“Would you like to come in?” I sloped my chin down, biting a smile. He, too, grinned at his shoes. We were giddy. I liked that. I liked that and I hated that I liked that.
“Nah…I can’t. Football practice for the exhibition. The Kings are going to kill those pussies playing next year for the Saints if we don’t pull their shit together. Trent’s pissed. A scout’s coming to watch the game and look at his leg. They might reconsider his scholarship now that his rehab’s done. Seven okay?”
“Seven’s perfect.”
He nodded. We stood there, staring at one another, before he shrugged and closed the space between us with a long step. “Screw this shit, I missed those lips.”
Then came a hard, desperate kiss where his lips assaulted mine for a good minute.
Breathlessly, I unlocked my door and disappeared behind it, pressing my back against it with a sigh.
That didn’t feel forbidden, or bad. Just a boy and a girl liking each other.
He came back at ten after seven, and for every extra second I waited, anxiety and disappointment built in my gut. I opened the door, frowning. “You said seven. I hate tardiness.”
“That makes two of us.” He roughly pushed me into my apartment, oozing charged energy. “So, about that missionary position…” The quarterback giant stepped into my orbit.
His cut lip and new purple welt were even more prominent with the pink flush on his cheeks after a grueling workout, and his hair still wet from the shower. Between footfall and Defy, there were a lot of injuries among the HotHoles. A broken ankle had ended Trent Rexroth’s football career in the fall. That happened in a locker-room accident. But it was almost like Jaime wanted to fuck up that pretty face of his. The Saints practiced and scrimmaged even in the winter, but he was a senior. He and his friends wouldn’t be part of the team next year.
“Flip your dress up.”
I did, without even blinking. He should’ve been the teacher with that kind of authority. Exposing my baby blue panties, I awaited further instructions.
“Turn around and bend down to touch your toes, Little Ballerina.”
I had no fucking clue how he knew I was a dancer, and asking him about it would force me to deal with the truth.
That he was a crazy stalker.
And that I absolutely liked that about him.
So, I just did as I was told, my ass in the air, presumably level with his groin. The throbbing ache between my thighs demanded release. I felt his fingers clutching my p*ssy from behind. He ripped my underwear off in one go and served them to me from behind.
“Still wet, despite my tardiness.” He rubbed them against my lips. “Not that mad, I see.”
Shit. The wet spot was obvious, even now, when my panties were merely a string.
“Can you please stop tearing my stuff apart? Not everyone’s under mommy and daddy’s financial wing.” Goodie. The cat was out of the bag now.
He laughed, his abs bouncing against my ass, then thrust three fingers at once into my entrance, making me stumble forward. He caught me by the shoulder before I fell headfirst.
“This week was an introduction,” he warned. “Today…today, baby, I’m marking you as mine.”
It sounded crazy. And hot. Crazy hot, actually. I was immediately game. If I was going to fuck up my career, better enjoy the ride, right?
“Let’s see your ballerina’s balance as I fuck every other guy you’ve ever had out of you.”
With that, I heard his zipper rolling down as he freed his cock from his pants. His bulging head found the lips of my p*ssy, and I quivered in anticipation, lifting up slightly to gain more balance.
“Hands. On. Toes.” He bit the crook of my neck from behind and drew circles with his tip around my p*ssy, making me mad with need. He was also fucking bare.
“Jaime, wrap up and get in before I die.” My voice trembled.
“Shh,” my stalker said, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth, still teasing my entrance from behind. “You just keep holding on to those toes, ballerina. I’ll take care of the rest.”
He went in slow. Painfully slow. Every inch of him took a second to go in, then slid back even slower. My legs quivered. I cried out in pleasure and frustration. This was torture of the highest level, but I was enjoying every minute.
“Faster,” I begged under my breath.
He wouldn’t listen. The next time he went in, it was even slower.
“Jaime.” I bit my lower lip. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
“Then act like you fucking want it,” he growled, grazing my shoulder with his teeth. “Don’t stand me up. Don’t give me shit when I’m ten minutes late, and don’t try and act like you don’t want this.”
Inch. Another inch. Another inch. It was a beautiful torture. I wanted to push him away and run to my bedroom to finish my business with my plastic boyfriend, Victor the Vibrator. But I wasn’t strong enough to resist him, no matter what he did to me.
“Fine,” I grunted. “Fine, I promise. Now fuck me.”
“That’s better,” he murmured, thrusting himself all the way in and making me stumble. He gathered my hair into a ponytail and jerked my head upward, pulling my body close to him so I wouldn’t crash. Then he fucked me so hard I felt numb from the waist down before he was done with me.
That’s what happens when you come seven times in one night, I thought as I wobbled toward my bed. By the time he went home, around midnight, I couldn’t feel my clit. Or my legs. Hell, not even my feet.
But he’d made his point crystal clear. And me? I wanted him to make it all over again.
DAYS FILLED WITH CHAIN ORGASMS and hurried kisses in hidden corners and deserted classes ticked by. A blur of bliss and danger, abandoned lust. The trick was not to think about it. Any part of it. Not about my future—as a teacher and an adult—or about what I was doing. And definitely not about who I was doing it with.
No longer in detention, Jaime found other creative ways to stick around after school and spend time with me. Mostly, we fell into a routine where he visited me at my apartment after his football drills with next year’s team.
Three weeks into our affair, when another Saturday rolled around, I was glad he had other plans. I finally mustered enough fake bravado to collect my thoughts and try and make sense of it all. The Saints were playing an exhibition scrimmage against the Kings of Sacramento, and technically, I could’ve supported my local team and watched Jaime play but decided against it. Putting some space between us and reminding myself that this was just casual fun was in my best interest. His too.