Beautiful Torment (15 page)

I’m actually incredibly pleased he thinks I’m so good at these things, that it’s so good for him.

“I’m not saying that at all!” He shakes his head, his look still incredulous. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Maybe I’m an idiot for being so truthful, but I can’t help it. Not with him. I sigh loudly, giving him my own look.

“I’ve never jerked off anyone but you,” I answer his previous question. “You’re my first kiss.”

His arm hits his letters, accidentally knocking them onto the floor. He doesn’t pick them up, and I watch as he stares at the board, his face furious and annoyed.

“You’re angry,” I knew it. I understand his reaction, because he realizes, once again, how wrong we are. How inappropriate the things we’ve done are. How young I am, with our nine-year age difference.

The next time he looks up, his eyes are tender and kind.

“No… I’m flattered,” he says. “Maybe a little intimidated.”

I give him a look and he bends down to pick up the pieces.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” he sighs.

“How many girls have you been with?” I ask, not really sure I want to know the answer.

He thinks, and I hope he doesn’t notice the way I cringe. Is it that many that he has to think about it?

“You’re the eighth,” he answers, like they’ll be more after me. I try not to think about his tone as my eyes go wide, because that’s a lot.

“Oh come on, it’s not that many,” he laughs uncomfortably. “Well I guess it is compared to your number… but you are
by far
the best. And I mean, absolute leagues away from anyone else. The way I come with you. It’s unlike anything.”

I laugh, also a little embarrassed and uncomfortable, wondering if he’s just saying that to make me feel better.

“You know, though,” he puts his next word down. “You’re the first person I’ve been bare with,” he shakes his head. “I’ve never not used a condom before.”

“Really?” I perk up.

“Yeah,” he laughs to himself, like he’s realizing this for the first time too. “But we can’t do that anymore,” he shakes his head.

“What? Why?” I practically jump up from my seat.

“No, not the sex,” he chuckles. “I mean not using a condom.”

“Oh, right,” I relax, my mind racing.

God how stupid, I can’t believe we didn’t use a condom!

The bell rings, causing me to jump again.

“I guess we’ll have to finish our game after school,” he gets up. “You’re going to stay after?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “If you want me to.”

“Of course I want you to,” he gives me a look, like why would I think such dumb things, as he heads for the door.

“Don’t be late to my class,” he smirks before walking out.

I run into Gracie as I leave the office, about to shut the door.

“What’s in there?” She asks, looking over my shoulder.

“Jo - Mr. Harrington’s office,” I reply, shutting the door until it clicks. “What are you doing here?”

“And you were playing
scrabble
?” She gives me a knowing look. “That’s…
cute
.”

I roll my eyes.

If she only knew.

“How did you know where to find me?” I question, looking down the hall. He’s standing on the platform of his desk, staring my way.

“Well I knew you had lunch and that you eat with him. I was on my way to his classroom,” she looks up and he quickly averts his eyes. I give her another questioning look. “From when I spied,” she laughs.

“Right,” I walk towards the classroom and she follows.

“Anyway, I was just coming to tell you that I got a ride after school, so if you’re staying after it’s no big deal.”

“Really,” I place my hand on my hips, curious. She blushes. “And who’s your ride?” I move to the side and lean against the wall, letting other people walk into the classroom.

“This guy,” she rolls her eyes. “His name is Dave and he’s a junior.”

I don’t know any juniors named Dave. That could be good.

“He’s in my chorus class and is
really nice
.”

“Okay,” I laugh.

The bell rings as a few more people brush past me into the room.

“Shit,” she mumbles.

“Need a pass?” He appears in the door, handing Gracie the blue piece of paper.

“Thanks,” She smiles at him before giving me another look.

“See you later,” I wave.

Lab moves slowly, and things are weird with Chloe. She talks to Kyle most of the time, leaving me out. I don’t
feel
left out, I just
am
. We have nothing in common anymore, and that’s the reality of it.

Ashley and Chloe sit next to me in chemistry, he did it that way on purpose when he switched our assigned seats a few weeks ago, but as I listen to their conversation I’m just reminded how far apart we’ve grown.

They’re whispering about seeing
A Walk To Remember
this weekend, on how original it seems. I’m not invited, and I don’t blame them. Every time they have lately I just turn them down. I want to tell them the movie is based on a book, but if they want to get into Nicolas Sparks they should start with
The Notebook
because it’s far superior. I don’t, because they’d just look at me like I had two heads.

But with
him
I could.

With
him
I could talk about anything, debate about anything.

I look up at him as he writes on the overhead projection, going on about acids and bases. He meets my gaze before quickly looking away, a hint of his smirk on his lips.

Public speaking has turned into one big study hall. Everyone’s chatting away and Ms. Martin doesn’t seem to care. Hannah and Nick are talking, and just like Chloe and Ashley, and all my other friends and acquaintances, we’ve become distant.

I jot down some ideas down for my English essay before taking out my math textbook and starting on my homework.

When the bell rings, I run to my locker quickly before heading to the basement and finding Mrs. Stalling. I ask her a question about the homework I was doing, amazed that I may finally be getting it, until I’m on the next question, then I realize I don’t.

I walk into his classroom. There are about five other people there, either making up a test or getting extra help; of course Madison is one of them.

“Luci,” he’s surprised to see me here so early, but I had nothing else to do and didn’t want to stay with Mrs. Stalling. I take my seat in the back as he continues helping another student, getting out my math book and finishing what I started in public speaking.

I hear his feet against the floor as he paces from one student to the other, answering questions, not minding the low murmurs. I feel him next to me before I see him.

“That’s wrong,” he whispers. I look up at him questioningly, watching as he studies my paper before squatting, his spicy scent rushing up my nose, a sweet citrus smell. “That’s not rational because the denominator isn’t polynomial.”

I gape at him, my chemistry teacher who is suddenly helping me with my math homework. “Both the numerator
and
the denominator need to me polynomial for it to be considered a rational function,” he continues. “Like this one here,” he points.

“But what about-”

“The coefficients of the polynomial’s don’t need to be rational numbers in order for it to still be a rational function. You’re confusing it.”

Shit. And my chemistry teacher explains it better than my actual pre-calc teacher does.

“God, do you know everything?”

“I know a little bit about a lot of things,” he laughs and I roll my eyes.

“You’re so annoying,” I huff.

He winks before standing up and walking away.

I finish in no time, anxious for 3:10 to roll around so we can get to his office, and when it does, his mouth is on mine before the door fully clicks shut. It feels like its been forever since we kissed this morning, and I’m ashamed to admit that I want to feel him inside me again.

I reach my hand between us and give him a squeeze. He moves his mouth away from mine, closing his eyes.

“I can’t stop with you,” he reveals, like its some big secret he can’t comprehend.

“I don’t want you to,” I barely get my words out before he’s lifting me. We fall against the nearest hard surface, and I flinch as our scrabble pieces fall to the floor.

“Our game!” I cry out.

“We’ll start a new one,” he puts me down and starts undoing his pants, a playful gleam in his eye. “I was going to win anyway.”

I laugh as he frees himself, his engorged, well-hung penis standing straight ahead. I grab onto it as he closes his eyes and whispers in my ear.

“Get naked.”

He steps back and watches as I strip.

“Your turn,” I smile, crossing my arms over my bare chest. He lets his pants and briefs fall to the ground before unzipping his sweater, already having nothing underneath, his ruined shirt from this morning already discarded.

It’s my turn to take him all in, his thin body with heavy build, so defined and firm. His muscled protrude, but not in an overly obvious way, with a hint of a six pack around his stomach, and a small amount of hair that leads down to
him
, so thick and swollen.

“What are you thinking?” His eyes are almost cobalt now, deep yet opaque.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh but I do,” his voice is smooth and alluring as he wraps his arms around me, kissing my shoulder.

I slide my right leg up and around him, and he moans before grabbing it, holding it in place. The next thing I know he’s sinking down and inserting himself into me.

“You said we couldn’t do it like this anymore,” a prickling feeling washes over me as he fills me, so satisfyingly.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he breathes.

“No!” I shake my head and he laughs at my protest, already starting to grind his hips against mine.

“I’ll pull out again,” he grunts and I start to move too, meeting his thrusts. “I’ll bring the condoms tomorrow.”

He picks up my other leg and leans me against the island, kissing me tenderly as he slowly moves in and out.

“Oh God,” I hold on to him, his unhurried pace allowing me to feel each and every sensation.

“So good,” he breathes as he continues his slow, titillating rhythm. I shudder as he kisses me, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He moans again, thickening inside of me, but he won’t let up his pace.

“More,” I urge, but he doesn’t speed up, and I realize what he’s doing.

“I’m not in pain,” I pull on his hair, trying to get my point across. “But I can make
you
be if you don’t
fucking move
.”

He chuckles and it drives me crazy, but it’s back to being too intimate like this, too romantic and tender.

“I just want-”

“No,” I tell him.

This isn’t the time for him to be kind and caring.

“I’m fine,” I confirm. “Be rough. Talk dirty like you normally do!”

He shakes his head, but I don’t have to ask him twice.

“Like how phenomenal my dick feels inside of you?” He pinches my ass with both hands before pulling back and driving into me hard.

“Yes,” I hiss, and for the next hour we’re unrecoverable.

The next day, he brought in the condoms, just like he said he was going to, and I quickly learn that I hate them. There’s nothing like feeling him
right against me
, and for no other reason other than I don’t want there to be a layer between us.

I don’t want there to be anything between us.

Ever.

I know this way is smarter for many reasons, but stupidly for me the biggest being it’s less intimate. That’s good though; because that’s the way it
should
be - Not so intimate and close.

That’s how it
has
to be.

Regardless, it’s always still too much. He’s always leaving me wonderstruck and forever breathless. 

CHOCOLATES AND FLOWERS

The second week of February brings a Valentine’s Day explosion. It’s like pink and red vomited all over the school. I try to ignore it, but it’s seriously everywhere, laughing at me.

When I visit him in his office Monday morning, he shuts the door with purpose and I easily recognize the look in his eyes. We don’t talk about our weekend, or even say hello before our lips connect.

“I would’ve come earlier,” I pant, aware of the late time. He’s already breathing hard as he tugs at my zipper.

“This isn’t going to take long,” he smiles against my lips.

I pull off his shirt, admiring his chest, as his fingers slip into my underwear.

“You’re always so wet, so ready for my cock,” his talk has gotten dirtier.

I’m smitten.

“I’m going to come so hard,” he tells me, and I don’t doubt it for a second as I fall against him, almost ready to let go myself just from the way he’s touching me. He knows what I like better than I do, and with the way he’s fingering me I’m already close.

“Get in me,” I bite at his neck.

He removes his fingers and I hear the draw glide open. He lifts the bottom out, his secret hiding spot, but when he can’t grab a condom, he moves us over, closer, reaching down further, searching.

“Shit, we went through another box already,” he closes the draw empty handed.

“Just pull out,” I whimper, shockwaves already shooting through me, thinking about the skin-to-skin contact. He twitches against me, already anticipating it too.

I reach into his pants and grope him.

“Oh, Luci,” he moans, his mouth finding my neck as his hands roam over my shirt, fondling my breasts. I fully free him, shoving his pants down as he lifts me against the counter, my legs wrapping around his waist.

“I wish I had time to savor your tight pussy,” he groans as he pushes himself into me.

Something about it feels like coming home and I shudder.

“Your cock feels so good,” I whimper, picking up his dirty talk.

“I know, I know,” he repeats over and over again, soothing me between each grunt, smiling as he meets my lips.

“Ah,
Josh
,” I moan. The way he’s rubbing inside me without anything between us has me drowning fast.

“I know,” he says again, moaning too.

“Let go, baby,” he tells me. “I can’t last. It’s too good,” his hips rock and I feel him jerk. He shoves one hand into my hair and the other between us as he circles my clit.

“Luci, I have to-” He swells, larger than I’ve ever felt him.

I’m done, my limbs completely giving out.

“No,” I whimper. “Not yet.” I don’t want him to leave me.

“I have to,” he sobs. “The way you’re grabbing onto my cock, pulling at it as you come,” he grunts. “I can’t stop! Fuck!”

He barely makes it out of me, his fingers still massaging my trembling clit as he explodes between us. He doesn’t slow his fingers, and a second orgasm rips through me as I watch him, leaking everywhere.

The first bell rings as we’re both gasping for air, like we always do after something so magical.

“Crap,” he backs away, setting me down, his gaze landing on my shirt, his come all over it.

“Yours isn’t much better,” I laugh.

There are only a couple of minutes until first period and we can’t go out there looking like this.

“Um,” he’s thinking, his hands twisting, as he looks around the room frantically. His penis still hanging out, long and rigid, and I can’t help but stare at it. “I think I have a some old clothes from track in here somewhere.”

“I have gym second period, so I can change into my other clothes then,” I add.

He finally finds what he’s looking for, pulling out an old MTHS sweatshirt and T-shirt.

The final bell rings as we quickly change, him into the t-shirt, tight and wonderful against him, but looking a little silly against his dress pants; and me, pulling his oversized sweatshirt over my head. It still holds his scent.

I spend all of first period with my nose inside it, inhaling deeply.

After school, I go to math for a bit before heading to his office. He’s holding a makeup test, but left the door unlocked for me.

I don’t hear him come in, too immersed in my book, and his voice startles me.

“What in
Wuthering Heights
could ever possibly be making you blush?” He’s leaning against the door, a cocky gleam in his eye.

“Nothing,” I lower the novel.

He saunters over, placing his hands on the armrest of my chair, leaning in and pinning me down with a kiss.

“Tell me,” his breath is hot against my lips.

I shake my head, and he sighs.

“I didn’t realize my sister added it to her syllabus this year,” he goads.

“You know she didn’t,” I’m ready for his teasing, him knowing full well I’m following the honor’s list.

“Maybe she’d like to be made aware,” his smile is irresistible.

“You wouldn’t!” I jolt forward and he swiftly picks me up, spinning me around until
he’s
sitting in the chair and I’m on his lap, straddling him.

“Don’t test me,” his fingers brush my waist, finding their way under the t-shirt I kept on after gym.

“Oh!” I suddenly remember. “I left your sweatshirt in my locker.” He tightens his hold, not letting me get up.

“I don’t need it,” he rolls us around in the chair, eyeing the book. “Tell me.”

“It was a line. It reminded me of you,” I know I’m turning crimson.

He stirs underneath me as his hands travel up my stomach and around my back, undoing my bra. “Tell me,” he urges.

I brush my lips against his, feeling the release of the strap around my chest while his hands move under the fabric to my breasts.

“I can’t,” I whisper, too embarrassed. His thumbs circle my nipples and I involuntarily grind against him.

“You can. I can
make you
, over and over again,” his mouth meets mine, smiling at his joke.

“Ugh!” I sigh. “Close your eyes. It’s too embarrassing.” I cave far too easily.

He does, still wearing a smile. I reach over and pick the book up off his desk, turning the pages, looking for the line, and read.

“
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same
.”

I both hear and feel his exhale, his arms engulfing me tightly, and what happens next is a blur. Somehow we’re naked, rocking slowly, coming apart together in his desk chair, just like our very first time.

Something changed that afternoon, as I sit in my car and watch as he pulls out of the parking lot, because now I’m suddenly trying to justify that he’s
only
nine years older than me.

How age is a big deal
right now
, but in the future it won’t mean anything.

The problem with that is the word
future
- the false hope I’ve unintentionally lead myself to believe we have.

Just like he said I would.

The stupid bastard was right.

Despite all the lies I’ve told myself, on how
I know
things will be between us, and what I
have
to expect, that’s all they were -
lies
.

While I’ve always known we can never go out in public, I find myself sitting in bed at night, thinking and hoping, trying to find a way.

I see the way he watches me, with fire and longing, and the way his eyes sparkle when I walk into the room. Surely he has to be thinking the same thing too?

The light in his office is the only thing illuminating the otherwise dim hallway. It’s after six, and I left about ten minutes ago. He stayed, because he has work to do. He wasn’t himself today, but I didn’t mention anything, fearing that his mood has to do with us, and not in a good way.

I argue with myself as I walk outside, all the way to my car until I decide to turn around after all. With Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I’d regret if I never tried, if I never
actually
put the idea out there.

He’s surprised to see me, clearly thinking I’d be well on my way home by now.

“Is everything okay?” He’s concerned as he drops his pen. It falls on his paper with a low thud.

“Yeah,” my voice is shaky. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.” He watches as I twist my fingers nervously.

“I know,” he gives me a look. “But, you’re not the chocolate and flowers type.”

I’d hate this more if he was wrong, but he knows me too well, further proving that what I’m about to do makes sense.

“And you’re not the type to give that sort of mindless gift,” I counter and he smiles. Hopefully he knows me well enough to know that this isn’t me asking for something so materialistic.

I pause, thinking of how to word what I want to say, as he waits patiently.

“I know we can’t go
local
, but what if we go a few towns over this weekend, or maybe even to the City, just to be safe?”

He’s confused at first, then registers what I’m asking for - a date.

Any kind of date
.

“I can pretend I’m sleeping over a friends house. We could get a hotel room,” I continue.

“You deserve better than a hotel room,” he spits.

“But having sex in your office and classroom is okay?” I know I have no right to be mad, I knew what I was getting into, but I’m upset, furious at his reaction.

“Are you changing your mind about us?” He tries to mask the hurt the idea brings, but I can’t help but wear mine. I know he’s
attracted
to me, but how can he not feel anything
more
?

“No,” I snap. “I’m not because there
is
no us. We’re nothing.”

The phone rings at noon, the caller ID saying MTHS, just like I suspected it would. It’s lunchtime, and I’m not there.

“You’re bold, calling from school,” I answer.

“I told you the last time not to disappear on me,”
he
says.

“I think you forget,” I hiss. “That despite what we do, you have no claim over me.” The intake of air lets me know my words hit him hard.

“How do you know I’m home alone?” I ask.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

He laughs coldly, the distant sound of his voice sending shivers down my spine.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Luci,” he sighs. “I wish you were here today.”

He hangs up the phone before I can even reply, and I realize I messed up. I don’t want to lose what we have, whatever that is, even if its only attraction for him.

I can’t wait until tomorrow.

I have to fix this now.

I’m wearing my long down winter jacket with absolutely nothing underneath. To anyone else, I maybe could have a skirt on, but the freezing air that rushes up against my bare skin as I walk towards the school reminds me I don’t, that I’m completely raw.

I sneak in through the basement door and head to his office. It’s 9
th
period, and I know he doesn’t have class, so I’m praying he’s there. I lightly turn the knob, relieved to find it unlocked.

He’s at his desk, wearing khaki’s and a pale blue polo, and I’m sad I didn’t come today just so I could see him like this, looking so very glorious. His head lifts when he hears me shut the door, surprised that I’m here, and even though I’m furious with myself, and at him, he radiates yearning in every bone in my body.

“I’m sorry,” My voice is sincere. “I had no right to -”

“I have something for you,” he interrupts, grabbing an old book from the corner of his desk.

The author is one of our favorites and I study the cover. Is this a first edition? My eyes find the signature next, and I’m taken aback, completely floored.

“This is for
me
?” I meet his gaze, and he nods.

“I can’t take this,” I shake my head. “It must have cost a fortune.”

“I only got it last year. Saved up for it like hell though,” he states proudly.

“Josh-”

“Open it,” he swallows, and I do as he says, tracing my fingers over his messy handwriting, smiling over his words:
You own me
.

“Are you talking about
you
or the
book
?”

He lets out a sheepish laugh.

“I want to talk, though,” he swallows nervously. “There’s something we should discuss.”

No! My mind starts racing, remembering how off he was yesterday, even before he rejected my date idea.