Try to resist

But right now, you're under pressure because you formed a weird desire to touch her. It’s like time has slowed down as you weigh the pros and cons, all while shamelessly staring at her ass. A noticeable warmth stirs low in your body, an uninvited reaction that only makes the situation feel more intense, and more reckless.

“Should I?"

"It’s really creepy actually. Nahh, I definitely shouldn’t. She’d kill me!"

"On second thought, I could just tell her I don’t have control over what I’m doing... I think that accident has one more side-effect because I MUST get a feel of that yummy ass!"

Dr. Carter’s eyes flick downward for the briefest moment, just enough to notice. There’s no reaction on her face, though. No comment. No shift in her professional composure. But you know she saw. The urge spikes again - irrational, intrusive, completely out of place. Your hand twitches slightly against the bedsheet. She continues her examination like nothing happened, calm and focused, adjusting your leg slightly, making a note on your chart.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second longer. "Here goes nothing... to hell with the consequences!”

Your hand moves before your brain can fully catch up. You grab a handful of her juicy ass. For a split second, everything feels suspended - like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

Dr. Carter jerks away from you like she’s been burned. “HANDS OFF!” her voice cutting through the room with a **** that leaves no room for misunderstanding. The warmth is gone, replaced by something sharp, furious, and deeply shaken. She takes a step back, putting distance between you, one hand instinctively bracing against the edge of the bed as if to steady herself. Her breathing is no longer even. Her composure - so carefully maintained - is fractured.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” she demands, her voice trembling - not with weakness, but with anger. Her eyes lock onto yours, wide and intense, disbelief and outrage flashing across her face. There’s something else there too - violation, the kind that hits deeper than just anger.

“I- I-” you stammer, your thoughts scrambling, tripping over each other. “I didn’t- I mean, I don’t know why I-” Your voice falters under her stare. “I just- I couldn't control myself,” you try again, weaker now. Even to your own ears, it sounds hollow.

Her expression hardens. “Do you think I'm an idiot?” she snaps immediately, her tone cold and controlled now, but no less intense. The room feels smaller. Tighter. The steady beeping of the monitors suddenly feels too loud, too rhythmic - like it’s marking every second of silence that follows.

Dr. Carter straightens, pulling herself back together piece by piece, but the distance between you now isn’t just physical. “I'm done,” she says, voice clipped. She doesn’t wait for a response and goes for the door.