I sucked and licked and kissed, my hand playing with his shaved balls, never taking my eyes off his, listening to his hisses and groans with burning desire.
“Jesus…when you touch my balls while your cheeks are hollowing around my cock…fuck…you’re killing me, Miss Meneceo.”
I kept it up, so proud of myself for being such a good slut for him.
“You know I respect you, right?” he groaned.
Confusion slowed me down for a second, but then I just nodded. Of course, he did, but why was he asking? Now?
“Good.” He fisted my wig too hard for my liking, disregarding all my former requests never to touch my hair with force, as he pulled out fast and stroked himself.
I didn’t understand what was happening until he was groaning loud and thick, warm ropes of cum landing on my face, and Ty’s fingers were pulling at my real hair.
A gasp ripped out of me as panic and humiliation invaded me. My hand flew to the front of the wig to hold it in place, but it was too late.
We both stared at each other for God knew how long, our breaths huffing, his cum on my face, his cock out, and cream blond hair covered half of my skull.
“What the fuck?” He was the first to whisper.
I shook with tears. “I told you never to pull my hair.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rising to my feet, I wiped my cheeks. “Andthisis not cool.”
“I’m sorry. I just…got caught in the moment.”
I sped to the bathroom to clean myself up and take off the wig. He rushed after me. He was staring at my reflection in the mirror as if I were a space alien. “Why the hell are you wearing a wig, Jo?”
My gaze dropped as I splashed water on my face, heart racing. “I…I have a scar on my skull.” I might not be telling the whole truth, but, at least, I wasn’t lying. The scar was one of many my step mother’s men left on me that night.
His eyes traveled to the back of my head and then narrowed to find it. “It’s barely visible.”
“It still bothers me.” I moved and dry myself with a towel.
“You have very light blond hair, and you’re wearing a dark brown wig because of a tiny scar on the back of your head?”
“Yes. Do you have a problem with that? Because I don’t think it’s anybody’s business what I wear or how I like to appear.”
“I have a problem with your hiding this from me. I’ve slept in that bed with you for weeks. We strip naked in front of each other, and all this time I didn’t even know what your real hair color was. What the fuck, Jo? I mean, if you wear a wig in public because you’re self-conscious about a tiny scar, why have you been wearing it with me? How could you think something that insignificant would bother me?”
“Tirone, please. I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Why? Why are you lying to me, Jo? Why, after all we’ve had you still can’t trust me?”
“You were never supposed to see it.”
“Why? Because we’re just spending some time together and it’ll be over before I find it out?”
He was too young to believe it, but yes. He’d grow tired of me and we’d part. We were both fools for indulging in an affair that could never survive time, but we did it anyway because we couldn’t help it. The hurt in his gaze swayed from saying anything, though. “No one is ever supposed to see it. Do you hear me? No one. You can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Jesus. Do you really think I’ll tell anyone anything about you or us?” He placed his palms on either side of my face. “I’m not having a maladaptive crush on you or just fucking my teacher. Jo, I love you. I’m in this for life, even if I still have to prove it to you. My dreams, my whole future I’m building it around you, Jo. That’s how much I’m serious about us. You have to trust me. I’ll always protect you, with my life if I have to.”
“Ty—”
“Why are you hiding your identity, Jo? If that’s even your real name.”
CHAPTER 25
