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Somehow my hands are up in his hair now and at his filthy, graphic words, I whimper. “But no one has ever…”
That makes him shudder even more and he takes in a noisy breath. “Yeah. That’s right, isn’t it? No one has touched your tits. No one has sucked on them, on your ripe little nipples. No one has ever been in there, in your body. I keep forgetting that, like an asshole.” Then, dropping his sweaty forehead to mine, he rasps, “I keep forgetting that she only acts like a whore, but my cute little Poe is a virgin.”
A spasm goes through my body. An earthquake of all earthquakes.
At his cute.
Making me think that I came. Making me think that I broke apart.
But I haven’t. I’m still whole.
Because I’m throbbing now.
I’m fucking pulsing and buzzing like an electric wire. My nerve endings are so primed. My tits and my pussy are so primed.
Every part of my body is so primed right now and acting exactly like he said.
Like a whore.
Like a whore with no relief.
And I have no shame in begging now. No shame in begging him to give it to me.
“Alaric, please,” I whisper.
He has no plans of giving it to me though, because he goes on, rolling his forehead over mine. “So tell me more, Poe. What else did you do to your nipples?”
“But I —”
“Tell me,” he insists.
And in a surprising turn of events, I realize that he’s the one begging now. He’s the one asking me to give him something and I can’t refuse. I can’t let his needs go unfulfilled, so setting aside my own needs, I bring my hands over to his face. I clutch his jaw, caress his cheeks, and whisper, “I also scratched them.”
He shudders again, his eyes liquid and fiery. “Because you’re a wildcat.”
“I am.”
Your wildcat…
I don’t say it but I think he hears it anyway because he swallows.
“And then I,” I continue, rubbing the bump on his nose, digging my thumbs in the hollows of his cheeks, “I also touched myself.”
At this his body stills for a second before his breaths become gusty. His chest rapidly moving up and down, his stomach hollowing out, his jaw tight.
And I hug him with my thighs, soothe him with my fingers on his face. “I played with my pussy. It was so wet, Alaric. So juicy and drip-y. I dripped onto the sheets I think. I think I left a stain. And I kept thinking that if you saw it, if you saw the stain on my sheets, would you make me lick it up too? Like you said you would. If I ever dripped on your leather chairs or on your leather-bound books. Also your shoes too. On your Italian loafers. They’re leather too, aren’t they? And you said that you’d make me clean it all up, remember? Lick your shoes and God, I –”
“Stop,” he growls.
And I do. Not because of his words but because of his hands.
That travel and become fists in my hair. And pull.
They pull my head back and stretch my neck so hard that I gasp.
I gasp at the force. I gasp at the look on his face, all rage-y and angry and tight.
I gasp at his words.
“Stop ruining my fucking life.”
“What?”
His eyes are harsh as he says, “I want you to listen to me, all right?”
I grip his shirt, my haze breaking. “What —”
He tightens his fist in my hair. “I don’t want to be your friend.”
“What?”
“I don’t want your fucking token of trust.”
“But —”
He pulls my head back further, stretching my neck up. “No, you listen to me, you want to stay here and finish summer school the right fucking way despite my wishes, you do that. I’ve already forced you to do things that you didn’t want to do so I’m not going to fucking force you again. So if you want to attend your classes, you attend your classes. You want to do your homework, you do your fucking homework. You take your tests. But that’s it. That is it, you understand? You don’t come into my office and show me naked fucking pictures. You don’t come into my office claiming to want to be my friend. Because guess what, we’re not friends. We’re not buddies, you and me. We’re not going to sit down and gossip and do each other’s hair and wear matching fucking friendship bracelets.
“What we are, is guardian and ward. You understand what that means? That means that I’m the one who protects you. I’m the one who keeps you safe. Who watches over you. Who wards danger off you. What I don’t do, Poe, is look at your hot plump body. What I don’t do is watch you play peekaboo with your big fucking tits like they’re ripe juicy melons ready for plucking. And I definitely don’t watch you writhe on my desk, on my fucking lecture notes and your lesson plans as you tell me all the ways you played with your pussy last night. I don’t do that, Poe. And I won’t fucking do that.”
