Absolve Me

This erotic story excerpt by Morgaine Cameron from Absolve Me was originally published by Carina Press and is a finalist in the Good Sex Awards Sexiest Consent Category. Show it some love and vote for this story in the Readers' Choice awards by 20 June.

Absolve Me

Dr. Elizabeth Branscombe settled into her desk chair, tapped the mouse to bring up her screen and brought the fresh, hot cup of tea to her nose, inhaling as she clicked through her inbox. With a quick glance at the time—ten minutes until her last appointment of the day—she found the referral email and brought it up, intent on reviewing what little information she’d received about her mysterious new client.

Dear Liza, the text began, I’ve got a real challenge for you…

I’m sending you my longtime client, Dominic La Sera. I have his permission to share case details with you, but to be honest, I’m reluctant to reveal too much up front. Dominic is…well, in a strange position, and I’m at my wits’ end in helping him move forward. We’ve been in regular sessions for two years, and he’s made tremendous progress—but I fear we’re at the limit of what I can offer him therapeutically.

I won’t say more for now—I’d love to get your unbiased opinion after meeting with him. And I hope, more than anything, that your methods may offer him an opportunity to become the man he truly wants to be.

Best regards,


Dear Susan,

You weren’t kidding about sending me a challenge. Mr. La Sera’s deeply conflicted feelings about his sexual needs are, of themselves, not uncommon, but he seems convinced that his sexuality must be either tightly lidded or eradicated. I applaud his determination to pursue a solution, even though I believe—and I think you’d agree—that his conclusions are unhealthy.

Today will be our first hands-on session (if he follows through and keeps the appointment—he wouldn’t be the first to lose the nerve after the initial consultation). Due to his long celibacy, I intend to use this time to reintroduce him to sexual touch. We won’t be able to address his deeper-seated issues until we establish intimacy and trust.

In the meantime, I’ll recommend that he continue to discuss the implications of his choices with you, as well as encourage him to process the effect our sessions have on his progress.

Wish us luck!

P.S. C’mon, Susan, you could have warned me he was, like, a ten on the OMG HOT scale. Shame on you!



When her doorbell chimed at 7:06, Liza grinned. He’d kept the appointment; the first barrier was passed. Now it was time to focus.

Although sex was, in her case, a therapeutic act, clients often had a difficult time committing to nudity and physical intimacy in a setting that felt too clinical or too public, which was why Liza had purchased a home close to the University, away from the downtown bustle and touristy French Quarter. It allowed her to utilize different rooms for specific purposes, all in a safe, welcoming space that she controlled.

Tonight’s session would be held in the quiet, isolated bedroom behind the kitchen—a windowless, cozy nook that allowed her to close the door against the outside world and put her client at ease. She kept the room stocked with all the basics—lube, lotion, tissues, toys and other sexual aids were discreetly stored in closets and drawers. The bed was plain and sturdy and the colors she’d selected were neutrals in beige and cream.

It was the polar opposite of her own bedroom on the second floor. Though Liza lived and worked in the same space, she found it critical to keep her professional encounters as different from her personal relationships as possible.

It pained her to realize that in the past year, the majority of her sexual experiences had been on the job.

Liza shook herself out like a dog after a bath and blew out a breath. Focus. She strode to the door, opening it to a waft of warm, thick air perfumed by the jasmine on her trellis.

She smiled at the man on her porch. “Dominic. I’m so glad you’re here.” She reached for his hand and tugged him into the house.

“I, uh…thank you. How are you?” Nerves were evident in his voice, but he met her eye and offered a tentative smile in return. In deference to the rising temperatures outside, he wore a light-weave linen shirt, the sleeves again rolled to the elbow. Deliberately casual, she decided, but the underlying tension, evident in the crease between his eyebrows and the fine lines around his lips, gave him away. She fought the urge to reach up and smooth away the strain with her fingertips.

A tiny bit of silver glinted against his neck. Liza realized it was a small cross and filed that nugget away for future exploration. Tonight wasn’t about talking. “I’m well, thank you. Can I get you a drink?”

Dominic cleared his throat, his gaze roaming as she led him through the first floor. “No, I’m okay.” His eyes widened as they entered her “office” bedroom, and she turned to face him.

“Makes it all kind of real, doesn’t it?” she teased, squeezing his hand, and was rewarded with a nervous laugh. Liza tugged him down to sit next to her on the bed, turning so she could face him. “I want you to remember that we’re not going to do anything, and I mean anything, that feels wrong or bad to you. Just as I want you to trust me, I’m trusting you to tell me if you aren’t okay at any point.”

Dominic blinked, his deep-set hazel eyes framed with heavy black lashes. “Of course.” His voice was thick, raspy and did things to Liza’s stomach that made her breath catch. Damn.

“Do you remember the signals we discussed in our initial session?”

“Yes. Like traffic signals—red, yellow and green.”

“Exactly. I’ll check in with you throughout our session, and you can tell me whether you feel good to proceed, or proceed but with caution or stop. And I will stop entirely if you tell me ‘red,’ okay? It’s your job to be honest about how you feel.”

He nodded, and his dark hair slid across his temple. Liza gave in to temptation and brushed it back with her fingertip, watching his reaction.

And what a reaction. Dominic shuddered, his eyes drifting closed and his lips parting. Liza’s breath caught in her throat. Starved for touch. This singularly attractive man had cut himself off from sensuality of all kinds and was already on the edge of losing control.

It made her eager to feed that kind of desperate hunger.

“Dominic, I’m going to get started. Remember to let me know if anything I do makes you uncomfortable or doesn’t feel good.”

He nodded again, wordless and with his eyes still shut.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” His lids drifted apart, and Liza traced the contours of his face with her fingertips, keeping her gaze locked on his. “Remember to breathe.”

She stroked his strong cheekbones, letting her touch ghost down to his jawline, scratchy with stubble. As she lowered her hands to his collarbone, he gasped and suddenly gripped her wrists.

“Red light?” Liza asked, freezing in place. If this minimal amount of contact was too much for him, she’d need to back way, way off and figure out a new approach.

“No, it’s just…” Dominic’s eyes had darkened to a captivating golden brown, hardened by an intensity that told Liza fear wasn’t the source of his hesitation. “It’s been so long—I don’t know if I can do this slowly.”

It was Liza’s turn to blink. “All right. Tell you what. Why don’t you take the lead and go at the speed that works best for you?”

It was as if her words had flipped an internal switch. One moment they were seated side by side on the bed; the next heartbeat found her back pressed to the mattress, the wrists he’d been holding now pinned to either side of her head. His weight was plastered across her stomach and legs, and his erection was evident, hard and hot against her thigh.

“Is this okay?” Dominic panted. “Um, green light? You’ll tell me if I do anything that’s not all right?”

Liza would have laughed at the sheer suddenness of the role reversal if her body hadn’t been too busy responding with gusto to the rapid turn of events. She felt herself flush and squirm, testing the solid pressure of Dominic’s body through the layers of their clothes. He responded with a deep groan and dropped his mouth to hers in a hot, open-mouthed kiss.

And boy, could he kiss. There was nothing tentative about the press of his lips to hers, the slick of his tongue as he pushed his way into her mouth. Liza welcomed the intrusion, letting Dominic keep control as she enjoyed her first taste of him, the essential flavor that was his alone.

Like a slow-burning match, heat spread from their joined mouths down her throat, warming her chest and belly, flowing like the burn of whiskey until it settled low in her pelvis, pulsing and throbbing in time with her accelerating heartbeat. She fought the urge to stretch and rub herself beneath him like a smug cat. One step at a time.

When Dominic came up for air, he was breathing hard, his eyes starting to glaze over. “Liza? Green light?”

Oh, hells yes, moaned a little voice inside her. Green green green. But she cleared her throat and did her best to keep her smile calm and professional. “Green light. You’re good to go.”

It was all the encouragement he seemed to need. In an instant, his mouth was pressed again to hers, his tongue stroking and probing with an urgency she understood. This time, as he devoured her with his kiss, she felt the press and flex of his hips when he positioned himself against her, rocking and stroking. His hand slid from her wrist down to her breast and he cupped his palm against her, his thumb finding her nipple and teasing it mercilessly.

Jesus. Liza had always been super-responsive; given the right circumstances, she could come from nipple stimulation alone. Dominic’s fingers squeezed and tweaked, and she bit back a sharp cry, feeling her nipples harden beneath his deft touch.

“May I?” He’d hooked his hand into the low neckline of her sleeveless dress, pausing long enough to gauge her assent before he tugged the fabric off her shoulders, baring her bra. Before she could suggest he consider removing his own shirt, he’d latched his warm, wet mouth onto her nipple and started to suck, and Liza arched beneath him, moaning encouragement as wicked lightning bolts shot straight to her pussy.

Dominic’s hands snaked beneath the hem of her skirt, reaching for her panties, and Liza raised her head. “Condoms,” she managed. “Drawer.”

“Okay.” He shifted off her long enough to reach for a foil packet, while Liza seized the opportunity to pull apart his shirt front and shove it down his broad shoulders.

“Let me,” she breathed while he struggled to manage his half-off shirt and the condom at once. Liza snatched the packet from his hand and slid out the condom, then reached up to get his full attention. “Green light?”

“Please.” Ragged and deep, his voice sent a shot of pure lust zinging down her spine, but before she could decide whether that crossed a professional line, he was up on his knees in front of her, peeling his shirt off with his denim-covered cock in front of her face.

She grasped the condom gently between her teeth and tugged at Dominic’s zipper, eliciting another groan. Slowly she exposed him, sliding his pants and boxer briefs down in a smooth motion. This close, his cock was a sight to behold—thick and well-veined, straining for her touch.

“Deep breaths,” she instructed, and met his eyes long enough to make sure he was with her. Dominic managed a nod, and carefully, considerately, she sheathed him, using both hands to roll the condom down to his base.

His hands gripped her upper arms, his eyelids slamming shut as he threw back his head. “Oh, yeah,” he panted. “Let me…” He shoved Liza beneath him on the bed, hauling up her skirt and ripping at her underwear.

His fingers played through her folds, testing her wetness. Shuddering with pleasure, she spread her legs wider around him, lifting her hips to his in invitation. That was all it took. With a guttural curse that she couldn’t make out, Dominic grasped his cock, positioned himself and thrust in, hard.

Liza stifled a moan, stifling her own instinctive response to his thick cock, intending to suggest that Dominic pause a moment to check in.

But like a horse with the bit in his teeth, Dominic was off to the races, digging his knees into the mattress for traction and flexing his glutes, grinding into her pelvis before withdrawing in order to slam back in.

Okay then, Liza thought dazedly. Guess I’ll just hang on for the ride.

And what a ride. Years of self-enforced celibacy hadn’t crimped Dominic’s ability, just his finesse. With a dazed expression, his breathing harsh and ragged, he pushed himself inside her, over and over, finding a rhythm that seemed to please him, if his groans were anything to judge by.

She ran her hands over his shoulders, his biceps, murmuring encouragement, but he was lost to her, his body working over hers with a singular focus. Liza let her own eyes drift closed, her muscles relaxed, pliant. At this angle, pinned beneath Dominic’s body, the penetration of his cock wasn’t enough to drive her toward orgasm, but there was pleasure in the drag and slide of him inside her, the masculine scent of his sweat flooding her senses. She opened her eyes to watch his handsome face—the sheer concentration of a man focused on a goal always gave her a thrill. She shifted her hips, pulling her legs wider beneath him, and they both moaned, Dominic thrusting ever more urgently. Liza felt the muscles of her belly ripple under the onslaught, and it was so damn good. She’d had long-term boyfriends who didn’t fuck this well, and here she was beneath a stranger—a client—half hoping it would never end.

It wasn’t long before his breathing changed, his muscles tensing even more tightly. Reading his cues, she whispered, “Come on,” and with a sharp cry, Dominic jerked against her, burying his head in her shoulder as he came.

Liza continued to stroke him, and he pressed against her, his cock twitching. She shifted her weight to rub her calf down his leg. He groaned, and she smiled, playing her fingers through his hair.

When his breathing began to steady, he lifted his head, and Liza saw concern on his face. “You okay?”

Dominic shook his head, reaching between them to steady the condom, withdrawing and disposing of it in the wastebasket. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely as he came back over her. “I didn’t… I mean, you didn’t—”

She laughed, pressing a finger to his lips. “That’s—”

“No,” he insisted, pulling back to slide down her body. “Let me…”

The rest of what he might have said was lost. He used his long-fingered hands to prop her thighs apart, lowering his mouth between her legs and swiping up her wet slit with his tongue. Holy hell. Her still-aroused pussy clenched hard, and a sharp jolt of electric heat sizzled all the way down to her toes.

Liza shot up, grabbing at his head. “Dominic, you don’t… It’s all right—”

He shook his head again, meeting her eyes with the glaze of his orgasm still evident. “Let me make this good for you,” he entreated, and sucked her throbbing clit into his mouth so hard it made her legs shake.

Fuck fuck fuck. She should stop him; he didn’t owe her an orgasm, but just then he lightly grazed her clit with his teeth and the only noise she could muster sounded suspiciously like a mewl to her ears. She grabbed his head, digging her fingertips into his scalp, but couldn’t make herself force him away from where he was working his mouth.

“There, oh, there,” she heard herself moan, and gave up all pretense of holding herself aloof from the sensation flooding her. She let her head loll back on the bed and just felt.

The slick of his tongue swiping her clit over and over had her gasping in no time, and when he shifted, bringing his fingers into play, she cried out and thrust her hips up, begging without words for more.

Dominic obliged, thrusting deeply inside her while he latched onto her clit and sucked in rhythmic pulls that shoved her right over the edge.

The orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks—fast, brutal and so fucking wonderful that Liza never wanted it to end. Seizing his hair in her fingers, she rode out the spasms, grinding her pussy hard into Dominic’s willing mouth while she shook and cried out. Her body was on fire and she wouldn’t have quenched the flames for anything.

She came down gradually, centering herself bit by bit. Her gasping breaths ebbed. Dominic slowly petted between her legs as she relaxed.

“Was that all right?” he asked, and a huge amount lay unspoken in that question. Liza let her pleasure show in her lazy grin, and he smiled in return, kissing her inner thigh before pushing up to sit with his feet on the floor.

Dominic began to search for his clothes, and Liza sat up, uneasiness settling in her stomach.

Holy holy holy shit. What have I done?


If you loved this story, vote for it in the Readers’ Choice awards by 20 June or buy the book.

Morgaine Cameron is a California native who loves mountains and redwoods groves, and burns like fire if she so much as glances at the sun–which is ironic because she lives at the beach. She writes deliciously dirty erotic romance and loves to hear from readers! Tweet @AuthorMorgaine and say hi on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorMorgaine.

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