Trembling, I pull my t-shirt off, leaving me in only a bra. I fall back and end up in the crook of his arm as I wriggle out of my jeans, and kick them to the foot of the bed.
I reach for my bra strap, and he catches my wrist. My eyes go wide.
"Let me. Lie on your stomach."
I do as he asks, trembling as he stands up. He takes his jeans off completely and turns around, his cock heavy with arousal. I can't take my eyes off it.
Jason undoes my bra and spreads the straps, then runs his hands together down my back, hooks his fingers in the waistband of my underwear, and pulls them down.
They slide down my legs, and I feel the air on my bare ass, on my sex. Jason tugs them away from my feet, and his hands run back up my legs as he throws one leg over me. My hips rise from the bed.
Oh God do it, do it now, do it, please.
The rough skin of his palms glides over mine, back up to my shoulders. Shifting my hair to the side, he presses his lips to the back of my neck, then lower, between my shoulder blades, all the way down my back. With every kiss the heat inside me grows. I start to turn over, and he stops me, pressing my shoulders down.
"Not yet."
His fingers knead my muscles, easing the tension out of my shoulders. I look back at him, and he's still hard as a rock, his eyes hungry. My God, he's so perfect, like a man carved from marble, pure muscle and raw, masculine power, almost frightening.
A little tug on my arm and I roll onto my back.
"Holy fuck," he says, looking down at me.
Jason almost falls on top of me, kissing me, pressing his chest and stomach against mine. His cock presses hard into the bare skin of my lower belly. All he would have to do is roll his hips and draw back, and then thrust inside me.
He kisses me hard, and then his mouth moves to my throat, my shoulders, planting soft kisses on my skin, a little harder. I shudder and shiver and grasp him with my arms, trying to goad him to just fuck me already.
Jason's mouth is warm and gentle on my nipple. I respond immediately, arching under him, groaning softly. Every touch is an introduction, a promise. I've never been so excited, so nervous. Does he like my body? Does he like me?
Not a word escapes his lips, but his mouth shows he does. Every hint of his hand and mouth is worship, reverently teasing me until my nipples are diamond-hard between his lips, until they ache, until I throb between my legs. I dig my fingers into his shoulders and pull, trying to tell him to take me now, but he goes lower, his mouth on my stomach, his body pushing my legs apart. I spread them on the bed and grip the shits in my trembling fists.
He's going to….
He does. He puts his mouth on my mound, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. I sit up but sink back down as he works his lips and tongue. It feels incredible, and I shudder in pleasure and excitement and even embarrassment. His hands slide under me and squeeze my ass as he works his mouth on me.
I start to pant and shiver, choking down the noises I want to make as I knot my fingers in his hair and rake his scalp with my nails. He pulls me down the bed a little, lifting my rump with his hands, and I lock my legs around him.
I want him. I want him inside me, on top of me, kissing me, squeezing me, stroking me, petting me, pinching me, licking me, holding me. I want him so bad it hurts, so bad I thrust my hips into his face, stroking myself against his tongue as much as he licks me.
With a shudder and an exhaled, choked cry of pleasure, I twist on the bed, but he has ahold of me as much as I have of him, gripping my sides just above my hips. The pressure and soft heat of his tongue rubbing on my most sensitive spot drives me into a frenzy. I hug myself and clench my teeth, whimpering as the heat spreads through my body. Building, building, building.
I thrash on the bed, and it's all I have not to cry out as it explodes through my body. My own pathetic explorations with my fingers are nothing compared to this. I can barely think, barely remember my own name.
The tension tightens in my limbs until I feel so good it hurts, overwhelmed by the crashing sensations ramming through my body. When I finally relax, Jason sits up from between my quivering legs and lies on top of me.
"I want to have sex," I tell him bluntly.
"No," he murmurs. He wipes his chin on his arm and touches his lips to my forehead.
"You're awful," I tell him.
His face becomes serious, his touch severe.
"It's almost first light. I have to leave."
"No." I try to wrap my legs around him, but I can't move. "It's not fair. I should do you."
"Do me?"
I manage enough strength to lift my arm and slip it between us, take hold of his cock, and start to stroke. I rub it against my stomach as much as I caress it, and his hips start to move, thrusting in my grip.
"You're so fucking hot," he growls in my ear. "I'm going to think about you when I come for the rest of my life."
He shudders, and I stroke him faster. I'm clumsy, inexperienced, but I don't think it matters. His whole body is tight with excitement, shaking.
"I want to fuck you," he growls in my ear. "Hard. So hard you'll be comparing every guy you ever sleep with me to me. I want to break the bed and blow a load in you and watch your eyes while you take it. I want you to come on my cock."
"Do it," I plead. "Fuck me right now."
"I'm not doing a one-night stand."
He pulls my hand away from his cock and rises up.
I sit up and grab at him. I even try to take him in my mouth, but he pulls away and grabs his jeans.
"It's almost first light. I have to go or someone will see me."
"Don't," I whimper. "Stay with me. We can…."
I don’t know what else to say.
He kneels in front of me and takes my cheeks in his hands. With a gentle kiss on my forehead, Jason slips his arms around me and holds me tight.
I want him to take me with him. Carry me out the window over his shoulder and take me to bed with him.
"You. I want you. Please."
"Anastasia," he says, carefully pronouncing each syllable. "I don't want you for a fast, cheap fuck. I told you what I wanted. It's here."
He touches the middle of my chest.
"My boobs?"
He sighs. "Yes. I do want your boobs, but I meant your heart, silly."
I swallow. "Do you like them?"
"What?"
"My boobs."
He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Ana."
"I'm sorry. I'm not very good with this. I've never been naked with a man before."
"You're doing just fine."
I sniff, and my eyes start to burn. "I don't want you to leave. Nobody has ever made me feel like this before."
He sighs. "I don't want you to get sent home. What the hell are we supposed to do?"
I shake my head. "Even if I am not sent back, I can't stay. When the term ends I have other things I must do, other places I must go. One day, I will be queen. A queen does not belong to herself. She belongs to her people."
"I don't care about kings and queens. I care about you."
"You don't, but I must."
"Can't you have this one thing? Just be with me?"
"It can't last."
"A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. Give me one week."
"One week?"
"One week. We'll date, we'll go out. We'll have our time together. Then we'll decide what we have to do."
"One week."
He takes my hands. "Don't decide now. If you want to take the chance, come to my game on Saturday. If I see you there, I'll know."
He touches his lips to my forehead and stands up.
"Wait," I say.
I leap to my feet and do up his jeans. He goes quiet as I pull his shirt down over his head, smooth it over his muscular body and tuck it in. I even tie his shoes.
"I've never had a naked girl dress me before."
I stand up. "Nudity is not such a taboo in my country."
"I think I'd like to visit your co
untry."
I punch him in the stomach. He flinches, but grins.
"I just meant I'd like to see you bare-assed all day."
"I was trying to be serious," I snap, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "In the old days, before the men would go out to battle, their women would dress them."
I smooth his shirt, but it's really an excuse to feel his shoulders before he goes.
"The sun is almost up," he observes. "I have to leave. Seriously."
"Jason," I warn him. "No more stunts. No more presents, no more airplanes. If my mother hears of it once more, I'll be leaving here whether I want to or not."
"I understand. I'll see you on Saturday, Princess."
He slides out the window. I almost say "No, you won't." He waves to me before he climbs down. I almost say it again. I almost say it over and over until he's out of earshot, because I don't know if it's true or not.
I could lose everything. I could be dragged home against my will, never to see this beautiful, strange country ever again.
Or I could live another year like a prisoner. Sometimes I don't know if the guards and servants and walls of this house are here to keep the world out, or to trap me inside.
All I know is that my knight has come to offer me an escape.
If I am brave enough.
Chapter Eight
Jason
I need a cold shower right fucking now.
So much so that I turn the water on, twisting the dial halfway, and get under the water.
Fully clothed.
I scream, because it's fucking cold, but I grin and bear it. The water feels like it's boiling into steam as soon as it touches my skin. Oh, it's cold. It's freezing. It still doesn't touch the fire inside. I feel like I swallowed a locomotive. My lungs are on fire, molten rock has replaced my heart, and burns in my belly.
The erection doesn't fade until I stand back and let the frigid water flow down my front. I strip off, the wet clothes plopping at the back of the bathtub as I pull them off. Eyes pressed tightly shut, I try to think about something else. Baseball. Apple pie. The drag coefficient of a toaster. The Missouri Compromise.
Now that I've seen Anastasia's writhing, naked body, flushed and sweaty, her eyes wild with lust, I don't think I can see anything else.
There's a pounding on the door.
I shut the water off, grab a towel, and swing it open.
"What?"
Akele stands in the hallway in a pink, fuzzy robe and slippers that look like bear claws.
"I need a shower." He shrugs.
I brush past him, dry off in my room, and dress. When I get to the kitchen, the brothers are already concocting breakfast.
"Gym," I grunt, then chug down a protein shake.
"Gym," they agree.
I'm in no mood to chat, so I make it a run to warm up, carrying my gym bag in one hand, switching every few paces. My head swims, my chest clenches, and I realize the next three days are going to be among the most difficult of my entire life.
When I reach the gym, I find it mostly empty. On off days I don't use the athletic facilities. I jog down to the open student gym and work out there. More time to myself, more time to think. This early the place is deserted, save for the one staff member who sits at a rickety desk by the entrance, working on her homework.
"Hi, Jason," she says without looking up.
"Melissa," I acknowledge.
She's wearing one of the damn shirts.
I grab a locker, drop off my bag, and head out to the floor. Stretches and some bodyweight work for warmup, and then I start loading the bar for squats. I'll do a pyramid, really push myself.
On the third set, I hear the door of the gym open and close and pay it no mind. I rack the weight and throw on two more forty-five-pound plates, bringing the total up to seven on each side, plus the bar. One more and I'll be at my five-rep max and start scaling back. My legs are already on fire.
Professor Grandolf walks into the gym and acts like she's surprised to see me. She's dressed in skintight yoga pants and an athletic bra, with a towel over her shoulder and a water bottle that still has the price tag on it.
"Oh, fancy meeting you here," she says.
"Doc," I grunt.
I'm not in the gym for chitchat. Especially not with her.
"You come here often?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"Funny we've never had a run in. I come in all the time."
"Yeah. Great."
She whistles tunelessly as she sets a bar in the uprights in the squat rack beside mine and starts loading it. I keep my eyes on my own form as I start my next set, oblivious to her presence.
When I finish and rerack the bar, Grandolf is still going, counting out loud between reps, her skintight pants stretching so much I can see she's wearing a thong every time she dips.
If she thinks this is going to work, she's out of her mind. Not a chance. After she racks her weight, she takes a big gulp of water. It flows down her chin and into the open top of her bra, which is about a size too small.
"Hard workout, huh?"
"Yeah."
I go back to ignoring her, beginning the process of stepping down the weight, one set at a time.
Grandolf is still squatting when I finish, unload the bar, and move to the next station.
After I rack the weight following my warmup set of bench presses, she leans over me, grinning as she looks down.
"Need a spot?"
"No thanks, I got it."
"I don't mind."
She plants her feet and sets her fists on her hips to watch me raise and lower the bar. I push her out of my head. I can't lose focus with over three hundred pounds in my hands, over my damned head. I rack the weight again and sit up.
I feel her hands on my shoulders. She sits down on the bench behind me. I grasp her wrists. I carefully lift her hands from my neck.
"Thanks. I'm fine. Go work out."
She pouts and walks over to the dumbbells, and starts doing goblet squats. Squat, squat, squat, every exercise she does is for her ass.
Not my problem. I can't see her while I'm benching, or while I'm doing bent over rows. After that I'll be doing some heavy bodyweight work, with a belt, in the other room on the chin up and dip bars.
By the time I'm finished, she's still hanging out in the free weight area, although she's taken up a pair of dumbbells and is lying on her back, squeezing her breasts together with every rep until they look ready to burst out of her top.
I don't spare her a single glance. I walk past to the locker rooms.
After I shower and walk back to the bench in my flip-flops, I stop. I hear feet scuffing on the concrete floor.
It's her.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Jason, we need to talk."
"Are you crazy? You can get fired for this."
She smiles, not her usual predatory grin but a real, warm smile, almost motherly. She steps close to me and touches my stomach. I back against the lockers.
My arms start to rise, and I freeze. I can't just shove her. She may be a weird, horny college professor that's trying to sleep with me, but she's still a woman. I won't put my hands on a woman, and I won't tolerate anyone who does.
"Please stop touching me."
"Jason, listen to me," she purrs. "That girl is going to hurt you."
"Who?"
"That bi… the princess. Anastasia," she spits the name like a curse. "I know her type. Stuck-up, cold, and a dead fish in bed. She's not what you need. You don't need a little girl. You need a woman."
"I really don't want to have this conversation."
"Oh, Jason." She starts rubbing my chest. "I know how hard you have it. You're so closed off, but you need to let someone in. I could be good to you. I'll let you do whatever you want with me. I'll suck your cock right here. You can fuck me in the ass if you want. Anything, I mean it." She flutters her eyelashes. "I'm begging you. I'll ride you after you get too tired to fuck me. I've seen you looking
at my body. I know you want it—"
I take her upper arms in my hands and lift her bodily from the ground. I very carefully set her to the side, grab my bag, and carry it to another part of the locker room.
"Jason—"
"Stay the hell away from me."
I yank on my sweats, pull my shirt on so hard the seams pop, and roughly stuff my gear in my bag.
She grabs my arm as I leave, clinging to me. I finally give her a short, sharp push, on the shoulder.
"Do not touch me. I'm not interested in you. At all."
She whimpers, standing there, and her lip trembles. A tear slides down her cheek.
Oh great, now I feel like shit.
"I have feelings for someone else. You just have to accept that."
I storm out of the gym, past a bewildered Melissa, who only just now looks up from her art project.
Outside, I don't give Grandolf a chance to catch up to me. I run, as my grandpa once said, like a motherfucker.
Ana
When I finally have a moment to myself, I sit down at the computer and buzz Konstantin for a video chat. The call goes through after a minute, and his haggard face fills my screen. It's late at night back home, and I clearly woke him up. He yawns and brushes his fingers through his silver-blond hair, and takes a swig of water. He smacks his lips, loudly.
I run over and make sure the door is locked and hunch forward, speaking in a low voice.
"Brother," I choke out.
"Ana," he says, too loudly.
I turn down the volume.
"You seem upset?"
I chew my lip. "Jason came to the house last night. He came here."
"Oh did he?" Konstantin says, his tired face suddenly lightning up. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
"It wasn't like that… yes. We didn't… I mean I did but he…."
I hug myself.
"Sister, you're beet-red. You needn't share the details. I can gather enough. So he, shall we say, took care of you?"
I nod.
"Good, I daresay you needed it. I'd think you'd be more relaxed."
BENCHED Page 30
