Breaking Gravity (Fall Back Series #2)

by Autumn Grey

  He glowered at me at the same time my mom’s eyes snapped open and met my frightened ones.

  “Please, don’t do this, Stephen,” Mother whispered on a sob. “Not in front of her.”

  He yanked one of the hands that was holding Mom down by her shoulders and jabbed his finger at me. “Get the fuck out of here, you worthless piece of shit.”

  I whimpered, scared shitless. I’d already seen him in a violent rage before, and from the way he was looking at me, I thought he was going to kill me.

  “Stop hurting her!” I shouted in a trembling voice, hands fisted at my side. “I hate you! I wish you were dead!”

  His face got red and his eyes bulged from his head. Dropping his hands from my mom, he zipped up his pants while stalking toward me. I should have run, but my feet were like lead on the floor. Even when he raised his arm, his hand descending to my head, freezing for a moment before making contact with my chest, my legs still couldn’t move. Between one second and the next, I was lying on the floor, pain ricocheting from my ribs. Too intense. I blacked out. The next time I woke up, I was lying on a white bed in a white room, and a doctor was hovering above me. I survived the incident with only a few bruised ribs. I could see my mother and the doctor talking in low, urgent voices on the other side of the room. I’m not even sure what she told the doctor. So when the doctor asked me what happened, I stared long and hard into my mother’s eyes, taking in the terrified expression in her gaze.

  Then I opened my mouth and said, “I tripped on my toys and fell down on the porch steps.”

  From the way the doctor studied me, she didn’t believe me. But I didn’t care, especially when I saw my mother’s relieved expression. I knew I had done the right thing. She huddled me in her car and drove us home. Given my quiet nature, my sisters didn’t notice any change in me. I stayed in my room most of the time, as usual, playing my cello or burying my nose in a book.

  And that was the day I really, really started despising my mother for a weakness that I later on inherited, I suppose. And I hated her more for that. Well, not really hate her, but—-ugh! I can’t afford to think about all the shit that went down in the past.

  I retrieve the message, my heart dropping lower in my stomach when I realize it’s Elise, asking me if I’m okay and if Nick contacted me. I reply, letting her know that he hasn’t, then toss my phone back in my bag and psych myself up about this sex-meeting with Nate.

  When I was eleven years old, Nor arrived home and handed me a letter and asked me to open it, then sat on my bed and put her palms on her swollen belly as if protecting her unborn babies. My tiny fingers paused long enough to notice the Music & Co. stamp on the back of the envelope. My excitement spiraled high. I’d been dying to enter the Junior Classical Music Award competition. Even at that age, I knew we didn’t have enough money to waste on things like competitions. It would cost a lot to drive to Miami, where the competition was being held, which is why I didn’t attempt to enter. My mom didn’t have a job and mostly stayed in her room the whole day, rocking on her chair, zoned out, ignoring us. My loser of a father hardly ever came home. And when he did, he was a looming cloud of misery and pain, using his words as a tool of abuse. He did leave money, but it wasn’t much. Somehow Nor made it work.

  I was so excited, so nervous to be part of something as huge as that competition. I came in third, but I’ll never forget that feeling.

  Sitting in my car, the same feeling twists inside my stomach. I glance out of the car to the row of windows on the building, which is located two doors down from Reed’s Lounge. There are lights on in four of them, but the others are unlit. I’m anxious about what will take place when I enter his apartment.

  Am I ready for this?

  Yes.

  Am I scared that I may not be able to blow his mind?

  Hell yes.

  I met my first boyfriend in high school. We only fooled around and never had sex. Then Rick came along and swept me off my feet with his charming and dominant ways. Older guy, more experienced, both sexually and life wise. Thing is, he just focused on fulfilling his urge to fuck. To own. Me? I was only something to get his dick wet, which I realized much later. That and the fact that he had a violent nature. I shudder, feeling sweat pepper my hairline just remembering that part of my life.

  I jerk my head from side to side, scattering those thoughts and forcing myself back to the present. My phone beeps again, and I dig it back out of my bag, read the text, this time from The King of the Bulges himself, Nate.

  Get your sweet ass up here.

  I duck down and dart a look at the windows, noticing a silhouetted figure behind white curtains.

  I turn my attention back to the phone, smiling.

  He’s waiting for me.

  I wipe my palms on my skirt before letting my fingers hover above my screen for several seconds. But before I can reply, my phone starts to ring. Mr. Scowly flashes on my screen, the name under which I saved his number last night after he sent the text message with his home address.

  I answer the call and stick the phone to my ear.

  “You have two choices.” His voice is a husky sound that has my thighs clenching. “Come upstairs and I’ll make you come hard over and over. Or turn around and leave, but then you will never find out how good my mouth and cock can make you feel.” He pauses, inhaling unevenly. “Which one will it be?”

  Holy shit!

  My tongue is stuck on the roof of my mouth, and I can’t form any coherent words. No random thoughts running wildly in my head. His bold declaration short-circuited my brain. The image of his mouth on me sends my thoughts scattering, and I end up uttering a string of letters that sound like this: “agagag.”

  Very attractive, Elon.

  “What was that?” He sounds amused. I close my eyes and picture him smirking, eyes heavily hooded.

  I clear my throat, then cough a little. “Yeah? How many times?”

  He laughs softly, and my head spins, my skin tingling. I’m beginning to like that rare sound a little too much. “Why don’t you come upstairs and find out?”

  I let out a long exhale, letting my head fall back on the headrest. “Be there in a bit.”

  He chuckles deeply, darkly, sinfully before disconnecting the call.

  Shit.

  Am I in way over my head here? There’s only one way to find out.

  I toss my phone inside my bag and jump out of my car with an extra spring in my step. I button up my jacket to ward off the late-January chilly breeze before grabbing my cello from the back seat—I never leave my baby in my car. I’ve heard horror stories of students leaving their instruments in vehicles but finding them stolen when they return.

  After making sure the car is locked, I cross the street.

  I step inside the lobby and halt in front of a dark brown, hardwood counter being manned by a portly old guy in a black uniform, shock of white hair combed back on top of his head. My gaze flickers on the silver nametag, noting the name Geoffrey.

  I smile, straightening to my full height of five feet two inches. “Good evening, Geoffrey.”

  “Elon Blake?” He smiles back, lines fanning at the corners and bracketing his mouth. “He’s waiting for you.” He motions for me to follow him to the elevator.

  I jerk back in surprise, feeling even more nervous than before, but my heart is dancing inside my chest just thinking about the fact that he told Geoffrey to expect me.

  Hiking my bag higher on my shoulder, I follow Geoffrey to the elevators. As soon as the doors slide open, he gestures with his arm for me to enter. I do, then turn around just as he steps back and nods once, and the doors slide closed.

  God, my heart’s beating out of my chest, and I feel the sudden urge to pee. I need to focus on something else before I back out, like maybe do something that will shock him. Be one of the bad ones instead of the good ones. And damn it, I want to be bad. Naughty.

  I shove my hand inside my bag and pull out a half-eaten Snickers bar, then unwrap it q
uickly and shove the entire thing in my mouth. The taste explodes on my tongue, giving me an immediate sugar rush and courage. Glancing down, I study my white lace, button-up shirt, black jacket, black skirt that stops a few inches above my knees, black stockings and a pair of dark brown lace-up booties.

  Not so shabby, I think. But it needs a shock factor.

  I press the stop button on the console, halting the elevator’s upward ascent. I set my cello and bag on the floor, and with shaking fingers, unclasp my bra and pull it down and out of the blouse and jacket sleeves. When I’m done, I unlace the booties and step out of them, lift the black skirt up and roll down the stockings, hook my fingers around the band of my hot pink, cotton panties and slide them down my legs. I quickly shove the bra, stockings and panties inside my bag before shoving my feet back inside my shoes and straightening to my full height.

  Cool air sweeps up my legs, brushing the heated, sensitive skin of my thighs. A sound between a whimper and moan leaves my lips as air caresses my pussy. I wiggle my ass and boobs a little to loosen up, tug the hairband holding my hair in a high knot, then shake my head, sending my hair tumbling down my shoulders to the small of my back.

  Perfect.

  If I’m going to be one of the bad girls, I’d better act the part. At least for tonight.

  By the time I exit the elevator with my cello slung back behind me and my bag grasped against my chest, my body is humming with anticipation. Every time the material of my blouse brushes against my nipples, I groan, and when a slight breeze brushes my mound, I clench my fist to fight the urge to touch myself. I walk toward door number 9, my footsteps muted by the blood red, wall-to-wall carpet and halt in front of my destination.

  I take a deep breath, raise my hand to push the bell but stop when I realize that the door is slightly open. So I knock softly, still wondering what the heck am I doing. Still wondering how many times he’ll make me come. Hell, the last time I came in the hands of a man was. . .never.

  I always made noises while having sex with Rick, then lied to him after we fucked, telling him I’d orgasmed to pacify him and also so he could leave me alone. Always afraid of what he’d do if I told him I didn’t come.

  I’m here now, waiting to be allowed entry into my professor’s den and collect the orgasms he promised me.

  “Come in,” a deep voice commands from the other side of the white door.

  I do as I’m told, stepping through the threshold. I suck in a breath, almost getting knocked over by the scent of him that welcomes me.

  His presence fills this space like a glove. Anticipation builds in my chest, my stomach, my bones.

  THE SECOND SHE WALKS THROUGH the door, I almost leap out of my seat in the living room where I’ve been sitting for the past several minutes waiting for her. I’d made sure to position the chair so that I could see her as soon as she stepped inside my apartment.

  I grab the tumbler of Scotch from the table and down the amber liquid, then I set it on the table.

  Holy fuck!

  I cannot stop staring at her: crimson hair forming a curtain around her shoulders, slight sway of her hips as she walks inside a few steps and looks around. The shadows that sometimes tarnish her beautiful eyes have been replaced by desire.

  I know she’s not mine to tease and touch. She’s my student. I’m her mentor. I’m supposed to be taking care of her.

  Sure. I’ll take care of her, but not as my student.

  Tonight, I’m a man who is about to stake claim on a young woman who drives him insane with need, both in and out of class. A starved man who’s about to lay her on the table and feast on her like she’s his last meal.

  She pushes the door closed before setting the cello on the floor next to the small table by the wall, then drops her bag beside it.

  “Nate?” she calls out while shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on the hook behind her.

  Then she raises her arms up in a stretch, a little moan slipping out of those lips. Her blouse rides up, giving me a glimpse of that soft-looking skin I crave to bite and lick so bad. But that is not what makes me hard. It’s the graceful innocence surrounding her. She’s so unaware of how attractive she is.

  She drops her arms and begins to walk toward me, her head focused on something to her right, probably the view of the St. John’s River outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her eyes widen, a squeal popping out of her parted mouth. And I know she has spotted the Montagnana. Christ.

  I rub the front of my pants with my left palm, then groan when my balls pull even tighter.

  As if sensing me, Elon turns her head, locking her gaze with mine. She stumbles when she realizes I’ve been there all along.

  Watching her.

  Her giddy smiles falters. I wonder if I’m competing with the cello for her attention.

  Seriously. If you don’t think too much of my right arm, I’m actually a very capable man. A fine specimen at that.

  “You’re nervous.”

  “Very,” she admits in a breathless whisper.

  “Don’t be. I’m a generous lover.” I watch her intently, ready to prove my point if need be.

  She rolls her eyes. “Feeling confident about that, aren’t you?”

  “When I set my mind on doing something, I give it my everything. When I finally have you in my bed, you will have all of me. All my attention. Mind, body and soul.”

  “Holy. Shit,” she mutters under her breath, squeezing her thighs together.

  My body sinks lower in the seat, my legs spreading a little further apart. She inhales sharply as she blatantly stares at the bulge in my pants.

  Damn right, sweetheart.

  “Come here, Little Wolf.” My voice is low, firm.

  The corners of her mouth lift in a smile as she bravely makes her way toward me.

  “Hello, Professor,” she greets, that skirt swaying with every step. She stops in front of me, her gaze falling on my crotch. Her mouth parts on a breath, her eyes bugging out a little. “Wow.”

  I raise a brow, smirking. “Yeah.”

  Deep lines form on her forehead as she bites the corner of her bottom lip in contemplation, as if she’s working on a difficult math problem, her eyes narrowing. If my guess is right, she’s attempting to calculate the size of my cock. For just a second, I contemplate putting her out of her misery and just telling her when she blurts out, “Monster penis.”

  I blink at her sudden outburst before barking out a laugh.

  Christ, this girl.

  The more I’m in her presence, the more I find myself laughing or smiling at her unpredictability.

  That’s it.

  I’ve been trying to figure out what’s so special about her that has my head screwed on crooked, what makes me catch my breath whenever she walks into the room. Every night when I close my eyes, she’s right there watching me with those big hazel eyes.

  This may sound cheesy, but I really don’t give a fuck. Elon is my ray of sunshine, punching holes through my armor with gentle blows I hardly saw coming until now.

  She shifts on her feet, rubbing her flushed cheeks with her palms in obvious mortification, looking so cute all flushed and turned on.

  “I have this thing I do where my thoughts just tumble out of my mouth—”

  “I know.” I smile, interrupting her rambling. I noticed that little quirk of hers a few weeks ago. Such a turn on. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”

  She freezes, eyes wide.

  What the actual fuck?

  I just told her I like her.

  I groan inwardly. I should ask her to leave, stop whatever this is before we go further. I wonder if she expects us to be a couple after we fuck.

  I watch her face intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of her thoughts, but all I see are those eyes.

  “Your eyes are incredible,” I murmur. “The second you lifted your head and looked at me on my first day of class I was done for.”

  “Bullshit.” Her lips tighten, her nose flaring. Her gaze
shifts to the space over my shoulder as the blush on her cheeks deepens, almost covering the freckles scattered on her nose and cheeks. “You don’t have to offer me compliments to have sex with me.” Then she looks at me again. “It’s a one-time thing, right? Just to get this sexual energy out of our systems?”

  I don’t think I’ve inhaled air since she walked in. I’m stunned, speechless at her sass and sporting the motherfucking boner of the century.

  Again, I wonder how I ever thought Elon was shy or quiet. Maybe because the only people she allows in her orbit are Amber and Alex. She ignores everyone else as if they don’t exist.

  One-time thing? Is that what she thinks?

  A growl leaves my mouth. I expect her to run out the door at that sound. Instead she stands there, chin lifted, staring down at me.

  I reach for the glass of Scotch, gulp down the rest of its contents, then set it back on the table. I swipe my bottom lip with my thumb before turning to face her, then crook my finger, motioning for her to move closer. A few more steps and she’s standing in front of me. I lean forward and place my palms behind her knees, tugging her forward, bridging the small space between us.

  “You are beautiful.” My voice is firm, my hands squeezing the back of her thighs hard when I see she’s about to roll her eyes. I’m about to add this is not a one-time thing, but I bite my tongue. Let her believe whatever she wants. I don’t want to scare her yet, given that she hasn’t even seen my monster penis. Maybe that will give her reason to run.

  I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head.

  “What?” she asks, lifting her hands and threading her fingers into my hair, sifting through.

  “I know for a fact that having you once will not be enough for me.”

  Her hands halt on top of my head. “You sound sure of yourself.”

  I shrug confidently, almost arrogantly. “It’s the truth.” She lifts a brow at my nonchalance. Her thighs clench, her arousal slamming into my gut. From the heat in her eyes, I have a feeling she’s enjoying this a little too much. “Fucking me once will not be enough for you either.”

  Her bottom lip quivers, but she quickly mutters, “Cocky asshole.” She attempts to wiggle out of my grip, probably to hightail it out of here, but I tighten my hold to stop her.