan’s mind and she wondered what Delilah’s fragile neck would feel like under her hands. How breakable she was, how entirely at Rowan’s mercy she’d be.

Eventually, Bronwin spoke up, overcoming her blatant shock. “These sessions are supposed to be about you, Delilah. For you. I’m trying to help you, believe it or not.” Tension eased out of Rowan’s shoulders now that she knew Bronwin wasn’t going to let Delilah continue. “But,” Bronwin said and Rowan’s muscles immediately locked back up. “Since you seem to be so fascinated with my head of security, I think I’d like to delve a bit into that this session.”

Rowan’s glare jerked to her. If looks could kill, Bronwin would’ve been dead ten times over. The betrayal and anger was plain on Rowan’s face. Meanwhile, Delilah looked absolutely thrilled at this development. Rowan knew she shouldn’t be giving Delilah the encouragement of a reaction so she closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall, settling for glaring at the ceiling instead while trying her damndest to tune out the rest of the session.