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“Touch yourself.”
My right arm practically falls from the shelf, like it’s dead weight. My fingers find their way between my legs, and I almost fall to my knees at how incredibly sensitive my clit is. I start grinding my clit, already on that breathless edge, as Elio watches and breathes unevenly behind me.
“Good, Songbird,” he murmurs, petting the place he’s spanked me. That gentle scrape of leather over my burning skin is sensation overload, and I can’t get enough. I wonder if Elio’s going to press inside me.
I wonder if I’d even be capable of putting together enough coherent sounds to tell him not to if he tried.
His fat tip is right at my slick entrance. I quiver and clench around nothing. One tiny movement, one concise and brutal thrust, and he’d be buried inside me.
His cock jerks, his head nudging slightly harder against my folds, and I strum my clit harder, faster, focusing on my building orgasm so I can’t focus on the fact that if he fucks me, I can never come back from it.
With a ragged grunt, his cock pulls away, and I want to strangle the sudden dismay I feel. It’s good we’re not going that far. I should be relieved. And I am, I swear, I-
“I am going to come all over your ass,” Elio growls. He spreads my ass cheek further, opening me. His cock makes contact again, this time thrusting up towards my lower back, the underside of his shaft grinding against me. “And then I am going to rub my come into that skin I’ve made so pretty and red. And after that, I am going to take you to class so you can sit on it and think about exactly what you’ve done.”
My eyes fly open, and I try to say no because I am absolutely not going to class now, not without showering again, at least. But I can’t say it, because my throat constricts and all that comes out is a strangled cry. My whole body shakes and then tightens until I’m shattering, shattered, completely broken open, the pieces scattered on a dark and undulating sea of molten pleasure. Through the shameful sounds I’m making, I can hear Elio stroking himself, hard and fast and feral, leather sliding over engorged flesh. He grips my hip, holding me still, then lets out a tight, hissed breath. A second later, warmth erupts over my stinging skin, and that sudden sensation makes me shudder and clench and moan all over again.
As promised, Elio rubs the come into my skin, the touch soothing and burning all at once. The evaporating wetness makes my heated skin feel slightly cooler, and I suddenly can’t stand that this actually feels good. This smooth, massaging motion, so gentle, almost reverent, when a moment ago that hand was so hard, might even be better than the orgasm. If I ignore the circumstances, it almost feels loving, like he’s taking care of me.
But the circumstances blare all around me, like neon signs trying to guide me back to sanity. He’s not taking loving care of me. He’s rubbing his fucking come into skin he just spanked nearly raw.
“Get dressed,” he says, drawing his hand away and pulling up his pants. “I’m going to get new gloves, and then we’re leaving.”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m having another shower.”
“Absolutely not,” he says. “At this rate you’ll only be fifteen minutes late for class. If you have another shower, you’ll miss the entire lecture.”
I unclench my left hand from the shelf, straightening up shakily and turning around.
“My shower won’t take that long. I won’t even get my hair wet.” I narrow my gaze at him. “I only need to wash something off of one part of my body.”
“You go in that shower and just see what fucking happens.”
I chew on my lip, seething. There’s a slight darkness to Elio’s cheeks that I’ve never seen on him before, and I realize with a treacherous flutter in my belly that that flush is there because of me. His breathing hasn’t returned to normal yet, either.
“Get dressed,” he says again.
And then he turns and walks away.
Chapter 34
Elio
It only takes me about thirty seconds to get new gloves from my room. When I come back into Deirdre’s bedroom, I don’t hear the shower running, and I’m both satisfied and annoyed that she obeyed. If she’d gone into the shower now, I would have followed her. And then I would have had her up against the shower wall because there’s no way I would have been able to stop myself. I barely held myself back from shoving inside her and claiming her when she made that little virgin pussy come so sweetly for me.
Fuck. I’m already going to get hard again. I take my keys out of my pocket and clench them in my fist, focusing on the feeling of blunted metal pressing through my glove.
I can hear fabric rustling in the closet. While I wait for Deirdre to finish getting dressed, I pace the room, pausing in front of her violin and bow. I run a single, gentle finger down the flexible part of the bow that connects with the violin’s strings. It’s called the bow hair, and it’s made from horse hair, one of the many odd, endless facts I’ve committed to memory in preparation for Deirdre’s arrival here.
Something else catches my eye, and I turn my attention to a small stack of envelopes. I pick them up and shuffle through them, wondering who the hell Deirdre might be trying to contact through the mail.
There are seven envelopes, and the mailing address is the same on every one – the address for Maeve’s Music School. But the names are all different. Hannah Jankowski, Mingming Li, Hazel Martin, Sam Ford, Leshawn Andrews, Eun-Ji Park, Noah Barber. I use my car key to slide under the seal of the envelope addressed to Noah, open it, and take out the letter.
Dear Noah,
I have had so much fun being your violin teacher! I never want you to forget that. The fact that I’m not your teacher anymore has nothing to do with you, and if I could be there with you right now, I would.
Even though I’m sad I won’t get to teach you any longer, I just want you to know how happy I am that I got a chance to get to know you and help you along your music journey, even if just for a little while. You are funny, expressive, and so, so talented.
