by Penny Wylder
I have anatomy in about fifteen minutes. Just enough time for him to strike. And sure enough, a hand curves around my waist when I’m looking in the other direction. “You still don’t manage to see me coming,” he says.
“You are surprisingly sneaky. But I don’t have a lot of time.”
“That’s okay, I don’t need much time.”
“What am I supposed to tell people when they ask me how long you last?”
Malcolm looks a little shocked, and then grins so wide he could be a second sun. “My little pet, are you flirting with me?” he whispers against my ear.
“Is that allowed?”
I can feel his lips smiling. “It’s encouraged. What were you going to order?”
“Peppermint tea.”
He grins and lowers his voice. “I’ve got you. You’re going to go to the bathroom and put this on.” He hands me a small bag. “It’s brand new, and it’s been cleaned.”
“What the fuck?”
I go to open the bag and he stops me. “Not here.”
“Malcolm, what’s going on?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Go to the bathroom and put it on. Now, Juno.”
The tone in his voice tells me that this is not negotiable. I swallow and take the bag and go to the bathroom, anxiety bubbling in my gut. I shut myself in the stall and open the bag, and my eyes go wide. Now I know why he didn’t want me to open it while we were waiting in line. This is a sex toy.
I’ve never done something like this before. I never had the money to buy one, and I didn’t exactly need one when my fingers worked just as well. This is small and curved, and the little book of instructions that come with it show me that it inserts inside me with a little arm that rests directly over my clit.
He wants me to put this on now? Oh fuck. Anxiety simmers in me, but at the same time I agreed to be his for the week, and if I walk out of here without putting this on he won’t be happy. We haven’t addressed what will happen if I disobey some of his orders, but I imagine that it will be some kind of punishment that’s fun for him, and frustrating for me.
The little toy feels strange inside me, and I take a minute to get it settled properly. Just like the instructions show, the little moveable arm rests directly on my clit with steady pressure. When it turns on, and I’m sure that it does, that’s going to be either amazing or excruciating.
Even though I know there’s no possible way it’s true, I feel like everyone knows when I walk out of the bathroom that I’m different. That I’m doing something naughty and a little scandalous. But that’s only me projecting, because not a single person is looking at me differently, and Malcolm is at the counter getting my cup of peppermint tea.
He grins when he hands it to me. “Well?”
I nod and take the tea from him, going to the little flavor station to add a touch of honey to the cup. “Feels a little weird.”
“Hopefully it will feel good.”
I look at him and check my phone. Time to get to class. “Is this going to embarrass me?”
He leans in and kisses me lightly. “You’re not allowed to be embarrassed.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t be.”
He just smiles. “I’ll see you after class.”
“That’s not comforting,” I call after him. And neither is the smirk that he gives me as he’s walking away.
I don’t have time to fully worry about it. I need to get to class right now. Anatomy is not a class that you can be late for, or be absent for. Thankfully, the building is close.
Walking with the toy inside me feels weird. And all I can do is think about it because it’s so present in my focus. But I try to ignore it. It’s not there. It’s not there. It’s not there.
By the time I sit down in my usual seat in class I’ve convinced myself to forget about it entirely. It’s much more comfortable sitting down, and I allow myself to dismiss it.
We’re still in the basics of the class, given that it’s week one. Cells and bones and the systems of the body. Today we’re doing an overview of the circulatory system. There’s a hand-out with fill in the blanks and I keep meticulous notes as we go through everything.
And then the vibrating starts. It’s halfway through the class and I’d been so focused on my notes that I’d forgotten all about the little thing in my pussy. The first vibration is almost nothing. Just a tiny buzz that suddenly reminds me that it’s there.
Oh, no.
And the power slowly builds. I placed that fucking thing too well. It’s slipped a little to the side of my clit as I crossed my legs—the more sensitive side—and now I can’t breathe. It’s right where I need it to be.
It’s a wave. Starting slowly and building higher until it’s properly teasing me until I want more and then dropping into nothing again.
I try to maintain my focus, keeping up with the fill in the blanks on the board. But the bastard isn’t done yet, because the position of the vibrator in my pussy turns on, and it’s the exact opposite pattern. When it’s weak on my clit it’s strong inside, a never-ending fluctuation of pleasure.
It keeps rising and rising and I’m gripping the edge of the desk I’m sitting in with white knuckles just trying to keep myself together. My handwriting is absolutely atrocious, but I get the rest of the terms down, thank fuck. Every minute for the rest of the class is exquisite agony. I don’t dare move a muscle for the fear that someone else in the class will figure out what’s going on, or that the movement will make it worse and I won’t be able to keep myself from coming in the middle of class.
The vibrations aren’t super intense, but they’re enough to get me there. Especially with the hypnotic rhythm that keeps teasing me over and over and over.
God, I can barely focus on what the professor is saying, but I manage to get the homework assignment down when the vibration stops. I’m going to kill him when I see him. Complete and utter murder. That’s all there is to it.
I wait until most everyone else has left, mostly because I’m not confident that there’s not a wet spot on the back of my jeans. My legs are shaking when I stand and manage to make my way out of the class. I’m pulling my phone out of my pocket to text Malcolm that he’s an absolute asshole when someone snags my arm and pulls me through a doorway.
In second I’m pressed up against the closed door, Malcolm’s body crowding behind mine. “Did it make you come?” he asks, voice a rough growl.
“You bastard,” I say.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I push against the door but he has me held hard, hot, and fast. “No, it didn’t. And it was torture.”
Malcolm’s mouth is on my neck, and he licks a line of fire across it. “Good, because if you had come without permission I would have had to punish you.”
“You don’t think the embarrassment of having an orgasm in front of my class wouldn’t have been enough?”
“No,” he says. “Pants.”
The vibration starts again, and I’m too close to argue with him, and too desperate to fully undress. He releases me enough for me to undo my belt and push my pants over my hips, and I hear him put on a condom while I do. And then he’s there taking the toy away so he can press in, filling me completely.
He’s so big and so much taller that his cock has me standing on my toes. Grabbing my hands, he holds them against the door along with me, and he fucks. This isn’t soft or slow by any measure, like it has been a couple of times. No, this is raw and brutal and exactly what I need and want.
Long, smooth strokes plunging upward, hitting that spot deep inside me that somehow sends fireworks swirling behind my eyes. He presses the toy against my clit, and I gasp. There’s no way that I’m not going over the edge. I can’t not. “I need to,” I say.
“You’d better,” he says as I fall into bliss. Even if he had said no, I would have taken the punishment. My whole body goes rigid in the explosion of climax, brilliant and blinding. It rushes through me in one brutal wave before retreating. Fuck, that w
as good, even if I wanted it to be longer.
But the aftermath is all pleasure too. Malcolm comes, the remaining strokes inside sending powerful ripples through my sensitive spaces. I sag in between him in the door, enjoying the feeling of him. He’s holding me tight after we’re both finished and breathing hard.
He slips out, turning me so that he can see me in the dim light of whatever empty room that he dragged us into. “It’s day six,” he says.
“I know.”
“Have you decided?”
I smile, still trying to catch my breath. “I thought we were going to check in after a week?”
“I don’t know if I can make it until tomorrow without knowing.”
“I could still make you wait,” I say, smirking. In this game we’re playing, he has most of the power. But I have it too during moments like this.
Reaching between us, Malcolm slips the toy back inside me, pressing the little arm firmly over my clit again. “Just for that, you’re going to wear that for the rest of the day,” he says. “And I still want an answer.”
“Are you going to torture an answer out of me?”
It’s his turn to smirk. “I could. You know I could.”
“What would that be like?”
We’re teasing each other now. It’s not about the answer that I’ll give him, it’s the creation of an idea.
“I would tie you to my bed again,” he says, “with nothing but this on that greedy little clit of yours. And then I would leave. And you would be there, while I teased you for hours and decided that you’d had enough.”
“Don’t you think the other guys would be suspicious of a girl screaming in your room while you weren’t home?” I ask.
“If you don’t think that they’ve noticed you,” he says, “you’re wrong. And I would be home. Just downstairs, listening to you scream. Or maybe I’d gag you with your wet panties so you would taste yourself.”
“That is really fucked up,” I laugh.
“And you still haven’t given me the answer that I want.”
I pause, stopping the flirting to actually think. There’s no reason I’ve seen so far to stop this. Maybe it’s just the crazy, heady emotions of experiencing something new and wanting more, but this week has been amazing. I don’t want to stop having Malcolm do all of this with me. There’s a simple peace and simplicity in it. Along with all the pleasure that he’s managed to give me.
Right now, I don’t see a valid reason why I should say no. And I don’t want to. “I want my own room,” I say.
His mouth crashes down on mine. “Done.”
“And even though being at your beck and call is nice, I want some time to see my friends. I’ve all but disappeared to them this week.”
He smirks. “Fair enough. But you’re still mine, little pet.”
I roll my eyes. “Still don’t love that nickname. I’m not an animal.”
“It’s appropriate.”
“How, exactly?”
With sure movements, Malcolm helps me lift up my pants, and he secures my belt, tighter than I would. It emphasizes the fact that his toy is still between my legs. “Do you come when I call you?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Do you obey?”
“Yes,” I say again, already seeing his point but still not loving it.
He fixes his own pants and locks eyes with me. “It’s not about being an animal. It’s about being thoroughly owned. And right now, you are. By me.”
“I just feel like…it’s strange.”
“You like it.”
I can’t deny that. “We’re like one of those couples in those movies about BDSM or something. Are you going to put me in a collar and whip me?”
His lips against my ear make me shiver. “I’ve already tied you to my bed. I could find you a collar. And don’t worry about it being strange. What works for us isn’t anyone else’s business.”
He moves me so he can open the door, and I blink as light pours in from the hallway outside. The real world that somehow we managed to block out and forget for a little while.
“I have to go to the library,” I say. “And study.”
“And I’m going to go make sure that you have a room by tomorrow,” he says, before lifting the tiny remote to the toy up and showing me. “Better sit somewhere alone.”
“Malcolm, I need to study.”
“And study you will. You’re not allowed to come, anyway.”
Anticipation floods my gut. I shouldn’t want this. No matter what he says, I shouldn’t enjoy these games and his bossy, dominant control. But I can’t keep the smile off my face as I walk away, and nearly stumble when the vibration starts. It’s going to be a long afternoon.
11
Malcolm
Jack isn’t going to be happy about what I’m about to do, but I don’t particularly care. But first, one detail I forgot to get squared away. I dial Juno’s number and she answers on the first ring.
“I’m not supposed to be on the phone in the library.”
“I’ll be fast,” I say. “Your stuff is still packed, right?”
“Yeah, I just put whatever I wasn’t using back in the boxes I had in the dorm. Bailey’s going to start bugging me to pick it up soon.”
“Collins 301? You don’t have to worry about it.”
I hear her surprise. “How did you know my room number.”
“I know everything,” I laugh. “No, I have special access through my dad. His secretary can’t say no to me.”
“Creeper,” she mutters.
“Only when it comes to you.”
I can tell she’s trying to keep her voice down as she giggles. “What are you going to do, grab my stuff?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ll text Bailey so that you don’t scare the shit out of her.”
I walk up the stairs to Granite House. “Too bad, that would have been too much fun.”
“Bye.”
I would bet a decent amount of money that there was an eye roll attached to that last word. As I walk inside, there are a couple of freshman guys who we accepted before the school year hanging out in the living room. George and Casey. They’re good guys. They like to party the way everyone else in Granite House does, but I’ve made it clear that school comes first.
That’s the thing that not everyone knows about Granite House. In fact, no one knows except for the people that live here. If grades aren’t above a three-point-zero, there are no parties. And that includes every person, every assignment, and every test.
You better believe that every person here works their ass off to keep the legacy alive and party hard. Everyone knows Granite House for the parties, but I think they would be surprised if they actually looked at the people who graduated and lived here. A lot of them are really successful.
When the fraternity status got revoked two years ago—my freshman year—I don’t think I’d ever seen my father so angry. He cares about the legacy he’s leaving behind, and this house is a huge piece of it. Basically he made me swear to turn it around. Hence the reason that I have the rules about grades and parties and only let the best of the best into the house.
“You guys busy?” I ask them.
“Nah,” George says. “Just taking a break, actually.”
“I need a favor from you guys. I’ll owe you one.”
Both of them jump to their feet at the same time. “Sure,” Casey says.
Having me owe them one isn’t nothing. “Take my truck, and go to Collins 301. Grab all the boxes, and anything belonging to Juno Dennard and bring it back. It’s all going in Jack’s room.”
The look surprised, but George takes the keys from me. “Okay. Does Jack know?”
I smile. “He will shortly.”
They wisely don’t ask questions and head out the door. It’ll be good to have all her stuff here in one place.
I’m playing with fire with Juno, honestly. My dad is going to be pissed about the vase. Frankly, more than he has any r
ight to be. It’s worth a lot of money, and it means a lot, but it’s just a piece of pottery, and legacy is about more than that. But having that break, and then choosing to move Juno in would all be things that he wouldn’t approve of. Especially if he had any kind of idea about the kind of relationship that she and I have.
I think about her questions from before. Are we strange? Maybe. I’m working on instinct here. Desires that I’ve always had and never had someone to perform them with. It was like when I saw Juno something knew that she would respond to this, and to me.
It’s true that I was pissed about the vase, and I was going to make her pay. But I’m not that cruel. Not really. I’d rather have her on her knees because she wants to be there. Telling Juno what to do feels good. Having her obey feels good too. But not because I want to crush her or beat her down, but because it feels like it’s meant to be that way.
Fuck.
Even in my head that barely makes sense.
All I know is that what’s between Juno and me seems right, and it’s becoming more important to me than I had anticipated after only a week. If she had said no to moving in, I would have been devastated. I want her here with me for the time being so we can explore what this is.
Honestly, I like having her close by, but she needs her own space. And I know the exact space that she needs to have.
I knock on the door across from my room, hearing loud music from behind it. Jack answers after a second. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Need to talk to you for a second,” I say, stepping into the threshold.
“Sure.” He cuts the music.
I don’t beat around the bush. “I need you to move downstairs with Evan.”
The room on the second floor that Evan occupies is the biggest in the whole house, and can easily fit two people in it. Right now, he’s in there by himself. There’s already an extra bed in there that’s not being used.
Jack looks at me. “I’m sorry?”
I laugh. “Do you need me to say it again?”
“Why, exactly?” He looks pissed.
“Because Juno is moving in,” I tell him. “And she can’t room with someone else because of how that would look. You can, so move downstairs. Even sharing you’ll have more room.”
