by Blaire Drake
“You look scared, sweet thing,” he murmured.
Defiantly, I raised my chin, and his grip went with it. I focused on the way his long, dark eyelashes skimmed this skin. Like that would dull the intensity of him.
“What I look like and what I feel are two very different things, sir.”
“I don’t like your attitude.”
“I don’t like yours, either. So I guess we’re even.”
His grip tightened, his lips thinning. A hard glint replaced the amusement in his eyes, but I refused to back down.
“Remember what’s at stake next time you run your mouth.”
I narrowed my eyes to glare at him. I understood his ploy for exactly what it was. Provoke me into sassing him and then verbally beat me into submission with the reminder of what he had on me.
I hated him.
In that moment, it became a real, tangible feeling that picked up speed and pounded around my body like adrenaline. Hatred. Pure, untouched hatred. And he had every single bit of it, so in a way, he did own a part of me. That horrible part of ourselves we keep buried deep down, hidden from the rest of the world. The things that make us roll our eyes at ourselves and scream into a pillow or throw a pen at the wall.
That. All the bad stuff. He owned that hatred-tinged bullshit.
Once again, his mouth curved to the side, and he released my chin. He sat back in his seat and turned the key in the ignition. When he turned the steering wheel, I realized I’d walked right into his trap.
He was taking me somewhere… And my car was right there.
Shit.
Well played, asshole.
Well fucking played.
Dear Professor, what the hell? Xoxo, Darcy.
That somewhere was his house.
At least, I assumed it was. I was shocked when we made the turn into a small town outside town. I’d lived there for two years and had no idea this place even existed. As we drove, I figured that it was probably because there were all of ten houses in a pretty vast area. It didn’t even constitute a town. It was more like a few houses on a couple of roads that just happened to be linked.
He pulled up outside one house that was set back from the others. The car’s headlights illuminated a black, metal gate that was open and the trees and shrubbery beyond it. My grip tightened even more on my phone as he drove up the gravel pathway leading to a decent-sized Victorian-style house. It was nothing to phone home about. I wouldn’t gasp in surprise any time soon, but I did find myself drawn to the shutters that were by every window.
He’d clearly gone to great lengths to keep this house pretty close to the original. Or maybe he’d bought it like this. How did I know? I knew nothing about the man.
“Come,” was all he said as he shut off the engine and got out of the truck.
I took a deep breath and got out. The shutting of my door seemed to ring through the silent air, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that I was walking to my death. Certainly a kidnapping scenario. The dark trees barely illuminated by the crescent moon blocked out its hazy light, rendering the driveway almost pitch-black.
I almost sighed in relief when a security light came on.
Professor Keaton—was I supposed to call him that outside of school? I didn’t know. Maybe that needed to be cleared up. Was I supposed to call him Jordan? Professor? Sir? Master? Lord Fuckhead?
Yep. That sure needed clearing up today. I couldn’t keep referring to him as “he” inside my head, although I wanted to.
Professor Keaton opened the wooden front door and flicked a light on almost immediately. I hung back a second as he stepped into a relatively spacious hallway with mahogany wooden flooring and a giant staircase in the middle of it. He looked at me expectantly, and I stepped inside.
The house was deceptively big. Once again, I licked my lips. I was going to need start carrying Chapstick with me, at this rate.
The man in front of me cleared his throat and held one hand out. I glanced at his roughened palm with one eyebrow lifted, and he stepped forward and took my phone right out of my hands, along with my car keys.
My jaw dropped, but there was nothing I could say. He set them carefully enough into a glass bowl on a coffee table in the living room and disappeared from view. I assumed I had to follow him, and clearly, he was being stingy with his words tonight.
Follow him I did. I walked after him into the front room and stood awkwardly, wringing my hands.
“I thought you weren’t nervous.” He turned from a bar in the corner, a small, round glass in his hand. The low light from the table lamp lent the liquid inside the glass an amber glow.
“I’m not nervous. I’m awkward. There’s a massive difference.”
He raised the glass to his lips with amusement flashing in his eyes. “Indeed.” He continued to study me as he tilted the glass back and sipped.
My heart skipped a beat as he leaned back against the bar, his gaze still on me almost intrusively.
I felt naked.
I’d never felt that way before, not from a single look. But, somehow, he did it to me, undressing me with his eyes without the slightest bit of effort.
“Why am I here?” I finally asked, dropping my hands and hooking my thumbs into my belt loops.
“I didn’t feel like your conversation was e-mail appropriate. Did you?”
“Clearly, I did, or I wouldn’t have brought it up.”
His eyes glimmered with the hint of annoyance as he sipped from the glass once more. “Would you like a drink?”
“I’d rather not.”
His smile… It was evil, yet it made my stomach flip.
“Sit down, Darcy, and we’ll discuss your concerns.”
I chose that moment to steel myself against him, and my resolve hardened. It was a conscious action, and now that I had a handle on myself, I could control it much better.
“Who said it was a concern?” My eyebrows shot up beneath my bangs, and I took a seat on the brown leather sofa. “I don’t remember saying I was bothered by the prospect of a third party.”
He stilled. It couldn’t have been for more than half a second, but he did.
Point to me.
He sat on the cushion next to me and put the glass on a coaster on the coffee table. “So, what is your point?”
“I want to know if there will be one and who gets to decide. And, like I said, will they be male? Female?”
He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Either.”
“Choice made by…”
“Mutually agreed upon prior to the event.”
“And if it’s a woman? What are the circumstances? Are we talking girl-on-girl with you as the third party or girl-plus-girl-on-guy?”
“Circumstances are whatever I dictate them to be.”
“A guy? Because I’d very much like to know if, in the near future, there will be one or two cocks in my body at any given time.”
His eyes flashed, and did I dare say that I saw desire? “I told you. Circumstances are whatever I dictate them to be.”
“What if I’m not comfortable?”
“Then we revisit the scenario at a later time as agreed.”
“More than one threesome? Don’t you think that should have been elaborated upon in the contract?”
“You didn’t request it, so no.” He sat up. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here, Darcy. That clause is a secondary one and you know that. All you’re doing right now is frustrating me with your asinine questions.”
“I highly doubt they’re asinine. I’m not exactly a stranger to a little girl-on-girl action or more than one guy hanging around. I’d like to be prepared.”
Once again, desire flared in his eyes. “You say that like I don’t know it.” He reached over and twirled a thick section of hair around his finger.
I glanced at his hand, and he closed the distance between us.
I hated my stomach for the way it fluttered.
“You say it, Darcy,” he says
in a lower voice, his mouth hovering in front of mine, “like I haven’t seen you on your knees, one cock in your mouth and another in your pussy.”
“Maybe you haven’t. How do I know how long I’ve been performing for you?”
“Long enough,” he murmured with a smile. “So, yes. I’m aware of what you’re comfortable with. Doesn’t that make this easier?”
He moved even closer, and I had to make a real effort to control my breathing… Not to mention the way a heavy ache was building between my legs.
“How long in advance will it be agreed on?”
“As long as it takes for us to find someone we find mutually attractive.”
“That seems reasonable,” I breathed. “I have another question.”
“Fire away.”
“What do I call you?”
He paused then sat back. “Now?”
“Yes. Outside of school. When we’re…together.”
His eyes found mine, and in them, I saw his answer before he said it.
“Jordan.” His hand cupped my cheek, sliding down. His fingertips trailed down my neck and skimmed across my collarbone.
I took a deep breath as they came perilously close to my cleavage.
“You call me Jordan because then you’ll remember who you belong to. Every time I call, text, e-mail, it’s Jordan.” He released that one lock of hair only to fist it at the back of my head.
With a gasp, I found my mouth barely a breath away from his.
“Every time you’re here, with me, it’s Jordan. Especially when you’re coming, Darcy. Whether my fingers are fucking you, whether my tongue is tasting your sweet cunt, or whether my cock is inside you. When you come, you call me by my name.”
Oh my God.
Heat flushed through my body so quickly that I thought I’d implode from his words. They were so blunt, so to the point… So fucking hot. My body was reacting to them and the only thing he’d done remotely sexually was grab my hair like he was punishing me for something.
And damn it, I liked it. I liked the sting that was tingling across my scalp.
“Is that all?” I asked scratchily, hoping it was but, at the same time, praying that it wasn’t.
“No.” He closed the distance between our mouths.
The kiss was hungry. He wasted no time as he unleashed a hectic assault that tasted like desperation upon my lips. I was powerless as he took every ounce of control I had and some I hadn’t known existed. I was putty in his fucking hands, as with every brush of his lips, he sent lust thundering through my body.
It centered in one place.
My pussy.
My clit throbbed, and I wanted to squirm to rid myself of the severe ache between my legs. But he didn’t let up. Not once. He continued to fight my tongue with his and tug my hair until I whimpered in his mouth.
Then, and only then, did he take his mouth from mine. His lips ghosted across my jaw as they moved to my ear. His hot breath tickled my hair as he took a moment before he said, “Are you wet, sweet thing?”
I could only nod.
“Say it. I didn’t fucking hear you.”
“Yes,” I managed to get out.
“Good.”
He smiled against her skin. He’d meant it when he’d said, “Good.” He wanted her wet. He wanted to know just how easily she could go from defiant to submissive—not that he’d thought for a second that she was submissive. That was something she could learn though. Even if he had to keep dangling her life over her head.
Darcy’s chest heaved, and he heard her low whoosh of breath. She was trying to control her breathing, but she was doing a damn awful job at it. For all of her skills in front of the camera, she was really fucking bad at acting.
Just like earlier, when she’d told him that she wasn’t nervous. He could smell the fear coming off her, and it excited him in a way he didn’t understand. She was so different than the others.
He wondered if her sluttish tendencies were skin-deep or if they sank right down to the bone.
He was going to find out, sooner or later.
Jordan teased his fingertips down over her chest, finally moving them over the curve of her breasts. He wanted to rip her shirt off, throw her bra away, and see them. He wanted to know if they were as perfect off camera as they were on, but there was time for that. He could be patient for her tits.
What he wasn’t patient for was a taste of her. And a taste of her he’d get. Right now.
“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” he murmured, gliding his mouth back across her jaw. “How wet are you for me?”
Her response was a series of quick, short breaths. He’d take that as a “very wet.”
He massaged her breast and, after nudging her head back with his nose, dropped his mouth to her neck. Her skin was so fucking soft.
“I’m going to taste you. I’m going to eat your pussy until you’re writing beneath me and fucking my face and begging to come.”
Her gasp was small, but he heard it. He could tell that she liked the dirty talk. He wanted to know how much, so instead of giving in to a little temptation and running his tongue over her nipples, he moved right down her body until the button of her shorts was at his eye level.
He glanced up at her. A pinkish tinge was flushing up her body, leaving patchy signs of her desire on her skin. The sight made his cock harden. To know that she wanted him…
It was an intense rush of power… A power he had over her. One he could use and manipulate to his heart’s content. He wouldn’t hurt her. He would never do that. But he could push her…
He undid the button of her denim shorts and grasped the waistband. He tugged them down her long legs until they were on the floor next to him, and all he could see when he looked up was the hint of dark-purple lace against her skin. He wasted no time as he slid his hands up the insides of her thighs and spread them. Then, grasping her legs tightly, he pulled her down until her neck was arched over the arm of his sofa.
Darcy reached back and covered her eyes with her hand. He knew what she was feeling right now. She was ashamed, even as her chest rose and fell frantically, even as her sharp breaths filled the room and echoed off the walls. Mostly, though, he knew she was feeling disbelief.
He knew because he felt it, too. He couldn’t believe she was there after all of these weeks. That she belonged to him. That the wet cunt hiding beneath the purple lace was his. And his only.
He peppered kisses up the inside of her thigh, but he was by no means slow about his journey. No, they were quick kisses, made to tease rather than arouse because she didn’t need it. He could smell her as he got closer and closer to the apex of her thighs.
Then he was there. He slipped her thong to the side and set his gaze on her exposed pussy. Her pink flesh glistened with her wetness, and he could take it no more. He dropped his head and flicked his tongue against her clit.
She gasped, the sound like music to his ears.
Spurred on, temptation and desire overriding all else, he closed his mouth over her pussy. He licked and sucked his way around her most intimate area. The area he’d seen a hundred times but never been able to touch.
As her moan rang out around the room, he could hardly believe he was finally touching her. Tasting her. Teasing her.
Jordan was sure that, if someone pinched him, he’d wake up. But no one did, so he continued with his exploration of her. He loved the way she felt beneath his mouth and the way her juices coated his tongue. He was sure he’d be able to lick her to a first orgasm, and a second, and a third, and maybe even a fourth, without getting bored.
Fuck, she tasted so amazing. Tangy and sweet all at the same time. Better than he’d imagined.
He centered his tongue on her clit and circled it. The cry that left her mouth was encouraging and needy, confirmed by the way she reached down and fisted his hair. He smiled. He couldn’t fight it even as he flicked the tip of his tongue against her.
Her hips bucked against his mouth until he didn’t have to do a thi
ng but sit there, his tongue pressed against her clit. She moved so desperately, just like he’d promised her, and she fucked herself into her own orgasm. He knew the second she came. Her high-pitched cry was one he’d heard so many times, and although he always liked to think he’d had a hand in it, this time, he knew. It was for him.
He owned her orgasm.
When he was pretty sure she’d ridden out the aftershocks and her legs were only trembling a fraction of the amount they had been two minutes ago, he pressed a kiss to the mound of skin just above her pussy and sat up.
Darcy’s skin was flushed red from her neckline to her cheeks and farther, and he fought the smug smile of satisfaction. She wasn’t his biggest fan—oh, no—but he could win her over. He was sure of that.
In fact, if she didn’t like him a little more after that, he’d just have to fuck her right there.
He leaned over her with the smallest of smiles playing on his lips. Hers were parted as she took deep breaths, and he dropped his head. He took her lower lip between his and sucked lightly, adding a slight teeth graze for good measure. He could taste her on his lips, so he knew she’d be able to as well.
Moreover, she’d be able to feel that orgasm still. And he’d made damn sure she’d be dreaming about him all night. No matter how forcefully his cock was straining against his pants, how painfully his zipper was digging into his cock, he’d wait for the ultimate satisfaction. His whole body was screaming at him to unzip his pants and fuck her until she blacked out, but he’d resist her.
He would make her come to him. He’d make her want it.
Jordan stood, grabbing her shorts as he did, then threw them on top of her. “Put them on. We’re done tonight.”
He felt her glare on the back of his head as he strolled out of the room and out the door. Putting distance between them was the only way he was going to keep his cock in his pants. He shut the door behind him, not caring that he’d left her in his house alone, but only caring that he got away from her.
Darcy Hamilton had danger written all over her. And Jordan Keaton had taken the risk.
Dear Professor, let’s play. Xoxo, Darcy.
