Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 20

KIERA’s POV

I had been studying an academic book that afternoon when my phone vibrated. I usually kept my phone away whenever I had school work to focus on. But today my focus became disoriented seeing Clint’s name across my screen.

He had just sent me a text.

When I read what he sent, my mood went from good to bad in seconds.

‘I am not sure I can be your therapist anymore.’ It read.

There was a sour taste in my mouth that was not there before and my head spun. He had to be kidding me. He had to be f*****g kidding me.

I shoved my laptop away and slipped on a jacket faster than lightning. What made him think he could text shit like that?

I drove to Clint’s office with one goal in mind. It was not the best idea I had ever come up with, but it did not matter now. I needed to get to the end of this.

It was four days early before our session but I sauntered into the building nonetheless. The receptionist at the front desk confusedly gave me a look, checking over the date on the calendar.

Her eyes dropped back to mine. “Good morning, Miss Temple. You are four days early for your session. I am afraid you are going to have to come back in…”

“Is Mr. Homer in?” I cut her off, getting bored from the words that spilled out of her mouth.

“Yes, he is seeing a client right now. If you must see him urgently, then I suggest you…”

I did not get to hear the rest of her sentence because I was already headed toward his office door. An uncomfortable feeling tugged at my chest after hearing Clint was seeing someone else, but I made sure to shrug it off, giving his door a hard shove to get it to open.

And then the feeling dissipated when I saw a male client sitting opposite Clint.

He looked surprised to see me, same with the other man in the room as his eyes flickered between the both of us.

“Can I have a word with you?” I asked Clint when the awkwardness in the room got thicker. “In private.”

“Can you not see we are in the middle of a session?” the other man grunted, annoyance laced in his tone.

My eyes still held Clint’s gaze and I could see he was debating whether to ask me to leave or not. He could not bring himself to dismiss me. He was curious as to what I had to tell him.

Closing the man’s file in his hands, Clint threw him a brief smile. “I am sorry about the inconvenience, Mr. Sparks. Can you excuse us for one minute?”

Enraged, the man got up on his feet, glaring daggers at Clint. “Forget it. Your service is bullshit.”

He brushed past me on his way out, intentionally bumping his shoulders into mine. Clint’s calm facade morphed into a grim one when we were alone as I shut the door. Something told me he was not very happy with me barging in that way.

“Whatever you say has to be very important, Keira,” his voice was low and even. “I just lost a client because of you.”

“And you are about to lose more than that because I am on the verge of suing you to court.”

The frown lines on his forehead creased the more. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“You violated the rules of being a therapist,” I began to list out. “Touched me countless times. You are supposed to make me feel better, but you’re just throwing me away after you’ve had your fill? I will not accept having another therapist that isn’t you.” I fumed. “Why do you think you have to quit on me?”

He slammed the file in his hands on the table and stood up to lock his door with a key. Smart move. I did not want anyone walking in on us, especially not during a discussion like this.

“I have tried all I could to help you since the first day you walked into my office. Is it my fault we hooked up a few days before you became my client? No.” Clint ran a hand over his face, getting just as frustrated as I was. “There is a very thin line between being a client, and my s****l partner. It gets so freaking hard to keep that boundary every time I see you.”

“Then do not. Screw this. Screw everything.”

Clint shook his head as he paced the room, my eyes following him back and forth. “Not when you just came in with such a threat. I have too much stuff going on, too much to handle, and I simply cannot add you to my list of numerous problems.”

I did not miss the crack in his voice in the last part. I had never seen him this way. He was always on the other side of the room listening to my sob stories, seeming all calm and collected like he had no problems in the world.

But I forgot therapists were real people with real problems just like everyone else. I would never know what it was like trying to heal people while no one bothered to ask how they fared.

“I will have to refer you to another therapist.” Clint was still saying. He had stopped pacing now.

“I want you to be my therapist. I want to be your only patient. How much do I have to pay? I will do anything.” I wailed as tears streamed down my face at the realisation of what he was about to do.