by Ava Harrison
“Like you, my parents weren’t around. They worked all the time. Traveled a lot, and my age was a problem for them. I wasn’t old enough to accompany them to wine and dine clients, so they left me behind. They are assholes, to be honest. My dad isn’t a good person.”
I nod in understanding. Although different situations, we are almost kindred spirits in our upbringing. I let out a deep breath and allow his presence to comfort me. My mom might not be here, but right now Carson is and I’ll enjoy it for as long as possible. Still gazing into his eyes, I smile brightly.
“I like having you here. It feels good to be with someone who understands.”
He nods his head in agreement. “I like being here, too, and yeah, it does feel good.” His lips turn up and a dimple forms. As the comfortable silence stretches between us, I revel in it. Being quiet with someone is nice.
“I’m going to grab a water. Do you want anything?”
“Sure, I’d love one.”
He follows me into the kitchen. He stands close, so close that I feel my heart flutter waiting for him to touch me. The mere inches separating us are too much to bear.
“So, what do you want to do?”
He smirks. “Whatever you want.”
“We can watch a movie, I guess.” I bite my lip, not wanting to watch a movie at all.
“Fuck taking it slow,” he groans, pulling me out of my sordid thoughts. He pulls me toward him. Our bodies crash together. His mouth descends, covering mine as his tongue seeks entry and he licks at the seam of my lips. He pulls back and nips on my lower lip, prompting waves of pleasure and heat to spread across my body.
I part my lips on a gasp and he takes full advantage of this moment, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. My tongue sweeps against his and he groans. He pulls back, sucking my lower lip into his mouth. Each breath against his lips comes out in ragged bursts.
“You look incredible. I’ve been thinking of nothing more than being buried deep inside you since the moment I saw you.” His words heat my body, making everything insides me tingle with anticipation.
My arms enclose his neck as he pulls his arms around my body and lifts me into the air. As he carries me, his hand trails circles against me.
Drifting lower and lower.
The feeling is intoxicating. It’s as if we are under a heady trance. In this moment nothing else matters but the feeling of our bodies pressed together. I wrap my legs around his waist to get closer, burying my head in the crook of his neck and trailing my tongue to the hollow indent in his skin. I’m reckless with need, my teeth scraping against his flesh. Just as I think I can take no more, he sets me on the counter. The chill of the marble does nothing to cool the heat inside me.
He breaks the kiss and looks down at me with a heated stare. My dress is pushed high up my legs and his fingers dig at the fleshy skin of my thighs. Leaning forward, he plunders me again and a primal moan escapes his mouth as he devours me.
He pulls us even closer, and with one final sweep of his tongue, he pushes our faces apart.
“I need to taste you again. It’s been too long.”
His fingers trail up until he finds my panties, and then swiftly pulls them down. An audible gasp escapes me.
This is passion. Intense and utterly tantalizing.
His gaze breaks with mine and travels down my body, landing where I need him most. With strong hands, he lifts my legs over his shoulder. He leans forward, his mouth connects to my core, and I quiver with the contact.
He starts slowly, a gentle sweeping of his tongue, and then his movements become more frenzied.
Licking.
Sucking.
Nipping.
He licks me with abandon, like a man starved and desperate for me, and the pressure of his ministrations is almost too much to bear. My body shivers and quakes. My climax is fast approaching.
“Inside me. I want you inside me.”
He pulls away and rummages in his pocket.
“You don’t need to use a condom.” The sound of him tearing the wrapper echoes throughout the kitchen.
“I should. I’ve never gone bareback.”
“I’m on the pill, and neither have I, but with you I want this.” I see the hesitation in his eyes. I also see the desire. Each second I wait feels like an eternity until he aligns himself against my core, bare. Nothing separating us. With one thrust of his hips, he’s fully seated. I feel so full, so completely full and sated. Having him inside me is like coming home. I welcome it. I crave it.
He pulls out, and then enters me again. “I.” Thrust! “Need.” Thrust! “You.” Thrust! “Fucking perfect.” He pushes in deeper, his rhythm torturing. He’s not making love to me today. Not like at the beach. Tonight he’s fucking me at a brutal speed.
“God, so good,” he groans, and I fall into my own abyss. Nothing has ever felt more perfect in the world.
When I finally calm from my high, I look into his eyes. They are darker than usual, and lines crease the sides of them.
“Shit,” he pants, pulling my bare arm toward him. Angry welts have started to form from where he held me. The skin already turning pink with Carson’s fingerprints. “God, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I shouldn’t have—Fuck!”
He pulls out, leaving me empty and desperate. I don’t understand what just happened. One minute we were perfect and then . . .
“I’m okay.” I whisper out, but Carson just shakes his head back and forth, still muttering to himself. “I shouldn’t have done that.” It’s almost like he’s in a trance.
Sadness floods my veins. I hate this feeling. I stand fast, missing the comfort of his body already, but I need to distance myself from this rejection. I can’t handle the words coming from his mouth.
“I-I think you need to leave,” I grit out and he doesn’t object. No more words leave my mouth as he leaves.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG with me?
I was rough. Too rough with her. There were bruises on her arms. I should have been gentler. Kept myself in check. But instead I lost myself completely. Got caught up in the moment.
Is she hurt?
Shit.
She could be.
I thought I had a better handle on everything, but apparently not. I completely lost control.
It sucks because everything was going well. We were talking, really talking. It felt so good to have someone to vent to, and then I messed it up by letting my dick do the thinking.
God! And the way she threw me out . . .
I’m a fucking idiot. Who tells a girl they shouldn’t have done that, when he’s basically still inside her? A prick, that’s who. What the hell is it about this girl that makes me act like a complete asshole and a pussy-whipped schoolboy at the same time?
Normally, I’m not like this. I’m not that jerk. Not that I’ve been acting like anything but that, though. I mean, even knowing she’s my student, I still couldn’t help touching her.
That outfit . . .
Those legs . . .
I was done the moment she walked past me.
Shit! Just thinking about her and I’m hard again. She makes me insane with need. I swear, I’ll never get enough. If she hadn’t kicked me out, I’d be begging for round two at this very moment. God, I’m a dick. She’s probably upset at home, and me? What am I thinking about? I’m dreaming of round two. I need a run. That’s the only thing that will calm my brain.
What is it about Lynn that has me so unhinged? Because that’s what I am these days, completely unhinged.
It makes no sense. My life isn’t that fucked up. But it isn’t roses and sunshine either. Maybe that’s what it is about her. She understands me. We’ve lived the same story in parallel. Children of selfish overachievers, learning to never need anyone. Adapting to fend for ourselves. Skilled at living a life of solitude.
But when I’m with her, I don’t feel so alone.
Before I can stop myself, I’m turning back. I need to see her. Can’t leave it like this. Once her brownstone door is in front of me
, my knuckles are pounding on the door. It swings open and I’m caught like a deer in headlights. Lynn is standing in front of me, wearing only a small T-shirt but that isn’t what makes me stop. What makes me stop is the look in her eyes. The pain I caused her. It’s screaming at me through red-rimmed eyes and damp lashes. Fuck.
I push past the door, grab her in my arms and press my lips forcefully to her. Losing any semblance of control and lift her up against the wall. My lips press against hers hungrily, covering hers, devouring her.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble through sweeps of my mouth against hers. “I don’t regret it. I don’t regret you. I wasn’t thinking.”
She answers by meeting and matching my movements, her mouth allowing my tongue entry. I want to take her here. Show her how I feel. That I do want her. But as much as I want that, it’s not what she needs right now, so I push away. She twists in my arms, her body begging me not to move. As I lower her back to the floor, I pull my arms away and instead grasp her jaw.
“No, not here.”
“Take me to bed.” Her voice is husky with need and makes me smirk.
“As you wish.” I bend at the waist and throw her over my shoulder. She giggles and squirms at my caveman attack.
So much for not manhandling her.
MY EYES FLUTTER OPEN TO the feeling of kisses being peppered against my skin.
“Mmm,” I moan as I wrap my arms around Carson’s neck, turning my head so our lips touch. He kisses me with abandon, desperate with a passion that wakes every nerve in my body. Then he pulls away and I want to beg him to come back.
“As much as I would love to spend my day naked in bed with you, I actually have stuff to do today.”
A tortured groan escapes my mouth and he laughs, placing a kiss on my lips before rising from the bed.
“Give me a second and I’ll show you out.”
“Nah, stay in bed, beautiful. I kept you up late last night.” He smirks and it makes me melt.
“It’s okay, I want to.”
Standing up, Carson slowly surveys me. The left side of his lips tug upward, creating a sinful smirk. But it’s his eyes that make my heart flutter. He casts a spell over me with the look he sends my way.
I’m so lost in him, that when his hand reaches forward, I’m taken aback when he places a robe in my arms.
“Thanks,” I whisper, pushing down the urge to wrap myself around him and beg him not to leave. Instead, I don the robe and together we walk to the front door. We are less than an arm’s length apart; the rough pads of his finger stroke my jaw and then lifts to push back a tendril of hair that has fallen forward. His hand trails up and lingers a moment against the soft skin of my lips before he pulls back and replaces his hand with his mouth. Parting my lips, I move against him.
Lingering, savoring the moment.
When we finally separate, he looks me over one last time before giving me a devastating smile, and then opening the door and leaving. As soon as it closes, my eyes flutter closed and my lips spread into a huge grin.
An hour later, my feet drag against the wood floor as I make my way to the kitchen. I swear, small hints of his cologne still linger in the air. I can’t help but grin as I think of what we did in this kitchen. I wish he were here. My smile fades as I remember the fight, though. I wish I hadn’t acted so rashly and thrown him out, but then he came back. He came back.
Why does this all have to be so complicated? Why can’t he be just another guy? Why does he have to be someone who’s forbidden to me? Is that why I’m so fascinated by him? Is it because the idea of a relationship is illicit? I shake my head at the notion. Even before I knew he was my teacher, something pulled me toward him. Something in his eyes tethered me to him. Something about him made me feel understood; was a comfort.
The front door opens, and all the muscles in my back tighten. “Mom?” I call out and head toward the entrance. She barely registers I’m standing in front of her as she fidgets with her phone. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. I thought you were still in Europe.” Thank God, Carson isn’t still here.
“I won’t be here long. On my way out east to Richard’s house.”
“It’s Saturday.” She raises an eyebrow. “I just figured . . .”
“Lynn, if you’re planning to lecture me about staying with you, please don’t. You’re eighteen years old. You can take care of yourself. When I was your age, I didn’t have the luxuries you have. You should count yourself lucky. I have made a lot of sacrifices to provide—”
“Don’t you mean you’ve married a lot of—”
“Stop right there. I will not have you disrespect me in my house. Richard’s in the car and I just came to grab a few things.”
“Fine. I’ll just go to Bridget’s for dinner. Surprise, surprise,” I huff out.
My mother stops mid-step and turns to me, her eyes narrowing. They are full of anger and rage. “Why do you insist on spending time with that girl?”
“She is my best friend,” I deadpan.
“You’re better than those people.”
“How would you know? You aren’t here to be my family, so why do you care if they are?” The scowl on her face makes my blood run cold.
“I’m late, and I don’t want to talk about them,” she snaps back. Defensively, I step forward and cross my arms over my chest.
“What’s your problem? You always say these ridiculous backhanded comments about Bridget, but you’ve only met her like once. You’re never here, and when you are, she avoids this house like the plague because you were such a bitch to her.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Why? Why should I? You don’t act like my mother. Why should I respect you?” I fire back. The anger inside me is palpable. “Tell me the reason you hate Bridget.”
“She comes from them.” She stomps away without another word.
She comes from them? What the hell does that mean? They have been nothing but nice to me—amazing, in fact.
I’m planted in place, still trying to understand when my mom walks past me, heading toward the foyer to leave. She has her coat and purse, and her keys are dangling from her manicured fingers.
“Mom,” I call out so we can finish this discussion before she goes, but she lifts a hand in the air.
“No. I’m not doing this again. You already made me late.” She huffs past and soon the door slams shut, leaving me standing alone. A sickening feeling swirls through my empty stomach. Usually I do my best to ignore her hateful comments, but with my father’s newfound indifference I’m having a hard time detaching myself from her hate. My head swims with her words, with her dismissal.
No.
I won’t let her get to me. I don’t need to stand here alone and pity myself. I’m wanted somewhere and that’s exactly where I’ll go. To Bridget’s.
Later that evening, I find myself chopping cucumbers at Bridget’s house.
“Mom, where’s the dressing?” Bridget asks from behind the fridge door.
“Open your eyes and look. You’re as bad as your father.” She laughs.
“Seriously, Mom, there is no dressing.”
Margo lets out an audible sigh before heading to the fridge and playfully pushing her daughter out of the way. A huge smile spreads across my cheeks. This is what I wish I had.
“Move over,” she teases before going to work looking for it. “Really? Do I need to take you to the eye doctor? It’s right here.”
“What’s right where?” Sam, Bridget’s dad asks, as he and her sister Olivia saunter into the room. He steps up behind Margo, placing a kiss on her check.
“The dressing. She has your eyesight.” Margo rolls her eyes and I can’t help but laugh.
Sam turns to me and tips his chin in my direction. “She thinks I can’t see, Lynn.” He pulls away from his wife and inclines his chin as if he’s going to whisper to me. “Little does she know, I play dumb so I don’t have to help around the house.” He winks.
“Nice, Sam, really nice. And what
’s your daughter’s excuse? Better yet, what’s both your daughters’ excuses? Neither of them can see or help around the house.”
“Um, hello, Mom. I was just helping,” Bridget huffs out playfully, and my cheeks burn from grinning so hard at their banter.
“Don’t bring me into this. I just got home. I haven’t even been here to be ‘blind,’” Olivia air quotes.
“Yeah, why are you home, anyway?” Bridget says, turning her attention to her sister.
“Because damn, is the food bad at school. And Mom’s cooking . . . totally worth the drive. Plus, I missed you guys.” I can’t help but smile at the idea that Olivia drove almost three hours to come home for Mom’s dinner. Just to be with her family.
“Well, if you’re going to drive all the way here, make yourself useful,” Margo teases.
This is why I come here. Because for the little time I have with the Millers, I can pretend I’m part of a family.
“At least I have Lynn.” Margo puts her arm around me and squeezes.
I can pretend I’m part of their family.
Before class, I make my way to the bathroom and freshen up my face, applying a light lip-gloss that Bridget says makes my mouth look fuckable. Perfect. It’s exactly the look I’m going for.
When I get to class, I take a seat in the front row, giving him the perfect vantage for what I have in mind. His eyes dilate every time he takes me in, and the feeling is all encompassing. No man has ever looked at me like this. It fuels everything inside me. It’s powerful to feel wanted.
I uncross my legs and part my thighs as he discusses last night’s reading. I’m close enough to hear him stifle a groan. I know I’m not fighting fair, but I don’t care.
When the bell rings I stand, walk halfway to the door and stop, turning back to face him.
“What are you still doing here?” He tries to look stern, but the way he bites his cheek gives him away. That and the pulse in his throat leads me to believe he’s anything but mad.
“I wanted to speak to you. I needed to see you.”
“Don’t you have class?” He raises his eyebrow, and I purse my lips seductively.
