Love Lessons (Love Language Book 2)

by Reese Morrison

  She was feeling horny and impatient, but also relaxed. She liked flirting, liked who she was when she could be confident and sexy like this. And Dustin seemed to appreciate it, too.

  When the enchiladas were finally in the oven, Dustin popped her on the ass and told her to go start her laundry. She might have pouted a little bit, since laundry wasn’t nearly as much fun. But then he stood over her, maybe a little bit too close, to “supervise” while she bent over to use the little washing machine in the closet.

  When the last of the laundry was in and the water started to fill the drum, she turned to him and, feeling impulsive, wrapped her arms around his neck. She tipped up her face for a kiss and he didn’t disappoint. Their tongues tangled together, soft and sweet, and it felt like sunshine and warm blankets and home.

  Then he took over the kiss, grasping her hair and backing her into the wall to grind against her. This kiss was like a tornado, ripping through her and leaving her breathless and stunned.

  When he pulled back, their chests were both heaving. He gave her one more sweet kiss, just a brush of his lips. You’re very tempting, Lena. But you’re not the one in control. You’re going to have to wait.

  Oh, fuck. Now she was really turned on. The idea of Dustin in charge, deciding when they would do something… it was luxurious. It somehow elicited the same flavor of desire that she got when someone tied her up. She’d just never taken it outside the club or the bedroom before. Or was this just one day-long extended scene?

  She was a little confused about where the lines were, but she was feeling more willing to try it, now. She hadn’t felt this relaxed or had this much fun in a long time, so she might as well enjoy Dustin while she could.

  How long do I have to wait? she signed, rubbing one bare foot along the outside of his calf.

  He smiled down at her. It depends on how naughty you are. I was going to say after dinner, but if you keep pushing me like that, I may have to make you wait a little longer.

  She pouted and she knew she was pouting, but she liked the way it felt. She could be… bratty? Was that it? She didn’t usually think of herself as a brat, but she kind of wanted to be one now. And Dustin didn’t look really angry, more indulgent. This was all part of the game.

  So, what are we doing now? And how could she do it in as sexy a way as possible so that he would give in and fuck her before dinner?

  He nuzzled her neck, then stepped back to sign. You are going to work on your lesson plans and letter. I am going to send a few emails and then make a salad.

  Now she was really pouting. That didn’t sound sexy at all. It was even weirder that she kind of wanted it anyway. He nipped at her lip until she pulled it back in.

  The sooner you start, the sooner it’ll be done.

  Yeah, she definitely felt like being bratty. Why was this coming up now? She’d role played being a brat in scenes before, but it was usually for maybe ten minutes or so. More like the props and the scenery for the main event. What would it be like to rebel if Dustin really meant it?

  They had hours to go until dinner was over, and she was pretty sure he would stick to his word. Something fluttered in her chest. Something dangerous and wild. What would it be like to rebel if Dustin wasn’t going away?

  That thought made her freeze up a little. This was friends with benefits. He was there to be her friend and later, separately, give her some “benefits.” He wasn’t there to deal with some weird impulse she had to make everything into a kink.

  You OK? he asked. And damn if he couldn’t read her well.

  Maybe actually being a brat felt too risky. Maybe he’d hate it. I’m fine. I guess I’ll get started then.

  Good girl, he praised.

  And that felt fucking amazing.

  Chapter 8

  Dustin

  Dustin rummaged around in Lena’s fridge and pulled out a gorgeous pink-striped tomato, a green pepper, and a bag of salad greens. The enchiladas had just finished cooking, and they could set while he made the salad.

  He could see Lena sitting at the dining room table, her books, papers, and laptop spread out everywhere. She had one knee tucked beneath her chin and occasionally kicked the other one against the chair rung. He didn’t know how she could be comfortable that way, but it was adorable as fuck.

  He was pretty sure that she’d forgotten that she was wearing that sinfully sheer little outfit as she concentrated on her work. She chewed on the end of her pen, which was already covered in tiny indentations, and then scribbled something on another page.

  He couldn’t even begin to explain why he found this more compelling than all of her intentionally seductive flirtation, but there was something about her innocence and unselfconsciousness right now that drew him in.

  If he could take just one picture of Lena to keep after this exploration together, this might be it.

  Tearing himself away from the captivating sight, he found a cutting board and knife and kept his hands busy while he gave his mind a chance to process. This afternoon had been a revelation, in more ways than one.

  First, he’d gotten a few things about his own desires cleared up. Taking Landon to bed last month had been sexy as fuck. But getting Lena to nap on his chest and seeing that little pout before she’d meekly gone off to do her lesson plans was what he really wanted to replay in his mind. It was confusing, but he’d felt some sort of connection there. Like something settling into place.

  So whatever that kink was where he got to take care of someone and make them relax and get their work done was definitely his thing. It was what had been missing from all of his past relationships, and probably why all of his exes said he was too controlling. He was pretty certain that it was a real kink, too.

  He’d read something about it, but he’d mostly been looking at the obvious stuff like impact play. This, though… this need to coddle and discipline, to praise and scold, felt like a wave welling up inside him. Like something that he’d been pushing back, until the dam was ready to burst.

  All because Lena was sitting at the table with her laptop because he’d told her to go. He peeked out and she was sucking on her pen cap now. Fuck did that give him all sorts of ideas. Something about that combination of innocence and sexuality. It felt dirty.

  And that only made it hotter.

  He just hoped that she was into it too. That was where he worried.

  She’d said that this was supposed to be a chance for him to experiment. A lesson, even though he’d turned it around on her earlier. Something temporary and fleeting.

  But, he thought, she did need a lesson. A lot of them. Until she broke apart and he could put her back together again without all of the masks and fears and hidden desires. But was he reading her right? And could he be the one to give that to her?

  He knew when she was getting overwhelmed or nervous, or even when she thought she wouldn’t like something. The problem was, he didn’t usually know what exactly had caused it. Or if it was an immediate reaction to something he’d done or her own thinking about the past or the future.

  He was beginning to get a fuller picture of her, though. She had been so confident the last time he came over that he had almost believed that there wasn’t a hint of confusion peeking through the cracks. She was clearly motivated, capable, and strong in a lot of ways. It seemed like when she said she wanted something, she went out and got it.

  The thing was, he was pretty convinced, or at least pathetically hoping, that she didn’t know what she wanted. She had no idea how to relax, and as much as she loved people, it seemed like she didn’t have any close friends. She could flirt easily with him when he complimented her on her looks, but when he praised her commitment to her work she got confused and flustered.

  He also wondered if she realized how much she’d revealed when she was talking about her family. She’d talked about her childhood with an overly-relaxed attitude, like it didn’t matter that she’d helped to raise her younger siblings without any apparent notice from her parents.
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br />   She mentioned that she wasn’t as rich and successful as some of her siblings like her inferiority was an accepted fact. It was like she couldn’t imagine why anyone would see her work as being valuable.

  She was also the only Deaf person in her family, the result of a babyhood fever that, she’d shrugged as she explained, her parents hadn’t thought would be a problem because her other siblings had all gotten the same flu and been fine. They’d apparently felt terrible when they eventually took her to the hospital, and she insisted that they couldn’t have known.

  It was true, but also sad. Dustin felt strongly that being Deaf was an amazing and beautiful way of moving through the world, but to end up in the hospital because your parents didn’t bother to check your temperature? She could have gotten brain damage or even died.

  The story about her coming out, both as queer and as genderfluid, was about the same. She’d announced it. They’d acknowledged it. “They didn’t not accept me” was the summary. He wondered if she might have even preferred a little resistance from them, just for the connection.

  Overall, her parents seemed to be kind and affectionate, but busy. She had a younger brother with autism and an older sister who’d struggled with drug addiction. He got the sense that she’d spent her whole childhood never getting quite enough attention.

  Not in a neglectful way. He believed that her parents cared about her. But perhaps she just needed a little more attention than they had available, with everything else going on. It made him wonder how much of her overachieving now was about true passion for her work, because she was definitely passionate, and how much of it was about getting recognition.

  It was the same thing when she’d talked about teaching. Her principal didn’t seem to appreciate her work or care about the fate of her students. But instead of getting angry, she’d just asked what she’d need to do to get things changed and gone about working on it.

  She was fiery and focused and dedicated, but when did she get a chance to relax?

  More importantly, he thought as he made up the two plates, how could he give her that now?

  He set both plates on the table opposite her, since her entire side was covered with her books and papers. Then he waved his hand downward in front of her to get her attention. Dinner’s ready.

  She looked up with a scowl. I’m not done.

  That took him by surprise. They’d been having such a lovely, relaxing day and that frustration seemed out of character for her. In fact, he got the sense that she usually went out of her way to be accepting and accommodating.

  But while he was struggling to figure out what to do, maybe apologize or keep the plates warm or something like that, he noticed something.

  She hadn’t gone back to her work, which is what he would have done if someone had interrupted him when he was in the zone. Instead, she was still glaring at him. Waiting. Daring him to do something.

  His cock surged. This was what he needed. Whatever this was, this intense feeling clawing into the deepest chambers of his soul… this was it.

  You have three minutes to finish up while I get us something to drink. Then I expect to see the table cleared and you ready to eat. Save your work so you don’t lose it.

  As soon as he said it, his heart seized up in his chest. How would Lena react? This was another moment, like that first knock on the door, where the other side of the gate could hold heaven or hell.

  She gave him another glare and then started closing books and shuffling papers around.

  But.

  He noticed that she wasn’t being very fast about it. And she kept looking up to check his expression, which he tried to keep stern and impassive.

  Inside, though, he was burning up. He wanted to hold and hurt and comfort her, all at once. For being so perfect. So fucking innocent and rebellious and sexy while she straightened the same pile of papers again.

  What was he supposed to do if she didn’t have the table cleared in time? What was he supposed to do if she did?

  He walked swiftly toward the kitchen, trying to give himself a moment to figure it out. God, had he gotten himself into the deep end. He was pretty sure Lena was asking him for something. This was some form of invitation that he needed to take hold of while she was offering it.

  He’d been reading a lot, but kink was such a wide spectrum. Was this slipping into role play? Or maybe some sort of bratty thing? He’d mostly focused on the physical logistics and safety, so now all he had to go on was instinct and some blog that he should have paid a hell of a lot more attention to. Did she want punishment or rewards? And how could he tell?

  He reminded himself that his instincts had seemed to work out for Lena so far today. She needed attention. She was submissive. And apparently, she was a rebellious sort of submissive, which really didn’t make any sense.

  But his cock and his instincts both seemed to be on board with that, so he’d just have to give it his best shot.

  He found two flavored seltzers in her fridge and pulled them out. There were no sodas. She ate even healthier than he did. Another little streak of perfectionism that he wondered if he could break. Just to give her a little bit of indulgence in her life, as long as it was coming from him.

  Yeah, he was realizing that his kinks were a lot weirder and a lot deeper than he’d thought.

  He turned back to the dining room, still not sure if he was going to have the best night of his life or fuck it all up irrevocably.

  Now that was… interesting. Lena was standing beside the table, still so sexy in that shimmery, translucent cami that it should have been illegal. He could see her erection, pressing out against that silky white fabric of her panties. And there was one folder left in front of her on the table.

  He almost laughed. She must have been “putting away” those papers for a long time.

  This was much too serious for laughter, though. This was Lena asking for what she wanted.

  He put down the drinks on the corner of the table. Then, he moved toward her until he was standing much too close, crowding her against the chair. Put it away.

  She gave him a defiant look, but her fingers were trembling on the folder. He realized that she was nervous and that put a whole new spin on things.

  He wasn’t sure if she was nervous about him, about what they were doing, or about asking for what she wanted. His bet was on the last one, though. She was too confident about kink, and hook-ups in general, to be that nervous about anything that she’d done before.

  He stared her down, knowing that this wasn’t the time to back off. Between that tremor and her arousal, this was exactly what she needed.

  At glacial speed, Lena moved the folder two feet over to the side. There was another pregnant pause before she set it on top of the pile of books.

  Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest and kissing her neck and forehead, anywhere he could reach.

  She turned her face up to him, like a flower seeking the sun, and he kissed her dusky, pink lips hungrily. Her relaxation mingled with his own relief. Thank God he had gotten it right.

  Good girl, he signed into the tiny space between them. I’m proud of you.

  She beamed. God was she tantalizing like this, so needy and happy and pleased with herself. He wanted to bend her over the table right now.

  But there was another part of him that wanted to make her wait. Not to mention that he’d told her earlier that they weren’t doing anything until after dinner. He had a sense that holding himself accountable to his own plans should mean something. With the dynamic blossoming between them, his words felt like more than comments or suggestions.

  It was like they were promises. Like even the smallest utterance could be the cornerstone of their relationship or the wrecking ball that smashed it all down.

  He gave her a little kiss on the forehead and then nudged her into her seat. Time to eat. I can’t wait to taste this delicious dinner you helped make.

  She gave a little pout and a seductive roll o
f her shoulders, but he just raised an eyebrow and she stopped. He passed over one of the plates and a set of silverware.

  It was time for a distraction from sex. And more importantly, time to let her know that he cared about the things that were important to her. How did the letter go?

  She shrugged. Who knows? I think I wrote it well, but who knows what the school board will think. I can’t even pretend to understand the bureaucracy. What do they care about thirty-two students and a program I’ve spent the past six years building up?

  Will you tell me about it? Lena looked hesitant, so he pushed. I’d really like to know.

  Lena heaved a dramatic sigh and then launched into it. They’re defunding my program. So, I’ve got thirty-two Deaf students between sixth, seventh, and eighth grade. They do math and science with me, and English and social studies with another teacher, all in ASL. And every semester we each choose something fun to teach. Right now I’m doing video production.

  She smiled when she said it, like she was as excited about it as the kids must be. Dustin loved seeing her so open and passionate like this.

  And there’s one aide who interprets when they take electives. It’s already a nightmare trying to schedule the aide so that two of them can take geometry and six of them can take drama and so on. Some of them speech read or hear well enough to take electives without interpretation, so it’s really up to them. When they don’t have other classes, they usually hang out in our classrooms to catch up on homework and work on independent studies, which, by the way, I love teaching.

  Her love for teaching was clear, and he wished he’d had a teacher that passionate when he was young.

  The model that she described made sense, too. He’d pretty much had his own interpreter his whole life, once the powers that be figured out what he needed. Then he’d gone to Gallaudet where all of the classes were in ASL anyway.

  Your students are lucky to have you. What were you saying the problem was, though?

  She stabbed a pepper with her fork and then chewed while she signed. They’re killing off the whole program. Apparently, the district says that it’s not the “Least Restrictive Environment” and the kids should all be mainstreamed. They’re going to replace my colleague and I with two more aides so the kids can be in hearing classrooms. I’m sure it’ll save the school a lot of money that they can use for the new football stadium or some bullshit, though.