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I wondered where he was. Outside like me, in a private corner in one of these buildings, in his room. On the same campus, but in a different world.
“I need to keep nights open during the week, for school and my life. I need time between our visits.” I closed my eyes, forcing the next part out, though I knew it was a lie. All I wanted was the distraction of being taken by Patrick. “I need the money.”
He laughed softly. “What's so urgent? Your electricity get turned off again?”
“No. I have expenses. I'm trying to save.” The excuse puffed from my mouth in a white cloud and disappeared into the frosty air.
“Fine. I’ll see you at ten.”
“One more thing! Um . . . could you please not make a big deal about my ‘condition’, or embarrass me? Or call me names? Or . . . be rough?”
“You’re not up for that right now?” he asked matter-of-factly.
“Not exactly.” I felt vulnerable, whispering my requests.
Suddenly, tears poured out. I pressed my hand on the wall, struggling for control, but they kept coming.
“Babe? What’s going on?” Patrick’s voice was still cool, but the term of endearment, coming from him of all people, made it harder to hold back.
“God,” I blubbered. “I don’t know. I’ve just been really weepy the past couple of days, like PMS that doesn’t end, and ugh, I can’t believe I’m —” I shook off the embarrassment, putting some bounce into my voice. Quiet bounce. “Though, I mean, can you even get it up if you aren’t mean to me?”
“Don’t worry about me, Christina.” He was smiling now. I could hear it. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
For a moment, it was quiet on the other end.
“How do you feel about what we’re doing?” he asked.
I glanced down the snow-blanketed passageway, sniffling. “I hate it and love it at the same time.”
“Is that working for you?”
Own it, Christina.I fished in my purse for a tissue and wiped my nose. “Yes. It’s working for me.”
“Are you absolutely sure? Because I don’t want to wonder.”
“I’m sure,” I breathed.
As soon as I said it, an ache between my legs began to throb, calming me. The tears stopped falling.
“Good. I’ll be gentle with you tonight, but don’t expect me to go easy on you.”
I tensed, undeniably horny now. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ll do things your way, but I’m going to do them my way, too.”
*****
Your way and my way.That night, I found out what it meant. It meant that Patrick could be gentle when he wanted to. His whispers were soft, his words sweet.
And he kept me on the edge of orgasm for hours.
When I tried to touch myself for relief, he pinned my wrists above my head with one huge hand. When I squirmed, he kissed my forehead — lightly — and showed me a short length of rope he took out of his nightstand drawer.
I shook my head, rocking on the old towel he’d spread across his bed. My pussy was soaked, my whole body desperate to come. Patrick’s fingers surrounded my clit, stroking the hard nub gently. I chewed my lower lip to keep from screaming, but short cries burst through.
“You want to scream?” He nuzzled my neck. “Go ahead. Do it loud. I don’t care who hears. Let the whole house know how much you need to come.”
