NATE
“Fucked.” I resume pacing back and forth in Holden’s kitchen. “Fucked! Fucked! Fucked!”
He leans his tattooed arms on the counter of his island. “Good thing my kids aren’t home.”
“Fucked….” I drag out the word before finally stopping directly across from him. “I’m fucked, bro.”
“Got that much.”
With a long exhale, I run my fingers through my hair, and blurt out, “I fucked a student.”
Holden’s eyebrows lift.
“Twice.”
He begins a slow nod, keeping any indication of his opinion on the matter completely under wraps.
Okay, fucking her wouldn’t have been so bad if it was just the one time like I’d intended. And that was all I had planned. I spent the entire night and following morning repeatedly telling myself that this shit wouldn’t happen again. That it couldn’t. Then I made the mistake of trying to tell her this to her face and lost my shit. I don’t know what it is about her but I can’t tell her no. I don’t want to tell her no. I wanna tell her yes then make her scream yes until she’s begging me for more….Fuck. This. Is. A. Problem. The only thing that makes this shit worse is I know it’s wrong, but that’s the absolute last thing it feels like when we’re together. Like I said before. Fucked.
Holden silently backs up towards his stainless steel fridge, grabs two beers from the door, and offers me one.
Once it’s in my hand, I twist the lid off and chug down a portion of my frustration.
He patiently waits until I look back his direction before asking, “Are you telling me because she’s underage and you think ‘cause Pax is a lawyer he has some legal obligation to tell the authorities? ‘Cause bro try to remember what I do for the government before you go throwing out a shit ton of details.”
His point doesn’t go missed. Paxton may be an attorney, but he’s one who doesn’t check his moral compass very often outside the courtroom. Holden on the other hand, his entire job is centered around breaking laws to benefit the greater good of humanity and protect the world from predators. Which I am not. We are both consenting adults. Consenting adults with an 11 year age gap.
I quickly shake my head. “She’s completely legal.”
Nonchalantly he questions, “So, what’s the problem?”
“She’s my student.” I pause as images of her screaming, shaking, and sighing trample back into my mind. “My sexy as fuck, dirty as hell, just on the other side of legal, student.”
“You’re her substitute. It’s not like you’re gonna be there longer than a couple of weeks. This shit shouldn’t matter.”
I lean my back against the counter behind me. “Actually, I’m there for the rest of the semester. The teacher I’m replacing had to deal with some family shit up north. Dying…brother or brother in law? I don’t remember. The Headmaster didn’t seem too fucking concerned with giving me any more information.”
Holden has a sip and returns to his leaning position. “You really need to give up this sub shit.”
My face tilts to the side. “I wanna teach professionally.”
“No you fucking don’t,” he grunts on a half laugh. “You’re just too much of a pussy to let your past go and move on with your life.”
I roll my eyes. “Can we stay on topic?”
“You mean the one about you doing something out of your little circle of caution?”
Annoyed, I bite, “I’m not that cautious.”
“You are and it makes you fucking boring to be around.”
“I’m not fucking boring.”
“Bro, you’ve become so boring the encyclopedia wouldn’t read you.”
I glower.
“Bro, you’ve become so boring since the incident, that if someone were to google search you, they’d throw in pictures of naked chicks on giraffes just so the person scrolling could be led to somewhere less likely to put them to sleep.”
Shaking my head, I have another sip.
The incident, as we call it, is something we don’t talk about any more. Truth is we all have an incident that fucked up our lives as we knew them. We all have one and we’ve all gone to lengths to protect each other over them.
I’ve got three bros. Holden, the hacker, Paxton or Pax, the suit, and Wyatt, the chef. Obviously, we aren’t blood related, but the bond we have runs deeper than that shit. There’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do for them, just like I know there’s isn’t a damn thing they wouldn’t do for me, legal or illegal. That fact has been proven more than once in our friendship, which has lasted over a decade. Before the four of us grew the fuck up and became the adults none of us wanted to be, we were just college kids from four walks of life looking for the same shit. Brotherhood. We all rushed the same frat at the same time. After a couple days of asinine requests along with some obnoxious pranks, we joked about quitting and starting something ourselves. I was the one who pushed it from an idea into action. The truth was, I didn’t want to be a part of some old fucking tradition with a bunch of assholes who would only be there when it was time to boost my career or go away for a weekend to cheat on our wives. I only pledged to shut up my father. The decision to do our thing, make up our own rules, call our own shots, and decide who got to stay and who got leave was invigorating. As college freshman, you already bend over and kiss enough ass. You don’t get to start at the top, but it’s a helluva time to build your own way there. We quit pledging and started planning. It started off as agreements for parties every other weekend and led to us being legendary.
“Look, I’m not saying you don’t have a reason to be…somewhat…careful,” Holden struggles to explain. “But it’s okay to live a little, Nate. Do some shit that makes you happy. Fuck a hot chick. Stay out past eleven o’clock. Watch porn in the middle of the afternoon. You don’t have to be the crazy fucker you were in college, but you damn sure don’t have to be Grumpy Old Men before you hit fucking thirty.”
Another deep sigh escapes. “I can’t keep fucking her, Holden. I’ll lose my job. I need my job.”
He gives his scruff covered face a rub. “You could always man up. Start looking for shit in the field you’re actually interested in. I know you got Fern’s invitation to her screening tomorrow night. Why not try to get back out into the industry? Why not-”
“No.” I cut him off and place my bottle down. “I’m gonna teach. There’s a professor’s assistant job opening up next fall at Ashwin and if I make good at Ollander, I’m a fucking shoo-in for it.”
Being in the film industry isn’t my place any more. I fucked up that chance. Might as well become the old trite saying.
Holden tries to refrain from rolling his green eyes. “Then stop fucking her. It’s not like you’re in a relationship. You’ve only screwed her twice.”
My head nods at his point.
“But if you ask me, which I assume is why you’re here, I say, quit the job and keep sleeping with her.”
Part of me agrees and that’s an entirely different problem. Over the years, after the incident, I became the cautious, logical one who thought ahead longer than the week, who considered the consequences of each decision for acting or letting the others act. But being around Ainsley makes me reckless. Makes me fucking forget about what may happen in a month or the next seven. She lets me enjoy the moment. Live there. Breathe there. It’s something I shouldn’t fucking want, something I know is insanely dangerous, yet I can’t help going back for more. I expected Holden to give me the reasonable command I can’t give myself. Instead he’s given me the option I desperately want to take.
“But because your panties are in a twist and your balls are still in a fragile state, I’ll tell you what you want to hear. Stop banging your student. Just tell her it was a onetime thing….even though you fucked her twice.”
“Last time I tried that she showed me she wasn’t wearing anything on under her dress,” I growl and have another gulp of beer.
Holden stands up straight and folds his arms across his chest. “Is that when you fucked her the second time?”
I shake my head. “Few hours later during the pep rally, in the concession stand closet.”
He erupts into laughter.
“It’s not fucking funny, Holden! I could lose my job!”
His laughter expands until he’s doubled over.
We may be bros, but fuck, I wanna punch him in his fucking face.
As he catches his breath, he manages to state, “Yeah, you’re fucked.”
“Not helping.”
“You couldn’t make it through the entire goddamn day without fucking her…”
I widen my eyes in irritation of the truth and toss back another sip.
When Holden’s finally gained his composure, he rests his hands on the counter, and sighs, “Seriously? You couldn’t resist fucking her on campus? What happened? Did she lift up her cheer skirt and spell out fuck me with her pom-poms or some shit?”
“She’s not a cheerleader.”
“Dancer?”
“Film lover.”
“Ah. Kindred spirits,” he mocks.
Shaking my head, I point a finger at him. “Don’t give me that hippie shit. I hated it when Beth would when we were in college. Hate it even more now.”
The mention of his deceased wife hardens his face. He shifts uncomfortably in place. Holden tries to push past the rising sadness that instantly surrounds his mood whenever her name is mentioned. “She tried to find the meaning in a situation, bro. Nothing wrong with that.”
Now feeling like an asshole, I place my beer on the counter, and shove my hands in my suit pants pockets. “I know. I…I…That came out wrong.”
“Look,” he clears his throat, “your situation isn’t ideal, but it’s not the end of the goddamn world, Nate. Put a stop to it and save the career you’ve convinced yourself to care about or look at this as an opportunity to enjoy your existence again. To stop walking around in the fog you don’t seem to notice. Connect with someone who is interested in the same shit as you and makes you feel alive. And before you go off on some tangent insisting she doesn’t do those things and it’s just really good sex you don’t know how to say no to, let me just put it in perspective for you. This, this babbling, argumentative, jackass you’re being is the bro we all miss. You look confused as fuck, but happy. And when you find someone who makes you happy, who makes life better for you, you shouldn’t ignore it. You should fucking embrace that person with open arms and give her a thank you for coming finger fuck.”
His poorly worded heartfelt speech gets the point across. The urge to agree with him wedges itself in my throat, but I don’t allow the words to be released. In one aspect he’s completely right. This is the most alive I’ve felt in years. This is the most sex I’ve had in months. I don’t know if she makes life better at this point so much as complicated, but being around her does make me happy. We haven’t done much talking in private, but when she speaks in class there’s an undeniable connection exchanged. Our similar views on a shared passion have resulted in an endless longing to be back in the field I regret leaving behind.
An unexpected ding echoes throughout his home.
Instantly, I ask, “You working?”
He grins crookedly. “Come on, Nate. I’m always working…The computer dings and it’s like someone’s turned the fucking bat signal on.”
I lightly laugh and have another swig of my beer.
“Need to turn that shit off before the kids get home.”
“How’s the new nanny working out?”
Holden rolls his eyes. “Not sure how much longer she’ll last.”
“You go through nannies like Pax does ties.”
He shrugs. “Fuck me for being picky about the women I want helping raise my kids.”
It’s hard not to be understanding about his situation. Single father. Two kids. Widowed. No other family than the three of us? I don’t blame him for wanting the best for the kids, but I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach, he’s never going to find it because as far as he’s concerned, Beth was the best and no one will ever measure up.
The computer dings again and I put the empty bottle on the counter. “I should probably go. Gotham needs you.”
He smugly smirks. “It always does…”
After leaving Holden’s, I decide to stall my return home further. While stopping by his place was a necessity, swinging by the grocery store to stock up on a few items could wait. I take my time during the shopping trip. I walk each and every aisle to kill as much time as I can. The minute I step through my front door I know exactly where my mind is going to go. I know exactly what it’s going to expect me to do. Fucked up thing is, had I not had another taste of her, I might’ve been strong enough to continue denying her as a viable option. But now that I have? The best I can hope for is reciting a well-rehearsed speech about this not happening a third time. Almost like the one I tried earlier, but with better conviction.
By the time I arrive at my apartment, I’ve gotten the exact words memorized. As I put everything away in my small kitchen, I state them out loud to reassure myself they’re perfect. This is ridiculous. There’s no reason ending things with Ainsley should be this difficult. We aren’t dating. We haven’t even been on a date. It’s just sex. Stopping it from happening again should be simple. If she were any other woman I wouldn’t hesitate. Hell, I probably just wouldn’t answer her calls, but up until this afternoon I didn’t have her number. She had taken mine from the syllabus I handed out when I took over Garrison’s job, but she’d never used it. Part of me is relieved about that. If she would’ve used it sooner, then this would’ve happened long before last night. The fact last night even happened still feels like a fucked up fantasy I concocted. The Silver Tap Pub where she works is only a couple blocks over from my apartment. I’ve passed it numerous times, but never had any reason to go in. Like Holden said, I’m usually home before eleven, and to be frank that place is usually filled with college students still in the prime of their lives. I don’t really need any more reminders that I’m not. You know, I blame Pax for this. He fucking begged me to go out. Whined about his need for a wing man until caving just slipped out of me to shut him up. He left long before I did, but neither of us went home alone. I doubt he ended up sleeping with someone he shouldn’t have.
I flop down on my long brown leather couch and prop my feet up on the wooden coffee table. My eyes give the small one bedroom apartment I’ve lived in for the last few years a good look. Yeah, the walls are the basic off white color it came with, home to only a couple photos from us in college and one of my parents, and yeah, the furniture is neutral colors, but that doesn’t make me boring. That makes me sensible. I don’t have a kitchen table because the bar works just fine and allows more space for the living room as well as my home office. I don’t have more than this couch for sitting because I don’t need more. It’s a decent size. Slightly curved. I don’t have parties like I used too or women constantly crashing over to avoid returning to responsibilities, any more. There’s no real point in extra space for people who don’t exist in my life. And my flat screen TV is big enough to fit into the nook on the built in bookshelf without having to buy an additional stand or find a different wall to hang it on. Having a bunch of extravagant shit I don’t need, even if I can fucking afford it, doesn’t make me dull. It makes me…practical. In the long run being practical pays off.
A heavy, annoyed sigh leaves me.
Fuck. Holden’s right. I am a grumpy old man before I’m thirty.
My phone buzzes beside me stealing my attention.
I swipe to check the message.
Father: We need to reschedule our dinner Nathaniel. Find the time.
With a grunt, I toss the phone back where it was.
He’s suggests very little and asks for even less. Guess it’s the benefit of being a Supreme Court Judge. You’re just entitled to rule your family the same way you rule the courtroom. Cold. Callous. Calculated. How far am I from turning into that? How far away is meticulous, overly cautious, and abstemious?
The idea of becoming more like him than I already am, pushes me to grab my phone, and send a message to Ainsley.
Me: You alright?
Rather than stare at it aimlessly until she replies, I put the phone down beside me and grab the remote. I scan through the series on Netflix I’ve been watching and try to ignore the twisted nerves in the pit of my stomach. After deciding to resume watching House, MD, I attempt to actually relax for the first time since I’ve been home. It’s useless. I know it’s useless, but I have to at least try. I can’t just sit around staring at my cell waiting to get a text back from the chick I’m banging or…banged. I’m fucking twenty nine not fifteen. This shouldn’t be the only thing on my goddamn mind.
Time passes painstakingly slow. An entire episode finishes without a returned message. I ignore the doubt beginning to build. Maybe she lied. Maybe all the shit she said and did was just part of a game she was playing to make the sex hotter.
The opening credits for the next episode begin at the same time my phone vibrates.
Without hesitation, I grab it, swipe it open, and view the message.
Ainsley: Bruised but I’m not complaining.
My cock twitches as does my face in an attempt to smile.
I bruised her? That shouldn’t fucking please me. It shouldn’t make me feel relieved to know I marked her and she enjoyed it. It shouldn’t swell my chest with pride for everyone to be able to see my lack of restraint when it comes to her. Yet it does.
The phone vibrates again.
Ainsley: Wanna see?
My fingers can’t hit the keys fast enough.
Me: Absolutely.
All of a sudden, the video conference option on my phone begins to flash.
Fuck. I was just expecting a photo. Quickly, I scramble to pause the show, loosen my tie to give the illusion I’m relaxed, and try to casually answer the call.
I can still do this. I can still end whatever has happened between us. I just need to see the mark first. Maybe that can be my segue.
Ainsley’s beautiful face appears on the screen. She instantly offers me a warm smile. The greeting while innocent, eradicates not only the lingering trepidation, but my original intention of ending everything. “Hey Teach…”
“Hey,” I nervously state back. “Surprised you um…you wanted to chat. Figured you’d be out or something.”
She leans back against the wall from where she’s sitting on what I assume is her bed. Behind her I can see the corner of a movie poster, though I can’t make out which, and to the side the edge of a window. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask me out, so where would I go?”
Her retort makes me smirk. Guess the flirting I witnessed this morning was just one sided. Needless to say, I spent most of the day silently fuming over the asshole for touching her. It doesn’t matter it was just her hand. What matters is the only man who should be touching her, fucking her, dating her….is me. Shit. No. I can’t be this possessive. It’s wrong. Illogical. Fuck. How does she keep doing this to me?
“Friends?” I try to push past my selfish thoughts. “Out with friends?”
Ainsley smiles again and for a moment the entire world stops. “I’ve got two friends, Nate.”
Even the way my name sounds coming off her lips in a casual conversation is perfect.
“Sloane who is definitely a fan of trouble, she prefers the college variety, which is why she hangs out where I work during my shift, and Scott-”
His name grabs an unfamiliar sound from the back of my throat.
She expands her smile triumphantly, “Who is in love with Sloane.”
I give the back of my neck a harsh squeeze in an attempt to calm down. I gotta get a grip. Just hearing her say some other guy’s name shouldn’t piss me off. It shouldn’t make me….wanna mark her again for an extra good measure. I’m not a fucking caveman. I shouldn’t wanna throw her over my shoulder, take her back to my cave, and then stab any other male who even attempts to look at her. Not. Rational.
“Not a big partier, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ainsley makes an effort to soothe my silent worries. “More of an old movies and frozen pizza kinda person.”
Helplessly, I smile. “Me too.”
Momentary muteness settles between us. We allow one another to soak in the situation. The date from a distance this almost appears to be. I give her tank top covered chest a glance and my mind immediately wanders to what I can’t see in the shot.
“Here’s the first one,” she suddenly announces, pulling her thick wavy hair to one side of her face to showcase the mark. Ainsley angles the camera and leans it in closer to show me the faint indention of where the chain choked her.
An immediate combination of guilt and gratification grind against one another in my veins. “Did I hurt you?”
Her tilted face moves back into the frame. “Yes.”
My mouth cracks open as shame seeps down my throat.
“But I liked it…” She bites her bottom lip and wiggles her eyebrows.
The twisted response causes me to growl at the same time my dick nudges against the zipper of my pants.
“Ready to see the bruise?”
“That’s not it?”
Ainsley shakes her head slowly while moving the camera around. Once it’s settled where she wants, she backs up until I have a complete view of her body. The sight of her curvy figure baring a black tank top, braless, and a matching pair of hip hugging polka dot panties, makes my mouth water. She takes her time turning around more than aware of the effect she has on me. With her back towards me and her perfectly sculpted ass pointed at the camera, she tugs the underwear to the side to reveal five dark dots on her right ass cheek.
The impression of my fingers left on her flawless flesh swells my cock to the point of pain.
She leaves the area exposed and glances over her shoulder at me. “I can’t sit down without thinking about you…”
My free hand drifts to the strained appendage.
“Without getting wet…”
A growl wedges itself once more in my throat.
“Without wanting you inside me again…”
Any restraint I had, any sense of moral responsibility, is completely wrecked. The only thing that matters now is hearing her scream my name the way she couldn’t earlier.
“On the bed,” I command while springing my cock free.
Ainsley sexily slinks to the destination after turning the phone to allow her to remain hands free for the pending process. She braces her back against the side wall of her bed and patiently waits for further instructions.
The idea of someone else, anyone else, witnessing her withering body forces me to state, “Tell me you’re alone.”
She lets her bent legs drift apart. “Completely.”
I swallow my groan as I grip my cock firmly in my hands. “Show me how you touch yourself at night when you’re thinking of me…”
There’s a hint of mirth in her tone. “How do you know I’ve been thinking of you?”
“Because you better not be thinking of anyone else.” The possessiveness in my tone startles me yet excites her.
Ainsley sweetly swears, “I haven’t been…Not for months.”
I smirk proudly again. Months? She hasn’t been able to get me off her mind for months? After a small beat I realize, she’s been drifting through my mind the exact same amount of time. Ever since I stepped in the first time for Garrison back in September when all he had was a doctor’s appointment. The second she strolled by I felt something. Something I’ve been trying to deny ever since. Something I wanted to leave forgotten in the past for fear of it fucking up my future. Something I no longer want, but need in my life. Need to simply…exist.
Her body slides down onto its back and she slowly begins to remove her bottoms, face now completely out of sight. The moment her bare pussy is exposed, my cock pulsates against my palm, demanding my attention. I give it the strong stroke it desires, making sure to squeeze every inch from root to tip.
Ainsley’s delicate hand slides past the outside of her slick lips and lets her middle finger dip into the wet depths. Instantly, a long, loud moan of relief reverberates around her room and directly into me. I repeat my previous action not wanting to give my cock too much consideration. Not yet. Not until she’s closer to coming. Her fingers begin to rhythmically pump, keeping her palm flat enough to brush against her clit. Each gentle graze of the sensitive nub causes her to arch slightly upward in tantalizing impetuosity. Effortlessly, my hand mimics the motions, replacing her fingers with my dick every time she thrusts. Ainsley keeps the pace of the pushing even, despite her body eagerly shuddering for more.
Her soft symphony of moans turns into dire invocations of my name, “Nate….Oh God, Nate…”
I groan at the sound and strain my eyes to keep watching. Heedlessly, I increase the speed of my jerking, the greed to come almost as strong as the greed to wait for her final moment. Ainsley’s actions escalate in haste. Her small hand is now feverishly rubbing her clit as her finger forcefully plunges again and again into her tight, swollen pussy.
“Nate….” She whimpers and my balls clench in response. “Come with me…”
There’s no hesitation in fulfilling her request. My cock stiffens and cum surges out, searing my hand like it’s fallen onto a hot stove. I grumble, shaking uncontrollably from the release at the same time I anxiously watch Ainsley explode. Her breathing becomes labored. Her free hand winds around the sheets. Her mocha frame is so tremulous I fear the bed might break. The sound of my name still endlessly slipping from her lips sends aftershocks through my system, tempting my still thrumming cock to come again.
For several moments neither of us says a word. I attempt to settle my breath and clear my head from the impeccable sex haze she always seems to create. When the heater kicks on and the air brushes my sensitive tip, I finally bring myself back to reality. My eyes glance down at the cum spread on my dress pants and the remote. Shit. This is gonna be a bitch to clean up.
Before I can question whether or not it was worth it, Ainsley’s satisfied sweet face, sits up and allows me to soak it in.
Of course she’s worth. She’s worth anything…
I try not to groan in disapproval of that thought and lean over to grab a tissue with my dirty hand. As I attempt to clean the mess, I state, “Next time you come it better be my on my cock. Understood?”
She giggles, picks up the phone, and agrees. “Yes sir.”
Once I’ve finished wiping my fingers, I ask, “Do you have plans tomorrow night?”
Ainsley promptly shakes her head.
“An old friend of mine is screening her film at a theater near Clover Rose University.” Apprehension rises in my throat and I do my best to shove it back down. “Do you wanna go? Maybe grab dinner afterwards?”
Her entire face fills with surprise. “I’d love to.”
I smile. “It’s at seven, so we need to leave here around 5:45. Get through traffic and all the kiss ass formalities before the showing. Should I…pick you up?” The risk of us being seen by someone who shouldn’t lands on my shoulders. Maybe we should just stick to sex. Something that we can enjoy without possibly being caught, well, if I don’t fuck her in the school again…
“How about I meet you at your place?”
The suggestion instantly relieves the tension. I simply nod.
“Formal?”
“Casual.”
Ainsley gives me another sweet smile. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
With another nod, I absentmindedly confess, “I’m looking forward to it.”
She gives her wild hair a ruffle and the brightness in her expression increases exceptionally.
This is the first time we’ve had a conversation outside of the classroom. Outside of sex. No wonder she looked as shocked as she did when I asked her out. I’ve done everything backwards with her. The natural logic I’ve come to rely on doesn’t seem to fit for us. It doesn’t even seem to belong in the same category. Nothing about this situation makes sense, yet trying to stop it from happening makes even less. I don’t remember the last time I felt like this…Hell I don’t remember the last time I genuinely felt anything. Feelings fuck with a person’s ability to make rational decisions. Clearly. I just hope I can figure out what the hell we’re doing before we fall too deep into something that buries us both alive.