The idea gave me full body shivers but I ignored them to forge on. “You are suddenly so shallow that you care about what my car looks like?”
A low growl rumbled up from the depths of his throat before he exploded. “It’s a fuckin’ death trap, Cressida! You want me to be okay with you drivin’ a fuckin’ death trap then you are insane.”
“And you’re insane for completely changing my car without talking to me about it. You were supposed to give it a fucking tune up, for Christ’s sake, King. Now I can barely even recognize her.” It was true. Betty Sue was looked brand new with shiny paint and those cool wheel rims that spin the opposite way when you drive.
Actually, looking at her, she looked pretty cool.
“I was doin’ somethin’ nice for you. You’re tellin’ me I gotta get you to sign off on it every time I wanna do somethin’ nice for you, Cress, you’ll find I don’t fuckin’ do it anymore.”
I shifted my gaze back to the man-boy in front of me and realized that I’d hurt his feelings. His cut-glass cheekbones were flushed with rage, his pose hardened-biker-at-war but those glacial eyes were cracked through with hard lines of pain.
My stomach clenched as the invisible fist of my self-hatred battered against it.
“King,” I murmured softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that I was unhappy about the gesture. It’s easily the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. It’s only one of the many things you’ve done to try to make me happy in the last few weeks and I didn’t mean to throw it in your face like this.” I moved forward to try to lie my hand against his crossed arms but he moved back out of reach. The move burned through me, worsened when I heard female laughter behind me.
“I reacted instinctively,” I continued quietly. “It’s important for me to pay my own way bow. Men have been buying my things nearly all my life. It’s more than that too; I don’t want to feel like I owe you and I don’t want you to feel like you need to get my shit together for me.”
“Haven’t realized this yet, you’re crazy, but I like to get your shit handled for you,” King muttered. “Haven’t realized this part either, but you left all that Stepford housewife shit behind and entered my world. And in that world, men take care of their fuckin’ women because it’s their duty and fuckin’ pleasure, whether those women need protecting or not. There’s something you need, Queen, it’s your King who provides it for you. You don’t like that, you need to learn to eat it.”
It wasn’t his nicest speech to date or even his most eloquent, but there was something about standing in the middle of bikers on their compound with their one-day King that made his words especially poignant. He’d introduced me to this world, I’d unwittingly already become a part of it and only now was I consciously coming to face to face with that reality.
As far as misogynistic biker behavior went, King’s philosophy wasn’t all bad.
I told him so, quietly, just for him.
I was looking for it, so I saw the flash of humor before his eyes clouded over once again.
“Gonna be late for school. The keys are in the ignition. Was going to drive with you but think it’s best I catch up with you later,” he said.
“King,” I tried again.
But he was already brushing past me, his shoulder hitting my arm like gunshot. I reeled back from the pain of blatant dismissal and watched him climb aboard his bike, rev the engine twice and peel loudly out of the lot.
“Blow job,” Skell said, suddenly in front of my unseeing eyes as I stared after King.
I hadn’t spoken to the Latin biker since the day I’d dropped off my car and he’d called me a piece of ass.
“Excuse me?”
“Offer him a blow job. He’ll forgive you soon’s your mouth’s wrapped around his dick. First off, it’s just bad sense to fight with a bitch when her teeth are that close to your junk. And really, no man can stay mad at a woman with his cock in her mouth.”
I blinked at him.
“Think about it,” he suggested with a friendly pat on the back before he ambled off after the others.
King barely spoke in our third period History class and looked at me all of three times. Our fight tortured me all day, especially because I’d driven Betty Sue 2.0 to school and she was a dream. The seats were redone in pale pink leather that matched the rose gold accents on the dashboard and gearshift. It could have been trashy but it was so utterly classy and exactly what I would have wanted if I’d ever thought about ‘pimping’ my ride.
So, I decided to take Skell’s advice.
First, just before the IB English class with King in sixth period that day, I went to the restroom and removed my panties. Then I changed my lesson plan so that half of the students went to the library to work on their final papers about Paradise Lost while the rest stayed in the classroom to practice their one-on-one oral presentations with me in preparation for their IB oral exams.
I made King go first. He barely acknowledged me as he walked to the chair I’d set across from mine between my desk and the white board. I didn’t mind. The other kids, quietly working on their laptops while they waited, did not look up while King began his presentation. It was excellent, but of course, he was naturally brilliant with straight As in all of his classes, and one of the perks of being the English teacher’s lover was being able to practice your presentation with her in bed.
I waited until he was about a minute into it before I spread my legs to either side of my wide desk chair. King sensed the movement, his eyes flickering up before he could catch himself. I felt the nibble and reeled him in by flicking my loose skirt up with my thumb so he could see the tops of my black lace topped stockings and my bare pussy.
He didn’t move an inch but a sharp intake of air through his teeth gave him away.
When he started talking again, I ran my hands on the insides of my thighs, teasing both of us even though I was already wet.
“Satan is the tragic hero of Paradise Lost,” King recited as I dipped two fingers inside of me, drew out my juices at painted my clit with them. “He’s undoubtedly charismatic, which is how he rallies the fallen angels to continue to rebel against the so-called tyranny of God even after their hellacious defeat in the Angelic War, and he’s cunning, the primary example being his manipulation of Eve with her apple. His confidence in these abilities is exactly that which makes him weak. His pride is his hamartia, meaning it leads to his eventual banishment.”
His voice had groan hoarse, his breathing erratic as I continued to touch myself for him, poorly hidden by just my desk from the roomful of students. It was nerve wracking in a way that pumped the blood through my body on overdrive. My skin felt too tight, my eyes hot in my head and my breathing loud. The thrill of being caught felt good but it felt delicious to know that I affected him, and even better, when his leaned forward with his forearms on his knees to stare intently at the scene between my thighs.
“The irony is,” he continued, “the reader can empathize with Satan in a manner that they can’t with God. He is a ‘plurality of meanings,’ a ‘multifaceted’ presence that speaks to the complexity of basic human nature. No one person is good or evil, and paradoxically Satan, the character who is traditionally meant to embody all that is bad in the world, is the one to illustrate how natural it is to be at conflict with both, to embody the two.”
He paused, reached out to grab my slippery clit between the knuckles of his fore and middle fingers and clamped down hard. My head flew back against the seat a he continued talking, his voice drowning out the minute sounds I tamped down as I rode out my orgasm.
I kept my eyes open and on his as they seared me with a promise, a dirty implied oath to fuck me later with his tongue, teeth and hands but maybe not his cock because I didn’t deserve it after this morning. I wanted to moan but instead, I smiled shakily at him.
He adjusted himself slightly in his uniform pants, leaned back in his seat, stuck his two knuckles in his mouth to suck off my cum, and stood up to walk back to his seat
, done with his presentation and with me.
Somehow, I managed to sit through the rest of class without getting up because I knew there was a wet spot on the skirt of my dress. King stayed in his seat until the last person left the classroom after the bell and then finally lifted his head to glare at me.
“Shut up, lock the door and come here. Detention is in session.”
I swallowed thickly but did as I was told. When I’d pulled the curtain down over the door, I stayed there facing it. There was something about his anger that made me feel completely, provocatively, under his control.
“Turn around.”
I did.
“No come’ere,” King ordered, his eyes sparkling with anger.
I’d never seen him angry before. Lust shot through me like Cupid and his stupid bow were watching from the eaves of my classroom.
King watched me shiver and his eyes melted from ice to liquid. He patted the small desktop attached to his seat.
“Come fuckin’ here, Miss Irons,” he repeated.
My eyes shot to the door of the classroom. The door was locked and the little paper curtain was doing its job, but still someone could come by. If they found my door locked they’d wonder why. It wasn’t unheard of, but it certainly warranted an explanation.
“Don’t like repeatin’ myself,” King growled out.
I was walking towards him before I could make the conscious decision not to. My flared skirt was slippery against the laminate wood desktop so I braced my hands on his shoulders as I hopped up. Before I could get settled, King was putting my calves on his shoulders so he had an unobstructed view of my bare pussy.
“You were a bitch today,” King told me harshly. “A bitter shrew I didn’t even recognize. Think it’s time for you to show me some sweet so I remember why it is I put up with you.”
I knew he was angry and that he had a reason to be, but I couldn’t stop the blush of mortification and the prickle of defensive anger that ignited somewhere in the base of my belly and tangled with the lust that was kindled there.
“King,” I tried.
His gaze cut up from between my thighs and sliced into me. “Do it.”
I dropped to my elbows, readjusting myself so I didn’t fall of the small table and delicately pulled my skirt up over my groin. His eyes marked each minute movement of my fingers as they crawled down my naked folds.
“You’re wet already,” he told me.
He didn’t have to.
I overflowed like a river in spring, my fingers running laps in the current.
“Show me,” he ordered.
I spread my lips open for he could see the depth of my depravity. He could make my pussy glisten for him just by being a badass biker asshole. I didn’t know if it said good things about me, but I didn’t care.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he said before he reached out to run two fingers down my slit.
My eyes fell to half-mast and stayed there, weighed by the image of King sitting between my legs like a proprietor evaluating his goods. He was so sexy he didn’t seem real. His golden curls were pushed back from his face in a sloppy man bun, a few curls springing out to rest of his ears and in his heartbreaker face. Every time he touched me with his eyes, lips or hands I felt absurdly awed, as if it was a fallen angel that sat between my thighs and not just a man.
He leaned forward to rest his cheek on my inner thigh, his gruff voice abrading the tender skin as he said, “Get yourself ready for my cock.”
My fingers dipped into the well of ink and scrolled over my shiny folds, drawing a flourish over my clit. I felt free and powerful spread out for him, showcasing my wares to their best advantage so that he would want to take advantage of them.
His hot breath brushed my sensitive skin but it was the feel of his eyes on me as I dipped two then two fingers inside myself that made my back arch off the table. The movement lifted my pussy closer to him and I heard him drag in a deep drag of my scent.
“Sweeter than apple pie,” he praised.
I moaned for him.
“Don’t got all day though, babe. You’re gonna come for me, fast and hard, then I’m going to clean you up with tongue.”
I panted as his words sent electric shocks through my system. “What about you?”
“Holdin’ out for tonight,” he muttered, staring fixedly on my fingers as they churned in and out of my sloppy cunt.
I gasped as his rough hand slid up my silky thigh before he sunk two thick fingers inside me. His fingers stroked my own as he began to pump in and out of me. It was a tight fight, four fingers stretching me wide, his and mine. Together we fucked my pussy until I was so wet, it leaked down my crack and soaked the desk beneath me.
“Feel good?” he asked.
“So full,” I panted.
His head descended and two seconds later, my clit was clasped tightly between his lips. He sucked, flicked his tongue like a whip strike against the tender flesh.
I came apart at the seams. My fingers stopped moving inside my clenching sex but King kept coaxing my orgasm higher and higher, pressing his palm hard against my pubis so the pressure was nearly unbearable.
“King,” I groaned over and over, my breathing coming out in sobbing burst.
My legs flailed over his shoulders. He bit down hard on my thigh and I screamed. It was too much; I was drowning beneath the onslaught, my breath stuttering in my lungs.
But King wasn’t done.
He slipped a finger down the slippery line of my ass and rubbed at my asshole.
“Gonna take this,” he growled, sliding the digit smoothly inside me. “Soon.”
“Please,” I sobbed as sensation pounded into me.
I was caught in the riptide, floundering over and over again. The last of my control broke loose and I gave into the descending darkness with a stammering last gasp.
When I opened my eyes again, some minutes later, King was gently easing our fingers out of my body and gathering my limp body into his lap. I was sprawled over the desk and his chair like a used rag, wrung out and used up.
I felt wonderful.
“Wow,” I breathed as I snuggled into his arms.
He chuckled and rubbed his cheek over my hair.
“What’s tonight?” I asked because I could feel his erection like titanium steel against my ass.
He pulled back to look down at me imperviously. “Tonight, you’re the student and I’m the teacher.”
I tried to swallow my gasp and choked a little.
“Pigtails, knee socks, and those sexy white cotton panties you like to wear under a little skirt.”
“Let me guess, a plaid skirt?”
“Doesn’t matter, babe. It’ll be flipped up when I get you bent over the desk about two seconds after I get my hands on you.”
“Ohmigawd,” I murmured.
Even though I’d had the orgasm to end all orgasms just a few minutes before, I felt my swollen sex tingle at the thought of his fantasy.
“You’re going to kill me,” I groaned.
He shrugged, jostling my entire body. “Die a happy woman.”
“That’s for sure,” I agreed. “I should update my will, just in case.”
His body jostled me again as he laughed.
I was so consumed by the sound that at first, I didn’t process the horrible cry and subsequent crash as something fell heavily against the locker outside the classroom.
King was on his feet immediately, his pants already done up. I stood dumbly as he took my face in his hands, bruised my mouth with a kiss and said in a no-nonsense badass biker going to work kind of tone, “Stay in here and locked the door behind me.”
Then he was opening the door and darting into the hallway.
It took me about thirty seconds to follow him.
When I rounded the corner, it was to see King with his forearm against Carson Eriksson’s throat. The jock was a big guy, stockier than my blond king from his football and soccer playing, yet King had him dangling off the ground and
he was currently snarling into his face.
That occupied me for all of two seconds before I noticed the boy on the ground writhing in the midst of a seizure. Another second more and I realized it was my beloved Benny.
I was on my knees beside him the second after that. All the staff at Entrance Bay Academy were required to take first aid training every year but panic was overloading my system, the adrenaline obliterating everything I’d been taught, so I just kneeled, helplessly stroking his sweaty hair back while he convulsed. Visions of my bachelorette party swam through my head; Marcus Whitman bleeding out in my arms while Lysander tried to get rid of his gun and the police sirens began to call from down the street.
“Queenie,” King barked over his shoulder at me. “Cradle his head, pull his belt off and put the strap in his mouth so he doesn’t bite off his tongue, then call 911.”
King’s familiar voice kicked me into gear, triggering the natural obedience that sat deep in the heart of my psyche while also reminding me that I was more than capable of dealing with this calamity.
Calmly, I followed his commands. Benny’s paroxysms weren’t as violent as they had been even thirty seconds ago but his hair was soaked through with cold sweat and his beautiful lips were purple. He was unresponsive when I tried to speak with him, which nearly made sheer terror overtake me again but then Warren was in the hallway, his cell phone to his ear calling the ambulance.
Vaguely, I listened to King as I stroked Benny’s sweet, clammy forehead.
“What the fuck did you give him?” he ground out.
He sounded horrible, menacing and full of violent fury like one of Satan’s vengeful angels. There was a sound of clanging metal as King proved his wrath by slamming Carson back against the lockers.
“I don’t know, man. The guy said it was just some Ecstasy or some shit like that,” Carson whimpered through his tears.
I didn’t want to look away from Benny’s face because it was the only way I could monitor his thin, reedy breaths but I had no trouble imagining the petrifaction on Carson’s face.
Another rattling clang. “Who’d you get it from?”
Lessons In Corruption (The Fallen Men Series Book 1) Page 22
