Ivy Series Teacher Student Romance - Boxed Set: Romance Boxed Sets for Kindle Unlimited (Ivy Series - Teacher Student Romance Book 7)

by Suzy K Quinn

  Marc puts his hand between my legs and rubs back and forth, then lets his fingers slip inside me and out again.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ I whisper. ‘Please. I can’t bear it.’

  ‘Open your legs,’ he whispers, standing back and sliding the cane between my thighs.

  ‘But the class are outside,’ I whisper back.

  ‘Do as you’re told.’

  I move my feet apart.

  ‘Now bend over the desk.’

  Oh god. His words are making me crazy. I bend forwards, my wrists pulling against the ropes.

  He slides the cane inside me and moves it back and forth.

  Oh no. I can’t make a sound. This is torture.

  Then he puts the cane on the desk with a clatter and walks out of the room, banging the door closed behind him.

  I hear Marc talking to the class, and feel my body ache for him. I hear the zip of the projection unit, and then the drone of a movie being played.

  The cupboard door opens again, and Marc slams it closed and strides towards me.

  He rubs my buttocks again with the flat of his palm.

  Oh that feels so good.

  I see a smile playing on his lips. ‘Do you want me to fuck you now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Spread your legs again.’

  I do, and gasp as I feel him against me, hardness against my buttocks.

  He slides two fingers inside, and I want to cry out with the pleasure of it, but I can’t and it’s agony.

  With his hand, he rocks me silently back and forth, and it’s so hard not to make a sound. Again and again, he rocks me back and forth, but then suddenly he withdraws.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ I beg. ‘Please don’t stop.’

  I hear him breathing heavily. He paces around for a few seconds, then walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  Now I see what he means about punishment. Having him turn me on like this, but not being able to have him, is utter torture. And I can’t leave until the class finishes.

  I hear Marc’s low voice talking to the class, and I can’t bear it. I almost pull the rope to set myself free, but where would I go?

  I stand and wait, thinking Marc has amazing self control, being able to turn himself on and off like that – enough to walk outside and take a class. And he’s the most amazing actor I’ve ever seen. I mean, he just becomes the roles.

  I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and suddenly it strikes me as unfair that I have to fall so badly for someone like Marc. But maybe that’s exactly why I’ve fallen so hard. Because Marc isn’t like the other people I’ve dated. He’s totally in charge. Maybe he’s what I need.

  After an agonising wait, I finally hear the clatter of feet on the floor, conversation and papers shuffled and stuffed into bags. I bet Tom and Tanya are wondering where I am. They’d never guess in a million years that I’m a door away, my buttocks exposed, tied to a shelf and waiting for the teacher to come and fuck me.

  Hurry up and leave, I think. God this is torture.

  When silence falls, I hear the creak of the door handle and turn to see Marc.

  ‘Light and dark.’ He picks up the cane, and bends it between his fingertips. ‘I’m going to fuck you now and I want absolute silence, or I’ll stop. Do you understand?’

  ‘What? Honestly, Marc – I’m not sure I can.’

  ‘Put this in your mouth.’ He holds the cane length ways in front of my mouth. ‘Do as you’re told. Open your mouth.’

  I do, and he puts the cane between my teeth.

  ‘Now bite down. Open your legs.’

  He doesn’t wait for me to move my feet this time, he just forces my legs apart with his hands and pushes himself between my thighs. ‘Oh God, do you know how hard it is to be controlled around you?’

  I feel hardness pushing against me and I want to moan, but I bite the cane instead.

  ‘Knowing you were in here, ready and waiting for me. I nearly ripped open the door and fucked you with everyone listening,’ says Marc. ‘I thought I could control myself, but it’s dangerous with you.’

  He pushes himself a little inside me.

  Oh god. It feels so good.

  I want to moan. I want to cry out. But I can’t.

  His hand slides around the front of me as he pushes himself further and further.

  He’s so big that everything feels tight, full. He inches in further, and I’m almost too full, but it feels good too. He keeps me just on the threshold of pain. Bearable.

  The further he gets inside, the more difficult it is to stay silent. I notice his hand rubbing too, and warmth builds.

  I bite into the cane.

  When he begins to move back and forth, pushing himself further inside with every stroke, I know I’m leaving teeth marks on the wood.

  Oh. Oh.

  Back and forth he moves, further and further inside. I feel him almost in my stomach at times, but the fullness is unbelievably good. His rhythm gets faster, and I feel his hard breathing on my neck.

  I move forwards to stop him going in too far and causing me pain, but he responds by grabbing my buttocks and pulling himself completely inside of me.

  Pleasure and pain mix together and I feel an orgasm overtake me.

  Marc pulls me too him, completely filling me up.

  I fall into the ropes, breathing hard, feeling pleasure all over.

  Marc pulls out, takes me carefully in his arms and unties the ropes, then helps me into my clothing.

  I glance down and see he’s wearing a green condom that seems stretched to bursting point.

  Wow. That thing was inside of me? Amazing. I’d never have thought it could fit.

  Then something else occurs to me.

  ‘Didn’t you come?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Why not?’ Didn’t you want to? Was I too disappointing?

  ‘I’m already losing too much control around you. If I were to come … who knows where this would end. I’m barely holding it together as it is.’

  ‘What’s so bad about you losing control?’

  ‘Everything.’ He runs a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t you get it, Sophia? I’m dangerous.’

  I think he must see the hurt in my eyes, because he says softly, ‘This should be about your pleasure. Not mine. I’ll take my own later.’

  ‘How?’ I ask, thinking about the woman he spoke of in the hospital. ‘With another woman?’ I cringe as I say the words.

  Another woman. It’s not like you’re his girlfriend ...

  Marc smiles. ‘Would it bother you if it was?’

  ‘Yes.’ I look at my fingernails. They’ve always been bitten, but they’re so much worse since this weekend. I realise how stupid I’m being. I’ve been swept along by this man, but everything is on his terms. ‘Yes. It bothers me. And it bothers me you didn’t come.’

  ‘Why?’ Marc asks.

  ‘I suppose it’s the control thing. You can control me. How I’m feeling. But you’re not allowing me to have an effect on you.’

  ‘Oh believe me,’ says Marc, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it on the desk. ‘You’re having an effect on me.’

  ‘But you’re not letting me in,’ I say. ‘You’re not letting me close to you.’

  Marc stares at the plays lined up along the shelves. ‘I’ve let you closer than anyone has ever been.’

  Chapter 41

  ‘Really?’ I ask.

  Marc nods. He looks at his knuckles, and I see they’re criss-crossed with scars. I guess he must have got them from the boxing movies he starred in. Just like his martial arts, I heard Marc did serious boxing training for his movies, and even fought a few competitive fights off set.

  ‘It doesn’t feel like you’re letting me close at all.’

  ‘I am. For me I am.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Everyone else, I’ve just had fun with, in my own fucked up way. But with you ... it’s something more. That first time I
saw you perform ... bringing light to a character that was so dark. That night, I couldn’t sleep. It was like you’d got inside me.’

  ‘Got inside you?’

  ‘Like pneumonia.’

  ‘Pneumonia?’

  Marc nods. ‘When I was ten, I caught pneumonia. My father wouldn’t let me tell anyone I had it, because it would have meant not acting, and I needed to earn money for him and my sister. So for a week, I worked on this movie about a runaway kid in London. But I was delirious half the time.

  ‘Coughing up blood, not able to focus. I couldn’t for the life of me remember the script, and I always remember the script. It was like something had gotten into my brain and shut it down, and all I was left with were feelings. And you know what? I gave the performance of my life. People still talk about that movie.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m saying that you’ve got inside me, and I’m not myself. I can’t concentrate.’

  ‘Thanks for the pneumonia analogy.’

  Marc smiles. ‘You’ve got closer to me than anyone. Your pleasure is so much more important to me than my own.’

  I breathe out, wishing I had the courage to ask him again about other women. But something inside tells me I won’t like the answer.

  Marc puts his hands on either side of my face, and brings me closer. Our eyes meet, and my stomach flips over. I can’t breathe. I see his long, handsome nose and the points of his red lips, and I know he’s taking in every aspect of my face too. This man – this handsome Hollywood star – says I’ve got inside of him.

  ‘I want you to do things to you I’ve never done before,’ he whispers. ‘And to have you try things you’d never dream of.’

  I stare at him. ‘You think I’ve dreamed of being tied up in a stationery cupboard?’

  He nods. ‘If you’d used your imagination, I’m sure you could have dreamed it up, in the right circumstances. Some nice student boyfriend. A few drinks. He finds a bit of rope and wants to play around.’

  ‘So what wouldn’t I dream of doing?’

  ‘That’s what I’d like to find out,’ says Marc. ‘But not on campus.’

  ‘Where?’ I ask.

  ‘My townhouse. Tonight. We’ll have dinner. And we’ll get to know each other a lot better.’

  And here I was thinking we knew each other pretty well.

  ‘Your town house? Are you sure?’ Going to his home for dinner – it sounds almost too normal.

  Marc nods. ‘There are no lectures tomorrow. It’s a study day. So you’ll have plenty of time to recover.’

  ‘What time tonight?’ I ask, knowing I sound breathless. ‘And – how am I going to get there without anyone seeing me. The press ...’

  Marc checks his watch. ‘I’ll let you know. In the meantime, don’t study too hard.’

  ‘I have a class with Denise Crompton now,’ I say. ‘Singing. It’s a nice class. She doesn’t work us half as hard as you do.’ I raise an eyebrow at him and smile.

  He smiles back, and my insides melt.

  ‘I love hearing you sing,’ says Marc.

  ‘What? When have you heard me sing?’

  ‘In the woods.’

  ‘The woods?’ I go red. ‘You were listening to me?’

  ‘Go to your class.’

  ‘How did you -’

  ‘Go to your class, Sophia.’

  Chapter 42

  As usual, the class with Denise is great fun, but I can tell she has her eye on me. When the class finishes, she pulls me aside.

  ‘Everything okay, my love?’

  My expression tells her all she needs to know.

  ‘It’s a little stuffy in here, isn’t it?’ she announces. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

  We head out of the classroom, and towards the woodlands.

  ‘I love it back here,’ I say.

  ‘I know you do,’ says Denise. ‘Marc tells me you come here every morning.’

  ‘He told you that? How does he ... how does he even know that?’

  ‘Oh, he likes to keep an eye on his students.’ Denise takes a step back as a wood pigeon flaps up from a trail of ivy. ‘Some of them more than others.’

  ‘He’s spoken to you about me?’

  Denise nods. ‘Often. More than he realises. Enough to tell me he’s feeling something he doesn’t quite know how to deal with. And perhaps you for him, if my intuition is on the money.’

  I don’t know what to say. Once again, I’m astonished by how perceptive Denise is.

  ‘You’re surprised I have you so figured out?’ Denise raises one of her very thin, pencilled eyebrows. Her skin is soft and buttery in the afternoon sunshine. ‘Don’t be. If we all listened to our intuition more, we’d understand the world a lot better.’

  ‘I wish I could understand Marc,’ I say. ‘I’m surprised he’s spoken about me. Truly. I find him very, very ... complicated.’

  ‘Oh, he’s that alright,’ says Denise. ‘It’s what makes him such a truly amazing actor. But he’s been through some hardships to get there, just like your hardships make you a great actor, too.’

  ‘I don’t see myself as a great actor,’ I say. ‘I’m not of Marc’s calibre.’

  ‘Maybe not at twenty two, but by the time you’re twenty seven I see no reason why not. You’re better than Marc was at your age, and he started younger than you. He was bullied into it. Acting. Did he tell you that?’

  ‘He told me a little about his father, earlier,’ I say. ‘But not much.’

  Denise nods, and takes a sip of tea. ‘Poor little lamb.’

  I nearly choke on my tea. How could anyone think of Marc Blackwell that way? Commanding, intense, angry Marc Blackwell, a poor little lamb? Really? But then ... I think of how his voice grows soft sometimes, when he’s expressing his concern for me. And the story he told me about pneumonia.

  ‘It’s strange to think of him that way,’ I say, twiddling my hair. I shiver a little in my jumper and jeans – it’s cold out here without a coat.

  Denise nods. ‘When I met him, he was so vulnerable. A little man, of course. All the way. Taking charge of his family. Earning money for them. Trying to shelter his sister from the worst of his father. But vulnerable.’

  I think of the movie I saw when Marc was younger. He had looked more open, then. Less guarded. Perhaps more willing to let people in.

  ‘His father was a monster,’ Denise continues. ‘An absolute monster. A failed actor, of course. Performed in all sorts of bad films and TV dramas, and insisted Marc perform from a young age. Too young an age.

  ‘When I first met them, I was performing on Broadway. I know, I know. Broadway. You wouldn’t think it now, but years ago I was quite something. Anyway. Marc was playing Oliver Twist and I was Nancy. He was such a dear little lad, but so serious. So afraid of his father. A boy that age should never have had such responsibility put on his shoulders.

  ‘I took him under my wing. I loved having him as my surrogate son, and I gave his father a piece of my mind more than once. His father hit him. If he didn’t win a part or perform perfectly. Horrible man. Repressed. Taking his rage out on his boy.

  ‘When Marc was twelve, his father went to Egypt on a business venture and I offered to put Marc up for a few weeks. Those few weeks turned into months, and Marc and I had a wonderful time. I made sure he went to school every day, and insisted his evenings and weekends were free to do whatever he wanted.

  ‘Often, he wanted to perform in plays. Well, that was fine. As long as it was his choice. Then his father came back and all hell broke loose. He said I’d been holding his boy back. Stopping him from fulfilling his ambition.

  ‘I was offered a part back in London, and I asked if Marc wanted to come live with me in England. He did, but his father wouldn’t allow it. Said LA was the place. So he kept Marc there, and at sixteen Marc left home and pursued his dream alone.

  ‘By then, Marc was already well known for being an amazing young talent with the worst mood swings in the busine
ss.

  ‘We still kept in touch. He’d ring me every Sunday, and tell me about the parts he was playing and the wonderful locations he was being flown to.

  ‘Then he had this college built to help young talent, and to my amazement he offered me a lecturer’s position. I love having him back in England. It’s where he belongs. He grew up in England, you know. In London.

  ‘When he came back here, he fell in love with it all over again. I think London reminds him of his mother. He buys property left, right and centre here – I think to feel grounded. To try and establish roots. That’s why he bought this college at first, you know. Developers were going to tear it down, and he couldn’t bear the thought of something that had been in one spot for so long being destroyed.’

  ‘The more I learn about Marc,’ I say, ‘the more I realise what a hard life he’s had.’

  ‘But so have you,’ says Denise.

  ‘Not compared to ... no, I don’t think I have. Not really.’

  ‘Well.’ Denise folds her fingers together. ‘If my feelings are right, and you and Marc are growing closer. I don’t condone it, but I don’t disapprove either. Marc’s a decent man. Responsible. You’re both consenting adults. What I will say is, are you happy having a relationship that, right now, is kept hidden? Do you really want that for yourself?’

  I shake my head, and feel tears sliding down my face. ‘No,’ I whisper. ‘But it doesn’t seem as though I have any other choice. I don’t want Marc to stop being a teacher here. He offered, but I couldn’t live with myself if the whole class lost him because of me.

  ‘No one would plan a relationship like this. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it a relationship. I don’t know what it is. But I’m in the middle of it, and there’s no turning back. Not without venturing further in. Without getting myself completely caught up in him, and then probably completely hurt.’

  ‘It sounds like you’re already completely caught up with him,’ says Denise.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I am.’

  ‘You’ve got some difficult choices to make,’ says Denise, getting up and putting her arms around me. She smells of soap and camomile tea. ‘You’re a grown woman, so it’s up to you to decide. But just so you know, I’ll always be here if you need me.’