by Xavier Neal
He nods and turns around to meet eyes with me. “Finished it last night.”
“While you were pouting?”
“Sulking.” His face cringes. “Fuck. That almost sounds worse.”
“Almost.”
He motions his head for me to scoot over closer to him.
I move my body so it is nestled tightly beside his on the edge of the couch.
Nate hits the play button on his computer and there’s immediate movement on the screen. Unlike regular internet porn I’ve watched where there’s a buildup or at the very least a prelude to the action, this begins the moment my mouth wrapped around him. The way the video has been cut you’re barely given more than a glimpse of his face. Thanks to his command about my hair, you see absolutely none of mine. As the video continues the audience can see his abs straining from the enjoyment and his strong fingers fighting for leverage in the moment. Delicious, dark groans fill his apartment and I find it impossible to look away from it. From us. From the erotic moment we encapsulated on camera.
My body scoots closer to the edge, oddly jealous of the attention the recorded version of Nate is giving the recorded version of me. I find myself growing increasingly anxious to have him look at the camera. To look at me. The me sitting here watching. To give me any of the attention he’s devoting completely to her. The conundrum of being resentful of myself makes my head spin.
I try to concentrate on the smooth edit of the video, yet can’t focus on anything but the heavy, animalistic groans seeping relentlessly out of Nate. With every passing second, I become more intoxicated and my body begins to burn to feel what I was feeling then.
Sooner than I expect, he explodes and a shudder runs through me. His final sounds of satisfaction fill me with lust and desperation alike. The video stops mere seconds after his shaky voice confesses to coming.
“Play it again,” I whisper. When he doesn’t fulfill my immediate request, I turn my attention to meet his. “Play it again.”
Nate let’s a familiar growl linger in the back of his throat. I know that sound. It’s the one from the beast that breaks and bruises what’s his before he nurses the wounds with the sweetest words and gentlest actions.
He hits the button again, but yanks my body onto the couch and blankets it with his own. Air is knocked free from my lungs and his mouth ceases to let it be replaced. Frantically, his tongue disciplines mine, reprimanding it for making demands, while his hands tear open the front of my dress, banishing the buttons that were blocking his path from his presence. The sounds of his moans on camera convince my own to echo them. To chant along like some sort of forbidden prayer for pleasure. My pussy cries with us, wetness running down my thighs. Nate’s leg wedges itself between them and my hips grind against it anxious to have some of his touch.
His body lifts from mine just enough to undo the belt of his suit pants. I pant as I watch him struggle to release his bottom half. With a twisted smile, I grab him by the tie to force our mouths to merge back together. Nate groans, but his tongue returns to devouring mine. After a few more rounds, he pulls back again in an attempt to finish his original action. This time when I make a swipe for his tie, he grabs my hand and braces it tightly against the arm of the couch.
Nate’s blue eyes bore deeply into my brown ones. “You’re gonna fucking beg to come.”
I give his top lip a light lick. “Promise?”
Maddened by this response as much as his own rapture, he bites my bottom lip hard and pins my wrist down harder. With his forehead pressed against mine he manages to free his cock, hike my dress up, and push himself into my blistering hot pussy. I arch underneath him, whimpering at my inability to hold on with both hands. Nate draws back slowly and thrusts himself inside with more force than before. My legs wrap around his waist and my heels dig into his ass for encouragement. A monstrous moan rumbles throughout both of us. The nails of my left hand dig into his white dress shirt for stability while the ones on my right claw at his hand. He rocks his hips harshly, cock diving deeper and deeper as I cry out louder and louder. Rather than swallow my moans, Nate drags his teeth along my jawbone line until he reaches my neck where he latches on tightly. To my relief his hand pinning mine down releases it. He uses the hand that was just imprisoning mine to hold onto the couch as he ferociously pounds. For what feels like hours his body beautifully breaks mine in a ceaseless cycle of orgasms and harmony of shared howls. I beg. I scream. I whimper that I can’t take any more, but he never falters. He never stops knowing my body better than I do. By the time Nate finally shatters, marking me in a tandem of buried I love yous and burning bursts, we’re both drenched in each other’s sweat like we’ve been permanently sealed together.
This is my future. He is my future. And no matter what bullshit my mother has to say or whatever warnings Sloan is heeding, I know one thing is for sure. What we have is forever…
NATE
I give my reflection one last long stare.
I can do this. This isn’t the end of the fucking world. If I can defend Ainsley to my father than the rest of the world will be a walk in the park. No. I don’t need his fucking approval, but I don’t need him breathing down my neck either. He thoroughly knows the law and would willingly cash in enough favors to ‘punish me’ for this if it doesn’t meet his approval. Ainsley is legal and dating her is only against Ollander policy, but I don’t doubt my father would find a way to have them charge me for something to help get his disapproval across. Nothing strong enough to screw up my potential for a future. Something just big enough to hang over my head and force me to go get my doctorate. He’s a manipulative bastard. Always has been. The real trick is knowing how to play his games.
Exiting my bathroom, I give my sleeves a tug on my route to the living room. The moment my eyes land on Ainsley who is clicking away on her computer, my heart stops. Her beautiful wavy hair is twisted in a tight beautiful bun on top of her head with two strands left out to shape her face. The black sleeveless lace dress shouts classy as much as sexy. Between the small rigged v neck cut and mid-thigh length, the balance of sophisticated with a twist is easily met.
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip to prevent from groaning over the idea of her round toed pumps over my shoulders while I fuck her senseless.
Ainsley eventually notices my gawking and looks up with a smirk. “You look handsome…”
My hands slide into my pockets. “You look….Well….You look like we should arrive early and fuck in the bathroom.”
She giggles and shakes her head. “You say the sweetest things.”
With sincerity, I state, “You really do look beautiful, Kid. Absolutely perfect.” She rises to her feet and I ask, “Is this an insight to what your dream prom dress would be like? Because if it is…I might hate the idea of you going even more than I did before.”
After our fight last week, we touched on the subject again when Sloane asked her about it a couple days ago. I politely voiced my personal hatred and approval of the idea. It’s not her I worry about so much as the jockstrap douche who hasn’t lessened his efforts even though he is aware she’s no longer single. But like she said, it’s not fair to punish her because I don’t trust him. This is her final year in high school. Most likely her last big bang with her best friend. She needs it. She’s welcomed to it if she wants it. I just made her promise to let me see her in the dress of choice first and last.
“No. My dream dress is much different and you don’t have to ever worry about me in it.”
“I told you I don’t mind if you wanna go with Sloane.”
“I know. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what’d you mean?”
“My dream dress is way out of my price range if I even decide to go,” she clarifies as she grabs her clutch on her way to the front door. “Which I am still contemplating about. Prom with Sloane might be fun, but a weekend away where we’re naked almost the entire time and can make out in public just sounds so much bette
r…”
Her word choice causes me to grouse. “You’re making this harder on purpose.”
Ainsley smirks mischievously. “I love making you hard on purpose.”
My hand gives her bottom a good swat before we exit the apartment.
On our way to the parking garage, I ask, “What were you working on?”
“My film project,” she hums playfully. “Hope I get an A…”
“If you deserve one.”
“I always deserve one,” Ainsley corrects at the same time the elevator doors shut.
“Always?”
“Always.”
“So you think your half ass response to why you believe Forest Gump deserves its spot on the AFI top 100 list, was worth an A?”
Her sweet face scrunches. “In comparison to what I imagined the others in the class wrote? Yes.”
The elevator doors ding open again, leaking us into the parking garage. “Maybe in your class, but there is a student in my last class of the day who much like you worships movies and had quite a remarkable answer.”
She gives me an unhappy look. “Who?”
“You know I can’t just throw out another student’s information like that.”
“Was it Randy Demarco?”
“Maybe.”
Her bright eyes roll. “That doesn’t count. Him and his father met Tom Hanks at a charity auction last year. It was only after his father mentioned he wouldn’t mind having a son in the industry did he even consider an interest in film making. Before that he was insisting on being a news anchor.”
I chuckle at the information as much as her irritation over being challenged about her expertise.
She may be young, but she has more information and more dedication to the craft than I remember some of those I graduated with ever having. Ainsley’s has a bright future ahead and I’m grateful I get to be a part of it. Who knows. Maybe we’ll collaborate on something more than just porn one day.
Once we’re settled in my car and headed the short distance to the restaurant, I make note of the nervous expression Ainsley’s trying to hide. I can’t exactly blame her for feeling that way. I feel it too. Instead of expressing my shared anxiety, I offer her comfort. “I’m sure my father’s going to love you.”
She tries to smile. “Yeah?”
Maybe. “Yeah…”
“You said you told your parents the bare minimum. Does that mean they know how young I am or that I’m your student?”
Quickly, I shake my head. “Neither. And let’s try to avoid mentioning the latter.”
An unusual look crosses her face. “You’re not embarrassed about how young I am, just that I’m your student?”
I grit my teeth at her word selection. “I’m not embarrassed about either. It’s just easier if we keep details like me being your teacher quiet until you graduate. You know this. We’ve discussed this.”
“Yeah, but even to your family?”
“Especially to my family,” I insist. “My family is not much different than the brats you go to school with. While I don’t doubt my father will enjoy you as a person, I have all the confidence in the world he would use the knowledge of me falling in love with a student to twist my arm into going back for my doctorate.”
Ainsley nods her understanding. “Which you don’t want to?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
The uncertainty of the answer causes me to shrug. “I don’t know.”
“But maybe you’ll go back into the world of film,” she pushes gently, receiving a sharp glance in return.
Ever since Wyatt gave me that woman’s information it has been a constant struggle to avoid discussing it. Between her, him, and Holden’s unnecessary voicing of his opinion, I’ve got my back so tightly against the wall that I’m tempted to email her just to shut them up. It would be easy to lie and say I did if Holden wasn’t the tech genius he is.
“Can we please focus on one battle at a time?”
Ainsley smiles. “Fine. You want me to avoid mentioning I’m your student. Should I avoid mentioning I’m still in high school?”
“That’d be wise too.”
“How about something like…’Nate and I met because we share a common interest in film. I start courses at Ashwin this fall.’? How does that sound?”
“Fucking perfect,” I state proudly.
“Like I deserve an A?”
The reference to our earlier conversation sends us into chuckles, dissipating the doubt in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know why I bothered to worry. Ainsley may have an angelic face, but she’s got the brutal strength of a champion. Look at the shit she’s endured daily for the last five years. This girl is a warrior. My father should be the worried one.
After dropping my car off with the valet, the two of us link hands, and move towards the entrance of the prestigious steakhouse. The posh interior of gold décor, expensive art, and exquisite lighting immediately reminds you this isn’t an average restaurant. The host stand is in front of us while the actual entrance to the dining area is through a glass door on the right. On the opposite side of it is a set of double glass doors that lead to the highest priced hotel in the city.
The lanky blonde behind the stand asks, “Name?”
“Greene.”
She glances down at her tablet, which I assume is where the reservations are kept. It only takes a brief moment before she looks back up, “Nathaniel has yet to arrive.” Her hand gestures to her right. “Feel free to wait in our lounge area until then.”
I give her a polite nod and lead the two of us to the left where she suggested.
Just a couple steps away, Ainsley asks, “Aren’t you Nathaniel? Are you a junior?”
“No. My mom refused and my father insisted, so I was named Nathaniel Ryan Greene instead of Nathaniel Richard Greene.”
“Subtle difference.”
“And the reason there’s no junior attached to my name. Thank God.”
“I don’t know…Mr. Greene…I think you could’ve pulled it off.” She brushes her body slightly against mine. “You could pull anything off…”
Helplessly, I groan and wrap my arms around her waist. “Kid, I’m gonna be ripping things off tonight.”
Ainsley giggles with a playful pout. “I actually like this dress.”
“I’ll buy you another one,” I quickly brush off and begin to lower my face towards her.
Out of the corner of my eye a familiar shape catches my attention. Before our lips can meet, I crane my neck around her to see my father exiting the elevator next door with a woman.
What the hell?
I immediately break free from Ainsley who quietly questions my motive yet follows me to the other side. Now close enough to know for a fact it is not the person he married, I grumble under my breath, “That’s my fucking father, but that’s not my mother.”
To my surprise, my girlfriend doesn’t gasp. Doesn’t express shock. She simply says in a strangled voice, “No. It’s mine.”
Disbelief blindsides me further and my eyes drop down to hers. “What?”
A hand flies to her lips at the same time my father questions in a shocked tone. “Nate?”
Our eyes lock across the short distance of where we are and where they exited the elevator.
His grip around Ainsley’s mother’s waist drops and he continues to approach us while she doesn’t bother giving her daughter a second glimpse.
Unsure of what to say or how to begin to process the sheer fucked up nature of everything making my head spin, I clamp my jaw shut and let it throb.
My father adjusts his tie. “What um…What are you doing here? We’re meeting next door.”
“What the fuck are you doing here with a whore?” I bite unconsciously, completely letting it slip my mind the woman is more than that. She’s also the love of my life’s mother.
“Volume,” he tisks. “And what gives you the implication that’s what sh
e is?”
“Aside from the fact she’s fucking a married man?”
He glares.
“She’s….” The words stop before they have a chance to fill the air and make my girlfriend probably feel worse than she already does. “She’s an escort.”
“How do you know that? Have you used her services before?”
A wave of disgust rolls around my stomach and Ainsley chokes a sob beside me.
I turn, prepared to attempt to soothe her, but she declares, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
My father gives her a strange glance yet points to the right. “Other side of the elevators is the restroom. Feel free to excuse yourself.”