Ainsley
A sharp thud hits my bedroom door. On a displeased groan, I cover my head and try to return to sleep.
To no surprise, it flies open. “Ainsley! What the hell are you still doing in bed?”
I bite my tongue to stop the reply. The same shit all the other normal people do in bed.
“I don’t pay for you to go to that damn private school so you can sleep in at home,” my mother scolds from the doorway of my room.
Technically she doesn’t pay shit for me to go to it. Never has.
“If I wanted that shit, I would’ve sent you to public school. Now get up before you’re late for that damn bus!”
Whenever she’s this bitchy, I immediately remind myself it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the high she’s coming off of or the high she’s anxious to chase.
She hits the light and it floods the entire room. With one final grunt, I toss my blanket off, and drag myself up. Why the hell does school have to come so early? Who thought starting it at eight in the morning was the responsible choice?
I yawn and stretch my body, feeling a new found soreness in my muscles that makes me grin wildly. The image of coming on Nate’s cock instantly ignites a heat between my thighs. My mind transports my entire system back to relive the moment all over again. I can feel his hands holding me securely in place. The beads of sweat collecting between us. His cock splitting my pussy apart like no matter what he tries, he still won’t be buried deep enough.
“Ainsley!”
“I’m up!” I shout back, shaking away the hypnotizing thoughts.
After a quick scan of the clothes I have clean, I make a mental note to do laundry when I get home from school. I’m a little shocked my mother wasn’t bitching about that when she started her rant. It just means she has what she needs for work. Not that that should surprise me. She always makes sure she’s taken care of. My needs rarely matter. They haven’t for years.
I deliberately skip the idea of panties, slip on a bra, grab my loose, long sleeve cream colored knit sweater dress, a pair of worn out gold flats, and a long gold chain necklace with a turquoise pendant, from my cluttered dresser. I swipe my cell from where it’s charging on the messy floor beside my bed and swing by the bathroom to give my teeth a good brushing. During the process, I stare at my reflection, noting the subtle changes to my complexion. There’s an undeniable brightness to my face. A lovely light rose color to my cheeks and a shimmer in my eyes. I swear it almost looks like I’m actually glowing. Guess it’s true what my mother says about a good lay. It really can change your life. At least I’m sure as shit hoping it does.
Once my mouth is clean and my hair has been given enough product to make my bedhead look presentable, I exit the bathroom, which is where I run straight into my mother, reminding me yet again why I hate living in this tiny two bedroom, one bathroom house with her.
She tries to veer out of my path during her undressing. “You’re not going to put on makeup?”
I shake my head. “Late remember?”
“Ainsley, you really have to learn how to do a great job with that in a tight time frame,” her lecture begins as I continue my route for the kitchen straight ahead. “How many times have I told you the importance of dressing to impress?”
Enough times that I’ve considered getting the words tattooed across my ass, so I can flash her every time this recycled line of nagging occurs. The main problem with this conversation is I never plan to try to impress people the same way she does. Not even if it meant starving to death.
“I buy you makeup and designer clothes as a reminder. Why do I bother wasting my money if you’re not even going to make an effort?”
An abundance of clothes I don’t give a shit about and perfume that makes me smell like I’m for sale the same way she is, is a necessity in her opinion, but the basics like food, water, and electricity are debatable. God, I can’t wait to graduate and get the hell out of here.
“Are you even listening?” She bitches from behind me in the open living room.
I shut the fridge door, disappointed yet again at the empty contents, and turn around to face her. I glare at the tiny red strapless dress. The thousand dollar black pumps on her feet. The flawlessness in her tanned skin. Her beautiful, thick curtain of blonde hair dangling perfectly like a goddamn hair commercial. Standing here, even after a long night of escorting men to wherever it is they need her to go before they slip away into the bedroom, she still looks like every wet dream she’s probably made come true. Sometimes when I stare at her I wonder who my father would be more disappointed in. Me, for the inability to care anymore about what happens to her when she walks out the door, or her for choosing to suck cock for a profession.
“Did you pick up the mail yesterday?” I manage to ask, the faint sound of the bus rounding the corner filling my ears. “Hoping for an early acceptance letter.”
She huffs and points to the kitchen table that’s overrun with body altering products.
I offer her a forced grin of gratitude.
“Try to go the grocery store when you get home from school,” she states. “I need a nap before I have to meet Mikey for a pick up. Then, I have a hair and spa appointment at three, followed promptly by a new client at six. I’m not sure if I’ll be home before morning, but either way it would be nice to have a glass of orange juice to start my day.”
Nothing washes away the taste of a senator’s cock like good old fashion, freshly squeezed, orange juice bought by your daughter’s hard earned cash.
I let out a sigh, push the nail products out of my way, and search for my ticket to freedom.
The first honk to indicate the bus has arrived causes my mother to complain, “Ainsley, go to school.”
“That’s the plan,” I mumble more in reference to my future than this moment. Going to Ashwin University to study film is the only thing that gets me through the long mornings like this and even longer nights after my shift. I even started working at a bar downtown the week I turned 18 just to be closer to the environment I feel I belong to. It’s a cute hole in the wall place almost always packed with students from the university. Yeah, it blows to have to walk a few blocks to catch the bus and then take it home again late at night, but it beats the shit out of serving my classmates and their shit parents who already look down on me. I prefer to be around people who have no idea what my mother does rather than those I know use her services. People who have conversations about Van Gogh and the importance of proper lighting. People who talk about art as if they’re politics as opposed to actual political problems they know nothing about. While my mother hates the idea of me not being something she feels her blowing the Dean of Admissions is actually worth, like a doctor or a lawyer, she hates the idea of me becoming an escort more, which is what I threaten any time she stands on her soapbox about my life choices. She knows it’s a bluff, but always backs down. I’ll be honest, her determination to keep me from ending up another “doll” in the Doll House’s collection is the only non-selfish thing she does. I guess in retrospect it’s probably the most important.
The bus honks again just as my fingers wrap around the envelope.
“I’m not driving you to class if you miss that goddamn bus.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, with the piece of paper tucked in my hand alongside my phone. Quickly, I walk by her, snatch my shoulder bag from the couch, and toss a wave over my shoulder. “Later.”
Brisk January wind slaps my legs without consideration. My head falls to the side in instant defeat for forgetting a jacket.
With a frown, Willis, the charter bus driver, sighs, “Come on, Ainsley, you’re going to make me late. You know how the Headmaster is if we don’t arrive at our specific designated time.”
I bounce up the steps at the same time I apologize. “Sorry. Couldn’t find my bag.” An innocent, sweet smirk is offered up as penance. “Forgive me, Willis?”
He gives his shiny, white bald head a short rub. “Of course, Ainsley... Just go have a seat. I’m sure I can make up the difference.”
The doors shut and I make my way towards the middle where my best friend, Sloane Gomez, is sitting.
When I flop down beside her, she pulls out her ear buds, and bites, “What the fuck took you so long this morning? Thought I was going to have to journey to the center of hell all alone.”
I roll my eyes.
Too bad she’s not being over dramatic. Ollander Academy is hell for those of us on this bus. The few selected as proof the wealthy ‘care’. The handful labeled outcasts before we even step foot in the building. My elite private school only has this bus for a reason. Most of the students own their own cars and those too young to drive have nannies or ‘help’ who have no problem escorting them to school. Unlike my mother who opened her legs so they would open their doors for me, Sloane’s mother and father work for the Headmaster, which is how she was granted access. That’s the story for everyone on this bus. They’re all children of someone who works for someone important, here on a favor that can easily become a tax write off. I envy them for that. I loathe being the exception.
“You’re not alone. Scott’s here.”
“Since when does that count?” Sloane mumbles before nodding her head at the envelope in my hand. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Hoping so…” I quietly reply, staring at the envelope.
“Rip it open,” she demands, her Latino accent she typically hides, slipping out. “You know I’m not a patient person.”
After cutting her a glance, I shove the doubt darting its way up my throat back down into my stomach and tear it open. What’s the point in prolonging it any further? The sooner I know if I’m going, the sooner I can start making actual plans for my future rather than cringing over the community college back up plan I’ve been toying with. My eyes quickly skim the letter, each passing word, building a victorious feeling deep inside.
By the time I reach the end, the only thing I can do is let my jaw hang open. The excitement from knowing I earned this warmly swarms me.
“Tell me you’re making your O face because that’s an acceptance letter.”
The thought of riding Nate’s cock flutters back into my mind. With him, it was stuck in this position. It’s like it wasn’t sure what else to do between shouting for more and screaming his name. And I was screaming by the end. Actually screaming. God, I hope his neighbors heard but didn’t complain.
Sloane suspiciously eyes me. “What are you thinking about?”
I snap out of the reverie. “Hm?”
“Just now.” She gives her long black hair a ruffle. “I swear you just whimpered.”
Quickly, I shake my head. “No.”
“You did.”
“You’re hearing shit.”
“But-”
“I got in,” I announce, anxious to change the subject.
“Yes!” She throws her hands up in the air. “I knew it! I fucking knew you would get into that shit. I mean, hello, who would be a better film student at that place than you?” Before I can retort, she boosts herself up onto her high waist jean covered knees, and informs the entire bus, “Bitches and Gents, may I have your attention please! Our own Ainsley Jacobson has just received her acceptance letter to Ashwin University!”
All of a sudden there’s a round of applause, some hoots and hollers, followed promptly by her hand giving my hair a ruffle. There are a few shouted congrats from those I share classes with and a few nods from those ‘too cool’ to say anything.
After the attention fades elsewhere, Sloane wiggles back down beside me and adjusts her neon colored crop top. “So when do you get the packet of all the shit you have to fill out?”
I shrug. “According to the letter, they’ll mail me an acceptance packet and the state of my scholarship funding somewhere in the next few weeks.”
“Hopefully it’s a full ride,” she states as the bus arrives in front of the school. “Last thing you need is having to give a full ride in order to cover it.”
Her reference to my mother’s choice of profession causes me to gag.
She has a valid point. My level of desperation to go to Ashwin is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I need to go. I need to get the hell out of this pompous suburban purgatory and make myself an actual future. One where my name and face isn’t associated with being the daughter of an escort.
“What about you?” Shoving the letter into my bag, I ask, “Decided where you wanna go yet?”
Sloane purses her lips together. “Maybe Clover Rose? I haven’t given much thought to it. Anywhere that isn’t near here is a total win in my book. I’m pretty easy.”
“We all know that,” Lee mocks as he strolls by.
“Can’t be that easy if she won’t fuck you, asshole,” Scott says from the seat in front of us.
Lee gives him the finger and continues walking.
Once we’re off the bus, Sloane throws her arms around Scott from behind, and hops her pencil thin body onto his back barely faltering his large steps. Overdramatically she coos, “Scott Snyder, you’re my hero!”
He groans his annoyance at her position on his linebacker body. “You’re squishing my fucking lunch, Sloane.”
She squeezes him tighter and pushes a kiss on his cut jaw. “But you love me…”
Scott shakes his head but doesn’t deny it.
Because it’s true. Scott’s loved her since sophomore year and has never stopped. They’re stuck in the typical friends who want to be more bullshit but are too stubborn to admit it. Guess it still beats pining after your substitute teacher.
The three of us swing right towards the older wing of Ollander Academy. The college sized institution is divided into two parts. One for those in middle school and one for those of us in high school. Between the two buildings are the enormous school cafeteria and the extensive courtyard, which is basically one giant stage for whatever drama is circulating for the day.
Just as we enter the double doors, a familiar face is coming down the stairs with his fan club fawning after him.
“Snyder!” Josh Buchanan announces with his arms thrown in the air. He joins his side and playfully shoves into him. “What up, dick breath?”
“I think that’s you,” Sloane sneers looking down at Josh while the two of them bump fists.
Despite the fact they have similar athletic features from years of winning state championships side by side, Scott only played football because his parents promised he would upon acceptance into the academy. Josh on the other hand played because it’s what’s expected of him. Unlike me, who has a mother hell bent on keeping me away from what she’s spent most of her single life doing, his father has spent most of his time paving the path for Josh to be next in the family line of NFL players, down to guaranteeing him a spot at the university of his father’s alma mater. And he fits the role. From impressive skills on the field, to charming smile, to adoring fans, he is set up for greatness. Why he insists on bothering me is the question I have never discovered the answer to.
Josh gives her the finger and leans around to say, “Hey Ainsley.”
I offer him a kind smile. “Hey.”
He lags back a few steps, instructs the chicks that were following him to piss off, and arrives on the other side of me. His cologne causes me to start coughing profusely.
“Look at that, she’s allergic to you,” Sloane snickers at the same time Scott drops her onto her feet outside of their classroom.
“Come on, babe. Let’s spread your charm around,” Scott says, nodding his head for them to head inside.
She makes a motion with her fingers to let me know to text her.
“You going to the game tonight?” He asks with hope in his voice rather than cockiness. Whenever he makes the transition from talking to the crowd of girls who worship at his feet to just me, he does this. He softens his speech. Stumbles on his words. It’s like he’s nervous around me, which is probably the most ridiculous thought I’ve had this morning.
“Um…” I hum uncertain. “I don’t know. I’m not working, so maybe.”
We arrive at the end of long hall, right in front of my classroom. “Why don’t you come with me?”
His usual offer of a date causes me to tilt my head to the side.
I’m sure it’s nothing more than the typical want the one who tells you no bullshit. I just…I can’t be the only girl in the entire school whose panties don’t melt at his over polished grin.
“Josh-”
“I know,” he cuts me off and grabs my hand. “You think I’m just some asshole jock who’s got a bet with his friends about nailing you or some shit.”
Playfully, I counter, “Well I do now…”
He joins me in the small laugh. “Well I don’t.”
“Then why this shit every other week?”
And it truly feels like it’s been every other week since right after Halloween.
“Because you’re the hottest chick in my English Lit class and the only one who doesn’t follow Kylie Jenner on IG like she’s some sort of Russian Goddess.”
I offer him a sympathetic expression. “Greek.”
“Right.” He nods. “Like Afromighty.”
His idiocy hurts my head. “Aphrodite.”
“Yeah,” Josh casually agrees and rubs the back of his neck. “See. You don’t even rag on me for getting it wrong.”
At least not out loud.
The warning bell rings, which gives me the perfect excuse to finally pull my fingers away. “You should get to class, Josh.”
He nods. “Think about tonight? I’ll even take you to dinner. Anywhere you want.”
I pretend to be tempted by the idea. “I’ll text you later.”
Josh caves, turns on his heels, and heads for his first period class.
Thankful to have some distance from him, I let out a heavy sigh. My eyes steal a glimpse of Nate who had the perfect view of the situation from his desk. His arms are resting on those of the chair while the expression on his face is one of severe disapproval. Jealousy even.
I smirk to myself and head for my desk on the right side of the room. Once I’m settled, I lean back in my seat, and admire the man who fills something inside of me I didn’t know was missing. From the conservative way he carries himself, no one would ever assume underneath the surface is a barbaric beast who craves the basic instinct of a man claiming a woman. A man who can be the only one to touch the woman he’s proclaimed as his own. He doesn’t exude such dominance, but it’s definitely there. Behind those crystal blue eyes and surprisingly young features for a twenty nine year old, is a savage protector I know would do anything for the woman he loves. How wrong is it that I want that woman to be me?
The final bell rings and Nate’s eyes immediately glance to the door where two students barely make it inside on time. He skips the notion of scolding them and instead says, “Shut the door behind you Mr. Keegan.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Greene.”
Nate begins the moment everyone is in their seats. “As most of you should recall, I told you yesterday we would discuss your end of the year projects today. I considered keeping Mr. Garrison’s simple pick a random year out of a hat, find a movie that came out during that time, and give your opinion on it in the form of a long, boring paper.” Suddenly, he leans forward so his crisp, white dress shirt covered elbows are on his desk. “But then I remembered, I have to read all of those and chances are if you’re bored writing it, I’m going to be even more bored reading it.”
The class lightly chuckles.
“This is film appreciation,” his words continue to flow smoothly out of his perfectly shaped mouth that I swear I can still feel on my skin. “Most of you consider this a blow off elective, but some of you…” Nate’s eyes wander to meet mine. “Some of you have a real passion for this. It shouldn’t be ignored.”
My bottom lip thoughtlessly slips between my teeth.
His entire body tenses in response. He takes a hard swallow and forces himself to look away. “So, here’s what we’re going to do for your final. You’re going to make me a one minute video presentation paying homage to your favorite film of all time.”
Franklin, two rows over lifts his hand. “What’s homage mean?”
“Tribute.” Nate rises to his feet. “The rules of this project are lax for a reason. I want you to be willing to express your creativity. Explore your skills. And for those of you who are cringing inside at the idea of this being a meaningful experience then use your one minute to look in the camera and explain to me why you love whatever film you picked. It won’t get you an A, but it’ll keep you from failing your final.” He braces himself against the corner of his desk and folds his hands together. “Any questions?”
Bethany, the bitchy blonde and an avid Josh fan who sits in front of me, lets her hand shoot into the air.
He hesitates to answer as if afraid to let his eyes drift my direction in any form. Nate nods his head towards her. “Miss Winston.”
“Okay first off of all, I love the way you call us by our last names. It’s so hot yet totally retro,” she giggles obnoxiously through her comment.
Nate offers her a small smile of gratitude.
I unconsciously twitch a glare and his smile widens in response. Okay. Fine. Apparently the jealousy bug can bite both of us. His smile was just as innocent as me politely trying to tell Josh to go away. The notion that neither of us is thrilled over the idea of the other one flirting with someone else shifts a smirk onto my face. I warned him. I knew he had claim over my body long before he touched it. I knew it the first time our eyes connected and my chest tightened. That happened months ago and there hasn’t been a day since that I’ve been anyone else’s. I’m not sure there will ever be.
“One minute video, totally fine, whatever. Can we use our phones to record it?”
He shrugs. “Whatever device you prefer.”
“K,” she coos and readjusts herself in her seat.
“We’ll be showing your videos the last two weeks of the school year. It’s a pretty cut and dry project, but if you have any other questions, feel free to send me an email, a text, or stop me after the bell rings.” He gives his long, black tie an adjustment. “As you all know the list for greatest films of all time is…highly opinionated. While the AFI has declared the ones worthy of being on the list, most with decent merit, some I don’t agree with. Some I know you won’t agree with. So for the rest of this semester, we’re going to do something a little different than what Mr. Garrison had planned. He had hand selected the films we would be reviewing. I’m actually going to turn the reins over to you. I want you to want to be in class. So you pick what we’re watching and discussing. There were will be various categories for us to sort through and choose from. We’ll vote on Monday mornings from the list he gave, a few of my own, and suggestions from you.”
There’s a small chatter of excitement and Nate flashes his award winning grin again.
God, he’s beautiful. And not in the usual stalk him for posting one shirtless photo on Facebook type of way. No. He’s got this young yet classic twist to him. Like bump into him at a ritzy bar, have him buy you a martini and then take you back to his million dollar penthouse vibe. I was actually surprised to find out he didn’t have a penthouse. In fact, his one bedroom apartment downtown is not at all what I expected. Teachers in this school make what college professors do, actually some of them make more, so I can’t imagine they would pay the substitutes anything less or that much less. Nate’s been subbing here for the past year. Usually on the middle school side because their drama teacher is more dedicated to trying out for Broadway than actually being a teacher, but once in a while he’s granted permission to this side. To be fawned over by all of the girls who cross his path. Josh may be the jock king but whenever Nate steps foot into our realm he’s a God. An athletic, tan, walking wet dream God. What’s really amazing is I don’t think he has any idea. And if he does? He’s mastered the art of pretending he doesn’t.
He reaches for the remote. “Let’s continue with The Wizard of Oz.”
The flat screen TV in the corner of the room flashes the welcome text and he busies himself resuming the movie from where we left off yesterday.
While his back is turned, I lean down, grab my phone from where it’s wedged beside my laptop in my bag and check the message waiting for me.
555-879-8769: Paid Synder a hundred bucks for your number. Is this it?
I helplessly smile at his effort, but wider over the fact Scott made himself some easy money.
After Nate dims the lights and settles back behind his desk, I casually start typing my reply. Sure, there are rules on paper about cell phones being used during the school day, but they’re never actually enforced unless there’s a quiz or a test. The majority of my classmates text from one class to the next and then during their entire class period. None of the teachers care. That’s not what they’re here for. Their only true job is to bridge the gap for the students of Ollander to get into whatever college it is their parents demand. Add that to the long list of reasons I adore Nate. He actually gives a shit about what he’s teaching when he subs. He’s committed to whatever subject it is. He always tries, like teaching still matters. Like some of us still care to learn. I know I’m in the minority of those people, but what can I say? It’s nice to occasionally appreciate my education the way my mother is imagining I should.
Me: Yeah. You got me.
It doesn’t take him long to reply.
Josh: I do? Is that a yes to the game tonight?
Me: No.
Josh: Is that a no?
My eyes lift to see Nate wiggling his pen between his fingers, attention focused on the television.
Of course it’s a no. There’s only one person I want to watch the game with, or any game with for that matter, and he’s sitting in the front of my classroom, purposely avoiding eye contact with me. Which, he should be, I know. Of course I know this. It’s not like I want him to get fired just to be reminded he’s thinking about last night like I am… I can’t believe out of all the places to hang out downtown, him and his friend decided on mine. It’s rare on Thursday nights to get anything besides the regulars. I opted out of being his waitress on purpose. Didn’t want to embarrass him or myself, but as the night went on, every time I glanced his direction, his eyes were licking my curves and his mouth was slightly open like he was entranced by my movements. Like each blink was tacking up ‘do not touch her’ signs for all the other males in the room. When I unexpectedly ran into him coming out of the bathroom and I suggested he make those looks mean something, I was completely expecting him to laugh me off. But he didn’t. Not even for a second. He invaded my space. Thumbed my bottom lip. Told me he’d wait for my shift to end. There was no hint of hesitation in his tone. No booze on his breath. Every word, every action, was committed with complete certainty. I was his and he wanted to make sure I knew it.
My phone vibrates in my hand again.
Josh: Sit with me at the pep rally.
I roll my eyes at the idea. Every fucking Friday there’s a game, there’s a pep rally. Our classes are even timed to allow for the last twenty minutes to specifically cater to the school spirit nightmare. It’s the same shit every Friday. They announce who we’re playing, the cheerleaders cheer some themed rival chant, the players flex and promise a win. I honestly don’t know what happens after that point because Sloane insists we bail and wait for the bus. It’s not like anyone notices or cares. We’re not important cogs in their prestigious machine. To them we’re more like the dust that clogs it.
Shortly after Dorothy meets the Tinman, the dismissal bells rings.
Everyone promptly stands and Nate announces, “Enjoy your weekend.”
There are a few polite “you toos”, but mainly everyone scrambles to get out of the room and to their friends they actually want to see in the halls.
The moment I’m out of my seat, he states, “Miss Jacobson. A word?”
Hearing him say my name with force and control causes my pussy to instantly clench in anticipation. “Of course.”
I approach his desk and make my way around so I’m directly blocking his view of the hallway.
He turns his chair to face me before he leans around my frame to say to the last student walking out, “Shut the door behind you, please.”
The door closes, and I hold in the desire to whimper.
Nate’s blue eyes zero in on me. Against his own volition they scan my outfit, soaking in the way it clings to my chest and dangles high on my thighs. His hands twitch from temptation to touch me. The simple action causes me to slightly spread my legs.
He shoves down a growl, though I hear the tail end of it. Nate braces an arm on the desk, allowing his hand to dangle off, and proceeds in a quiet, firm tone, “Miss Jacobson, I just want you to be aware that what happened between us last night was…” His mouth struggles to say the word mistake.
He shouldn’t be able to because he knows it wasn’t one. It was far from some momentary lapse of judgement. No. What happened between us was the beginning of something deep and beautiful.
“It was a onetime indiscretion. I would appreciate it if you kept it between us. My job here as a sub matters to me and if rumors got around that something happened between me and a student-”
“I won’t tell,” I promise and scoot closer, his hand now lightly touching the fabric of my dress.
Nate gradually nods. “Good. And I just want to be clear with you, it won’t happen again.”
I drop my hand on top of his. A sharp jolt of electricity shocks us both into lightly moaning. With a crooked smirk on my face, I state, “That’s where you’re wrong, Nate. It can and it will.” Before he can argue, I nudge his hand to check underneath the hem of my dress. His fingertip eagerly grazes my wet lips.
An animalistic groan is stifled in his throat.
“Whenever you’re ready…I’m all yours.”
The words are rewarded with a cracked jaw, a graze of my clit, and his free hand making an adjustment to his swollen cock.
Slowly, I back out of his touch, the disappointment on his face undeniable. Rather than say anything else, I wink, spin on my heels and exit, leaving him with a vivid reminder things between us are just getting started.
Classes for the day continue on as uneventful as usual. By the time I get to English Lit after lunch, Josh has annoyed his way into new territory. During class he spends the entire first half trying to talk to me, which results in Miss Jones, one of the only non-married teachers on campus, to threaten him with detention. We all know her threat is idle, but it helps shut him up and gives me the much needed space I have been craving.
In my last class of the day, The History of World Politics, the only one I have with my best friend, it doesn’t take long for me to notice how restless she is.
Sloane leans over my shoulder and quietly states, “We’re stopping by the vending machines before we go to pep prison. And not the ones on the way, but the ones down in the athletic hall where the good shit is. You know, the one by the concession stand closet.”
I frown and glance over my shoulder. “Really? That’s far.”
She rolls her brown eyes. “And? Do you really wanna make it to the cheer train before it leaves the station? You don’t think One Direction’s big brother isn’t going to be actively looking for you to sit with him?”
The reminder of Josh’s over the top need for my attention today slumps me further down in my chair. “Ugh. He’s like having popcorn stuck in your teeth.”
She giggles. “A pain in the ass?”
About the time I snicker back, Mr. Walsh clears his throat, eyebrows lifted our direction. “Am I interrupting something?”
We shake our heads in unison and Sloane plops back down into her chair.
He adjusts his tweed jacket and returns to explaining the differences between a democracy and a constitutional monarchy. His monotone voice resumes tempting my eyelids to shut. I lean over, rest my face in the palm of my hand, and allow my thoughts to drift back to Nate. His firm chest. Abs no one is probably expecting. The thickness of his long cock. How much it stings as it stretches me, but instantly satisfies with that first stoke. My legs drift together in an attempt to dull the ache. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take before he comes my way for seconds or thirds or a never ending buffet of the incredible sex, but when he does, and I know he will, I’ll be ready. Screw that. I’ll be more than ready. Pretty sure when it comes to Nate Greene my body is always ready.
The dismissal bell finally rings and we quickly make ourselves scarce from the classroom. Sloane loops her arm through mine and begins to spew the information she’s been holding all day to tell me, that was too juicy for texts and that she didn’t want Scott to hear. I listen to my best friend ramble about A.J., the only male she considers worth our time in school. Typically, she goes for college guys, claiming they have the better parties and are crushed less when you don’t call them the next week. I’m not exactly sure how A.J. became the exception to the rule or fascination of her fleeting attention span, but he did. Personally? I think his head’s too big for his body. It’s like being attracted to a lollipop with slightly better muscles.
“Now that he’s done with Amy…” Sloane smirks and hits the combination for a bag of Cheetos. I’m thinking of maybe crashing The Circle this weekend and showing him all those things his pretty little prude wouldn’t do.”
I snicker at her comment and lean against the wall beside the machine.
“Wish Scott didn’t hate him so fucking much,” her rambling continues as my eyes drift down the vacant hall. “It would make everything so much easier on me.”
A hum of understanding escapes seconds before Nate crosses into my vision. His eyes catch a glimpse of me, which causes him to do a double take. He ceases his movements and allows his stare to remain on me. The feeling of his eyes caressing the places his hands wish to, reignites the ache the memories caused earlier. With my eyes connected to his, I push my chest slightly forward, and tilt my head to the side, daring him to approach me. To taste me. To take me.
The obnoxious noise of chips being opened right next to me sounds faint in comparison to the thrumming in my chest.
Nate gives the back of his neck an uncomfortable rub before he motions his head to the side.
I try not to squeal at the implication. Cutting off Sloane mid A.J. rant, I say, “Hey, I’m gonna swing by the bathroom real quick.”
She sucks the cheese off her finger. “Want me to go with?”
“Nah. Go convince Scott to move away from where Josh can find us. Maybe the bottom back corner closest to the door so we can bail after Scott can’t take any more of your whining.”
“I don’t whine,” she scoffs.
“You so do.”
Sloane sticks her tongue out at me, bites her chip, and strolls off for the gym.
Thankful getting rid of her is easier than expected; I give my hair a small ruffle and round the corner to the hallway where Nate is waiting. I take my time approaching him. I drink in his tall, slender frame. Admire the way he holds himself as if he’s completely composed, yet is straining to keep still with every step I take. A smirk hits my lips. I do this to him. I make him straddle the line of gentleman and savage. I bring that out in him. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?
I stop my body in front of his.
He tilts his head with a hint of curiosity. “Shouldn’t you be headed to the pep rally, Miss Jacobson?”
“Shouldn’t you, Mr. Greene?”
The counter causes his straining jaw to twitch. “I’m faculty. It’s an option.”
Nodding, I casually take a step closer and inhale the sweet smell of his designer cologne. Unlike the guys who go to school here, he’s not bathed in whatever the latest Axe commercial influenced him to buy. It has a sweet yet spicy aroma. Gentle but distinct. Just like him it’s two opposite forces swirling for dominance. With my body now only inches from his, I glance up with an innocent façade just as the sound of the cheering begins. “Oh no…Guess this makes me tardy now.” I drop my hand to graze the outside of his suit covered hard on. I lower my voice and keep my touch light. “Wanna punish me for it, Teach?”
His teeth sink into his bottom lip, however it doesn’t stop the growl from escaping.
My hand cups his balls and he groans again. “A spanking might help…”
To my surprise, he doesn’t move. The lack of response is unsettling. Maybe I misread the situation? Maybe he’s not ready for another round yet. Maybe he brought me over here to try to explain to me again how he thinks this was just a onetime thing…
Finally, his eyes glance at the hallways around us. Once he’s satisfied it’s clear, he pulls out his staff security card, steps back to the concession stand closet door and swipes, granting us access. Without a word he indicates for me to slip inside. The moment I’ve crossed the threshold, he spins me around by my hips and covers my lips with his. There’s no time to think or tease as he shoves me against the closest shelf. My bag tumbles to the ground, bumping into a case of something, adding thrill to the naughty situation. Nate wraps one hand around the back of my neck while the other slides between my legs, straight for my pussy. His tongue entraps mine without remorse. Each time he delivers a heat filled press, he increases the speed, the pressure, the punishment, until my lungs are burning from the inability to grab a breath. Unlike last night, he doesn’t take his time to treasure me. He gives my pussy a rough rub, inspecting my wetness. Pleased at its soaked state, he turns me around and pushes down on my back. I grip the edges of the shelf while he yanks my dress up. At the feeling of my bare ass exposed for him, I whimper in anticipation. The sound spurs his actions to move faster. Glancing over my shoulder, I eagerly watch him unbuckle his belt, lower his zipper, and drop his pants just enough to release his stiff cock. Another whimper starts to escape but is cut off by a deep inhale as he sharply thrusts inside. A mutual melted moan echoes around the small closet.
Nate uses one hand to wind the chain of my necklace around his hand and yanks me back while the other gives my ass a strong hard pop. I struggle to gasp from the unexpected discomfort, although the chain tightening makes it damn near impossible. An unusual exhilaration from pain meeting pleasure causes my pussy to pulsate fiercely. He pulls on the chain in tandem with his pounding. Each momentary break allows for just enough air to keep me from passing out, but not enough to gain any sort of control. There’s no power for me here. This isn’t about sharing the responsibility of great sex. This is about dominating. Declaring that this is his territory to tear apart any time he decrees. The helplessness has my muscles weeping in agreement. His actions reach a new level of urgency, and my entire body trembles. My knees buckle. My eyes shut tightly, drifting into a euphoric state that has every nerve ending in my entire body on fire. He delivers another pop. And then another. My grip on the metal tightens to the point the bars are bruising my hands. The low whimpers grow into more as my pussy anxiously milks him, needing his cum to mesh with my own. All of a sudden, my orgasm hits with enough force to send a shriek out of my system.
Nate swiftly strengthens the hold on the necklace and commands, “Take it, baby. Take it all for me.”
The term of endearment releases another wave of wetness through my pussy, this time draining him in the process. Scorching stream after stream suffocates my screaming pussy while the two of us pant profusely. His grip on the jewelry disappears, but his hand gives my ass one, hard final grab. I drop my head forward and allow the bliss to blind all of my senses.
A random wave of screams from the gym breaks out and I smirk at the added reminder of how dirty this moment is. Just as I begin to gain my composure, Nate stirs behind me, cock still wedged deep inside. His hands swiftly run up the front of my body forcing my back to be flushed to his front. With mansuetude, his tongue laps the recently tortured flesh, instilling an unusual sense of security inside of me. I let out a sweet sigh.
Yes, there is a savage he keeps chained up, one that’s dying to rip and ravage everything in its path, but that same uncivilized creature, is desperate to nurture and nestle. To show affection. To receive approval. To be loved and appreciated for everything it is, not just specific aspects. And that’s exactly what I plan to do. The moment he lets me.