“Enough of this, Evie. Here or in your bedroom?” he asks.
And I look him in the eyes with a little shake of my head. “You’re in control, Mr. Black. Whatever, wherever you want.”
Chapter 8
Nate
“You’re in control, Mr. Black. Whatever, wherever you want.”
Her words would bring me to my knees if I weren’t lying on top of her. She’s giving me everything I’ve ever craved.
“You’re not going to hurt me. I can take it.”
I’d nearly come in my pants the moment that part had left her lips. But I wasn’t going to ruin this like some virgin seeing a tit in person for the first time. This was my first time being allowed to do everything I desire. As comfortable as it is in here, something inside me wants to take her in her bed, to be surrounded by her things, mark it with my presence and what I’m going to do to her so she’ll never be able to sleep in there without thinking of me.
I slide my arms beneath her and use the power of my legs to stand us both upright, and her legs automatically lock behind my back. She’s still following my orders, one hand pressed to the front of my jeans and the other fist resting atop her ponytail. Fuck, she’s good at this, such a good little submissive. How did I get so fucking lucky?
“Put your arms around my neck,” I tell her, and she does without hesitation. It brings the front of her up against my chest and abs, and the softness of her tits behind her T-shirt makes me feel powerful. She’s so tiny, delicate, with gentle curves, everything so feminine, and it makes me feel all the more male with her wrapped around me.
I carry her back to the room I saw her disappear into earlier and close the door behind us, even though we’re here alone. It makes it feel more forbidden, being enclosed in the room alone with Ms. Richards. Evelyn. Before tonight, I’d never been alone with her but for the briefest of moments when everyone exits the library. And now I’m here in her house, in her bedroom, and I’m about to get her naked.
I guide her down my body until her feet touch the floor, unraveling her hands from behind my neck, and take a step back from her. She waits for my instruction, and I’m overwhelmed with the possibilities. Not wanting to seem like some inexperienced chump, I’ll go with the things I’ve fantasized about over and over. If I have it my way, we’ll be checking off many things on my list of the positions and scenarios I’ve imagined her in. But for now, I’ll start with the one that never fails to get me off.
I take a few steps backward until I meet the wall and lean against it, crossing my ankles and then my arms over my bare chest. The lights are dim, only a small lamp on near her bed, so I’m in the shadows while she’s more lit.
“I’ve fantasized about this moment since the first day of school,” I admit in a low tone. “That first time I walked into your library for study hall, and you introduced yourself as the new librarian. And then you gave that little speech about it being your first job, right out of college. How it was your dream job.” She narrows her eyes as she tries to see me clearer, but I know my features are hidden in the shadows. “I knew it was my family who had given you your dream job, and for some reason, it made me feel like you were indebted to me. In a roundabout way, I had made your dream come true.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I can see her fighting the urge to fidget, to stay in her role as my submissive. I continue on, wanting her to know more about me.
“You show up to school every day in your perfectly pressed blouse and pants, your pretty little shoes, your hair straight and neat, your nails never even chipped. For a guy like me, who needs order, who needs things straight, and clean, and aligned, and perfect… you were easy to become obsessed with. And then the first time you cowered from me, flinched away at a loud noise I made, blushed at the shit I say to you… it made me feel powerful. Powerful in a way I’ve always craved but never had an outlet for. Unable to give in to these… desires, these urges,” I tell her, still keeping my voice lowered, even, not wanting to scare her, while I confess how fucked up I am.
“I’ve fucked countless girls, Evelyn.”
She flinches then, and I don’t know if it’s because I dropped an F-bomb or if it’s because she doesn’t like thinking about me with anyone else.
“I’ve lost track of how many girls I’ve been with. But I have always, always kept a tight leash on what I’ve always thought of as a monster, a beast inside me. Afraid to get too rough. Worried I’d accidentally hurt them. It’s always been soft touches and steady, measured movements. Gentleness. And while they’ve all seemed to enjoy that, seeing as they always want to come back for more, it leaves me unfulfilled, unsatisfied. Empty. Yeah, my cock got off—” I step out of the shadows and closer to her, and I see her leg muscle tense and relax as she denies her instinct to take a step back. I approach her slowly, languidly, liking the way she holds my gaze, even though I see the fear mixing with her desire for me. “—but it did nothing for my soul. I didn’t feel anything in my heart. It felt like something was missing, like I was doing it all wrong. And then I met you.”
I trail my fingertip along her jaw, tipping her chin up when I reach it. “And my fantasies of the things I wanted to do to you filled my head while I stroked my cock made me come so good, so thoroughly. To the point that I got more fulfillment, more satisfaction from fucking my own fist than I ever did fucking any of those other girls.” I lean down and press a kiss to her lips. Gentle this time, instead of the ones I surrendered to in her library. “And so I haven’t been with anyone else since that first time I fucked you inside my mind, because I knew it was pointless. No one could measure up to you, Evelyn.” I whisper the last part, looking deep in her eyes, and it has the exact effect I was hoping for when I told myself I should be honest with her.
She melts against me, and I hold her against my front, taking her mouth in a long, lingering kiss that makes her like putty in my hands. When I pull back and let her go, her eyes look almost drugged, glossy with arousal.
“Take off your shirt,” I order, and she doesn’t hesitate. She crosses her arms and grasps the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it next to me. My nostrils flare with immediate rage until I turn my head to see it landed perfectly inside the laundry hamper. When I look back at her, she’s fighting a smile. My eyebrow quirks, and she instantly schools her features. “Bra next.”
She reaches behind her, even as her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink in the dim light, and she curls her shoulders forward, allowing the straps and cups to fall into her hand. My heart thuds in my chest. She’s so good at this. Knowing how I am, how I crave tidiness, she doesn’t drop it to the floor, but she doesn’t move. I can tell she’s considering what to do with it, but since I haven’t given her another order, she doesn’t want to break her role and just keeps it in her grasp. Since she’s not tossing it into the hamper, it must go somewhere else. And if it’s anything like the rest of her house, there’s a place for everything, and she likes everything in it’s place. Maybe not as obsessively as I do, with measured precision, but still, good enough that even I could live with it.
I hold out my hand, and she places the delicate lace in my palm. “Where does it go?”
She licks her lips, and my cock twitches. “Top right drawer.”
I turn around and pull it open, seeing a vast number of bras in a multitude of colors, fabric, and shapes, all lined up neatly in rows. I see the exact spot she’d pulled the one she wore tonight from, and I carefully replace it, then close the drawer. With my mind not obsessing over the garment, I finally take in her bare breasts. Each one is the perfect mouthful, and I can’t wait to suck those little pink nipples between my teeth, to watch her react like she had in her library when I pinched one for having a smart mouth.
I could have her undress me, but I don’t want to waste time with her wondering what I’d want her to do with my clothes, so I’ll do it this time, so she’ll know how I like it. I make my way over to her bed to sit on the end, untying each of my shoes
before toeing them off. I take off my socks, folding each in half and tucking one inside each shoe. I stand and walk back over to her dresser, setting the pair neatly on the floor in front of it. I unload my pockets, aligning my wallet, keys, and phone in a straight line on top of the dresser next to her jewelry box, liking the way my stuff looks along with hers. I face her again, unbuckling my belt and pulling it from the loops of my jeans, winding the black leather until it’s a tight circle that with fit neatly beside my things on her dresser.
I unbutton and unzip my jeans, holding the waistband while I step out of them. I fold them crisply and lay them next to the belt. Finally, I hook my thumbs in the elastic of my black boxer briefs. When I pull them off, my cock springs free, and I hear Evie’s gasp, but I can’t look at her until I’m done with my ritual or I’ll have to start all over, getting it perfect. I fold the underwear once then a second time, placing them next to the jeans, so when it’s time to redress, all I’ll have to do is follow down the line until my pockets are filled. No scrambling to find a missing shoe, no worry about some chick trying to make off with my fucking hoodie or wallet. If this were anyone besides Evelyn, I’d take the time to go out to her library where I left my shirt to put it in line atop her dresser, but her presence is soothing enough to make me not care about it. In fact, the thought of Evie stealing my shirt to wear it and sleep in warms my chest in a way it never has before.
With everything perfectly aligned with an inch of space between each item, I turn to face her, completely unashamed of my nudity. Why would I be? I spend most of my free time honing my body into a machine, trying to achieve perfection with working out, a healthy diet, and by not putting stupid shit into it. It’s why I refused to take the meds the doctors tried to prescribe me for my OCD. And if what Evelyn said is true about the lifestyle being enough of a remedy for her own mental health issues, then it makes me wonder if it’ll be enough for mine.
“If ever I order you to undress me, this is how I prefer my things,” I tell her low, letting it hang in the air that this won’t be the only time we’ll be together.
“Yes, Mr. Black,” she replies, and I can see in her eyes she understands my insinuation. No hesitancy, no pause to think about it, to battle it in her mind. As if she wants there to be more between us as well. And another link in the tightly wound chain inside me loosens.
“Lie in the center of the bed on your back, little mouse.”
And she does, and since she follows my order so exquisitely, I’m able to enjoy the image she makes as she climbs gracefully onto her queen-sized bed, atop her perfectly made covers, and centers herself. Her back has barely hit the mattress before I’m there at the foot, my hands on her knees, spreading her legs apart, the only thing covering her the tiny swatch of blue lace barely wide enough to keep her slit hidden.
“Fuck, Evie. Even my fantasies couldn’t compare to the reality of you,” I murmur, and her face softens.
“Thank you,” she says, and an involuntary swallow lets me know her words are heavy with emotion.
Sliding my hands ever so slowly from her knees down the insides of her smooth thighs, I’m fascinated by the immediate goose bumps that lift along her skin, and I glance up to see her nipples are tight, looking almost painfully hard. Her body is so responsive to my barest touch, and it adds to that powerful feeling only she gives me. When my hands reach the middle of her thighs, my grip tightens, my fingers sinking into the softness there, and I spread her open even farther. It causes the lips of her pussy to spread past the tiny underwear, so they only keep just her very center covered. Making it all the more enticing to see what’s hidden beneath.
“I have another confession to make, little mouse,” I murmur, and I look up from that blue lace to find her breath coming out in quick pants of anticipation.
“Yes, Mr. Black?” she breathes.
“Because of the way I am, because of the control I’ve always needed but tried to keep hidden, there are things I’ve never done before. I told you how I’ve never allowed myself to get rough, worried I’d hurt someone. But there are also things I’ve never done, because I had no desire to. Finding it repulsive, too intimate to share with someone I cared nothing about.” My hands begin to travel the rest of the way down her wide-spread thighs, and they stop just in time to frame her pussy, my thumbs pointing toward the mattress and the rest of my fingers pressing into her mound.
“Th-that’s okay. That’s one of those hard limits I was t-talking about earlier. It’s fine for you to have th-those,” she stutters, still trying to be the perfect supportive submissive even as her arousal heightens with anticipation, my hands so close to the epicenter of her lust.
I shake my head slowly then lower my knees to the floor at the foot of her bed. “See, that’s the thing.” I move suddenly, grasping hold of her legs and yanking her toward me, so her ass rests on the edge of the mattress and her feet have nowhere to go but the tops of my shoulders. “In every one of my fantasies about you, Evelyn, the very first thing I ever wanted to do—” I hook my pointer finger in the lace over her pussy hole, my balls drawing tight at the feel of how soaked it is, for me, because of me, because of her desire… for me. And I pull the blue material to the side, finally revealing my fantasy come to life. “—is taste you,” I finish, and with that, I lower my head and take one long, languid swipe of my tongue up her slit, hearing her whimper when I get to her clit. She tastes like ecstasy, the citrusy scent of her skin mixing with the musk of her juices, and it takes everything in me not to come on her floor.
Although I’ve never eaten a girl out before, I’m not completely inept. I know what and exactly where the clit is and the power it yields. And I know how to kiss like a fucking Casanova. So without even second guessing myself, I let my instincts take over, pull back her little hood with my thumb, and bury my face between her legs, kissing, encircling, licking, sucking, and even nibbling at her clit when she cries out in pleasure, letting me know she likes that.
Suddenly, her hands are buried in my hair. Normally, hands would be promptly removed from anywhere near my head. But for once, I like it. In fact, I fucking love it. I love the way she’s tugging me tighter to her, her hips grinding her pussy against my mouth and chin, and when I look up her body, her tits are thrust upward, hiding her face from my position. But when I latch on to her hard little clit, sucking it into my mouth to hold it still so I can lick it with tight circles of my tongue, her back unbows and she lifts her head to look at me. Her eyebrows are furrowed, an almost panicked look on her face, but the pleasure I see in her eyes lets me know not to stop what I’m doing.
“Oh God,” she pants and then bites her lush lower lip. I keep my eyes locked with hers, keeping up with the tiny circles, and then I lift my other hand and barely trace her slit with one fingertip. “Oh… oh God.” She whimpers, her breaths sharp. “Please.”
I don’t want to stop what I’m doing, to risk losing the buildup to the very first orgasm I’m giving a woman with my mouth, so I just continue, and I slide just one long digit slowly into her pussy, feeling her inner muscles trying to suck it in deeper.
“Oh God!” she cries. “Please! I need to come. Please let me. Can I please come?” she begs.
And I shudder at the passion in her voice and in her expression. And as I growl a “yes” around her clit, sliding another finger inside her along with the first, her entire body convulses and she lets out the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, a moan of relief mixed with the long sob of overwhelming ecstasy. Feeling her pussy clamp onto my fingers, milking them deeper inside her, I have to let go of her panties with my other hand to grip my cock, choking it so I don’t come. I can’t come. Don’t fucking come yet, I scream inside my head.
When her hands finally release their tight hold on my hair and she melts into the bed, I slide my fingers out of her gently as I stand. She opens her eyes and looks up at me and shivers when she watches me lick my fingers clean of her juices, my other hand still gripping my cock.
W
ith her looking up at me that way, wonder on her face like she’s looking up at a god, as much as I wanted to make this last and learn as much as I could, I can’t wait any longer. I have to have her. I have to finally know what her pussy will feel like around my cock.
I let go of my dick and pull her panties down her legs, tossing them into the hamper. I put one knee to the edge of the bed then the other, using my thighs against the inside of hers to push her back up the bed. She’s so light, so much smaller than me that it takes only one gentle shove, and then I’m on top of her, bracing myself with my elbows on either side of her head.
“I can’t wait any longer to have you, Evelyn,” I whisper, and her face softens, and she nods, her eyes locked on mine. “I don’t have any condoms. Haven’t needed them in months. I’ve never fucked without one, but I had my physical and all the tests done for swim team, and I’m clean.”
Her cheeks flush, and I wonder if it was the reminder that I’m one of her students, but I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. In this moment, I am a man and she is a woman, and I’ll stop at nothing to have her.
“I have to get tested frequently per the rules of the club. I’m clean and on the pill,” she replies, and the tension inside me eases a little more.
I lean down and kiss her, absorbing her moan as she tastes herself on my lips and tongue before pulling back enough to look in her eyes. I reach between us and align the head of my rock-hard cock against her soaking wet entrance, and not wanting to disturb this seemingly earth-shattering moment, when the rest of the world has disappeared, I whisper, “Color, little mouse?”
She swallows thickly, but doesn’t even blink when she replies, “Green, Mr. Black,” and I slowly start to sink into her, even though all I want to do is shove all my steely inches into her at once.
A Lesson in Blackmail: Black Mountain Academy / a Club Alias Novel Page 6