His finger enters my throbbing pussy easily. I'm so wet I can feel it on my thighs. He pumps his hand, stroking me inside, using his thumb to caress me outside, circling my clit. Under him, pinned down, I moan into his mouth. He stops kissing me just long enough for me to catch my breath and then kisses me again, swallowing my shuddering moans and cries of ecstasy. A second finger enters me easily.
I don't want his finger, I want his cock. I want him in me, on me, pinning me down, thrusting into me, filling me with that heat the way I swallowed it. I want him in every fiber and ounce of my being. No longer do I know if I swallowed him, or he swallowed me.
He's so huge, so powerful, so controlling. I thought I was strong, but I am nothing before him, and I surrender instantly. I feel air on my back as he lifts me bodily from the bed, fucking me with his hand. My legs jerk and curl up, and I dig my fingers into his flesh and drag my lips and tongue over his skin.
Now, now, now, I need it now, oh God….
I arch under him as he pins me down, my body trapped between him and the bed, the explosion of pleasure rocking through my body in relentless waves, curling my toes, clenching my teeth.
My legs fall still first, then my arms go limp and the tension eases out of my muscles. Slack-jawed and bleary-eyed, I let my arms slide off his body to fall where they will on the bed.
My eyes open halfway when I feel his mouth on my chest. He's tasting my sweat. When he sniffs at my armpits, I giggle.
"Stinky pits," he says and tickles me.
It's too much. I pull his hands away, groaning.
"Let me lie for a moment. Puh-please."
He pulls me close to him, and I lie in his arms, taking shallow breaths.
"I dare you to fuck me," I demand, embracing him.
"Truth. Pick a truth."
"You don't want to?"
He strokes my hair and touches my cheek.
"I do. Very badly. I need… you deserve more than this. More than the heat of the moment. I don't want to rut with you. I want your first time to mean something. I want to show you what you mean to me."
"I want to lie with you a little longer."
"You can lie with me as long as you want."
I roll over in his arms and tuck myself against him. I could sleep like this forever, swaddled in his arms, pillowed on his shoulder, pressed against his skin.
When he starts to snore, I sit up and gather my clothes. I dress slowly, not caring that the sweat will soak through. I take down his hoodie and put it on, and sniff it, and breathe him in.
He wakes as I dress, and watches me.
"I want to wake up next to you every day."
The words land on me like a blow.
You can, I think. For a time.
Then they'll take you away from me.
"I need to get home. Tomorrow. After class. Yes?"
"It's going to be harder to get away."
"I know. It will have to be after dark. We will not have much time."
"We'll have enough," he says as he stands and dresses. "I know I can't walk you back. Let me take you to the door."
We repack everything in a single overstuffed bag, and I carefully keep the lingerie out of his sight. Carrying one overstuffed bag that pulls at my fingers, I kiss him on the lips and dart away from the house, back to mine, and clamber through my window.
I sit on the floor and lean back against the wall. If I keep him, I lose him.
"I don't want to be a princess anymore," I tell no one in particular.
Chapter Ten
Anastasia
I arrive early to my first Monday morning class, American History. My bodyguards stop at the door to the lecture hall, scanning the room for threats even though I am alone.
Alone with Professor Grandolf.
She looks at me the way she might look at a particularly loathsome insect she has discovered despoiling her pantry. I start toward my customary seat and find her approaching me.
"Good morning, Miss De Vries," she says, purposely denying me my royal style.
If only she knew how much I want to get rid of it.
She lowers her voice.
"I don't know how you got your hooks in him, you little slut, but you're going to pay."
When I turn to look at her in shock, she steps back, grinning.
"So I hope we can reach an understanding about that," she says cheerily as students begin to file in.
I see Jason enter at the top of the hall. I look at my usual seat, within glaring range of the professor. I can't be near her, but I can't flee. She knows.
What will she do with that knowledge?
Jason looks at me, beckons me. I cross the aisle and sit away from him, and text him using my computer rather than my phone. At least I can type in complete sentences.
Anastasia: I want to sit with you so badly. Grandolf frightened me.
Jason: What?
Anstasia: She said, "I don't know how you got your hooks in him, you little slut, but you're going to pay." What does she mean?
I look back and shift in my seat, watching him type.
Jason: She said that to you?
Anastasia: Yes!
Jason: Stay calm. Don't react. Pretend you don't know what she means.
Grandolf starts her usual sardonic greeting and sends the assistants out with the papers. I take mine back, dreading that I received an F-, no matter what I actually did. To my surprise, it's been fairly graded a B+, with points off for grammar. Foolishly, I never let Jason proofread it for me.
I tuck it away and sink into my seat. I want this class over with desperately.
This is torture. I want to sit with my…
My boyfriend. I want to be like the others. I want to be normal. I want him to protect me from her. He can, I know he can. I am surrounded by guards, held in a gilded cage, and yet my protector is held at arm’s length. I can’t stop myself from looking back at him.
Every time I look back, I see Grandolf glaring, something vicious in her eyes, a wolfish cast to her grin. When I first began taking her classes, I was envious of her. I thought she was pretty, even beautiful. Now all I can see is some venomous creature.
Class drags on. It feels like she goes a minute over on purpose. I look down and my notes are sparse. I will have to rely on Jason to help me, but I don’t want to waste our time with such things as this.
My phone jumps in my pocket.
Jason: Tonight. Dark. I’ll come for you. Outside fence.
I am nervous and fidgety for the rest of the day, distracted and vacant. My knowledge of economics carries me through that class, as usual. The tedium grows unbearable. When the day finally ends, I rush home, threatening to break into a run at every moment.
Still, I must do my homework. I have been reading analyses and papers on The Great Gatsby trying to understand what it means, thinking of Jason's soft, compelling narration. I have a good enough grasp on the history work for the moment. I would have Dee proof it for me, but it would come back with more errors and probably more stains from pizza cheese.
When it is done, it is not yet dark.
There is a knock on the doorframe. When I acknowledge him, Thorlief inclines his head in respect.
"Yes? Speak freely."
"Princess, that is why I have come." He steps into the study. "Might I close the door? I would rather not risk that Bjorn hear."
Tensing, I nod, a bare twitch of my chin.
He closes the door and sits down on a side chair. All at once, he looks very old, like he could be my father or grandfather. He looks past me at something that has long since faded away.
"I know about the boy," he says, his voice heavy with regret.
I go as still as though I were carved from ice. I say nothing for a time, waiting. What will he do? What will he say?
"If you say something to Mother—"
"You worry that I had."
I admit, I am more than slightly shocked that he interrupted me.
"There is no need to wo
rry about that. If I'd spoken to her on the matter, you would be home by now. No, I have said nothing. I know your secret. I have kept your secret."
"Then why do you tell me this? Is this a warning?"
"In a way."
"I'm listening."
"This may shock you to hear, but once your mother was a little girl. She was much like you. I first met her when she was younger than you are now, sixteen. I had just finished my service in the American army, and I was made her bodyguard."
"What was she like?"
"You. Innocent, in the truest sense of the world. The old sense. She was not like she is now. She is harsh on you. There can be no denying that. Nor are you deserving of it. You are a good girl. Such a good girl."
I blink a few times.
He scans the floor and looks up.
"She loved unwisely, and it broke her heart."
I nod. "My mother did not love my father."
It is not a question.
"No. He gave her seven children, and she never loved him. She never mourned a day when he died. This was not because she was hard, but she let another man take hold of her heart when she was young and innocent, as you are. That man ripped it out."
"I see," I tell him.
He looks up sharply. "You do not. I beg you, Princess, set this boy aside. Look inside yourself and see what you are doing to him. A man once said, loving someone means giving them the power to hurt you terribly and hoping they do not. This will end with the boy hurting you terribly, or you hurting yourself. You are the princess. You will be queen."
I suck in a breath. It turns into a sob. "It's not fair. You told me to go to him in the first place."
He frowns, and looks away.
“If I told you not to, it would only have hardened your conviction to see him. I’d hoped you’d have some fun and move on.”
“Are you going to stop me?”
"I'm not going to betray you to the queen. I will keep your secret."
"Why?"
"Because you must do this yourself. The queen's father, your grandfather, learned of her indiscretion. He forbade her from seeing him ever again. He married another woman. His family is in California."
I roll my shoulders and toy with the pen in my hands.
"You have something else to say."
"It killed her. It killed the girl. Only the queen remained."
"You speak of her with great familiarity."
He looks at me with deep grief in his eyes.
"I have always known my place. I never gave voice to my own desires. She grew into a beautiful woman. In a better world, you might have been my daughter."
I sit up and look up at him as he stands.
"I don't want to be like her."
"I don't want you to either."
"Thank you. I can't stop. I'm leaving tonight."
He nods. "Be careful. Please. You are precious to me."
After he leaves and Mavra brings me my evening meal, I lock myself in my room. I eat some of the food in case Jason has no plans for dinner, but I am too nervous and excited to keep down more.
As much as I would like to wear his hoodie, I leave it on my bed and put on my own, and warmups. When I climb over the back fence, he is waiting for my by the corner.
"Hey, gorgeous."
"Where are we going?" I ask, giddy with excitement.
"We're going to see the stars. Come on. Walk with me."
Walking by his side, I stroll up the street, past the student housing. I keep my hood up and my head down and bounce against him with every step.
Our route takes us out of town, away from the campus. A road leads up into a more wooded area, and we follow it. The trees reach out over the sidewalk, heavy with colorful autumn leaves. The moonlight catches them just so, deepening the colors. I stop to look, and Jason stops to watch me, a lazy smile on his face.
"Come on. The park is this way."
The farther we go, the more I edge toward him, until I'm almost pressed to his side as we walk. The only light is from streetlamps on the far side of the road, or an occasional passing car. This side is dark, and to my left, the trees are black as pitch, with only the barest hint of moonlight shining through their branches.
Jason slips his arm around my waist. "You okay?"
"Yes."
"You have nothing to worry about."
"It's been so long since I have been outside of the town."
Jason looks at me intently, and I start to blush.
"What do you do during the summers, anyway?" he asks.
"I take extra courses and study."
"What else?"
I shrug. "There is not much else. I read. Go on runs. Listen to music, watch movies."
"All in that house?"
"Almost all, yes."
"You live like a half mile from this park and you've never been here?"
I nod, and shrug again.
"Well, we need to fix that."
The sidewalk curves up the road and opens onto a gravel path leading into the trees. The sign reads, New Castle County Property, No Alcoholic Beverages, Closed at Dusk.
"Jason, it says the park is closed."
"Yeah, they say lots of things. Come on."
"Are you sure…?"
I stop at the sign, biting my lip. Jason grabs my arm and gives me a tug, and I stumble after him. He slips his arm around my waist, and we walk up the path, into the dark.
"Don't worry," he says cheerfully. "The mountain lions probably won't get us."
I stop and stare at him.
"I'm joking, Ana. We're safe here. Come on."
On the far side of the field there are tables and benches. Jason hops up and sits on the tabletop with his feet on the bench. I climb up and sit next to him, close. It's grown very chilly tonight, and I start to shiver.
When I tuck up against him, he puts his arm around me and I mold myself to his body. My gaze rises to the stars above. It's strange, but we were in town twenty minutes ago, and now it feels like we're in the wilderness, alone and miles from nowhere. Just us.
"I come here to sit sometimes," he says. "There are some days I just can't stand it."
"Stand what?"
"The big-man-on-campus routine."
"What's that?"
He sighs.
"You know, the all-star quarterback. It usually starts right around now. I'll be scouted. They're going to try to recruit me to play professionally."
"Is that not good?"
He shakes his head. "It was never my dream. It was my dad's dream."
"What is your dream?"
He looks at me and smiles.
"I'd like to have a house. Not a big house, an expensive house, not a trailer, not a cheap house. Just a house. In my head it's a Colonial with a big wraparound porch, with porch swings. I'd like to come home from work and walk in the door and get a kiss from somebody. Maybe have some kids run up to me and yell, 'Daddy's home!' Just be a regular person."
I nod and nuzzle my cheek against his chest. "That is a good dream."
"What's yours? What does Princess Anastasia want for her life?"
I blink, and stare at nothing.
"Ana? Are you okay? I didn't mean—"
"No one has ever asked me that before," I huff. "I don't have a dream. I will be queen. There is no room for anything else."
"If you could do whatever you want, what would you do?"
I sit up and think about that.
"I would see more of the world. So far I have seen only the island and a little of the town here. Yesterday was the farthest I have ever been from campus."
"Where would you like to go?"
I'm quiet for a while.
"I would like to see Montana."
"Why Montana?"
"Why not?"
He laughs. "That's as good a reason as any."
"I would like to go to Japan, and tour Europe. I would like to go to beaches. Perhaps I could get a tan."
"You'd better be careful. You'll bur
n to a crisp without sunscreen."
"There are beaches at home," I tell him. "I do tan. I have tanned."
"What are the beaches like?"
"Covered in little pebbles. No one sunbathes on them."
"Tell me more. More dreams. What would you do if you could do whatever you wanted?"
"I would like to go to a place with a beach. A real beach. With a little… bungalow, yes, that is the word. I would like to go there and sit in the sun all day and get very tan."
"Would you have tan lines, or sunbathe nude?"
I smile even as I start to blush. "What would you prefer?"
"Well," he says, slipping his arm up inside my hoodie. "See, I'm of two minds. Tan lines are sexy as hell. On the other hand, I'm imaging you lying buck-ass naked on a towel on the sand covered in sweat. I think I'd like to see that."
"What would you do if you saw me like that?"
"What would I do? I think I'd have to give you a rubdown. A nice, long, slow massage. Start at your neck and work my way down, all the way to your feet, until you're completely relaxed."
I start to feel hot, even though the night is cool the night is. "Then what?"
"Then I'd pick you up in my arms and carry you."
"Where, to bed?"
"No, to the pool. I'd toss you in and jump in after you."
"I can't swim."
He draws back and stares at me. "You live on an island and you can't swim?"
"The sea rarely rises above five degrees."
He blinks a few times.
"Centigrade," I add quickly.
"You should learn to swim. I swim. It's relaxing."
I shrug. "Perhaps I should. Perhaps you only want to see me in a bathing suit."
"I want to see you in your birthday suit."
"You already I have," I say in a low voice as I move closer to him.
I slip up under his chin and nip at the skin of his neck. Gently, he lifts me bodily from the tabletop and sets me in his lap. He's so strong, he can pick me up as though I weigh nothing at all. It makes my chest flutter. I sit sidesaddle in his lap and put my arm around his neck, and rest my other hand on his chest, under his jacket.
"Yowch," he cries, when I tuck my hand under his arm.
BENCHED Page 35
