My breathing begins to quicken as Dan slides his finger inside of me, knowing I’m close. I swallow hard, knowing that my thoughts should be here and not where they are. Not with some raucous teenage boy I know nothing about. Not with some child who could cost me everything. Not with—fuck! My fingers tighten their grip in his hair as I come hard with the image of Ryan’s smirking face in my head.
When Dan looks up at me with a passionate fire in his eyes because of me, guilt floods through me. What is wrong with me?
F I V E
RYAN
I wonder what would happen if I stole the dean’s car? Or I could set the counselors office on fire. I’m sure that would warrant for strikes two and three to happen. And the grand possibility of being arrested again.
I don’t know why she is trying so hard to get me on this so-called right path, but it won't work. It’s too late for that bullshit. The counselors in elementary had their chance when I cried to them about being lonely. The middle school staff could have done something after I told them I’m always home alone and have to fend for myself. The second I got to high school, I stopped talking. I stopped caring. I didn’t give a shit because no one else seemed to either. So, I set myself on a path that would either get their attention or show them how they fucked up. A cry for help comes in many forms and I had plans of showing them every single one.
“Mister Styles.”
“Fuck!” I say, grabbing my chest. “You scared the piss out of me.”
Mrs. Welch raises a perfectly penciled brow at me, “Language.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, walking away from her and the pretty white Porsche that belongs to the dean.
“You’re quite early today. Any particular reason why?” She asks, walking beside me. Her heels hit the pavement angrily. The sound makes it seems like she really is trying to crack the world in half.
“Just being a good student is all.” I reply sarcastically, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
“Good. I’ll walk you to class. I’m sure Coach William will be pleased to see you in his class for the first time. Seeing how you haven’t been to any class, except dance.”
“I guess dance is more exciting than history and math.” I deadpan.
I have one good reason why dance class appeals to me more than any other class and she likes to act as if my presence doesn’t bother her. I know it does. I can see it in the way she looks at me when I pin her in a corner she can easily weasel her way out of. Yet she stands there like a dear in headlights, acting like she can't move. I like that particular look on her, but I know I’ll like the look on her face when I slide my cock inside of her for the first time even better.
“Mister Styles, I get that you don't want to be here, but you have no choice. While you’re here, you can at least go to class instead of wasting time wandering the halls.” She says before she leaves me standing in hall alone. I roll my eyes again, which seems to be the main reaction she gets out of me. Ah, the ever tyrant teen with the fuck you attitude, I think to myself, gotta love it, right?
I stand by the door, waiting for her to disappear down the white hallway. Once I can’t see her anymore, I wander off toward the dance hall, curious if the pretty face I’m looking for is here yet or not. She seems to be the only reason I want to be here. Her big doe eyes and plump lips are begging me to look at them like I want to devour every inch of them, which I do. I would love to see what positions that pretty dancer can bend into.
If I can get her to strip out of that tight little leotard, then I will have something rather delicious under my belt. My one-way ticket out of here because infidelity with a superior is the ultimate no-no and I am down to play that game.
When I make it to her classroom door, I peek inside of the little rectangular glass window and see exactly what I came to see. Her tight, round ass bent over, stretching in the leotard I like. The black one. I wonder if she wore that because of me, I think to myself as I bite my bottom lip, trying to adjust the hard on that’s coming on.
My fingers touch the door handle lightly. A slight tingle trails up my arm from my fingertips, and for a split second, I hesitate on opening the door and barging in like I own the place. But then I think of why exactly I’m doing this, and the hesitation disappears. Twisting the handle down, I open the door quietly.
“I could get used to this view!” I say loudly, startling her. She spins around with that scowl of hers on her pretty face. I smirk, “Hello, Pretty Dancer. How is your morning?”
“It just turned a bit sour.” She snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why are you here?”
“Math didn’t appeal to me. That teacher doesn’t look as fuckable as you.” I reply, striding over to her. My boots squeaking against the floor turn into the only sound in the room. The air seems to thicken the closer I get to her. Her arms drop as she steps back, getting as close to the wall as possible.
“You need to leave. You aren’t supposed to be here until two.”
I stop right in front of her, her back against the bar. Each breath she takes cause her tits to brush against my chest. I part my lips, looking down at her and trying my hardest not to lean down and devour her entirely.
“You look beautiful today, Pretty Dancer.” I whisper, surprising myself at the choice of words spoken. Her cheeks flush, but she says nothing. “Did you wear this because of me?”
“No!” She replies quickly, “I—I have more than one leotard!”
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips but vanishes when I see the ring on her finger. I saw it the first time my eyes landed on her. It’s one of the reasons I chose to go through with attempting to fuck her. It would be one more nail in the proverbial coffin. My mood darkens a bit, so instead of playing nice, I decide to go a different route.
“How about we go into that office of yours and I can show you how a suburban slum like me gets down?”
A bitter laugh escapes her, “You need to leave, Ryan. If you hadn’t noticed, not only am I married, but I am you superior! I’m probably one of the most off-limits things you could chase after.”
I push my body harder against hers, trailing my fingers up her bare leg then snapping the hem of her leotard. The loud pop with the subtle sting from the elastic hitting her skin causes her to jump. She closes her eyes tightly as if she is trying to wish me away.
“Pretty Dancer, you don’t understand. Nothing is off limits for me. That means you too.”
Her eyes slowly open, defiance swirling on the surface of them, covering the gorgeous blue color that normally sits there. “Fuck. You. Ryan.”
I smirk, my dick twitching at her foul mouth. “That can be arranged.”
She scoffs, placing her tiny hand on my chest, then pushes me backwards. “Get out of my classroom. I will not tell you again to respect me. One more shot from you, ‘suburban slum, and I will personally toss you out myself!”
The door slams in my face. I hadn’t realized she had pushed me that far out of the classroom. Looking through the small window, I smile, because when my eyes meet hers as she looks back, I know I have her pinned.
S I X
“How was school today, Ryan?” My dad asks from behind his phone and stack of work papers.
I just grunt in response. I know his question isn't a genuine one, he's only asking because he knows how school is for me. He wants to make sure I’m not getting into trouble or getting myself thrown out. Little does he know, my plan is in full effect, and soon, it'll all come to an end.
“Ryan, your father asked you a question.” Mother dearest says, sipping her wine and acting like she cares.
I know what you’re thinking because everyone else thinks the same way. You think I’m just some teenager who didn’t get his ass whooped enough as a kid or that lack of discipline is the issues. You’re wrong, I can promise you that. I wasn’t always this way. I wasn’t this hard ass until about three years ago when I finally realized my worth in the fucked-up world.
I was a good kid with a
big heart and forgiving soul. Then I was left to rot with the words “We love you, but we didn’t want you.” floating in the stale air before my parents left on a year-long trip, leaving me with a highly paid sitter who couldn't have gave two shits about what happened to me or what I did.
The end result…this. The person I am now. The kid who wants to grab the entire world and squeeze it like a fucking pimple until it explodes. Why my parents thought it would be a good idea to tell their only child how they truly felt is beyond me. I guess parenting 101 didn’t teach them not to traumatize kids.
“I mean, do you really care? Or are you just trying to figure out if I’ve fucked up yet or not?” I deadpan.
“Language,” my mother squeals.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I mumble, getting annoyed. “I’m still there, aren’t I? You haven’t gotten any calls, right? That should be answer enough for you.”
With that, I get to my feet and head toward my room. Sometimes I think once I leave here it will be bittersweet, then I see all the fake smiles and forced affection plastered all over the walls in frames and reality reminds me that it won't matter. Once my soul wanders off into whatever unknown that swallows me up, I’ll be okay. I’ll be better off. Then everyone can live whatever life it is they want to live.
I close my bedroom door and plop down on my bed. Stuffing my hand into my pocket, I grab my phone and earbuds, putting them in my ears and pushing play, unpausing the song that was one from earlier. Ironically enough, Monster by Skillet blasts into my ears. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
Tomorrow, I have something fun planned for Pretty Dancer.
I did something I haven’t done in a long time, I attended all my classes. I didn’t do shit except listen to music and look out the window, but I was there. I guess my presence alone was enough to appease the teachers because no one said anything to me the whole time.
I’m standing outside of the dance hall, waiting for the door to open. I may be a little too eager to get inside. Needless to say, I have something up my sleeve to get me an inch closer to the little stubborn dancer. All I need is that one, small inch—a little wiggle room and then I’ll know I’m golden.
The door opens swiftly, the cool air being sucked into the room like a vortex and in I go, startling Pretty Dancer. She gasps, then her sexy scowl appears, causing me to smile.
“Don’t you look happy to see me?” I ask, standing right in front of her.
“You’re blocking the doorway. Other students need to come in.” She replies, turning around and walking toward the center of the room.
I smirk, stepping fully inside and walking to the corner I seem to have claimed. Dropping my bag, I bend down and grab the clothes from inside. I contemplated this morning not even doing this and just being the likable asshole until I got what I needed, but I figured I could step it up a notch and indulge in some fun with Pretty Dancer.
The room slowly fills with students, but my gaze isn’t on them. It’s on her because she is looking right at me as I take my shirt off and drop it to the floor, then slip out of my jeans and into some basketball shorts. I know there is a locker room for this shit, but this was a much better option. She walks toward me, her eyes full of—oh shit.
“Listen,” she says, her skinny finger poking my chest, “I have had it with you—”
My hand wraps around her finger, stopping her from saying anything else. I hold it in place against my hard chest, looking down at her like she is my prey and I’m a hungry lion about to pounce.
“Touch me like that again, Pretty Dancer, and I’ll have to show you how a real man handles defiant woman like you.”
She jerks her hand away, looking at me with something I’m unsure of floating in her gaze. I smirk, knowing my words hit a sore spot—or her G-spot—but regardless, I hit a nerve. She lowers her eyes as she backs away from me and heads to the front of class.
I’ll play along with this stubborn act she is trying so hard to maintain, and the second I get what I want, poof.
I’m gone.
S E V E N
EMILY
My eyes are glued to the plate in front of me. It’s full of delicious food, and as amazing as it smells, I have no appetite. What I want isn't food and it isn't something I can have. Let alone something I should want. Dan is good to me. Dan has been my rock for years. He is my husband. My provider. He is amazing, loving, supportive, and…and that's all I’ve ever had since I was in high school. Just him. Nothing and no one else.
Then again, he was the only one to show me any kind of attention. I wasn’t the best-looking girl in high school, but I wasn’t ugly either. I just didn’t have that wow factor all the boys seemed to want in a girl. So, when Dan smiled that precious smile of his, it swept me off my feet and I’ve been blinded by it ever since.
Now, oh God, now I have some wanna-be man child telling me dirty little nothings and it's making me feel as if I've settled with the safer option because it was my only option at the time. I try to swallow the lump in my throat as I hold back tears. I hate myself for feeling like this. I hate myself for feeling like I don't want my husband anymore. I hate that I want to know what it feels like to be with someone else. And I especially hate that I want to feel it with Ryan.
“Em?” I look up. Dan's face comes into view and I have to keep my composure.
“Yeah?”
“What's wrong?” He asks, worry coating his soft voice.
I clear my throat and smile at him, “Nothing, babe. I’m just tired. It was a long day.”
He places his hand on top of mine and nods. “You don't have to eat. I’ll clean up and then run you a bath.”
As he gets up, taking both of our plates with him to the kitchen, guilt kicks me in my chest. Making my heart feel like it shattered from the impact. I get up quickly, heading for our bedroom. Once inside, I lock the door behind me and lean against it, sliding down until I’m on the floor with my legs pressed firmly against my body.
What am I going to do?
“No, Claire.” I literally bark at my student. “Dammit!”
She shrinks back, looking at me with defeat. I sigh, knowing I shouldn't take my frustrations out on her. “I’m sorry. That’s all for today. You can go.”
Claire nods and then heads for the locker rooms. I was hard on her today, mainly because my mood has been soured by lack of sleep. I stayed up almost all night, feeling as if I was suffocating from Dan's embrace and the weight of guilt.
I feel like such a horrible wife and I can't talk to my husband about why.
When I see Claire walk out of my classroom, I head back onto the dance floor and plug my phone into the dock, turning the volume up and letting the music play loudly. Thankfully, Ryan wasn't here today, and I was able to focus on my students. They need my undivided attention with the Winter Formal approaching so quickly.
Seeing how I have some free time with school being out for the day and my last private lesson is done, I feel like I should let off some steam.
I've been working on a solo dance, something just for me. Just so I can be proud of myself again. Alongside of feeling like I'm losing interest in my husband, dancing is coming in a close second. This past week has tested me in so many ways. I need to find my bearings. I need to find me again before I get lost in whatever it is that's plaguing me.
As soon as I’m finished stretching, I get to my feet and walk over to my phone, scrolling through the songs until I find the one I’m looking for. Before I push play, I text Dan and tell him dinner will be on me. If I’m going to find myself again, I should start at my roots and that’s where my husband lies.
The songs melody slowly starts to play through the speakers, setting the tone I need to begin. The tunes flow through my veins like a drug, feeding my brain what it needs to function and my limbs what they need to move. The first few tries are a bust, ending with me falling on my ass. After about the fourth repeat of the song, I finally find the rhyt
hm I need.
Hours pass with the song on replay before I call it quits. Sweat coats my bare skin, soaking into the black leotard I seem to have grown attached to. Walking over to the phone dock, I take my phone off and see a text from Dan.
Dan: Oh, yeah? I love when you spoil me.
I smile.
I guess starting at the roots is exactly what I need to do.
E I G H T
I’m getting ready to leave the school, packing my stuff into the gym bag I carry with me. I decided to shower here instead of at home, that way I could just get ready as soon as I got there. It's only seven and the reservation I made is for eight thirty. Stepping out of my office, I lock it behind me, feeling excited to go on a date with my husband. We’ve both been busy as of late and I think this will be good for us—for me.
As soon as I turn around, I walk right into a dark figure, causing me to drop everything in my hands and screech. My hands fly up and swat at whoever it is, but firm hands grab mine and pull me close.
“Whoa there, Pretty Dancer, why so scared?” His voice coats my entire body like honey, hitting a sweet spot it shouldn’t.
“What the hell are you doing here so late?”
“I could ask you the same.” He replies, taking a step back and watching me pick up my belongings. “I’m here because I missed you today. Drove by and saw your car, decided to stop in and see what kind of shit you were getting into.”
I sigh, “Shit? Believe or it or not Ryan, I don’t get into shit.” I make sure to pronounce the word as clearly as possible. If I can put up a defense and keep it up, it will be easy to keep him out.
I go to walk around him, but he grabs my elbow and pulls me into his body. My chest is flush against his. There is no barrier, no protection, no stopping what he does next. Ryan leans down and kisses me, all while my body is frozen in time, allowing this adulterous act to happen. My lips tingle then burn like they are on fire. Soon, it spreads through the rest me as if I’m inside an inferno, burning alive in the most beautiful way. I drop everything in my hands and lose all control. My hands fist in his hair, trying to find the roots so they can mold to them.
Love is Strange: A Taboo Anthology Page 16
