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I stopped paying attention to the show in front of me and stared at the ceiling, pretending like the woman’s moans and screams were coming from my sweet little fawn instead. My fist moved faster over my cock, so hard and pent up with days’ worth of release.
The cock cage had left its mark, and though the ridges were gone, the dread of having to put it back on still lingered, forcing my orgasm back. My eyes fluttered shut as I took a deep breath, resting my head on the back of the couch.
I wanted to fuck her.
I needed to fuck her.
I couldn't keep running from this part of myself. It was getting stronger with each passing moment, and until I'd sunk into her tight warmth, there was no way to get her out of my mind.
So maybe I should just do it. I should just fuck her.
My hips jerked up, fucking my hand in time with the hard thrusts of the man. My heavy breathing drowned the sound of his skin slapping her out.
I needed a plan, a way for her to trust me enough to open her legs.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, the word love screamed at me. But I couldn’t love her—I didn’t love anyone. I never fell in love with any of my students…but maybe Winnie was different.
Could I love her?
Better yet, could she love me?
Just the thought of her lilting voice telling me she loved me was enough for my back to arch off the couch. The thought of sliding not only a collar around her neck but a ring on her finger to mark her as mine, to own her fully and entirely, had my toes curling and my body going rigid.
And the thought of her belly swollen with our children—a permanent, physical reminder that she forever belonged to me, that she was forever connected to me, that our blood was now one— was enough for thick ropes of cum to shoot out of my cock.
What the fuck was that?
My chest heaved with each breath, my heart racing. Not because of what I’d just done, not because of what I was watching, but of what I’d just fantasized about.
It was absurd.
It was completely and totally off-base. It would never happen, even if I stupidly thought I wanted it.
But the images had been so vivid, and they left a cold ache in my chest where my heart should’ve been. Did I really want that? I couldn’t.
Cleaning off the cum, I stood, ignoring the couple on the other side of the glass, and got dressed. Tremors wracked my entire body, making it nearly impossible to buckle my belt or tie my shoes. It was impossible to put my cage back on, so I didn’t even attempt it and stashed it in my pocket.
Every time I blinked, I saw her. But not as she was today. Instead, I saw her cradling a swollen belly, with me beside her, caressing and feeling our baby move inside.
That wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want a baby with her. I didn't want to marry her. I wanted to own her, body and soul, and that's where it ended.
But wouldn't impregnation be the ultimate show of ownership? Every time someone asked her who the baby's father was, my name would have to fall from her lips. Every time she looked at our child, it would be me she saw. Whenever she signed their name, it would be my last name she wrote.
Everything would come back to me. She could never escape. Even after I was long dead and buried, I'd still haunt her.
She'd never get rid of me.
It was that thought that had something settling in my chest. I grew lighter with each step as I made my way out of The Arcade and into the regular store. I smiled at Barry, even though he was still on his phone, barely giving me a second look. And that smile stayed on my face the whole drive home.
Chapter Eight
I tapped my fingers against the smooth surface of my desk, my eyes darting to the classroom door. Where the fuck was she? Class should’ve started five minutes ago, and everyone was staring at me expectantly.
The book laid mockingly on her desk as I stood, roughly clearing my throat. The few people who hadn’t already been looking at me turned their attention forward. Clapping my hands together, I gave them a broad grin.
“How many of you did the reading over the weekend?” I asked, raising my hand as I looked around. Students followed, their hands lifting above their heads. I glanced at the door again, my annoyance melting into concern. “Good. That’s good.”
Was she okay? Was she hurt?
