WHY WOULD MY SISTER do that to me? In front of anyone? Telling the world that I’m broke, can’t afford lunch and will most likely be out of another job in a week was just straight up mean. I knew this wasn’t a permanent thing. But I was kind of getting used to this life. Working with kids, making a small difference. I don’t even want to address the shit I got myself into with the science teacher. But, I also can’t stop thinking about him. He’s just so nice, and kind, and sexy– in that nerdy sorta way. But to think about it, outside the classroom, he is nothing near the science nerd he portrays at school. He’s masculine and controlling. He’s smart, and funny, and dominating, and knows exactly what he wants.
But he also has his life together. And, compared to him, I look like the biggest failure. Besides all the pillow talk, we’ve never had that deep conversation of why I’m really here. He has grazed the surface with personal questions, feeling me pull away when anything gets too personal for me. Like I said, he’s smart like that.
I just don’t want him to know that part of me. He sees this person, this cute substitute teacher, a fun girl, wild between the sheets that loves to eat pancakes like a champ. But what if he knew the hot mess of a person I really was? He would run the opposite direction. I don’t even have a degree for Christ’s sake! Finding out his new sex partner was a broke, uneducated loser would definitely spoil all the fun. And this is what this was anyway. Just sex, right? I’ll be done here soon and pack my minimal belongings, maybe steal a skirt or two my sister loaned to me, and move on.
I avoid Peter all week. As much as he tries to talk to me, I find a way out of it. I make sure to stay clear of him during lunch, and even go as low as eating lunch with Ben yesterday, just so he would lose interest and leave me alone. It’s better this way. I spend Monday sulking. I spend Tuesday sulking even more. And by Wednesday, I just make the decision that this whole Peter Parker thing is done. It was fun and all, but we are two different people. He has his life together, I don’t. I probably never will.
Anytime I slip, though, and my needy eyes catch glimpses of Peter, his eyes are always on me. They don’t carry that happy-go-lucky shine they normally do. His smile isn’t as natural and his hands not leisurely in his pockets, but crossed over his chest, looking like an angered man ready to spank someone.
And, as much as I want him to punish me in so many sexual ways, I just don’t want him to figure out the kind of person I really am. I just want to end this on a good note, which is him remembering that one time he had a hot affair with a substitute teacher.
It’s the end of the day, and I’ve managed to hide in my classroom so I don’t run into Peter while he’s leaving. I wait a solid thirty minutes after the regular time he leaves, before emerging from my room. As I stick my head out, I see his room is dark and the door closed. Good. He’s gone. I set out down the hallway, toward the gym. I want to say good bye to Ben before he leaves for the kinder-league basketball retreat. And since next week is my last week, I thought to say bye now.
“He left.”
I pause at the sound of his voice on my back. Shit. I slowly pivot, turning to face him. His hands crossed over his chest, his eyes angry. His smile—yep, no smile.
“Assuming you were going to see if your new boy toy was still here? He left while you were hiding in your classroom.” Ouch. Okay that was kinda low.
“I wasn’t, he’s not… I was just going to say goodbye to him.” His eyes darken even more than before.
He takes two strong steps closer to me. “And where are you going, Ms. Thompson?” The way he says my name, no matter the circumstance, always sends a heated shiver down my legs. Less the science teacher right now and more the man who craves control.
“I’m… I’m going to be done here next week. Just wanted to say bye. He was nice to me, so I wanted to be polite.” I straighten my back, arching my shoulders. It was the truth; I wasn’t doing anything more than that. I admit that Peter ruined the whole appeal of getting Ben Simmons to like me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get the room ready for Ms. Evans.” I pull my eyes away from his and walk into my classroom. Unfortunately, Peter follows.
“And what about me? Were you planning to finally stop ignoring me, for hell knows why, and say goodbye to me?” There’s no hiding the anger in his voice. It hits me right in the gut region, the guilt at how childish and rude I’ve been the last few days.
“Of course I was. God, no reason to get all needy on me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I seriously have to get the supply closet in order.” I don’t turn to him because I’m a chicken and don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. Anger, hatred, maybe. Because I’ve been a total bitch after the money comment. I walk into the closet, hoping he just gets the hint and leaves.
“Seriously, what’s gotten into you? You’ve done nothing but blow me off and avoid me all week. Ever since the money comment. What did I do wrong?”
I turn around and he is closer than expected. His frame takes up the small supply closet and his closeness makes it hard to not take in his tight shirt, the muscles in his neck, those sexy as fuck black frames. “I… I…”
“You what? Are sorry for blowing it out of proportion and, in turn, giving me the cold shoulder?”
I wasn’t going to say that. “What? No. I wasn’t avoiding you, god. Can you be any fuller of yourself?”
Normally the master at hiding his emotions, the look of shock, then hurt, covers his features. “What happened to you? When did you become this stuck up person?”
My mouth drops at his statement. I am anything but stuck up. “How dare you call me stuck up?” I minimize the space between us poking him in his hard chest. “You have some nerve, buddy! The last thing I am is stuck up. And what’s your problem? Butt hurt I turned you down?”
At that his eyes light up, “Turned down? You turning me down? Hardly.” He offers me a cruel laugh. “I don’t think the small glances my way all week, and watching your legs clench at what I do to you, is you turning me down.”
“Oh, give me a break!” I yell. I push against his chest again, “You know what, get out of here. Leave me alone. Yes, turned down. I don’t want you, Peter Parker, get that through your thick skull!”
He grabs at my wrist backing us into the shelving unit, raising my closed fist above my head.
“Prove it.”
“What? Prove what? Let me go.” My voice strained.
“Prove to me that you don’t want me. That you’re not getting wet right now, being this close to me. Tell me, if I took my hand, and shoved it up that little skirt you’re wearing, I won’t find that pussy soaked?” My throat has become drier than the Sahara dessert. I try and swallow and his eyes take notice, staring at my throat. “Tell me or I’m going to find out for myself.” His statement causes a tiny whimper to escape my lips. Just the thought of him and his fingers touching me again causes me to mistakenly lean into his touch.
“Tell me, or I’m going to stick my fingers up your pussy, and when I find what I already know, I’m going to fuck you with my hand until you come all over my fingers and admit to me that what we are is more than just fucking.” He lets my hand go, grazing his knuckles down my cheek. “And that you want me.” Brushing the side of my breast. “And then you’re going to tell me why you’re all of a sudden running away.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He takes it upon himself to find out. His hand dips, hiking up my skirt. With force, he pushes my panties aside and, without invitation, he thrust not one, but two fingers into my sopping sex. My eyes shut, my head leans back against the shelf. Pulling out, with no ease to his assault, he rams his fingers back inside me.
“Tell me.” His voice is demanding. My lips part to speak, to say something, but another forceful push and only a moan falls off my lips. He works me quick and hard, until I can feel the orgasm build. My body starts to quiver as it nears the peak and, before I start to squeeze, he pulls out.
Feeling instantly empty and confused I open my eyes. “Tell me,” he repeats, his eyes so intense I barely see any green. “You want this, just as bad as I do.”
“Or what? Are you blackmailing me again with an orgasm?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“Well then no, I’m not telling you anything.” I straighten my back and he releases the hold he has on me. My vagina is begging me to say it. I can feel myself still pulsating at his touch, and I want nothing more than to replace those fingers with his huge cock. But I can’t get myself to say it. I won’t be told what to do.
“Fine. You win.” He takes a step back. Turning, Peter starts walking toward the door. Oh my god, he’s really gonna just leave? Oh fuck that! Fine, let him. No one tells me what to do.
He’s at the door, showing no signs of fibbing. He doesn’t even give me one last glance, before his hand is on the knob turning it.
“You’re not gonna win this one. Nobody tells me what to do.”
That does it for him. He is on me, his body pressing into mine, his hand threading through my hair. “You sure about that?” Fisting a chunk of my hair, he pulls, stretching my neck. “You don’t think if I told you to get down on your knees and put my cock in your mouth you wouldn’t do it? Suck my cock that’s been waiting to have your lips around it, again? Hmmm, Gretchen?” he asks, his breath warm as his tongue grazes my skin. His teeth scrape my skin as he continues. “How about my fingers? You don’t want my fingers far up that cunt of yours? Your ass? Your mouth? How about my cock inside you while I fuck you so hard you fight to lose sense of reality.”
He has me panting for more of his words, as he pulls my skirt above my hips and tugs at the hem of my panties. Everything that he’s offering me I want. Crave. And he’s right. I would drop to my knees and take him into my mouth. My pussy is pulsating, needing everything that he threatens to take away from me if I don’t confess.
His finger teases my sex, smearing my wetness, but he doesn’t enter me. “Tell me what you want, Gretchen,” he says, rubbing me in a circular motion, but so lightly it’s torture. “Stop denying me. You can get that release I know you’re begging for, just say the words.” His saturated finger brushes alongside my clit, past my opening, smearing my own juices alongside my back hole. His finger teases me, offering just slight pressure, but doesn’t enter me. “I only have so much control here, baby.” He grinds his covered cock into me. My back arches, my hips pushing out to meet more of his. I can’t take any more of this torment.
I need him to touch me, fuck me. Find the release he is dangling over me. My voice is weak, but filled with arousal. “Fine. I want you.”
His hand twitches and he shoves three fingers up inside me. I grunt at the sudden assault, my insides wrapping around him. He milks my sex, once twice, before I’m moaning like crazy, riding his hand.
“Say it again, or I stop,” he orders pulling his fingers out and maneuvers one saturated digit to my ass, teasing my hole.
“I want you,” I moan, and with a little pressure he shoves two fingers up my cunt and one just passed the entrance of my asshole. “Yes, ohhhh…” the feeling of him being inside me is enthralling. Intruding places, exciting. My cunt is sucking his fingers up, pulsating. He is just as affected; as he grunts, each time he pulls out and shoves them back up me, are of a man on the brink of snapping.
“You’re beautiful like this. Your flushed cheeks, glazed over eyes. You look so aroused it’s almost painful to allow you a release. I want to see you like this, always.” His hands work faster and my ass is riding up and down the shelf. Supplies begin to rattle and fall, but I am so lost, the entire building could be crashing down and the only thing I would care about is him.
The realization hits me the same time as my orgasm. I want Peter Parker. In more ways than just this. I want his laughter, his kindness. I want more than just the sexual part of our relationship.
“What exactly is it you want, Gretchen?” He whispers in my ear.
“I want you,” I moan, “All of you. Your fingers, your cock, those stupid sexy glasses that I dream about. I like you. I don’t even know why. You’re nerdy and dorky, but really sexy and… and… Christ, and I like the way you man-handle me when you get all beasty.” I shup up now because I have clearly said too much. A simple ‘I like you’ would have sufficed.
He takes my mouth in a fierce kiss. His fingers have taken up a brutal speed, fucking me to a point where the world around me practically goes black as my orgasm blasts through me. My legs threaten to buckle, Peter’s grip on me the only thing keeping me standing. When my pussy stops spasming, Peter pulls out. Making sure I stand on my own two feet, he then steps away and with less control than normal, he begins to undo his tie.
“Turn around. I want your hands on the shelf. Do not move them.” His eyes are on fire. I do as I’m told and once I’m in position, he takes his tie, wrapping it around my neck. I feel him knot it, testing out the strength by tugging. My neck contracts, the pressure of the fabric constrictive.
“Fuck, you like this…” He fades off, unable to finish. I hear him unbuckling his pants, the sounds of his zipper going down. My skirt is still around my waist, and its then I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance. “This isn’t going to be gentle, baby. I need to fuck this cunt until you scream.” Everything that he says is turning me on, my arousal rebooting faster than before. I know how much he loves this. Loves the control. The tie is just an added bonus; causing my clit to ache for another release. I turn my head so our eyes connect. “Well, then fuck me, Mr. Parker.”
I watch the last of his control slip and he slams into me. I’m already so slick with arousal that he slides right in. The first thrust releases a moan from my lips, the position allowing him to almost go too deep. He’s so big and thick, he fills me all the way to the hilt. “Yes,” I moan as he pulls out and slams into me. My head threatens to bang into the shelf, my hands fighting to stay upright. He is so intense, so brutal with each thrust as he pounds into me. The closer he gets to his own orgasm the tighter I feel his necktie getting around my neck.
“Fuck, you’re so tight. Fuck… I can feel you gripping me.” I’m panting frantically. I love it when he talks to me during sex. It’s erotic and pushes me even further. With one hand wrapped around the neck tie, his other grips my ass, a finger continuously grazing over my hole.
I’m about to lose it. I start slamming my ass into his cock, the sounds of skin slapping against skin. “Oh fuck, Peter, fuck me, fill me everywhere,” I beg.
This gets the reaction I so begged for as he tightens his hold around my neck. The restriction causes a few white spots as I struggle for breath and, just as I think I might pass out, he slams in one last time, pushing his finger into my asshole. I come with such a fury that this time my knees do buckle. I feel Peter’s hot seed spill inside me as he catches me.
“Whoa, baby.” He pumps into me one more time, riding out his orgasm, but releasing the hold of the tie. Working the material off me, he pulls out and turns me in his arms.
“You okay?” He asks, waiting for me to find my balance, then tucks himself back in his pants, grabbing for the paper towel roll on the shelf to clean me up.
“Just peachy,” I say, feeling so good I could just float away. His gentle laugh confirms he knows just how peachy I’m feeling. No shame, I allow him to wipe the cum from between my legs and adjust my skirt.
“Good. Peachy enough that you’re not going to run away from me once we leave this room?”
I look at him. I have this issue with getting lost in his eyes. I lift both hands and cup his face bringing his lips down to mine. I offer him a soft kiss before pulling away. “I don’t want to, but I just don’t think you will want me to stay if you knew me. The whole me.”
“I doubt that, Gretchen. I want a lot more than I’m willing to admit right now and if I didn’t think it would scare you off, I would admit everything that’s whirling around inside me.”
I think I understand that feeling. I have been battling that same emotion. “What happens if you don’t like the person I am?”
His hands are matching mine holding my face in place. “Trust me to tell me, and I can prove you wrong.”
The only thing I can do at this point is move forward. Be honest. It’s the best way to do it, considering I won’t be here much longer anywhere. “I came here because I lost my job.”
“Okay. Happens all the time.”
“Yeah, well it happens all the time to me. I only got this substitute job because of my sister. I don’t even have a degree.” I pause to wait for his reaction. But strangely his eyes don’t change.
“I was a wild child, who didn’t accept authority or rules. I left home, and instead of doing the proper thing, like finish school and grow up, I took off, wanting to have a wild life. You can conclude, since I’m here, that that didn’t happen. I ran out of money fast, bounced from one horrible job to another. My sister offered me her wing, as she always does, and that’s how I got here. The deal was she would get me the substitute job, and I could find some comfort in family. During that time, I would find a regular gig and move on.”
His thumb is caressing my cheek as I explain. His eyes still gentle, no sign of distraught. “Baby, I’m still trying to figure out where the part comes in where you think I want to run.”
I look at him. “I’m kind of a dead-beat loser with no real job. No degree. I’m broke and have not a single dollar to my name. I have no future set up, and certainly not a 401k or family plan. But, most importantly, after next week I’m leaving.”
He takes in the sadness on my face at my last statement. I have felt so at home here. Letting my guard down and allowing my sister to take care of me. Its felt… good. Peter brings his lips to mine. One, two, three small pecks, before he pulls away and speaks.
“Having a job, or money doesn’t make you, you. You’re who you are, and that’s who I care about. A damn lot, actually. Nothing that you told me changes how I feel or what I want. And that’s you.” He wipes the tear that begins to fall from my lids, because I’m a baby, and it’s been way too damn long since someone has said something that kind to me. “And, about you leaving, you don’t have to. Stay.”
My eyes widen at his statement. “Stay? Like in Bradford?”
“Yes. Stay in Bradford. For your sister who loves you and has been so happy since you’ve come home. Stay for other people who are well on their way to feeling the same way.”
My heart is pounding in my chest. Stay? Could I? I wasn’t sure if that was even a possibly for me. “But, Ms. Evans comes back next week. I won’t even have a job.”
“Who cares? There’s more than one job in this town. You’re resilient. I’ve watched you, more than I’ll admit these past few weeks, and you can do anything if you want it.”
My chest wants to puff out at his compliment. “You think I’m resilient?”
“I think you’re more than that. But baby steps. Did you avoid me because of the money comment? Of what your sister said in front of me?”
“Yeah. I just didn’t want to admit my faults. You seemed so perfect to me. So put together and successful. Then there was me.”
Peter brushes my hair away from my face, our eyes locked in a visual hold. “If I told you that I already knew about you, would you believe me when I say it never mattered?”
“What! How?”
“Your sister. She told me you were coming. She had mentioned you in passing a few times here and there, when you visited. She also has a photo of you with Tessa on her desk.” That big mouth! “She told me how excited she was you were finally coming home. Thought there was potential for you to start fresh. So, before you even showed up, I knew. And not once did what I know define how I saw you.”
Okay. So he officially is, like, the most magical person on this planet. There is nothing he can say or do to possibly make me love him more. Except… What!?