Coercion (9 page)

His words sent a shiver up her spine. “Really?”

“Really.” He gently pushed her down so she lay on the couch. “Now show me what you do. I’ll tell you if it’s like how I pictured it.”

Valerie swallowed the lump in her throat. There was something wild in his eyes telling her that if she didn’t do exactly what he wanted, she’d lose him forever. He would walk right out the door and never come back. She’d dreamed of this moment—or at least of being with him—for years, even more so since last month. She wanted to do everything she could to keep him. This was a golden opportunity.

She bit her lip as her hands slowly traveled south on her body.

“That’s it.” Michael stared at her as she hitched her thumbs under the waistband of her gym shorts and slowly pushed them down her legs, revealing her white panties. “Good. Now take off your shirt.”

She obeyed him, raising her shoulders off the couch to peel her t-shirt over her head and drop it on the floor. Her gold locket tangled in her hair in doing so and she reached up to free it, her breasts rising in the process. Michael made no move to help her and continued to view her with a smug smile on his face.

“What do you want me to do?” Valerie asked in a quavering voice after she rescued her locket from her hair.

“Whatever you want to do. Just pretend I’m not here, if you want.”

She knew that was easier said than done. She found it ironic to touch herself nightly, imagining Michael was there doing all sorts of delicious things to her body, and to touch herself now at his request and deliberately act as if he wasn’t in the room. She wanted to laugh at the thought. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut as she smoothed her hands over her breasts and her stomach and down her legs.

“Touch your tits.” His breathing grew labored as her fingers slipped beneath the elastic band of her panties.

She cupped one of her breasts, which rose and fell as she breathed heavily. Her fingers brushed over the curled hair between her legs, while her other hand reached inside her bra to pinch her nipple, just like Michael had done the first time he’d touched her. Prior to that day, she had never known her nipples were so sensitive and responsive to pleasure to the point where touching them was also almost painful. It was a combination of sensations she’d become addicted to since then.

“Yeah, like that,” he said, his voice husky.

Valerie’s eyelids fluttered open slightly and she watched him stare at her, his gaze intense. A thrill went up her spine and another rush of heat traveled to her clit. She was under his control, but she couldn’t help but feel powerful at the idea of beguiling him with her body. She closed her eyes again, arched her back slightly and let out a soft moan, partly for effect and partly because she was suddenly feeling so damn good.

She felt Michael shift quietly on the couch and place his warm hands on her legs. His lips brushed the inside of her knee as his fingers hooked into her panties and started to drag them slowly down her thighs. “I want to see everything.”

She let out a whimper, feeling the cool air kiss her hot pussy. He pulled her panties over her feet and her heart threw itself against her rib cage as he opened her legs wider. She both squirmed and thrived under his gaze, feeling him study her most intimate parts.

“Finger yourself. Touch your clit.”

Valerie’s index finger touched her clit gently, and she trembled and tilted her head backward. She regarded Michael through thin slits as his gaze drifted to her breasts and her bare stomach, which led the way to the dark triangle between her legs. The finger on her clit moved in a circle, gaining in speed.

He kissed the inside of her knees again, and then his hands traveled to the buckle on his belt. She inhaled a sharp breath as he undid his jeans’ golden metal button and eased down the zipper. She had no idea what was going to happen next, and the lack of knowledge both excited and scared her. Her hand paused, shaking slightly with nervousness.

“Keep going,” he said in a low, firm voice as he reached inside his jeans.

Valerie opened her eyes fully, drinking in her first sight of his cock. The image made her clit throb. She had never seen a penis in real life before, except for her father’s, once, when she was five and had opened the bathroom door without knocking. Since then, Shannon had coerced her into looking through several pornographic magazines, but the men, while hard and ready to please, had cocks lacking in beauty. Theirs were practical-joke-size and looked like they could rip a girl apart. But Michael’s was erect, tall and beautifully shaped, with a round meaty head and a thick pink shaft. She absently licked her lips, truly understanding for the first time why a woman would feel compelled to put a man’s cock in her mouth.

“I want you to fuck yourself.” Michael brushed his thumb over the head of his cock. “I want you to fuck yourself and pretend your hand is my cock. Understand?”

She obediently dipped her middle finger into her pussy, her mouth open in a silent moan at the sensation. Michael watched her, his hand moving up and down his shaft as her finger moved inside her, her entrance getting wetter after every plunge.

“Add another finger.”

Valerie again followed his instruction, biting her lip as she slid two fingers into her dripping cunt.

His breathing grew choppier, and he rubbed his pulsing cock faster. “Let me see your nipples. I want to see them get hard while you think about me fucking you.”

She stifled a moan at the intensity of his words. With one hand still buried in her pussy, she pushed her bra upward, easing the material above her breasts. Her nipples pointed toward the ceiling as her hips rose to meet the fingers driving inside her.

Michael let out a shaky breath. “Keep one hand on your tits and one in your pussy.” His cheeks were ruddy and his mouth was poutier than usual. A sheen of perspiration formed above his upper lip. “And tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“I don’t know,” she managed to say as her fingers moved faster inside her cunt and her nipples grew more and more sensitive every time she rubbed them between her fingertips. “I can’t...”

The speed of his hand on his cock increased as he placed one hand on her upper thigh. Her hips bucked at the feeling of him touching her skin, and she felt herself grow closer to the edge as he said, “Pretend your hand is my cock pushing into you.”

“Oh God,” Valerie choked out. Goose bumps prickled on her arms and her stomach.

He reached up to circle her breast before returning to her hip. His other hand fisted his cock, bobbing faster as he said, “Now imagine me shoving my cock in your wet pussy. I’m thrusting in and out, making your pussy wetter as you scream my name and shake as you come.”

“Oh my God, Michael.” Valerie’s eyes squeezed shut, and she arched her back. “You’re gonna make me... Oh my God...”

At that moment, his hand that had been on her hip took the place of the one in her pussy and he pushed two fingers inside her. He brushed his thumb over her clit only a few times before she cried out his name once more and her whole body convulsed, wracked with orgasm. She turned her head and bit the throw pillow behind her in an effort to not scream. He followed soon afterward, his mouth falling open with a quiet groan as he came in his hand, the sticky whiteness leaking from the rosy head of his cock all over his fingers.

Neither of them moved for several moments, the room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing. Then Michael reached for her t-shirt on the floor and used it to wipe off his hand and his cock before handing the shirt to Valerie. Still trembling, she wiped her wet, slightly pruned fingers on the soft cotton material and watched as he tucked away his cock and zipped his jeans.

He settled against the couch, letting his head fall back against the cushions. “Fuck, I needed that.”

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, nodding, although she wasn’t entirely sure what she concurred with.

He regarded her from beneath heavy eyelids. “You did good.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“In case you were wondering, that was just as I imagined it.”

“Same here.” But she wasn’t sure if that was the truth. Her imagination had never gone as far as to create what just happened between them. She wanted to say more, but she didn’t know where to begin.

A silence settled between them. Then, after a few minutes, Michael sighed. “I better get going.”

“You have to go right now?” She struggled into a sitting position, pulling her knees up to her neck and hugging herself to hide her nudity.

“Yeah, I got a ton of stuff to do.” He got to his feet and stretched his linked hands to the ceiling, and she realized he had never even taken off his coat.

“Oh.” Her face fell. “But it’s nearly eleven.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged and offered no further explanation. Then he grinned. “Don’t worry, I can let myself out.” He gave her a wink before he left the room. “Don’t be a stranger, all right?”

He was out the door before she could say
okay
.

Wednesday

December 4, 1974

The sleeves of Dr. Cantarella’s tweed suit coat inched upward on his arms, his thick, hairy wrists exposed as he clapped his hands above his head. “Just because it’s your last group project doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use your library voices,” he called over the din of the room as desks scraped against the floor and his students shouted to each other about everything except history. “Let’s see how quietly you can research your chapters before you get up and teach the rest of the class.”

But Valerie could barely make out her professor’s words. The sight of Michael Vartanian reluctantly pushing his chair toward the cluster of desks she was a part of drowned out all other noise aside from the sound of blood rushing to her head. She flipped open her textbook and tried to look unconcerned, as if the boy who hadn’t had his fingers inside her and made her come wasn’t sitting right across from her.

Neil Groeger, one of Valerie’s group mates, slumped in his seat and aimlessly thumbed through his book. “What page is this shit on?”

“Three twenty-five,” replied Angela Saunders, the fourth group member, eyeing Michael and his lack of textbook with suspicion. Michael appeared not to notice, though, as he made himself comfortable in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desktop.

Valerie struggled to breathe evenly. She didn’t know what to think or say. She could only recall all the times during the past month when he’d barely managed a nod of recognition in her direction, and all the nights she’d tossed and turned, wondering if she did something wrong to turn him off, to turn him away.

She wondered if it was her body, if she was still not thin enough. She would never be as ballerina petite as Breeze, and that had to be what kept holding him back. She’d increased her number of nightly sit-ups, but even that hadn’t worked. Michael rarely glanced in her direction, and when he did, he seemed to look right through her. It was obvious that to him, she could’ve been anyone.

A rich, throaty laugh cut through Valerie’s thoughts, and she looked up to see Michael staring at Breeze, the source of the sound. The blonde gripped Tom Courpel’s upper arm, giggling and hiding her face behind the white-and-gold diary she used to take notes in, inexplicably forgoing the standard black-and-white speckled composition books. Michael wasn’t alone in looking—everyone in the class had turned in Breeze’s direction—but the agony and pure want on his face set him apart from their peers. Valerie’s heart plummeted.

As if he felt her watching at him, Michael glanced at Valerie, and his disappointment melted away into a rakish grin so unexpected, it took her by surprise. She quickly averted her eyes to her book, but she continued to feel the weight of his gaze, her body warming in every place she imagined he was looking.

“Let’s split the chapter,” Angela said. “I’ll take the first three pages, and Val, you get the next three. Neil can do three thirty-one to three thirty-three—”

“Great, of course I get the pages with no pictures on them,” Neil muttered.

Valerie jumped as she felt something nudge her foot, and she didn’t have to look to know Michael deliberately rubbed his unlaced boot against her shoe. She glanced at him briefly to see him still watching her with the same knowing grin on his face.

“And you—” Angela turned to Michael with look of disdain. “—can take the end of the chapter. Of course, I don’t know how you’ll do that without your book...”

“No sweat.” Michael used the flat, wood-effect surface of the desk for leverage as he pushed himself to his feet and stretched his arms languidly. “It’s in my truck. I’ll go get it.” Before anyone could respond, he was out the door.

Angela rolled her eyes. “Sure. And that’s the last we see of him.”

“So I guess this means I’m stuck doing more pages now?” Neil heaved a disgruntled sigh. “Nice, real nice.”

Valerie obediently took notes on her section of the chapter, her brain burning. When the class ended, Michael Vartanian still hadn’t returned.

* * * *

“Breezy.” Lisa Melane sidled up to her blond friend, who applied mascara in Verget Hall’s mint-tiled women’s bathroom. “Why are you telling everyone about some intense weekend you had when I haven’t even heard the details yet?”

“It’s not me broadcasting.” Breeze gave her a mysterious smile. “I never kiss and tell.”

“Liar.” Lisa gave Breeze’s hip a bump with her own. “That’s all you do.”

“Maybe that’s all I used to do. Let’s just say dating an older man has me turning over some new leaves.”

“And obviously you don’t mean Tom Courpel.”

“Oh, Tom. He’s just a child. I needed a man much older.” Breeze capped her mascara wand. “Much, much, much older.”

“You little slut!” Lisa gave Breeze’s upper arm a sharp slap with her fingertips. “You have to tell me everything.”

“Buy the rights. Then we’ll talk.”

“Whatever.” Lisa flicked open her purse and pulled out a compact. “Go ahead and be secretive if you want. I already heard the gist of the story from Marie Bacall. She’s pretty pissed, you know.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Lisa snorted as she flipped open the compact and rubbed two fingers in the pale powder inside. “You think? I don’t know, Breezy. I’d be pretty pissed, too, if I caught you making out with my dad.”