by Erin Noelle
I sagged back against the pillows behind me and made some sort of grunting noise. “We didn’t have sex. Just messed around,” I admitted, shifting my attention out the window. I wasn’t used to talking about this kind of stuff with anyone. I preferred to keep my private life… well, private.
“What? Why not? You wanted to, right?” she asked, scooting me over so she could join me on the bed.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because we were interrupted.” I cut my eyes back to her and raised my accusing eyebrows. She whispered a quick “sorry” before I added, “But, hell yeah, I’m still interested, and I told her so. You know I’m not gonna play no bullshit games.”
“What’d she say?” she prodded, eyebrows raised hopefully. “You actually have her for a class right? Come on, bub, dish the deets. I already know now, so you might as well. Plus, I’m sure you’re dying to tell someone. Maybe I can even help you out.”
Repositioning myself to where I was comfortable, I spent the next half hour recapping the previous week to my sister, including the incident with Scott at Empty’s and the scene with Jayla in the cafeteria and how they tied into the Belle-effect. When I finished, bringing her as current as class that afternoon, minutes before Ashlynn decided to accost her in the parking lot, I did feel better, lighter for having unloaded it on someone else.
“Do you have a plan? And do you really think Mr. Carroll is trying to hook up with her too?” my sister questioned, seeming truly interested, which was rare since it didn’t involve her.
I blew out a frustrated breath and shrugged. “I know Mr. Carroll is looking to make his move, and fortunately that morning he caught me in her room, he thought I’d gone in there to put in a good word for him.” I snickered. “But as far as a plan, I guess just make myself so irresistible she finally gives in to what she wants.”
“And you’re sure that’s you?”
Scowling, I jack-knifed up to sitting and grabbed my guitar off the floor. “I may not have much experience with this shit, but I know she feels it too. Hell, she basically admitted it, but said she couldn’t do anything about it since I was a student.”
“Then why not wait until after graduation? If you really have this connection-thing like you say, it should still be there in a few months,” she suggested.
I twisted around to look at her. “Hello? Did you forget we leave the end of June for nine months? And the three weeks before that, Dad said we’re gonna be doing all kinds of promo stuff to hype up the tour. Once we graduate, we’ll be gone more than we’re here.”
“So let’s pretend you do get her to break, and you guys start seeing each other on the DL. Then what happens when we leave?”
“I don’t know, Ash!” I ground out, pinching my eyebrows together in frustration. “I’m seventeen, not twenty-seven. I’m not talking about marrying her, for crying out loud.”
Right then, the door to my bedroom swung open and our dad walked in. “Damn straight,” he huffed, his gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of us. “Neither of you are getting married for a long-ass time. We’ve got too much music to make first. Now get your shit together. We’re leaving for the bar in fifteen.”
Dad trudged out and headed back downstairs as Ashlynn crawled off the mattress. Stopping at my doorway, she looked back over her shoulder and smiled. “I’m cheering for you, bub. Just be careful, okay? For both of your sakes.”
THAT NIGHT, AS we played on the inside stage at Empty’s, I kept one eye on the door at all times, hoping, wishing Belle would walk through it. But a little past midnight, as we loaded up our instruments and amps into the back storeroom and got ready to go, it was clear she wasn’t coming. Not that I really ever thought she was. Thankfully, neither Dad nor Ashlynn mentioned my lackluster performance. It was rare for me to have an off-night, and it wasn’t like I’d fucked up or anything, but they both knew my mind was someplace else.
My parents and Ashlynn stayed at Empty’s when I left; Mom was catching up with some old friends, while Dad and Ashlynn were tinkering with a new drum set he’d gotten her. I wasn’t in the mood to be social, and none of them seemed too surprised when I told them I was heading home.
By the time I walked through the front door and disarmed the alarm, it was almost one in the morning and I was dead on my feet. My stomach growled as I passed by the kitchen, but I didn’t even have the energy to make myself something to eat. All I wanted was a nice hot shower and my bed. Performing live was exhausting, even when you gave it a half-ass effort, and after a week of restless nights thinking about Belle followed by getting up at the butt-crack of dawn for school, I was spent, both mentally and physically.
I lumbered up the stairs then took the hottest, fastest shower of my life as I simultaneously scoured and scrubbed the sweat and grime off of me. Throwing on just a pair of boxers, I turned the light off, the music on, and dropped onto my bed with a thud. Closing my eyes, I openly welcomed the sweet land of sleep.
Except it never came.
I rolled from my left side to my right and back to my left again. I pulled the covers up, pushed them down, and then did the one leg in, one leg out thing. I lay on my stomach and buried my face in the pillow, before flipping to my back and staring at the ceiling. I tried adding pillows for more support, but when that didn’t help either, I chunked them across the room with a rumble.
Since when did sleeping become so damn hard?
Since the night I met her.
The image of Belle popped into my mind and my dick stirred to life. All I had to do was think about her and a switch flipped inside me. Pure, unadulterated desire clouded my brain, hijacking my thoughts and actions. Everything about her turned me on, driving me damn near insane.
Especially those fucking black combat boots. A contradiction to her small size and bubbly personality, she somehow made them the sexiest thing ever. They were the first thing I’d noticed that afternoon when I’d walked into class, and immediately, my mind had raced to the night we’d met and what we’d done while she wore them.
One day, I’m gonna fuck her with nothing but those boots on…
Without realizing what I was doing, my right hand slipped under the waistband of my boxers and my fingers circled around my rapidly expanding cock. A few long, slow strokes from base to tip and I was rock-hard.
Laid out on her back atop that big desk of hers, I start with her sweet mouth — kissing, licking, nipping, tasting — then leisurely move down her tight little body, giving each nipple equal attention before sliding farther south. When my mouth reaches the apex of her creamy thighs, I hike her legs up on my shoulders, the boots hooked around my neck, and glide my tongue along her hot, wet pussy, flicking her clit.
Gradually increasing the tempo as I worked my shaft, my other hand joined in the fun, cupping and massaging my balls in rhythm with the first. A few drops of pre-cum seeped out the slit of my swollen cock and I used my thumb to swirl it around the throbbing head. My release built quickly, rising inside me.
As I worship her with my mouth and hand, she tenses underneath me, her legs squeezing my neck, fingers roughly pulling my hair, and then she explodes on my tongue with a violent shudder, screaming my name as she comes. She rides out her orgasm, coating my mouth and chin with her sweet, sticky juices, and when her body finally relaxes, I stand and line the tip of my dick up with her drenched opening. Peering down at her through lust-heavy lids, I smile at the sight of her flushed, naked body and the euphoric expression painting her beautiful face.
“Please, Everett,” she begs. “I need you inside me.”
Unable to deny her anything she wants, I flex my hips and thrust deep inside her, moaning at the overwhelming pleasure that rips through me. Her walls clench tightly around my cock as I piston in and out of her, consuming her, claiming her as mine.
My hand pumped harder and faster, while my breaths grew shorter and shallower. Lying in the pitch black of my room with “Eleutheria” by Lenny Kravitz playing softly in the background, I could almost
smell the light, crisp scent of her perfume wafting through the air, could almost hear her soft, breathy voice whispering in my ear. With a muffled groan, my balls suddenly tightened and every muscle in my body contracted as I came harder than I ever had before, shooting the ropes of my release across my stomach.
Dazed, but most definitely not confused, I didn’t move for several seconds, minutes maybe, as I basked in the aftershocks of my fantasy. Eventually, I grabbed the towel from my shower off the floor and cleaned myself up then collapsed back onto the mattress and closed my eyes. If just jacking off to the thought of taking Belle could do that to me, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the real thing.
But I’d happily die trying.
I HAD JUST stripped out of my jeans and sweater and into some leggings, an oversized t-shirt, and fuzzy socks, when I heard the front door open and close followed by Lindsey’s voice bellowing down the hallway to the guest room I was staying in. “Belle, honey, I’m home! It’s time to get our Friday on!”
Groaning at the thought of getting my anything on other than the comfortable clothes I’d just slipped into and hours of couch-vegging, I opened the bedroom door and shuffled out to the open living room/kitchen area, where my best friend had already kicked off her heels and was pouring two glasses of wine. She glanced up at me when I emerged and wrinkled up her nose disapprovingly.
“Why do you look ready for bed? I thought we were going to Empty’s tonight so you could hunt down the rockstar?” she asked, while re-corking the bottle then sticking it back in the fridge. “I even had Michael make plans with his friends so we could do this just the two of us. I was totally gonna be the best wingwoman in the world.”
I waited for her to join me, accepting the glass from her as we moved toward the couches. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but I’m just not feeling it tonight,” I half-lied, having completely forgotten to cancel the plans with her once I learned who the rockstar really was. “After all week of standing on my feet and drinking a couple of margaritas at happy hour this afternoon, I’ll probably be asleep by nine-thirty.”
She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and leaned back into the plush cushions. “Ooh, tell me about happy hour. Were you with Liam the London Love Poet? Is that really why you don’t want to go tonight?” She paused to take a drink, then in an accent that sounded more Australian than British, recited, “O, Arabelle, Arabelle, wherefore art thou, Arabelle?”
We both erupted in giggles, causing me to nearly choke on my wine. In addition to her take-no-shit attitude, one of my favorite things about Lindsey was her ability to make me smile. Even when everything had happened with Jonah in LA and I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, all I had to do was call her up and she’d have me doubled over in laughter in no time, temporarily making me forget all of my woes.
“I was with five or six of the teachers, and yes, Liam was one of them. We went to some little Mexican food restaurant near the school. They had two-dollar house margaritas and we all split some appetizers,” I answered, once I wasn’t in in fear of snorting liquid out of my nose.
“And…” she prompted, motioning with her hand for me to continue. “Are you gonna make this like pulling teeth?”
Shrugging, I contemplated what all I should tell her. Lindsey wasn’t the judgmental type, and I knew she’d always have my back, but the thing with Everett was different. Like first-degree felony different.
But the tequila I’d had earlier, compounded with the glass of wine I’d almost polished off, muddied the waters of my good sense enough to loosen my tongue. Plus, I really needed to unload on someone, and hopefully, fingers crossed, she’d assure me that I wasn’t a completely corrupt perv.
“Oh, Linds, it’s all so messed up,” I lamented, downing the rest of my drink. “I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I should be doing. Why can’t things just ever be easy?”
“Hold on one second. This sounds like a we-need-more-alcohol kind of a talk.” Her eyes grew big with interest as she hopped up and took the empty glass from me, rushing into the kitchen to refill both hers and mine. When she returned, she nodded her head and smiled supportively. “All right, hit me up, sister. Tell me what’s going on that’s not easy, and I’ll wait until later to yell at you for not including me in the juicy gossip before now.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled softly. “Okay, let’s see. Let’s start with Liam. He’s the relatively simple part of the equation,” I told her, as I pulled my legs up to sit crisscross-applesauce, getting comfy for a lengthy conversation. “He’s really cute in a preppy sort of way, super friendly and easy-going, and everyone seems to like him. The other women teachers and most of the female students stare at him all dreamily, going nuts over his accent and those blue eyes of his. And he’s made it very clear he’s interested in me.”
“How so?” she interjected.
“Well, yesterday, he kissed me on the cheek when he walked me out to my car after school, and then today, when we left the restaurant, he did it again and asked if I wanted to go to dinner next weekend.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty damn clear,” she snickered. “So what’s the problem? He sounds great. Are you just afraid of getting involved with someone you work with, in case it doesn’t work out?”
I gulped down a long drink then sat my glass on the coffee table to free my hands for nervous fidgeting for the other half of the story. “Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about that aspect of it. It’s something else,” I admitted.
She grinned knowingly. “You mean someone else.”
Nodding, I lowered my gaze down to my intertwined fingers in my lap. My stomach twisted with uncertainty and a twinge of shame.
“Who?!” she demanded. “I can’t believe there’s someone else you met you haven’t told me about, you hooker!”
I slowly raised my eyes to meet hers again. “You actually know about him. It’s Everett, the guy from the bar last Friday.”
“The rockstar?” Lindsey pinched her eyebrows together in a deep V, confusion crinkled in her forehead. “I don’t understand. If you like him, why aren’t we going up there tonight? And how have you talked to him? I didn’t think you exchanged numbers?”
“We didn’t exchange numbers. I ended up seeing him on Tuesday,” I offered a meek smile before dropping the bomb, “as a student in my sixth period class.”
The glass she held slipped through her fingers and fell to the couch, spilling wine all over the furniture and floor, but she didn’t move. “No fucking way,” she murmured, gaping at me in disbelief. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
I leapt up to go grab some towels from the bathroom then hurried back to find her in the exact same place. Dabbing the terry cloth at the pool of clear liquid, I cleaned up the couch as she addressed the puddle on the ground then refilled her glass for a third time.
“Yes fucking way, and I wish I was,” I finally replied, as we both settled back down on dry areas.
“Did you have sex with him that night?” she whispered like someone else could hear us talking.
Shaking my head, I mumbled, “Not real sex.”
“What do you mean real sex?” she tittered. “Is there a kind of fake sex I’m missing out on?”
“No, like not full-on sex. I may have sucked his dick.” My cheeks burned as the confession fell from my lips.
She gasped, covering her open mouth with one of her hands. “You gave your student a BJ?!”
“I didn’t know he was my student when I did it!” I brought my glass to my mouth. I needed more wine. STAT.
“Well, yes, I realize that, but still…” Her voice trailed off as the lingering silence said everything I’d been thinking for a week.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and hung my head, chin-to-chest. How can I have screwed things up so much in such a short amount of time I’d been here?
“So… I’ve gotta ask,” she tittered, “what was he like? Bigger than Jonah?”
“Lindsey!” I exclaimed, not that I was all that shocke
d, coming from her.
She threw her head back with laughter. “What? You know I had to ask. I mean, come on. It’s been a while since I’ve seen teenage cock. I forgot what it looks like.”
“It looks the same as adult cock, dork.” I snickered, unable to keep a straight face at her ridiculousness. “But it wasn’t just about that. I felt… I dunno the right word… natural with him. Safe, even.”
“You really like him, don’t you? More than the teacher.” Lindsey’s assessment was a statement of fact, not a question.
I shrugged again. I seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, not having answers to the problems surrounding my life.
“I can’t like him. The law says I can’t,” I insisted, more for my sake than hers. “Even though age-wise it’s legal, as his teacher, it’s not. It doesn’t matter that I met him outside of school beforehand. And why the hell am I so attracted to a… a kid?! What the fuck is wrong with me?”
Reaching out to soothingly pat my arm, she shook her head. “Aww, babe, there’s nothing wrong with you. Don’t do that,” she tried to appease me. “Hey, I was there last Friday too, and I can honestly say I had no idea he was that young. He looked like he was in his early twenties. Without flat out asking him, there’s no way you could’ve known.”
“But I do know now—”
“—and you still want him,” she finished, leveling me with her stare.
I couldn’t lie to her, despite how much I’d been lying to myself all week. “I don’t understand why. I mean, I don’t even really know him all that well. It’s not like we’ve ever just hung out like normal people. He could be a total douchebag asshole, for all I know. But,” I hesitated, searching for the right way to explain what I felt, “there’s just something about him. This draw I’m powerless against. My body reacts to him despite what my brain tells it to do. I can’t help it.”
She blew out a ragged breath and pushed up to her feet then started pacing the floor next to the couch. “Look, Belle, my husband’s a coach in the same district,” she said, keeping her voice calm and controlled, “so there’s no way in Hell I can encourage you to pursue something like this. You’re a smart girl. You already know what you’re risking, both personally and professionally, if you do. However, I will say I understand a heart wants what a heart wants, and you can’t help who you’re attracted to. I mean, look at me and Michael. We met on his thirtieth birthday, and I couldn’t legally drink yet. His friends made fun of him forever about dating ‘jail bait,’ even though I was twenty.”