by Terra Wolf
But not the new Benjamin Johnson. The new Benjamin Johnson took his time. The new Benjamin Johnson loved the challenge rather than the easy lay.
Lia had made a fair point at dinner. Men and women do treat intimacy different. But it was not for the reason she thought.
The problem wasn’t that people have casual sex, it was that people have sex too casually. People settle for unfulfilling sex. Men have gotten lazy about pleasing women. And women have grown complacent in accepting mediocrity.
I could tell that Lia was like me. She was a cynic. She had been burned enough times to put up her walls, and to convince herself that every man she met was the Big Bad Wolf. She had made up these rules for sex and love to try to rationalize something that could not be rationalized. Passion wasn’t a currency. It was not a regulated exchange.
The only thing preventing Lia from having the kind of passionate, fulfilling, mind-melting sex that she considered impossible, was her own stubborn reluctance to demand it.
“I need to ask you something,” she said, after we had walked in silence for some time.
“What’s that?”
“I need to know about Harper’s… ummm… anger issues. I haven’t personally seen them, but they’re attributed to something in her file.”
Here it was, the question I didn’t know if I could answer.
“And her mother’s issues, with drugs, it’s not just about that, is it?”
“No, it’s not.”
“So, tell me. If you want this, whatever this is, to be a thing, I need to know the truth.”
She wanted the truth, of course she did. And usually when this question came up, I ducked out and never called again. But with Lia it was different, I knew it had to be.
“She’s half bear, on her mother’s side.”
She stopped for a moment and I had to pause so I didn’t rip her arm out of it’s socket. Super strength had it’s disadvantages.
“Bear? So on your side?”
“Yes.”
“So you are all shifters.”
“Yes. And if anyone hears you say that I would be up a creek, so let’s not discuss this in public anymore.”
I hailed a cab and we went back to my place. My parents had insisted on having Harper for the night, and she was happy to go with them. A big cabin outside the city, perfect for a little cub to play.
Lia walked in and immediately flopped down on the couch.
“Shifters? Really? I mean I read the file, I know they’re thing, but it all seems so fantastical.”
“Well it’s my reality. Has been, for, I don’t know, forever. At least in our family.”
“So Shyft really is for the rich and famous and… animal?”
Suddenly I felt like this was an interview. “Maybe. But we’re not speciest, I like humans as much as the next guy.”
She laughed, finally a tone I recognized. I poured us each a glass of wine and watched her. My bear was confused, why weren’t we closer to her? Making a move?
I didn’t want to scare her off. She just learned the greatest secret I had, and yet she wasn’t running out the door. Yet.
“Wine?” I offered as I sat down next to her.
She took the glass with both hands and then downed it. Liquid courage, maybe?
“Thank you for being honest with me.”
“You’re welcome, but now you have to tell me a secret.”
She rolled her eyes, “You gave up that information willingly, I don’t have to do anything.”
“Tell me why you think sex is bad. Some off-limits thing.”
“I didn’t say it was bad… it’s just, not for me.”
“Because?” I pressed.
“Because I’ve never had an orgasm!” She blurted out, as she set her glass down and crossed the room.
My mouth dropped open, “Never?”
“Never! And it sucks, and you’re all sexy and growly and I’ve got nothing! I have no game!”
“Growly?” I laughed.
“Yes, you know, bear like.”
“Well thanks, but that’s what this is about? Because we can fix that.”
“I know we can, at least I think we can. Unless I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken,” I set my own glass down and stood, taking her hands in mine. “I can show you that you’re not broken. If you want.”
She sighed, her beautiful eyes looking into mine. “I do want.”
I guided her into my bedroom and onto the edge of the bed. I saw the hint of hesitation in her face, and I got down on my knees so I could look her straight in the eyes.
Even in the dim light of the room, I could see that she was blushing furiously, but I was not going to let her make excuses now.
She was gnawing desperately at her bottom lip. She needed me to touch her. And I needed to taste her. To make her feel things she didn’t know were possible.
Staying on my knees, I pressed her back onto the bed. All the blood in my body had gone straight to my cock, and the bear side of me wanted to slam inside her and screw her brains out. But then I would only prove that she was right about men, about sex, about fulfillment.
So instead I forced myself to use restraint, to go slow as I slid the narrow waist of her skirt over her hips and down her thighs. I was less patient when I found her tights underneath. I pressed her knees apart and ducked down, biting the soft flesh of her inner thigh through the nylon. Her entire body contracted, startling from the pleasure of my mouth, from the pain of my bite.
She was going to have to get used to that. Pleasure and pain. It was a package deal with me.
I stabbed a finger through the lining of her tights and the thin webbed material tore easily, gaping apart to reveal her soaking wet panties.
I couldn’t wait to feel my tongue explore inside of her, but I teased her first. I pressed my lips against her lace thong, and bit through the fabric.
She was panting now, and her hands were shaking from the effort of holding herself up.
“Relax,” I told her, pushing her shoulders back onto the mattress. For a second I keep my body pressed on top of her, pressing my hard cock against her thin lace panties.
“Are you going to fuck me?” she asked, quivering with need.
“Not yet,” I said. “You’re not ready for that.”
I pressed up the hem of her blouse, and took one heaving breast into my palm and gave it a gratuitous squeeze that was just as much for my benefit as it was hers. Then I slid back down between her thighs, which spilled open easily for me.
I hooked my thumb under the thin lace strand of her thong, plunging my fingers between her drenched lips, then I yanked the fabric down and, because I couldn’t resist her any longer, I buried my face into her perfect juicy pussy.
She was so wet that my tongue slipped easily inside of her hot folds, and she tasted even sweeter than I imagined. I lap up her excitement, filling my mouth with her juices as her back arched and she let out a moan.
“Oh God,” she panted, thrashing against the bed when I found her clit with my tongue. “Benjamin, I… I…”
I bit gently onto her clit, then relieved the flash of pain by suckling softly on her lips. She pressed her hips forward, needing more, and I flicked her clit again with my tongue as I slipped a finger into her slick, tight and throbbing entrance.
And then her entire body stiffened, and she let out one final gasp before going silent. Stunned and powerless as the orgasm claimed her entire body.
I kept my fingers pressed inside of her, intensifying the hot contractions of her climax by digging my fingertip into her soft insides.
More moans escaped he lips as I flicked my tongue back and forth over her clit. Her whole body began to shake and her legs clamped around my neck.
“Oh Benjamin!”
I didn’t stop until I felt the orgasm leave her, and her hips sink back onto the bed. Then I stopped and let her lick the remnants of her pleasure from my fingers.
Once she had caught her breath, sh
e turned to me.
“Now what?”
“That’s enough for one night,” I said.
She needed to pace herself.
We both did.
10
LIA
I didn’t mean to throw open the door to the headmaster’s office, but I was so high-strung that I let my nerves get the best of me. I could not remember the last time I had such a bad case of the Mondays. In the few hours since I got to Vivatin Day that morning, I had already managed to spill coffee on my work shirt, drop an entire jar of bright blue finger paint in the supply closet, and slam my fingers into the desk drawer in my classroom, which resulted in yet another blooper for the day, teaching my entire classroom of students a new vocabulary word for the week -- “SHIT!”
I blamed Monday, but I knew that the real reason that I was flustered was because I was still caught up on Friday night. I had been replaying what happened with Benjamin, and I could not get the image out of my head. Every time I thought about it, my entire body flushed with heat and I felt my heart start to race. I had never felt so out of control in my life. And I have never felt so connected to someone, either.
Of course I would not admit that Benjamin was right. I would not concede. And I definitely, definitely could not see him again.
My mind was already racing with thoughts, and getting called into Mr. Richmond’s office was the last thing I needed.
The door clattered when I opened it, striking into the wall, and Mr. Richmond glares up with a beady set of eyes.
“Have a seat, Miss Lewis,” he instructed, pointing at an empty chair in front of his desk. The seat next to it was occupied by a plain woman in a cheap pea-green suit that told me, before I even caught a glimpse of the name badge clipped to her lapel, that she was a CPS caseworker.
I quietly took a seat and crossed my ankles, wondering what this this is about. When I worked back at that school in Brooklyn, CPS visits were an almost weekly occurrence. There were far more seldom at Vivatin. I couldn’t even remember the last time I found myself sitting in on an investigation.
“I apologize for having to call you away from your class,” Mr. Richmond said to me. “But Miss Peters here thought it might be urgent that we discuss the status of one of your students.”
Oh shit, I thought, picturing the students in my classroom and trying to work out which one is the subject of this investigation.
“It’s about a student named Harper Johnson,” Miss Peters said, turning to me with pursed lips.
“What?” I was caught off guard. There was already an open investigation with her mother. Why was this woman here now?
Miss Peters blinked at me, and I noticed that she’s wearing that generic, faux-sympathetic expression on her face.
“Some parents have expressed concern over things that their children have overheard from Harper,” Mr. Richmond said, clearing his throat.
“Like what?”
“Apparently Harper has been bragging to other students about her new apartment,” Miss Johnson snipped, still eyeing me. “At The Shyft Lofts.”
“Yes,” I nodded, trying to keep my cool. “That’s where her uncle lives. And as I’m sure you’re well aware, Miss Peters,” I made a point of narrowing my eyes at her, “Her uncle has been awarded emergency custody of Harper for the time being.”
“That’s correct,” Mr. Richmond nodded. “But some parents are concerned that the Johnson’s lifestyle might not be in keeping with the morals and values we try to instill here at Vivatin.”
I felt the heat of anger prickle up my neck, and I turned to the social services caseworker.
“That’s ridiculous!” I said. “You can’t possibly agree with that!”
“I’m concerned with the child’s well-being,” Miss Peters said calmly, her eyes vacant and devoid of genuine compassion. “And if other parents are concerned that Harper is a bad influence on their children, then I have to be concerned about that, too.”
“That’s so unfair,” I turned back to Mr. Richmond. “You’re going to punish a child because of where her uncle lives? Because of who they are?”
“Nobody is punishing anyone,” Mr. Richmond assured me. “But I’m sure we can all agree that someone with Mr. Johnson’s reputation and lifestyle could be seen as an unfavorable influence on students.”
I could not believe that Harper’s shifter status was suddenly an issue. Clearly, since it had been in her file, the school had known all along. But suddenly because her uncle was more open about his bear side than her mother, this was a problem? Ridiculous!
“We’ve just called this meeting to keep an eye on the situation,” Miss Peters said. She was trying to placate me, but I did not want to be placated. I did not want to be talked down to, and I certainly did not want to be lectured on ‘morals’ and ‘values,’ from the same school administrator that blindly accepted tuition checks from investment banker thieves and drug addicts.
“Mr. Johnson is perfectly fit to care for his niece,” I said flatly.
“It seems you would know,” Mr. Richmond snapped.
I gulped, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Some students also reported that Harper was bragging about you going home with her to Mr. Johnson’s apartment,” Miss Peters said.
“That’s true,” I admitted. “I wanted to make sure she was safe and comfortable…”
“Miss Lewis,” Mr. Richmond said firmly, “I shouldn’t need to remind you that we have procedures in place for these kinds of things.”
“I’m well aware,” I snapped back. “And if CPS had actually answered any of my phone calls, I might have been able to follow that procedure properly. I was doing what I thought was best for everyone.”
“I appreciate your dedication,” Mr. Richmond sighed, “But it can’t happen again. There are boundaries, Miss Lewis, and they exist for a reason. Teachers and parents do not mingle outside of this school. Do you understand?”
I felt the pressure of both Mr. Richmond and stupid Miss Peters glaring at me, and I nodded.
“I understand.”
I understood… but that didn’t mean I had to agree.
11
BENJAMIN
“Are you ready to see how the cookies turned out?” I asked, beaming down at Harper.
“Yes!” she squealed. Her arms were buried in a pair of ballet pink oven mitts, one of the many items she hand-selected when I took her shopping for decorations for her room, and she eyed the built-in kitchen oven eagerly.
“Ok, stand back,” I said, opening the oven door slowly and blocking the wave of heat that simmered out. I reached for the tray of cookies inside and pulled them out, and the eager anticipation on Harper’s face immediately melted when she saw what thirteen minutes at 350 degrees has done to the pink heart-shaped sugar cookies we carefully shaped with cookie cutters.
“Yikes,” I laughed it off, dropping the tray of failures on top of the gas range stovetop. I peeled off my own oven mitt, which was also, inexplicably pink, and I scratched my head thoughtfully. “What could we have done wrong? We followed the recipe to the T.”
“I bet Miss Lia will know,” Harper shrugged, putting on a brave face to hide her disappointment.
“You’re right,” I nodded. “Maybe she can help us make another batch sometime.”
Harper’s face lit up at the suggestion, and before she could get too excited, I glanced at my watch.
“Enough lollygagging, we’re going to be late!” I picked up the pink backpack that we already packed for tonight’s slumber party, and I looped it around my shoulder. “Let’s go!”
Harper clapped her hands in delight, and she skipped across the wooden floor towards the elevator. She has been looking forward to tonight all week. Tonight was the night of Fallon Gunther’s slumber party.
Technically there was no reason to rush. Fallon was Aaron and Maggie Gunther’s daughter, and they lived just a few floors down. Which meant the party was just an elevator ride away. But it was not the party I was w
orried about. It was the ‘non-date’ I arranged with Lia afterwards.
I rode down to Aaron’s floor in the elevator with Harper. I was worried she’d be sad to see me go, but as soon as the elevator doors opened she dropped my hand and ran inside to meet her friends.
“She’ll be fine,” Aaron assured me, catching the anxious look on my face.
“Call me if you need anything,” I said, handing over Harper’s pink backpack and turning to wave goodbye to Harper. She was so busy giggling with her friends that she didn’t even notice me leaving.
“She’s in the zone now,” Aaron slapped my back. “Once kids get in the zone, they don’t have time for you, unless you’re a pizza or a Disney Princess. Or when we were kids, and open field and the moon, right?”
Aaron was a wolf, something he never failed to remind me about. An only child, I think he liked Shyft, being able to be surrounded by his own kind.
“It’s a good thing,” I said finally. “I’m just glad to see her adjusting so well to everything.”
“She’ll be fine man, kids are hardcore. Besides Maggie will be home from work soon and she’ll paint their nails. It’ll be great.”
“Great, thanks again man.”
“Anytime.”
12
BENJAMIN
I steered us through the hotel, marble, tall, overwhelming, busy, and bypassed the hotel’s restaurant.
We were different together, now. The dynamic had changed. Lia wasn’t pretending that she could resist me, and I wasn’t pretending that she could resist me if she wanted to.
“No dinner tonight?”
“Not yet,” I said. “We have other appetites to satisfy, first.”
I scooped her into the elevator as her face turned bright red. She bit her bottom lip, confirming that she knew exactly what appetite I was referring to. And confirming that it does indeed need to be satisfied.
