by Rina Kent
I listen at the foot of the stairs, trying to work out where she is. Then I hear the creak of floorboards above me.
Perfect.
Well, perfect if it’s her, even more perfect if she’s alone.
Not so perfect if it turns out to be her mum.
Fuck it, I’ll tell her Michelle left her homework in the car or something.
I creep up the stairs, praying to God the dog doesn’t sniff me out and start jumping on me again. But if I had a dog, the first thing I’d do when I got home from school would be putting it out in the garden, so I’m assuming that’s where the dog is.
I listen at her bedroom door. I think the shower is on, but it’s quite loud, so I’m guessing the bathroom door is open. Maybe she’s not gone in yet? Or maybe she just showers with the door open in her own house? Either way, I give it a moment and then I hear the bathroom door closing.
I come into her room.
It was dark the other night when I was here, so I couldn’t make out much of anything. This time it’s bright, the blinds are up and since her bedroom is at the back of the house, the sun is pouring in through the window.
For all her short skirts and high heels, Michelle isn’t much of a girly-girl. Her room is white, the bed silver. There’s some green plant shit over in the corner on a shelf, but other than that, there’s next to no colour.
I sit down on the bed, making myself at home, just like I was doing the other night when she…
I still don’t know exactly what it was she did. She made my cock hard, that’s what I’m calling it.
She’s in there for a good twenty minutes and I’m wondering what the fuck she’s doing when the water finally switches off. She opens the door, standing in a cloud of steam with her body wrapped in a white towel and her dark brown hair piled up high on her head.
Her eyes narrow, so I smile at her.
“All clean, princess?”
She stands there looking at me and I can tell she’s trying to think of something to do. She doesn’t even know what she’s fighting yet though.
“Thought you might want to pick up where we left off the other night?” I ask her.
She rolls her eyes, unclipping her hair and letting it fall down around her shoulders.
“Sorry, I’m not in the mood,” she tells me, heading over to her dresser and picking up her hairbrush.
“Really?” I swing my legs down off the bed and stand up. “You seemed in the mood this morning when you had your arse in the air for me?”
She was brushing her hair out but now she stops, as if she senses me approaching her. She puts the hairbrush back down on her dresser and turns around, resting both her arms on the table and leaning back slightly.
“You liked that, did you?” Her eyes dance as she says the words, and she cocks her head to the side.
I shake my head at her slowly as I take another step towards her. “Don’t much enjoy being teased, darlin.”
She glances down to where her towel is wrapped around her chest and my eyes wander there too. The edge of it is tucked in between her tits, and it strains against her as she breathes in. She breathes out and the whole thing loosens, as if it could fall at any second.
A single slip of my finger and the whole thing would land in a pile at her ankles. She’s looking at me now like she’s daring me to do it.
This is what she does. I tell her I don’t like a tease and she goes and does exactly that. It’s frustrating and intoxicating, all at the same time. I take another step towards her, now I’m close enough that I could make that towel fall if I wanted to, and we both know it.
She has to tilt her head up high to look me in the eye.
There was at least a year when we were kids, during which I was smaller than her. Just an inch or two, but I sensed she took great pleasure in it.
But not half as much pleasure as I’m taking from being a full foot taller now we’re both fully grown.
Every degree her head tilts up feels like a small victory, but with that look in her eye I don’t think she cares much about who is taller anymore.
She’s looking at me like an extra three feet wouldn’t be enough to save me.
And she’s looking at me like she’s daring me to find out.
“What do you want?” I ask her.
She searches my face while a smile tugs on her lips. I watch them carefully and try to stop myself thinking about how good they would look wrapped around my cock. She’d not get any of her catty remarks passed it, that’s for sure.
I give her enough time to answer the question, and when she doesn’t, I inch forward again. “See, I can’t tell if you want me to wring your pretty neck, or choke it while I fuck you.”
She smirks now and reaches her hand up to fix my collar. “You stick that cock anywhere near me and I’ll have you charged before you’ve had the chance to empty your balls.”
I chuckle but it quickly turns to a laugh. I don’t doubt her threat for a second. She’d be waving from the window in her lingerie while the policeman ducked my head for me.
“I’m not going to touch you,” I tell her. “Why force it when I can empty my balls anywhere I please?”
That little gem stops her smirking, and she narrows her eyes at me. “You enjoy doing that, then.”
I’m the one smirking now because I know I’ve got her. That’s what she loves. It’s not a pride thing; it’s a being wanted thing. She likes to think she has some power over me, and when I remind her that she doesn’t, she hates it.
I’m about to remind her again, just to be sure she never forgets.
I flick the towel and the thing falls to the floor.
Her eyes widen in shock and she tries to lift her arms to cover herself but I’m on them in a second, slamming them back down against the table so she’s leaning back over it.
I don’t look at her body, hell I remember it well enough from the weekend, but I feel the rise and fall of her tits against my chest and her ragged breath is hot on my cheeks.
“I didn’t touch you,” I tell her, shaking my head and looking directly at her parted lips.
She tries to force her arms up again, but it’s only going to end in disappointment for her. She might have a strong will, but I’m strong in all the ways she isn’t.
Her lower lip trembles and I have the urge to bite it. I look at her eyes, still wide with fear and I remember exactly why I came into her room. I told her I would give her hell.
I bend down, turning my head to the side and catching her lips. She tries to shut them, but I force my way through easily.
My grip on her wrists tightens and if I was hard before then I’m solid as a fucking steel bar now. She takes a second but when she finally parts her lips for me I don’t hesitate. I’m in there, catching her tongue with mine while my cock pushes against her stomach.
A moan escapes her lips and I pull back, letting go of her wrists and turning around. I hear her breathing behind me but I don’t look at her.
I say nothing, I just cross the room and fire down the stairs, heading straight for my car.
You play with flames, you should expect to burn.
I beep twice the next morning and this time when she comes out of the house she doesn’t look at me. I open the door for her, like I did yesterday, and take the bag from her hands to put it in the boot beside mine.
We have our first class together this morning, History, and as I put her bag down, I think of a way to make it a little more interesting.
I drive to school and revel in the silence. She’s not taunting me with her harsh tongue or trying to land me in the shit with my attendance. She doesn’t even mention the coffee thing, and I’m not about to remind her.
We arrive at the school and I walk her to class. “Did you do that essay for Mrs Hopkins that was due in today?”
She looks up at me as she adjusts her bag on her shoulder. “Yes. Did you?”
“Nope.” I push her playfully and she shoots me a dirty look. “Had more interesting t
hings to keep me awake last night.”
She doesn’t look at me but I notice her cheeks flushing. She dives into the classroom and I wait until she’s found a seat and put her things down before I take the seat right next to her.
“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?” she whispers. “First you play taxi, now you’re what, my personal shadow?”
I laugh at her and shake my head, keeping my eyes on the whiteboard. “I’m your fiancé, princess. Or have you forgotten about that?”
She huffs and opens her notebook. “As if you’d let me forget it.”
The lesson consists of a blow by blow account of the Scottish Wars of Independence, and I reckon Michelle is taking notes on fucking guerrilla warfare.
With five minutes to go, Mrs Hopkins comes around and asks us for homework that was due in today — a three-thousand word essay on the Battle of Stirling Bridge.
I hand her my paper. I did do the essay, found it quite fucking interesting too, I just didn’t tell Michelle that. She is busy hunting in her bag for her own essay.
I sit back casually in my chair and watch her frustrated little face. I already know she won’t find it in there, because it’s folded up in my pocket.
Old Hopkins taps her foot impatiently at the end of our desk, looking at Michelle expectantly.
“I’m sorry, I could have swore that I put it in my bag, but it’s not here now,” she explains.
Hopkins doesn’t look like she’s going to buy it. “Are you saying it vanished into thin air, Michelle?”
She shakes her head, “I’m sorry.”
“That’ll be a detention after school. An hour in Mr Brady’s classroom,” Hopkins says, before moving on to the next victim.
I couldn’t have planned it any better. Hopkins has always been a prickly bitch but she mustn’t like Michelle very much to give her a detention for being one day late on an essay.
“Nice one, princess. What the fuck am I supposed to do for an hour while I wait on you?”
Michelle shrugs, getting up and shoving her notebook in her bag just before the bell rings. “I dunno, take your face for a shite, maybe?”
She walks away and I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms out behind my head while I laugh at her.
I’m sitting in the car waiting for Michelle to finish her punishment when the sky goes dark and the heavens open. It’s not unusual for early April, although it was glorious sunshine this morning. That’s just Scotland though, being the sort of place where you need a scarf and a hat in the morning and a bottle of fucking sun-cream come lunchtime.
I turn the music up louder, so I can hear it over the sound of water hitting the metal roof, and switch on the heated seats. Then I catch sight of her, sprinting across the car park with her bag over her head, trying to protect herself from the rain.
Since most folks are already away home for the day, I’ve moved the car from the overspill car park to the main one, and she’s running in the complete opposite direction. I could easily beep the horn and flash the headlights at her, but I’m having too much fun sat here in my warm car watching her.
She’s ditched the heels today but still has her skirt pulled up high and her white blouse is turning see-through, revealing a bright pink bra underneath. Serves her right for not checking the forecast before she got dressed this morning.
I take her essay out of my pocket and unfold it, placing it down on her seat. I’m practically getting an erection at the thought of her annoyed little face, spitting venom at me and calling me every name under the sun. Again, serves her right.
She’s standing in the spot where the car should be, looking all confused. It’s a gray car on a gray day, it’s not obvious, and when she turns around, I take pity on her and flash the headlights once. She clocks me and starts walking over to the car; her face seething. She looks like a drowned rat.
I flash them again, my lights are those super bright white ones — the ones that only wankers of the highest sort have — and I flick the dial on the side to adjust them so they’re up at full height. I switch to main beams and she hides her eyes with her arms, turning her head away as she walks.
When she gets close, I beep the horn, and she jerks from the fright of it, almost dropping her bag. She rips the door open so hard I think it would have come clean off its hinges had it been a French car and not a German one.
Hauling herself into the car and collapsing down on the front seat, she doesn’t even notice the essay.
“Your homework’s getting wet there, darlin,” I tell her, nodding down at her arse.
She gives me a what the fuck face and drops her bag on the floor while she shifts forward. Realization dawns on her soaking wet face, and it’s just as magical as I imagined it would be. I try to keep a straight face, but I can’t.
“You. Fucking. Bastard.”
She’s on me in a second, jumping right out of her seat and slamming her fists down on me.
I put my hands up to defend my head, but otherwise, I let her have at it. I can feel her rage as she bashes against my chest, climbing over the handbrake until she’s practically sitting on me.
When I’ve taken enough blows, I grab her under her shoulders and pull her the rest of the way over until she’s sitting on my lap, getting it soaking wet.
She tries to wrestle me again, probably even more angry now that she’s ended up sitting on my cock. It’ll be her throne one day; she needs to get used to it.
I grab her arms and hold them down at her sides while she shakes her head, trying to get her wet hair off her face.
“Feeling better, darlin?”
“I’ll feel better when I ram my fist clean through your jaw,” she says, her breath panting.
I laugh at her. I’ve learned that finding her anger cute seems to fuck her off even more. “Sounds like the little princess needs a time out. I have a boot back there if you fancy spending the drive home in it?”
She’s about to tell me to fuck myself, I can tell. I can see it written across her face.
But I’m guessing she realizes that would end up with her actually in the boot, so she thinks twice. Instead, she tries to compose herself, looking into my eyes and steadying her breath. “You can let go of me now.”
I release my grip on her arms and she slides back over to her seat, picking up her crushed wet homework and shoving it into the bag at her feet.
“Hope you had a copy of that,” I tell her, as I shift the car into gear and pull away.
She just looks out of the window and for the first time this week I feel like I might actually be winning. There’s barely an ounce of fight left in her now, and she just looks upset.
Well, shit. I wanted to fan the flames, not put them out completely.
I shift gears and put my hand on her thigh. I figure it’s the easiest way to tell how she’s actually feeling. She’ll either hurl verbal abuse at me and push it away, or she’ll sit there with a lost look on her face, watching the rain as it rolls down the window.
She does the latter, and I give her thigh a squeeze to let her know that I’m a prick, but she started it.
And now she’s losing.
Chapter Ten
MICHELLE
Bastard.
I’m livid by the time I get out of the car, but I’m doing a good job of hiding it. I hope he feels bad for what he did. He took it too far.
I get in the house and this time I lock the door behind me, because christ knows Tommy is fast making my house his second home. I say hi to Dollar and open the back door for her, and then I head up the stairs to get out of these wet clothes.
My little trek through the rain was just the icing on the cake of a shit day. I undo the buttons on my shirt and slide out of my skirt, putting them over the chair beside my dresser. I can’t look at that thing without seeing him pinning me up against it.
Just like I can’t look at my bed without seeing him lying in the middle of it. He haunts me at school and now my bedroom is no longer sa
fe.
It’s like there’s no escaping from him.
I wrap my housecoat around me and head to the main bathroom, because at least that’s one place he hasn’t tainted. I’ll have a hot relaxing bubble bath and I’ll let all thoughts of Tommy Heenan spin away down the plughole.
Or at least that’s my intention. There’s just one thing I need to sort out first, and then I can put him to the back of my mind.
The smell of Bath & Body Works Bonfire Bash covers the room like velvet, rich and thick with smoke and sticky sweetness. I know it’s not the season for marshmallows toasting on an open flame but, it’s my favourite, and there is no spring inside my glossy beige candlelit bathroom. I jump in the steaming water and unlock my phone, opening up the group chat with Lawrie and Ada.
It’s Tommy’s birthday party on Saturday night and you bitches better be my plus-twos. I need moral support.
It takes a second for the blue ticks to appear and when it does, it’s Lawrie who replies first. I’m there.
Good son. I type back.
Ada replies a few moments later. I’m sorry I’m going to Newcastle for the weekend with Scott. I’d cancel but we have train tickets and he’d shit if he found out it was for Tommy Heenan’s birthday party.
Scott Parker, her boyfriend. I don’t actually dislike Scott, he’s a decent guy, so I can’t really complain.
Michelle: It’s fine, honestly. I just don’t want to go alone.
Ada: Lawrie is enough moral support for the both of us LOL.
I send a crying with laughter face back, because it’s what you do, isn’t it?
Lawrie: We should do something before you go.
Michelle: I would, but I’m on house arrest remember?
Lawrie: Ask him if you can come over to my house for a film and food or whatever on Thursday night. Tell him he can pick you up. We can go out and he’ll be none the wiser, as long as we’re home in good time.
