Tyler grabs my chin and pulls himself from between my lips.
"Nuh uh," I say, and grab him.
"What? Oh."
This time I take him deeper. My throat burns and my eyes tear up, but I don't care. I grab his hips and press bodily against his legs, squeezing his meaty ass with my hands, thinking about it flexing and bunching as he drives himself into me over and over.
"Cass," he grunts, "Wait—"
I look up at him, his cock still in my mouth, when he explodes. He tries to pull back but I swallow and stroke until he shudders, not gently pushing me off.
"You're going to give me a heart attack," he groans.
I grin and lick my lips. "So you liked it, then?"
"You, um," he says. "You—"
"I've never done that for anyone but you."
He grins back at me. "So what else have you never done for anyone but me?"
I rise off the bed, stand, and walk towards him.
"Lots of things," I purr in his ear, "and they're all yours."
"The only thing I want from you right now is to eat your pussy until you scream."
"Can't scream in here. Walls are too thin."
He grins harder.
"Is that a challenge?"
Before I can answer he ducks to his knees, grabs my legs so I can't get away, and licks my pussy so hard it makes me yelp in surprise, only to withdraw and touch me gently, the barest flicks of his tongue in contrast with the firm grip digging into the meat of my thighs.
That's right, big boy. Leave a fucking mark.
I lean on the wall, hands out. I can't stand up straight under my own power anymore. Soon I flop back onto the bed and Tyler roughly, firmly, lifts me under the arms and moves me bodily around the bed so he can get at me easier. Every time he manhandles me like that a little surge ripples through me. He's so strong. I grin like an idiot and rub his big muscles as he leans over me and almost tell him to forget about going down on me and just shove his hard cock in me right now, but he does what he wants, and I love it.
I try to lie still but my legs start to quiver and I knot my fingers in his hair. It's like he knows what I'm feeling, and he has total control over it. Control over my body. I breathe faster, my heart races, I undulate and curl my legs up and around him, pulling his head in and locking him there. Some dull distant part of my mind hopes I'm not choking him, and I forget that in the hot rise of a crashing wave and, at the last moment, remember not to cry out and choke the noise about to erupt from my throat to a reedy whistle.
Panting, I go limp on the bed. Tyler sits up, rising to his knees. Looking down, I see him already positioned between my legs and the vulnerable feeling is so delectable I never want it to end. We've had a few chances to learn each other. He's shockingly gentle with me—for a while, until I'm ready to go again.
In the meantime, I slip out of my bra and reach to lose the stockings, too.
"Leave those on," he says. "You make them look fucking hot."
He grabs my ass and squeezes before I can turn back over, then my waist, and pulls me back to him.
"I want you inside me."
"I know."
"Then do it already."
"No," he says, playfully.
"Tyler—"
"I'm going to be gentle this time."
"Oh, come on."
"I want this to mean something."
"It does."
"I mean it, Cass. You'll see what I mean."
A little confused, I let him roll me onto my back and embrace him when he slides inside me, his hardness sending a twinge through me before I relax and accept it. It's still a little shocking no matter how many times I've done this with him.
He moves slowly, and I feel every tremble and movement. His breath hot on my skin, his sweat mingling with mine, little pinpricks of cool on my forehead and shoulders. He kisses me hard, not caring about anything but tasting me, kisses me so I learn what a kiss is over again. The word is redefined.
When he's slow he's as good as when he's rough and fast. He treasures me with his hands and mouth while he thrusts, and I clench my fists full of sheet as I begin building towards a fuller, heavier climax. Tyler trembles too, teeth bared in restraint, his face buried in my neck.
The peak catches me by surprise, and it's not alone. It rises again, and again, and I strain to stay silent. Tyler grunts as he responds to my body, pumping faster now, forgetting about slow and gentle. When I can't keep it in anymore, he muffles my cry with a hard kiss and swallows it, and as he finishes and presses into me at the fierce climax of his orgasm, he squeezes me tight in his arms and holds on like he fears he'll open his eyes to find me gone.
"I love you, Cassandra."
My eyes flick open.
"You...you..."
I can feel the tears welling, my eyes burning.
"Oh God, I didn't hurt you, did I?"
I shake my head. "It's not that kind of...just let me let it out."
I bury my face in his chest and pull him on top of me like a blanket of muscle, a shelter, castle walls. When I'm beneath him and surrounded by him and take him inside, nothing can ever hurt me.
"I love you, too."
He lets out an ecstatic cry, and we quiver in each other's embrace.
Finally, after a long time like that, he rolls away onto his back. I mold myself against him and, eventually, pass out.
I wake once in the middle of the night. Tyler snaps alert and watches me move around the room, studying my curves in the dark.
He pulls me back into the bed and embraces me tightly from behind, tucking me into his arms. I've never slept this well in my life.
Finally, when the sun bursts in and wakes me, I sit up, knowing that this has to end, or at least pause, for now. I have to get him out of here, so I can get him back in here tomorrow night.
For the first time in my life, museums pass in a daze. I feign fatigue and let the tour guides handle all the talking as we visit the museums on the list and pile on and off the double decker tourist busses. There's lunch with Becky in Central Park and dinner again with Tyler and as soon as my daughter is tucked into bed and no one is around to catch us, I'm riding him wildly again until we're both too exhausted to sleep.
The third morning of our trip, we need to get back to the train station. The trains run every ten minutes, so I'm not in a huge hurry to get us there. We do need to check out, though. Yawning, I leave Tyler to sleep a little longer, risky as it is, and sit on the end of the bed with my computer.
My scream jolts him out of sleep.
"What? What is it?"
I'm weeping and shaking too furiously to answer, and I hate myself for it.
docmillssucks sent more pictures.
Three pictures.
One of the three of us at the pizza shop, through the window. Whoever took the photo made sure to snap it when I was sticking my foot in Tyler's crotch. The second photo is Tyler carrying the sleepy Becky back to the hotel, saying something I don't remember to make me laugh.
The third isn't actually a picture. It's a video, silent because it's shot from outside. It's at an odd angle and shot through the window, but it's abundantly clear that the woman bouncing on Tyler like a mechanical bull is me. Naked.
Tyler stares.
"I'll—" he starts, his voice tight with rage.
I point to the screen and he goes white when he sees it.
It was sent to me.
It was carbon copied to the academic dean.
I'm done.
My life is over.
Chapter Thirteen
Tyler
This is fucked.
I stare dumbly at the screen, even after Cass points it out. Intellectually, I know why she's sobbing her eyes out. I put it together right away. They sent proof that she's been sleeping with me to her bosses. They're not going to grant her tenure. Her career probably just ended.
I utterly destroyed her with my grotesque selfishness.
What the fuck do I do now?
She's looking at me with the same question burning in her eyes, and now Becky and Alyssa are pounding on the door.
"Mom?"
"Professor?"
"Give me a minute," she cries, ragged, and slams the laptop shut, too hard. I take it from her and set it aside.
I almost have to dress her myself, she's like a broken doll. Seeing her like this is utterly devastating in a way I haven't experienced since my mother passed away. I feel like I've ripped something beautiful out of the world. I get myself decent, then finally open the door.
Both of them staring at me.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" Alyssa demands. Her eyes snap to Cass, but Becky darts in first and throws her arms around her sobbing mom.
"What did you do?" Alyssa repeats, a snarl in her voice.
"Leave him alone!" Becky shouts.
"What?" Alyssa says, confused.
"In here, quick," I say. "Close the door."
The four of us make for tight quarters. Cass has calmed down slightly, but she seems to be in shock. She's hugging her daughter and rocking silently, eyes pressed tightly shut in a vain attempt to hold back tears.
"I want to know what happened," Alyssa says.
"Cass and I—"
"Who?"
I scrub my hands over my face. "We are in a relationship. We're seeing each other. Me. Her. Cass. You know her first name is Cassandra, right?"
She looks at Cass, at me, at Cass again.
"What the—"
"Language," I say, glancing at the kid.
She just gapes at me.
"This is a weird dream," she says. "This isn't happening."
"He's telling the truth," Cassandra says in a ragged, wet voice. "It's true."
"What happened?" She rounds on me again. "Did you do something? Did you do something to her?"
"No," Cass says. "Let him explain."
I take a deep breath.
"Someone took pictures of us and sent them to the dean."
"Pictures of you...oh. Oh." Alyssa's eyes go wide. "Well, that's not good," she says, dully.
"I have relations with a student. He's in my classes. I'm grading him, Alyssa. You're right to be disgusted with me."
"I can't say I can account for your taste," Alyssa says bitterly. "But...Jesus. I don't know if I have a problem with this or not. I'm just stunned."
"He's not what you think he is."
"The way you act in class—" she starts.
"Fake," I say. "A put on. You know how she gives me shit for turning in my assignments late? She had them, every single time, already."
"I don't know what to do," Cass whimpers, squeezing Becky tight. "I don't know what to do."
Alyssa's expression pulls wide with horror and she looks at Cass for a long, hard moment.
"I won't say anything."
"It doesn't matter."
"It'll give you time to make plans," she says, turning to me. "There must be something you can do?"
"Me?"
"You're the star quarterback. Or were, anyway."
I throw up my hands. "I've already burned all my bridges, Alyssa. This was my last chance, and now I haven't just thrown my life in the toilet, I've destroyed hers, too. I'm starting to wish I'd just flunked."
"Don't say that," Cass snaps.
"You'd have been better off without me."
"Don’t. You. Ever. Say. That," she snarls. "Not after what you said to me last night."
Alyssa looks momentarily confused, then understanding flashes in her eyes.
"Is there anything you think you can do?" she says.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to think.
"I have one call I can make. Ryerson."
"The head coach?" Alyssa asks.
"If anyone can do anything about this, it's him."
Cass looks up. "Why would he help us? He'll be disgusted and disappointed in us both."
"Who sent the pictures?" Alyssa asks.
"We don't know," I tell her, shrugging. "We called the cops and everything, but nothing ever turned up. They followed us here, even. They were outside that window."
She pushes past me to the window itself.
"Can I see—"
I shake my head vigorously.
"Oh. Oh. Alright. You saw the pictures? Can you tell where they came from?"
I move to the window next to her and point.
"They were above us, up there," I point to the next building. "From the angle, had to be. One of the upper windows or maybe the roof."
"So you know where they were and when, in the city with the most cameras in the world? Or close to it?"
"I...yeah," I say.
She narrows her eyes.
"Call Ryerson like you said. Do you have that cop's number?"
"I do," Cass says, her voice stronger now.
Alyssa looks at me.
"Okay," I tap her shoulder. "You take Becky with you, keep her close, and wake everybody up. We need to roll out of here if we're going to have any chance of getting ahead of this. I'll drive if you can't, Cass. You stay here and get that Hart lady on the phone. While you two are doing that I'll head up to the roof and call Ryerson. When I come back down, we all get on a train and get out of here."
"Will do," Alyssa says, then soothingly, to Becky. "Hey there, your mom needs to get a phone call. How'd you like some candy from the vending machine?"
"I'm twelve, lady," Becky says, "not five."
Alyssa snorts. "Fine then, but come on, Mom has to make a phone call."
"Are you going to be okay?" I ask Cass before I leave the room.
"I don't know," she says.
"Let me see you dial the phone before I go."
She does, and I step out as she brings it to her ear. I bolt for the stairwell and up to the roof, yank out my phone, and make the worst phone call I've ever had to make.
It's seven in the morning on Sunday. Ryerson probably won't—
"Ryerson," he rumbles into the phone.
"Coach, it's me. It's Tyler."
He's quiet.
"Do you already know?"
"Know what?"
I breathe out a long sigh of relief, but suck it right back in. That means I have to tell him. I sit down on a bench near the deserted rooftop bar and gather my forces, trying to organize this.
"Can you listen to everything I say?"
"This is obviously bad. Yes, I've gotten glowing reports. You've earned some indulgence. Let's hear it. No promises this time."
I nod, though he can't see it.
"Early in the semester I slept with Dr. Mills. We've been in a relationship since then."
"I see. That's not all?"
"No. Someone has been stalking her, or me, or us, and sent photographs of us in a compromising position to the administration. Straight to the dean."
"You're in New York, correct?"
"Yes."
I hear him scrawling on paper, scratching something out in his expansive, spidery hand.
He's quiet.
"Sir?"
"Look," he says. "I'm going to be straight with you. I can't fix this. Not completely."
"I know."
"I shouldn't, either. If I call in markers on this everyone is going to know I covered for a student sleeping with a professor. Everyone in the administration in a decision-making position, at least. This could burn me as much as the two of you."
"I know. I'm terribly sorry."
"Sorry you weren't smarter, I hope. I was hoping she'd bring out the better angles of your nature. Just, not, not like this."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing, it won't fix it. I'm thinking. What about this field trip? Anyone else know?"
"One student. We're keeping it quiet from the rest."
"Good. I'm going to assume you had no choice with the one who knows."
"No, she had a room next to Cass and heard her scream."
"She keeping her mouth shut?"
"For now, yeah. She
's in shock. I think she looks up to Cass."
"This is what you're going to do. Gather everyone up. Business as usual. Tell Cassie to just be herself, she'll know what I mean. Once they're all together, get back here and double time it. Come straight to me, I'll be in my office. Got an ETA for me?"
"If we leave right now," I say, glancing at my phone, "we'll be there at noon. I can't promise anything before one o'clock, but I'll move heaven and earth to get there as fast as I can."
"Don't hang up."
"Yes, sir. What else is there?"
"You don't understand how close I am to Cassandra. She interned for me as a work study to get herself through school. She made me wish Sylvia and I had a child of our own. Anything I do, I'm not doing for you, I'm doing for her. If you'd called with this about any other of your instructors, I'd let you hang for it."
"Yeah," I say.
"For her sake, this will be the last time we discuss this, or any matter. From here on out in my presence you speak when you are told and when I jump you say how high, is that clear?"
"I will do anything you tell me to do. For her."
He grunts.
"I'm going to call Frank, the dean, and break the news to him. He probably hasn't dragged his ass out of bed yet and if I head this off it'll make it easier on all of us."
"Can you, ah," I swallow, "Can you ask him not to actually open the email? For Cassandra. I don't want her to have to know he saw that."
"I'll see what I can do. Fuck it, I'm heading to his house, but I will be in my office by the time you arrive."
"Okay."
"One last time. If you fuck her over, you're dead."
"I know, sir."
"Get her and get your ass back here."
"On it."
I hang up and rush back downstairs. Alyssa is in the room with Cass and Becky.
"I called Hart," Cassandra says in a rough voice, like she smoked a pack of cigarettes while I was gone. "I told her everything. She said she's on it, but she'll get the runaround from the New York authorities. They might want a statement."
"We can't stay. Ryerson wants to see us. He's agreed to help but he wants to talk to us in person first. Alyssa?"
"I told everyone to get up. I told my fiancée—"
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