Hot Dirty Love (Copperline #5) (21 page)

“You got a fair grade. I looked it over. John scored it right.”

She whirled around to face me. “I know that. I got the grade I deserved.”

“Then why the fuck are you pissed off at me?”

“I’m not!” she shot back. “I’m pissed off at
me
.”

That stopped me short. I furrowed my brow and stared at her in speculation. “Wait, what?”

“I’m smarter than that. I told you a long time ago that I was going to work my ass off, but all I seem to be capable of all of a sudden is working your dick.”

She was phenomenal at that, too, and the mention of it made my cock twitch ever so slightly.

“Um,” I murmured, “I’m not really complaining about that.”

“Well, you should be. You’re my teacher. I expected a lecture from you. Or at least commiseration.”

“What do you want me to do? I’m not really sure who you want me to be at the moment, the guy who’s fucking you or the guy who teaches you.”

“I don’t know,” she sighed with a shake of her head. “Both maybe.”

“Okay, so, what do you want me to do? Spank your ass with a ruler?”

Her eyes instantly widened… and then blazed.

Fuck me
, but she did. She totally wanted that.

Fuuuuuuck, why hadn’t we gotten that schoolgirl outfit yet?

I thought about it for a minute, and my mouth ran away with the first thing that hit my mind.

I stood stern and straight, putting on my best professor face and speaking deep and authoritatively. “I want you to be face down, ass up in my bed, panties around your knees with that sweet, wet pussy on display.”

Her breath caught. Her eyes darkened and sparked with burning lust.

Then she turned towards the stairs and started up.

Fuck me
, she did exactly as I asked. She climbed the stairs, turning into my bedroom at the top. I followed, almost disbelieving, as she stepped into the room and bent slightly at the waist, slipping her hands up her skirt to tug down her satiny black underwear. Then, otherwise still totally dressed, boots and all, she knelt on the bed, facing away. Her hands slid out in front of her, gliding forward as she lowered her shoulders. In one smooth movement, she took the exact pose I’d described, her skirt lifting just enough to give me a glimpse of her beautiful pussy, visibly soaked with her arousal.

In the beat of a heart, I jerked open my button fly and pulled my dick free, stroking my length as I knelt behind her. My hand skated over her smooth, round butt cheek, caressing a soft circle.

“Fuck,” I groaned, “I don’t think I even have a ruler.”

Rain turned her head, tilted back towards me but still facing away. “You’re a fucking engineer, Justin. How do you not have a ruler?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the bamboo back scratcher I kept by the bed. The dry, furnace-warmed air in my house in the winter made my skin dry and itchy, but I suddenly had a new use for it.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing it and holding it a couple inches away from her ass. “This might do it.”

I brought it down hard and fast on her fair skin.

She cried out in shock and pain, but her body writhed under my touch. My fingertips traced the narrow welt that immediately pinked her skin. So fucking pretty.

Rain arched into my touch like a cat, and whispered a quiet plea.

“More.”

Fucking hell.

“Jesus fucking Christ, we need to get you a schoolgirl outfit for this sort of shit.”

“Okay,” she gasped, “just don’t stop yet. I need this.”

I smacked the bamboo over the other cheek, and she jumped and moaned.

“Harder,” she begged in a shaky voice.

I rained a few more increasingly firm swats, working my way down her curves until I landed one square over her tender little pussy, and she lurched upright on her knees. She reached her arms back behind her to grasp my head and pull me closer, turning her face towards me.

“Fuck me, Professor Badass,” she moaned.

So I totally did. I stroked my throbbing dick over her fiery-red ass, moaning at the heated sensation. She pushed back against me, writhing and squirming, silently begging me to bury myself in her soaking wet pussy. My coordination was lacking. Everything about this was intense and mind-numbing, but I finally managed to line up my cock and surged into her slick center, gripping her hips with bruising force.

Fuck. Yeah.

“Cody was always different,” I murmured.

We sat in the firelight, wrapped in soft fleece blankets and picking at the last bits of Chinese delivery. It was ridiculously late, but after her cathartic release, Rain seemed to kind of, well…
need
me.

It was a strange sensation, being needed. It should have had me running for the hills. Making up some shit excuse to get her to leave.

Instead, I held her. I took care of her. In a cloud of hazy intimacy, we began to share stories of misspent youth. All the ways we’d toed the line.

She told me a little about her parents, who sounded extraordinarily laid back and maybe a bit too generous with her freedom. Wanna-be hippies born just a little too late, but living out the ideals of the flower power generation. She grew up with relaxed curfews and few rules, not entirely sure how to rebel against parents who were so easy-going. So Zen.

Having already shared my fucked up family life, I’d just gotten done telling her about how the Mofos started instead. Of the wildness and debauchery in the years that followed, and how Cody and I often seemed at odds.

“I’ve always felt like he and I should get along better than we do. It’s kind of a thing between the bassist and the drummer in a band. A weird symbiosis. He’s just so… normal. His parent’s are like fuckin’ Leave it to Beaver, and he really makes it way too easy to pick on him. The guy is a massive chick magnet, though, and I could never quite figure out why he didn’t take advantage of that more, especially the way girls came at us when we started playing regularly at the Copperline.”

“Yeah,” she said with a raised eyebrow, “I’ve seen how they are. Kinda rabid.”

“It was like fuckin’ Sodom and Gomorrah for a few years. Looking at the other guys now, it’s hard to imagine what manwhores they were in their day. They used to be more like me.” I laughed, a dry and hollow sound. “One by one, they began to fall.”

“You miss that,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” I admitted, “I do… sometimes. It’s been getting better lately.” Grazing my knuckles along her cheekbone, I gave her a faint smile. Something about her gentle tone filled me with a vibrant need to be in her space. To allow her quiet warmth to filter through me, and I coaxed her closer. “You make me miss it less.”

She stared at me for a minute, absorbing my words, at first with a hint of apprehension that quickly shifted to a light, teasing smile. “Don’t you be getting all mushy on me, Professor Badass,” she finally whispered.

Good catch
, I thought to myself.

“I don’t do mushy,” I replied.

She nodded skeptically. “Right.”

“Seriously… you’re really that good of a fuck.” She laughed as I began to gently push the blanket from her body, watching the firelight flicker over her satiny skin, glowing in contrast to the deep shadows of her hair. “Nothing mushy about that.”

She clearly didn’t believe me, though.

But then I didn’t really believe me either.

“So, I’m heading out for a couple weeks tomorrow,” Cole said as we sat at the bar of the Copperline late the following Thursday afternoon. “Are we on for tonight, or are you gonna lie to me again?”

I sighed.

He’d known. I’d known he’d known, although I’d had just the faintest glimmer of hope that he hadn’t.

“Fuck, dude,” I began, “I’m sorry. There was some shit I had to talk to Rain about. Class stuff.”

“Playing teacher? Nice.” He sounded upbeat, yet there was a bit of a hard edge to it. Something still wasn’t quite right. “Did she dress up for you?”

Fucking better happen soon
, I thought to myself, barely containing the groan.

“I wish,” I replied, “but it was actually kind of serious. It wasn’t really about sex.”
Not at first, anyway…

“You mean you didn’t fuck her then?” he asked.

Unthinkingly, I puffed out my chest and gave a typical dickhead manwhore response. “Yeah, I fucked her. Of course I fucked her.”

“Thought so,” he snapped. This time, the tinge of jealousy rang loud and clear.

Shit. Who knew the dude I was sleeping with would be the one to turn all possessive chick on me?

“How often do you guys fuck when I’m not around?” he asked after a long, totally awkward moment.

Daily
, I thought.
Sometimes two or three times.

“Not much,” I lied and took a sip of my beer.

“Surprises me… hot little thing like her. Most guys would be all over that twenty-four/seven.” He sat back and eyed me. “Ever think you might be gay?”

I actually had wondered that before. Before Rain, maybe, but it had crossed my mind. Second-guessing my sexuality because of the desire I’d had for dudes, even my friends at times. And there were all the things Cole did to me and that I wanted to do to him. The things I craved.

But those things just weren’t quite enough.

I could admit that I was very much attracted to Cole. Enough that I had imagined myself sleeping with him even without a chick. I had fantasized about it before. Many times.

It just suddenly didn’t feel right to be with him, or anyone, really… not without Rain.

“I really do like pussy, though, man,” I shrugged. “What we’ve done… that’s some wild shit and I got off on it like crazy, but there’s nothing quite like sinking into the warm, silky wetness of a woman’s body.”

Cole shrugged. “Pussy is great. Don’t get me wrong. I love pussy, too. Honestly, though, I think I prefer dick and ass. Pussy has too much give. I like it to hurt a bit.” He paused and narrows his gaze at me. “And you kinda get off on pain, yourself. I remember.”

Yeah, I remembered, too. His eyes glittered a deep, dark green, and I could almost feel him biting into my skin as he pounded my ass. It had felt amazing. Feral and raw.

But Rain’s sweet sighs sounded in my dreams. Just the thought of her silky depths, especially now that I’d had her bareback, made me hard as granite.

What a strange turn of events for me. I never had second thoughts about sex. Wherever… whenever… whoever. None of it had ever really mattered. I’d been a whore forever, born into it with my dad’s DNA. For a split second, I wondered if he’d ever felt like this about my mom. About anyone. If he’d ever been tempted, but resistant.

If he’d ever felt anything real.

I suddenly felt a little ill. I needed to escape. To get away from Cole and the dire dread that swelled in my throat.

“I need to hit the road, man,” I said, standing and sucking down the last of my beer. “I’ve got some shit to do. Talk to you later.”