The Blackwell Lessons: Teacher Student Romance (New Adult / College Romance) (Volume 4)

by Sk Quinn

  I finger one of the leather straps, then experimentally undo it and put my wrist in place. I do the strap up and sit in the leather swing part.

  Experimentally, I swing back and forth and my legs fling themselves in the air as I come downwards.

  ‘Arg!’ I give a little shriek, not expecting that at all.

  ‘Sophia?’ Marc’s deep voice rumbles along the corridor.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’m fine.’

  I hear Marc’s footsteps.

  ‘Really I’m fine,’ I say, hopping out of the seat and trying to undo the strap. ‘I’ll be back in just a second.’

  But before I can get myself free, Marc’s tall, handsome naked body looms in the doorway.

  ‘Didn’t we have that Pandora’s box conversation already?’ says Marc, a devilish smile on his lips.

  I pause, looking guiltily at the strap I’m trying to undo.

  ‘I just wanted to take a look,’ I say, feeling like a child with their hand caught in the biscuit jar.

  ‘Did you indeed?’ Marc raises an eyebrow and stalks towards me. ‘It seems to me you’ve done a little more than look. And I did say something before, if you remember. In the car?’

  ‘You told me I was tired?’

  ‘I told you that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.’

  ‘I don’t want you to stop yourself. If you remember, I told you I wasn’t tired—’

  Marc silences me by pressing his mouth hard against mine. His hand finds my arm, then moves up to my wrist. He pulls at the strap, testing it.

  ‘Not bad,’ he says. ‘But I think it should be tighter.’ He pulls the strap against my wrist. Then he takes my free wrist and fastens it to another leather strap.

  With a whooshing sound, he tightens that too and I feel my arm pulled backwards.

  ‘Oh!’

  Marc slides off my panties and lifts me into the leather seat. Then he takes my ankles and straps them in place.

  He steps back, his chest rising and falling.

  I look up at him. ‘Is this how you pictured me after we were married? Tied up?’

  ‘It’s exactly how I pictured you.’ Marc stalks back and forth, checking the straps. He raises an eyebrow and gives me a stomach-melting smile. ‘Bound up and waiting for your husband. But if you don’t like it, just say the word and I’ll let you down.’

  I have to admit I like the leather on my wrists and ankles. It’s unbearably good being bound up like this, all helpless and vulnerable as Marc prowls around.

  My breathing quickens as I notice his huge erection.

  ‘So what are you going to do with me?’ I squeak.

  ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

  Marc places his palms on my thighs, his eyes locked on mine, sharp and serious.

  His hands move to my ribs, and my body sways in the swing. I hear the squeak of the chains and let out a little moan.

  Marc presses his lips to my stomach, working his way down, down until he’s right between my legs.

  I want to grab his hair, his back … but I’m bound tight.

  His tongue goes right inside me, then moves out and flicks up and down.

  My fingernails dig into my palms.

  ‘Oooooh,’ I moan.

  The swing begins to jerk back and forth, and Marc holds my hips to keep me still.

  He forces his mouth against me, circling and flicking with his tongue until I’m moaning with pleasure.

  Then he moves back.

  ‘Wait there,’ he says, his breathing heavy. ‘There’s something I need to get.’

  ‘Marc,’ I whisper. ‘Don’t stop. Please!’

  I wriggle and pull at the leather straps, wishing I could pull my hand free and touch myself. But I’m strapped in tight.

  I watch Marc stalk out of the bedroom, beautifully naked. His body is so taut and toned. I love the way his muscles move when he walks.

  A moment later he returns, carrying something long and black.

  ‘What’s that in your hand?’ I ask, straining to see.

  ‘You wanted to see how the swing works. I think this is the best way to show you.’

  Marc stands between my legs and rests a black dildo on my thigh. I fall silent as he slides it between my legs.

  ‘Oooh.’ I let out a low moan.

  Marc gives the swing a little rock and the dildo begins to move, in out, in out.

  ‘Oh. Oooh,’ I moan.

  Marc watches me, resting a hand between my breasts. His breathing is fast and low, his eyes dark and stormy, his lips tilted into the tiniest of smiles.

  The swing moves back and forth, back and forth.

  I moan, my head falling back and my eyes closing.

  Suddenly, Marc grasps the swing chain and holds me still. He slides the dildo out and down between my buttocks, teasing me.

  Before I have a moment to protest, Marc slides the dildo into my backside.

  My eyes spring open and I cry out. ‘Oh!’

  The swing moves and the dildo moves around.

  ‘Oh. Oh god. Marc. Marc please …’

  ‘Too much?’

  I nod, my eyes watering a little.

  Marc slides the dildo free and drops it to the floor. He cranks a handle on the side of the swing and I feel myself tilted up until I’m facing him.

  Our chests press together, and Marc slides himself inside me.

  ‘Oh god!’

  Marc pushes his pelvis forwards and the swing begins to move.

  ‘Oh. Oh!’

  I’m lost in so many sensations – the swing moving my weightless body, my wrists and elbows bound, and of course Marc, huge inside me, his lips on my neck.

  The swing moves, and I fall into a world of pleasure, crying out and moaning until a crashing orgasm falls over me, knocking me from side to side.

  I hear Marc come too, and his body presses against mine.

  As the orgasm subsides, I open my eyes and see Marc watching me, twisting my hair around his fingers.

  ‘Tired yet?’ he asks.

  I smile sleepily. ‘A little.’

  ‘Let me carry you to bed, Mrs Blackwell.’ Marc gives me his quirky smile. ‘Of course, I’ll need to untie you first.’

  39

  The next day on set I can’t help thinking about Marc and the swing.

  Leo and I are inside the marquee, practising our lines for the next scene. But I keep reading the wrong parts.

  ‘Sorry Leo.’ I shake my head at the script. ‘I’ll get it. I promise.’

  ‘It’s just one long honeymoon for you and Mr Blackwell, isn’t it?’ Leo asks, giving me his mischievous little brother grin.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You have that glow about you. That “stayed up all night having sex” glow.’

  I blush. ‘I do not!’

  ‘Oh yes you do. I should know. I have that same look myself most days. Thanks to your beautiful best friend. Living with her is just … it is the best thing ever. She is so cool. And you should see her naked—’

  ‘I have seen her naked. But this conversation is still too much information Leo.’

  ‘Hey, what’s the big deal? It’s just sex. We all do it.’

  ‘Most people think sex should be private.’

  ‘Well I’m not most people. And we’re friends. So tell me. What’s Mr Blackwell like in the bedroom? Mean and moody? Loving and gentle? I’m guessing he has great stamina. I mean, the guy is lethally fit. I bet he can—’

  ‘Leo!’

  ‘Okay, okay. Listen. We’ve run through this script enough times. You got it yesterday. You’ll get it when we film. You won’t be thinking about lover boy when we’re standing on top of the tower. So what do you say we go watch the others do their scenes?’

  ‘Love to.’

  We spend the next few hours watching Ruby, Baz and Sigourney in action.

  Since Ruby is playing a fairy, she spends most of her scenes suspended in mid-air by strings.

  Baz’s scenes are mainly physic
al and he’s awesome to watch. Listening to him joke around between takes, I forget sometimes that he’s a great actor. But he is. And he has serious muscle too.

  At one point, an extra can’t get off his horse because his chain mail is so heavy. Baz lifts him off with one hand.

  We end the day with a takeaway curry, poppadums, naan bread and beer on the steps of the Tower of London to celebrate another great day of filming.

  I don’t drink the beer, but Leo and Baz do, getting through five bottles each before we’ve even finished our meal.

  ‘Carry on at that pace boys and you won’t be fit for work tomorrow,’ says Nadia.

  ‘Rubbish,’ says Baz. ‘I have at least five pints most nights. And I can still outpace the lot of you.’

  When Marc picks me up and takes me back to the townhouse, the first thing I want to do is have sex in the swing. And Marc is only too happy to oblige.

  ‘Is it wrong that tying you down turns me on?’ Marc asks.

  ‘Not as long as I’m enjoying it.’

  We have sex every way possible, on my back, on my stomach, with Marc taking charge the whole time.

  When I’m tired out, Marc carries me to the bedroom and lays me gently on the bed. He lies beside me and strokes my hair until I fall asleep.

  40

  Making a movie soon feels normal and before long I get into a rhythm. On set at 6am. Breakfast of porridge and berries, followed by a hot chocolate. Hair and makeup. Then shooting begins – although there’s lots of sitting around too.

  My scenes are pretty physical at times, and I love acting terrified as I run away from pretend monsters that will be CGI’d in later.

  The cast and crew usually eat together at the end of the day, and it’s good to spend time together. It feels sort of like a family.

  Sigourney is pretty difficult though; always complaining about the food, her makeup, the way her scenes are shot. But I have to admit she’s a good actress. I suppose acting and modelling are similar. Certainly in the physical scenes Sigourney gives it her all, throwing herself around and getting real bruises. I see a new side of her – a determined, focused side that won’t stop until the job is done properly.

  I think Nadia must have had a word with her about lateness too, because she’s mainly on time, give or take ten minutes or so, although she does look pretty hung-over most mornings and always arrives wearing big, black sunglasses.

  Ruby is really down to earth and lots of fun. She doesn’t take herself too seriously, but at the same time she’s very professional and gets Nadia’s vision straight away.

  It takes me a few scenes to really understand what Nadia is looking for, but then everything clicks into place.

  Time goes so quickly that my doctor’s appointment creeps up almost without me noticing. But suddenly it’s upon me, and I wake up afraid.

  I see Marc beside me in bed, wide awake.

  ‘Do you actually fall asleep?’ I ask. ‘Or do you just stay propped up on one elbow all night, waiting for me to wake up?’

  ‘I sleep.’

  ‘Are you nervous about today?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s good news either way. If you’re not pregnant, I don’t have to worry about your rigid filming schedule. And if you are pregnant … well, I think you’ll be very happy.’

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘Let’s get to the doctor’s shall we? We don’t want to keep her waiting.’

  As we walk into Dr Christian’s waiting area, I hold Marc’s hand so tight that my fingers turn white.

  ‘You have nothing to be nervous about,’ Marc whispers. ‘Everything is going to be okay.’

  ‘But this is so important. What if I’m pregnant Marc? Our lives will totally change.’

  Marc puts a comforting arm around my shoulder. ‘Or you might not be. We’ll be fine. Okay? I’ll always look after you.’

  ‘I feel a little sick,’ I admit, as we sit on a plush leather sofa.

  ‘Are you okay? Do you need the bathroom?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not really sick. Just … nervous sick. Don’t you ever feel sick when you’re nervous?’

  ‘I don’t get nervous. I get angry.’

  ‘Really? You never feel nervous?’

  ‘No. I feel afraid. At the thought of anything happening to you. But nervous? No.’

  I nod limply, looking at the doctor’s office door.

  ‘Sophia,’ says Marc. ‘You are a perfectly healthy, beautiful young woman who may or may not be about to have a baby. Once the not knowing is out of the way, you’ll be fine. Either way.’

  A thought occurs to me and my stomach lurches. ‘Marc. The swing … you don’t think … if I were pregnant …’

  ‘You don’t think I checked it out? Sex is perfectly okay for a pregnant woman. All kinds of sex.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Let’s just say I did my research.’

  The doctor’s door snaps open and my stomach lurches again.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Marc whispers. ‘You’ll be just fine.’

  Dr Christian greets us warmly. She’s wearing a pink Chanel trouser suit, which sets off her green eyes and white perfectly.

  We take a seat, and I twiddle my hair.

  ‘How have you been Sophia?’ Dr Christian asks. ‘Any tiredness? Sickness?’

  ‘I’m sick with nerves right now,’ I admit. ‘But other than that I’ve been okay.’ I glance at Marc. ‘And not all that tired. Most of the time.’

  Dr Christian smiles. ‘I hear you’ve been shooting a movie. The next Nadia Malbeck movie isn’t it? So you must be working hard.’

  ‘It’s actually okay,’ I say. ‘Everything is CGI’d, so mostly I just react to things. No stunts or anything. Marc made sure of that.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ says Dr Christian. ‘You wouldn’t want to take any chances. Just in case.’

  ‘Do you think I’m pregnant?’ I blurt out, hearing the slight desperation in my voice.

  ‘Let’s find out shall we. Here.’ She reaches into her drawer and passes me a pregnancy test. ‘You know the drill by now. I’ll see you in a minute.’

  41

  I’m so nervous that it’s hard to wee. But somehow I manage it and bring the test back to Dr Christian.

  ‘You really are nervous aren’t you?’ says Dr Christian kindly, noticing my shaking fingers.

  ‘Petrified.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘I suppose I’ll just feel so disappointed if I’m not pregnant.’

  ‘You can always keep trying,’ says Dr Christian with a wink. ‘You’re young. Healthy. No problems. There’s no rush Sophia. It’ll happen when it happens. Besides, if you’re shooting a movie right now there’s no harm in waiting. Take a seat.’

  I sit down. ‘I know. That’s what Marc says too.’

  ‘Babies are a lot of work. When they come along, suddenly people start thinking maybe they should have waited a few years. As beautiful as children are, they change your life.’

  ‘I have a baby brother. I know how much time they take up. But … I just want to have Marc’s baby.’

  I feel Marc squeeze my fingers, and squeeze his in return.

  Dr Christian smiles. ‘Well. I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. Let’s see what the test has to say.’

  Dr Christian holds up the pregnancy test.

  I grasp Marc’s hand so tightly that I’m sure I must be cutting off his blood supply.

  ‘So the test is telling me—’

  ‘Dr Christian,’ says Marc. ‘Would you mind if we took the test and viewed it by ourselves? Privately? Sophia will be emotional, whatever the result. And it might be better just the two of us.’

  ‘I totally understand,’ says Dr Christian. ‘Of course – take the test and look at the result when you’re alone.’

  ‘Marc?’ I say, a little bewildered. ‘Don’t we want to find out now?’

  ‘We’ve wa
ited for weeks. We can wait a little longer.’

  ‘How much longer?’

  ‘Not long. I know you’re desperate to know but … just trust me.’

  Part of me wants to grab the test from Dr Christian. But I do trust Marc. So I take his hand instead.

  ‘Let me put the test back in the box for you.’ Dr Christian slides the test into a white cardboard box and hands it to Marc. ‘The instructions are inside.’

  I stare at the box, knowing that our future is in there on a little plastic stick.

  ‘Thank you Dr Christian,’ says Marc, standing. ‘If it’s good news I’ll have Rodney check Sophia’s diary and schedule in her maternity appointments.’

  ‘Fine,’ says Dr Christian.

  42

  ‘Okay,’ I say, as Marc leads me outside to the Aston Martin. ‘Why couldn’t we look at the test in there? Did you think I’d burst into tears or something?’

  ‘I just thought … this is between us, this news. If you’re happy, I want to celebrate together. And if you’re upset, I want to be able to comfort you alone.’

  ‘I appreciate that.’

  Once in the car, we speed towards Oxford Street.

  ‘Aren’t we going back to the townhouse?’ I ask.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then where are we going?’

  ‘Somewhere else.’

  The wind whips my hair around my face.

  ‘Marc, I don’t like this,’ I say firmly. ‘I want to know where we’re going. I want to know how soon I can look at that test.’

  ‘Soon,’ says Marc, speeding the car around corners.

  ‘Look, this isn’t a game. This is a big deal. Is this funny to you? Making me wait for what could be the most important news of my life?’

  ‘Our life. And no. It’s not funny.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that.’

  Marc roars the car down a long tunnel. An electric garage door rolls up, and suddenly I realise where we are.

  ‘We’re under Ivy College, aren’t we?’ I say, as Marc drives the car into a dark car park.

  ‘Exactly right.’