Special Treatment for a Hopeless Addict

Those eyes stayed fixed on me, completely emotionless. My mind had been completely overtaken. Every nerve in my body seemed to gather in my lower abdomen.

"Derek... Please... Help me… Please help me..."

Maybe it was being watched by a stranger that made everything more intense. I kept begging Derek for help, but my gaze stayed locked on those eyes in the car beside us.

"Christ, can't you just sit still?" Derek snapped. He honked the horn impatiently, but the cars ahead were completely gridlocked. There was nowhere to go.

Derek irritably grabbed the vibrator from my hand and shoved it in hard.

"Ah!"

The sudden intensity made me cry out. My body arched sharply, and my toes curled.

I didn't care that we were still on a public street or that someone was watching.

In that moment, some dark part of me almost wished the stranger would get out of his car and walk over—that he would open my door, pull me out, and take me right there in front of everyone.

More. I needed more.

My body trembled uncontrollably. Under the weight of that stranger's gaze, my toes clenched, and my release came in a shuddering wave.

My body shook, my mind completely blank. A bit of drool had escaped the corner of my mouth.

Derek cursed at me again and carelessly tossed the vibrator aside. I gasped for breath, trying to recover.

After a long moment, I finally came back to myself. My legs felt weak. My hands shook as I grabbed tissues to wipe down the windshield.

Just then, traffic started moving again. Derek drove forward, his expression cold. I glanced instinctively at the car beside us.

Those eyes were gone.

For some reason, I felt a pang of disappointment.

We arrived at a private clinic. Derek parked, and I climbed out of the car on unsteady legs. The recent release had left me weak, and my work heels weren't helping. I stumbled a little as I walked.

Inside, the clinic was tastefully decorated and well-maintained. At least they seemed to value privacy.

But I hadn't expected this to be a therapist's office.

"Honey, I thought you were taking me to see a doctor. Why are we here?"

"My buddy's a psychologist. I told him about your situation. He thinks it's probably psychological," Derek said, his tone dripping with disdain.

"You really want to go to a hospital and let doctors examine you for this? You might not care about being humiliated, but I do."

His voice was sharp with impatience. I wanted to respond, but hurt bloomed in my chest. I didn't want to have this condition either, but…

Derek was already walking away. I hurried to catch up. He led me to the top floor and knocked on a door.

"Come in."

A deep, gentle voice answered from inside. Something about it made me relax slightly.

Derek pushed the door open, and when he saw the man inside, his tone brightened. "Hey, old friend."

The man smiled back.

"It's been a while."

I looked up, and my hands clenched into fists.

The man wore a white coat and stood by his desk. His hair was perfectly styled, and he was strikingly handsome for a man in his 40s.

But those eyes made my body start trembling again.

It was him—the man who had watched me in the car.