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That beast of a cock is between my legs now and like his mouth, he hasn’t let me touch it yet.
He makes me rub my pussy on his stomach like a shameless slut every morning but he doesn’t let me rub it against his dick.
And I’ve tried.
I’ve tried so many times over the past days.
Every time I slide lower than where he wants me to be, he smacks my ass. He smacks my thighs too, where I still write his name every night, and these days, soon after our office sessions. Because I like the thought of drawing pretty roses on my stinging, pink skin courtesy of my thorn.
But not tonight.
Tonight along with his mouth, he gives me his dick as well. He not only gives it but he rubs it up and down the juncture of my thighs. He rolls his hips, hitting the right spot every time.
And I move with him. I dance with him.
All happy and lusty and so fucking drugged on his kisses.
And he likes the way I’m dancing and writhing for him because he groans.
He groans into my mouth, egging me on, moving his hips, humping them against me like I hump my pussy in his office. All desperately and lustily and in a way that makes me think that he wants me to orgasm.
And so I give it to him.
I jerk under him.
I jerk and twist and I come.
I come in my parents’ front yard like I come in his office every day, my body spasming, my limbs tightening around him even more, my head thrown back and my moans reaching the sky.
Only tonight his lips are there to calm me down.
His lips are there to kiss the blush on my cheeks, to blow on the sweat on my forehead. His fingers are there to trace the shape of my chin, my nose.
And his eyes, all glittering and possessive as he stares down at me and asks, “Are you on the pill?”
My heart pulses.
My pussy pulses too.
And panting, I break out a dazed nod. “Yes.”
“I want you to know that I’m clean.”
“Okay.”
He licks his lips, his eyes roving over my face as he says, as if to himself, “Nothing has worked. Not one thing has worked. Nothing that I’ve done has made me want you less. I know I shouldn’t. I know that. I shouldn’t even think about you, let alone want you the way I do. You’re barely eighteen. You’re my sister’s best friend. You’re my student. So I’m going to try one last thing.”
“What?”
He stares into my eyes as he rasps, “I’m going to take you.”
Again a pulse runs through me and I jerk under him. “T-take me.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, his thumb caressing my cheek, his breaths fanning over my lips. “I’m going to take every inch of you. Every rosy little inch. And then I’m going to eat you up. I’m going to drink you down. I’m going to inhale you. Inject you in my bloodstream. I’m going to fucking live you, Bronwyn. Until I don’t want to anymore. Until this crazy irrational desire is gone. Until I’m not looking for you at school or driving down to your town and knocking at your door like an addict. Just because I didn’t get to see you today. Just because I didn’t get my fix. So you’re coming with me. Because you’re my pretty little wallflower and I’m done being insane over you.”
I’m in his house again.
In his bedroom.
And standing at the door, he’s staring at me.
He’s actually leaning against the door — the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest while he stares at me with intense and possessive eyes. Same as they were back at my house, in my parents’ front yard.
“You know, you could’ve just asked,” I say.
It’s as if he wakes up at my voice, blinking.
And I realize that he wasn’t. Blinking, I mean.
He hadn’t all the while he was staring at me. Which has been pretty much the whole time since we arrived at his house about twenty minutes ago. And as soon as we did, I toed off my winter boots, my magenta parka with yellow flowers, and made a beeline to his bedroom and he simply followed me.
“Asked what?”
“Where I was,” I explain. “Back at St. Mary’s. You could’ve just asked someone where I was. Instead of looking for me. In every classroom. And in the hallways.” I widen my eyes, all teasingly. “And on the soccer field. At the library.”
Amusement flashes through his eyes. “And the cafeteria.”
“What?”
His lips twitch. “I also looked for you in the cafeteria.”
“Oh right. Forgot that one. My bad.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “So? You could’ve saved yourself the trouble and just asked someone.”
“I did.”
“Who?”
“One of your friends.”
This time my eyes go wide in serious shock. “Not Ca…”
His narrow, however, something flashing in them. “Are we protecting my reputation from my sister too?”
