Tarnished Vow: A Student Teacher Forbidden Dark Romance (Boys of St. Augustine Book 2)

by R Holmes

  "Fuck, I want you." He grinds his dick against me, driving his point home.

  "Come over. Tomorrow," I pant as he swallows my words.

  Only he would make me crazy enough to throw abandon to the wind and be okay with hooking up in a broom closet during school hours.

  "Yeah?"

  I nod as his lips descend back on mine. The conversation is comical because we can't seem to tear our mouths from the other to hardly even speak. Everything inside me is on fire. He coaxes my moans with his tongue, chipping away at the small amount of resolve I have left.

  He bunches my skirt at my hips, sliding his hand up my thighs that are covered in stockings with garters. Groaning, he drops his head against the wall beside me. "You're trying to fucking kill me."

  I stifle a giggle, instead lacing my fingers in his hair and dragging his lips back to mine.

  "Wait, you're going to get detention, for being tardy, what are you going to do?"

  "Eh, Sister A has a thing for me, she'll excuse it." He grins.

  "Oh?" A wave of irrational jealousy surges through me. I shouldn't be jealous at all, that's silly, completely ridiculous. Yet…

  "I'm just playing baby, but you look hot when you're jealous."

  I scoff, tearing my gaze from his. "I was not jealous."

  Laughing, he brushes off my comment, and slides his fingers inside the lace of my panties, his skin brushing against my bare pussy.

  "Sebastian, we can't, not here, it's too dangerous." I pant as his finger rubs a circle on my clit.

  "Fine. Tomorrow, Presley." His words are laced with promise, and now my heart races for a different reason.

  Anticipation.

  I woke up today and decided today would be the day I painted the house. I'd put it off long enough and now that the necessary repairs have been made, I can’t find any more excuses to delay the inevitable. The walls need it desperately, and anything that makes my house more of a home I’m doing. Standing in my living room in a pair of old, ripped jean shorts, and a decade old T-shirt, I am ready to take on the job. My eyes scan the peeling, musty walls and realize it may require a bit more work than I originally thought. But I know that like most portions of my journey, this one is important. Another stepping stone into the person I hope to be, living the life I crave.

  I'm setting out the tarp to protect the floor and arranging paint brushes when there's a knock at the back door. Excitement courses through my veins, knowing the person on the other side is Sebastian.

  Setting the paint brushes down on the makeshift table, I open the door and am greeted with a sinful looking Sebastian. He looks so handsome, my mouth waters and my insides turn to straight mush. He's the most attractive man I've ever met. Today he's dressed in an old St. Augustine shirt with a pair of simple black gym shorts. It looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days, and the scruff on his jaw makes my mouth water. He’s so effortlessly handsome. Sharp, high cheekbones, a cut jawline that was made for magazines.

  Stepping inside, he pulls me to him. Sensual, full lips tilt up in a grin that unleashes a wave of lust so strong my knees go weak. Maybe it's the fact we've got enough sexual tension to cut through with a knife, or the constant teasing but never finding relief. Dangled in front of my face but never close enough to warp my fist around.

  "Hi beautiful," he says. His eyes travel down my body hungrily, pausing at my thighs and back up to my face. "You know, Pres, I'm starting to think you're trying to torture me. I'm trying to be good, but fuck you're making it difficult."

  I thrust a paintbrush into his hands with an impish grin, "Sorry."

  "Mhm, I don't think you're even the least bit sorry. Jesus, Presley, those shorts, they'd make a man sin." He groans, but walks over to the table of supplies I have set out. "Put me to work before I change my mind."

  "I'm not sure even where to start, honestly. I figured I could take one wall, and you could take the other?"

  He nods, picking up the brush. "This grey color will look great. It'll open up the space."

  "Yeah, it reminds me of the beach in Nantucket," I say before realizing I've given him a small glimmer of my past.

  "You like it there? Is that where you're from?" he asks. His strong, corded vein arms strain against the sleeve of his T-shirt as he rolls the first long stroke of paint down the wall.

  "We used to visit there, my parents and me. In the summers. It's one of my favorite places in the world." A sharp, deep pain twinges in my heart at the thought of my parents, and the happier times in my life.

  He must see it written on my face because he walks over and drops a sweet, gentle kiss to my lips.

  "I know you're shit with chopsticks babe, but I'm hoping you’re better with a paint brush. Get your cute ass over there and show me how it's done." He grins, and smacks me on the ass causing me to yelp.

  We work on opposite sides of the wall, painting our respective sides, until we've almost worked our way to the middle and it's going much quicker than I anticipated.

  "You have any water?" he asks, setting his brush down in the pan.

  "Yeah, in the fridge."

  His eyes are still on me as he walks towards the fridge, so much so that he doesn't notice the pan of paint that he's about to walk directly into.

  "Sebas—" I cry, trying to stop him, but it's too late. The tip of his shoe hits the pan, sending paint flying in every direction, covering us both head to toe and splattering on every surface in the room. Hope screeches and dives out of the way just in the nick of time.

  "Holy fuck," he says as it drips down his hair.

  Oh my god.

  There's paint everywhere, over the entire living room and most definitely running down my hair and body onto the floor. I can't even be mad watching the look of complete shock on Sebastian's face while the paint drips and pools around him.

  Instead, I just laugh. And laugh, and laugh until I have to put my hands on my knees to keep upright. Tears stream down my face, mingling with the paint as Sebastian joins in, both of us laughing almost insanely at the ridiculousness of the situation.

  He walks over until he's in front of me, using his thumb to wipe away a drip of paint, but the paint on his finger does nothing but smear it around my face, and it sends me into another heap of laughter that I can't stop. His paint slick hands yank me toward him until my own paint coated body collides with his hard, muscular body.

  Suddenly, the laughter of the room dissolves only to be replaced with the same tension that has been hanging over us each time we're in the room together. Only our labored breathing to be heard as we clutch onto each other. In his eyes, I see the moment his restraint snaps. His mouth claims mind. Roughly. Possessively, with every ounce of tautness that I feel.

  I moan against his kiss when his tongue slides between my lips, owning me. I was made for this man. There's no one that has ever made me feel the way that I do.

  "Pres," Sebastian grunts raggedly before picking me up. My legs automatically wrap around his waist, my arms threading around his neck like a lifeline. Our paint slicked bodies rub together, but his hands grip my ass so tightly I'm sure there will be marks tomorrow.

  "Shower."

  He doesn't speak, simply takes my mouth in another frantic, frenzied kiss as he walks us over to the bathroom. Breaking the kiss for only a second, I peek behind him at the trail ofdripping paint we're trailing through the house, but I can't even find the desire to care right now. Once inside, he pulls the curtain aside and turns the water on, never letting me slip out of place. His grip is strong, comforting, everything I need at this moment.

  Even though we've been building up to this moment, it's still monumental for me. It's still the first time I've been with a man in over a year, or any man other than the one who tried to kill me.

  He breaks from our kiss and his eyes search mine, "Tell me yes, Pres. I need to hear it." He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip waiting for my response.

  "Please."

  I feel like I'll die if he doesn't touch me
.

  Begrudgingly, he sets me down on my feet in front of him and peels the paint soaked T-shirt from my body, leaving me in nothing but a red lace bra that I wore hoping he'd see.

  "I was right, red is definitely your color." He smirks.

  A brazen, confident feeling comes over me and I reach behind my back and unhook the bra, dragging it down my arms letting it fall to the floor.

  Sebastian's mouth goes slack as his eyes glaze over. He takes me in, his gaze sliding down my chest in the slowest perusal like he's drinking in every inch of me. His expression makes me feel confident, powerful.

  "If I thought you were perfect before, I was a fucking fool, Pres." His voice is rough, overcome by something more powerful than the tension in the room. He doesn't pause, closing the distance between us in one step, yanking me against his body until my now naked torso is covered in the sticky paint from his shirt.

  His fingers trail down my collar bone, smearing the paint into my skin, dragging a line town to my breasts where he palms me, then rolls my nipple between his fingers. The movement sends chills down my spine. Goosebumps break out along my arms, my nipples pebble at his touch. The paint makes my skin slippery, and somehow the moment is even more erotic.

  I want Sebastian Pierce like I've never wanted anything.

  "More," I pant.

  Not wasting another second, he reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off and discards it to the side, then pulls me back against him. We're frantic, neither of us wanting to pull apart but our clothes still hindering. I move my shaking fingers in a trail down the rigid, sharp cut of his abs. I count them as I go.

  One… two… three…

  I don't make it very far when his hand slides into the waistband of my shorts, brushing along the lace of my panties. I know I'm soaked to the touch, and not just from paint. He's been building this up for days. The rest of our clothes disappear with the flick of his wrist, lace shredded, briefs gone in the blink of an eye until we're both completely naked, covered in paint, standing in front of each other.

  I'm not the least bit shy as his eyes drag down my body and heat when he pauses at the apex of my thighs.

  "You're perfect, every fucking inch," he growls.

  While he’s appreciating my body, it’s my turn to appreciate him . Everything on Sebastian is hard. His stomach tight, rigid muscles are the definition of a washboard. They lead to the sharp "V" at his waist that makes me want to lick all the way down until my lips are wrapped around him. I'd never seen his dick, only felt it as he grinned against me, teasing me. My eyes drift lower. He's long, thick, and impossibly hard.

  He drops to his knees in front of me, kissing a path from my stomach down to my pussy, groaning when he finds the skin completely smooth. His hands snake around to my ass, pulling me to him as his tongue darts out to lick a path up thigh, biting and nibbling as he goes. The smallest action, and I'm ready to melt in a puddle beneath him. Standing, he grabs my ass and hoists me up and my legs automatically wrap around his waist while he steps us into the shower, under the hot stream of water.

  The water below us runs gray as the paint mixes, and washes from our bodies. I should care more that my house is probably ruined, and that it'll take weeks for me to wash the paint from every surface, but I don't care, not in the least. All I care about is feeling Sebastian's body against mine. Steam billows from the temperature of the water, and the glass door fogs over completely, encompassing us in the shower, breathing heavily, beyond frenzied for the other.

  Nothing has ever felt like this. So powerful.

  "I need you," I breathe.

  A brief pause and his eyes search mine. "We haven't talked about... Are you?" He stammers over his words. The first time I've ever seen him even remotely nervous. Safe sex isn't something to be nervous about, and I'm glad that he takes it seriously.

  "I'm clean, I have an IUD."

  "Thank fuck. I’m clean too."

  His lips crash with mine as he presses me against the glass, and drops his face to my neck, sucking a tender spot that has my back bowing against the glass. He trails kisses down my neck to take my nipple into his mouth. Taking his time, he gives attention to each nipple. I shudder when his teeth graze the tip; it feels incredible. It’s other worldly to be touched by Sebastian.

  "I need you on the bed so I can worship every goddamn inch of you, Pres. I want to take my time, savoring you," he mumbles, pulling back to peer into my eyes. He looks so devastatingly handsome looking up at me. The water from the shower head drips down his face, clinging to the dark lashes on his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, the same as mine.

  I nod. I'm overcome with lust and emotion and I can't find the words to even speak. The shower is still running when he opens the door and carries us back out into the room. Water puddles around us as he walks, leaving a trail of paint and water mixture on the floor.

  When his knees hit the bed, he carefully lays me out in front of him and comes down on top of me. I feel how hard he is against my stomach. I can't help but snake my hand between us and wrap my palm around him. His groan is all I needed to hear. I pump him in my fist, softly, then grip harder when his hips thrust forward into my palm.

  "As much as I love feeling your hand around my cock, I'd much rather come when I'm inside you, so imma need you to stop." He groans into my neck and nips playfully. I hear the pained tone of his voice, so I pull back slightly, letting him fall out of my hand.

  "I want to touch you," I say, nervously. I've never been the one to be loud and clear about what I want, yet I feel that with Sebastian, I can be. He gives me power by showing the pleasure that my touch gives him. I can still feel his hardness digging into my stomach, and I want to wrap my lips around him and bring him as much pleasure as he did me the other night on my desk.

  "Okay, then touch me baby." His smirk reaches his eyes, and makes me want to abandon my inhibitions and kiss him until I can't breathe.

  He rolls off me to his back, and it's my turn to climb on top of him. The head of his cock brushes against my pussy when I climb on to his stomach.

  "Fuck, Pres, you're so drenched I feel it on my stomach."

  I move lower and lower until I'm eye level with his cock, and only then do I wrap my fist around him. His cock is silky velvet and my small handle barely fits around his girth. A small bead of precum leaks from the tip, and I dart my tongue out and swipe away the salty drop. He tastes like I imagined him to be. I want more.

  My lips wrap around his head and I suck him into my mouth, coating him with my spit. His groan is guttural. His hands slide into my hair, gripping the silken strands. Fingers entwine with my hair as I take him down my throat, swallowing around the head of his cock.

  "Holy fuck," he breathes, instinctively thrusting into my mouth. I let him push my head down onto his cock, deep throating him even when tears well in my eyes, and I'm gagging around him. I know how much he loves it, the way he grips my hair, and the groans that leave his lips. His body tenses, his abs tightening as he gets ready to come.

  "I'm about to come, wait." He pulls my lips off of him, sitting up. The look on his face is so raw, and so full of… adoration, it stops me in my tracks. His thumb wipes away the stray tears on my cheeks.

  "I want to be inside you. I need to be inside of you."

  Strong hands find my waist, and he lays me back down on the bed in front of me and his hips fit in-between my thighs. He takes his cock in his hand and drags it between my folds, thrusting against my clit. The motion causes me to arch against his touch.

  I need this more than he knows.

  He gently presses inside of me, slowly at first, then laces our hands together above my head so I'm unable to move. I can tell how much he craves the control of my body and for once, it's the kind of control I want to surrender. Inch by inch, he slides inside of me. While his grip is strong, his calloused hands rough around me, he's still oddly… gentle. Even with the sense of urgency in his touch, he makes sure to move slowly and deliberately. It's been so l
ong since I've been with anyone, it's like I'm having sex for the first time again, and somehow he knows. It makes me trust him even more than I did before, knowing that he reads the cues my body gives him.

  “God, Pres,” he grunts raggedly as he drops his forehead to mine when he’s fully inside of me. Both of us are panting. Anticipation snakes its way up my spine.

  Once he's inside of me, he pauses and brings his lips to mine. My hands are still held tightly in his, and I want to run my fingers down his back, in his hair, against the stubble on his cheeks. I pull against his hold and he relents, bringing his hands to my chest, squeezing a handful of my breast in his palm as he pulls out and slams back inside of me. The slow, tantalizing moment has passed now replaced with desperation that we've both been fighting for too long.

  Being with Sebastian is everything I secretly imagined it to be, and told myself I would never know. Sweet, yet unrestrained. Sensual, and intimate.

  "Presley," he groans, picking up the pace of his thrusts. Fucking me so hard, I'm slowly inching up on the bed. His hands find my thighs and he yanks them up by his chest, folding me over so he can thrust deeper. The rough pad of his finger rubs against my clit with each thrust, and I feel the orgasm beginning. I'm falling apart from Sebastian's touch and I just... surrender.

  I give him everything.

  Throwing my head back, I cry out, "Oh god," as I shatter beneath his touch. He fucks me with wild abandon, through my orgasm, until he tenses and grabs my outer thighs in his unrelenting grip and spills inside of me, with his head tucked into the crook of my neck. Realizing his full body weight is on me, he rolls slightly to the side, gathering me in his arms. Rough fingers trail up and down my spine in a tender caress. His lips press to the top of my head as I rest on his chest.

  We lay together, sweaty and sticky, but neither of us move. It's the most intimate moment of my life, the unspoken truth between us that neither of us want the moment to end. It feels like the finale to the most unreal build up, and now that's happened… I don't know that I'll ever be able to walk away from Sebastian Pierce.