by Linnea May
“Nod if you understand,” he adds.
I do as I’m told.
He gets up from his chair and slowly walks around the desk. With every step that brings him closer to me, I can feel my heart leaping like a wild stag in my throat.
Mr. Portland sits down at the edge of the table right in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head back to look up at him.
“You’re curious about something,” he whispers. “You noticed the way I look at you and it does something to you.”
I nod.
His eyes flicker, just for a brief moment.
“You’d like to know what it would feel like to be touched by me.”
His face is about two feet away from mine. I wonder if he can feel, not only see, but actually feel the heat of embarrassment that his words send through my veins.
I’m shivering at the thought of being touched by him, and I’m surprised to realize that I’ve never fantasized about his lips until now. I was so occupied with his eyes, his physique, his demeanor, that I never paid much attention to his lips, even though they’re just as gorgeous as this man is as a whole. His strong jaw is dappled with dark stubble, giving him a very masculine look, while his lips are full and soft. There’s nothing rugged about their light pink flesh, and they stand out among his virile features.
I nod.
“I’ve told you before, Miss Harlington-”
“Lana,” I interrupt him. “Please call me Lana.”
The corner of his mouth hikes up. “Okay, Lana. I’ll still be Mr. Portland for you. For now.”
I nod, flustered about my interjection.
“What I was going to say,” he resumes. “I like you. I told you in a different context, but it’s true that I like a challenge. I thought you might pose such a challenge, but you have surprised me quite a bit lately.”
I raise my eyebrows in question. “Surprised you?”
He nods. “Yes, you have.”
“How have I-”
“It doesn’t matter right now,” he cuts me off. “What does matter is my interest in you - and your interest in me.”
He pauses and regards me with a mischievous smile. “You look fucking delicious today, Lana. I want to believe that it’s no coincidence that I get to see you looking like this and that you’re visiting me in my office today.”
I gulp and lower my eyes, tying to hide another flush of reddening heat from his eyes.
“Look at me,” he commands.
The sharp tone of his voice sends an electric bolt through my spine. My chin rises seemingly of its own accord and I look up at him from beneath my thick lashes.
“Good girl.”
He smiles at me and hooks a finger beneath my chin, lifting it up a little more so our eyes lock on to each other. He looks pleased.
Good girl.
When was the last time someone called me that? Why does it make my heart jump like this?
I can barely breathe.
“Do you look so pretty because of me?” He asks, still with that contented smile on his face.
I don’t like to admit that I made an effort to catch his eyes today. But I did. It was not a conscious choice, I just happened to add a little extra makeup for today, and I changed into the blouse he saw on me the last time I was in here. Of course, I didn’t do that without any ulterior motives.
I nod.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” he says. “Even though you’re making things a lot harder for me by looking this tasty.”
Tasty. Delicious. He’s describing me like an elaborate meal.
And I kinda like it. It’s not like I get this sort of attention a lot. I’ve never been the pretty girl who gets all the attention of the boys in school, wanted or not. I’m the smart girl, the plain and dutiful student, the good girl.
Even now, I feel the urge to apologize, because he said that I’m making things hard for him. But I realize just in time how silly that would be.
“Do you know what’s the most endearing thing about you, for me?” He asks.
I shake my head without losing eye contact for even a second.
“The fact that you have no idea about how much trouble you are in,” he explains.
Trouble? What kind of trouble could he be talking about?
“Because you’re my teacher?” I assume.
He shakes his head.
“Yes, I’m your teacher and intimate relations between students and faculty are strictly forbidden,” he says. “Or so I’ve heard. However, I’m not fazed by that. After all, I’m not a real professor, as you’ve pointed out so many times.”
I blush as he reminds me of my earlier impudence.
“Still, I would suggest we keep this between ourselves,” he adds. “For your sake and for mine. We both have a reputation to lose.”
“Yes,” I agree immediately. “Absolutely, I don’t want to-”
“You don’t have to worry,” he cuts me off. I noticed that the tone of my voice has gone back to that know-it-all manner he must hate so much.
“Let’s not get side tracked by technicalities,” he says. “They’re nothing but distractions.”
“And spice,” I say, surprised at myself.
“Spice?”
A cunning smirk appears on his face.
“You like this, huh?” He asks, glancing down at me with an impish smile. “Get up.”
I hesitate, my eyes locked on his while my pulse accelerates.
“Wh-”
“Get up!” He barks - and I jump up onto my feet instantly.
“That’s the first thing you’ll have to learn,” he whispers, taking my chin between his thumb and index finger. He gently moves my face up to his, leaning in so close that I can feel his breath on the skin above my lips. “When I tell you to do something, you’ll do it. You’ll obey.”
I furl my eyebrows, trying to ignore the racing heart behind my rib cage. It’s so loud, I’m sure he must hear it.
“Why should I-”
“To please me,” he says. “You’ll obey me to please me - and you’ll receive pleasure in return.”
He stands up and leans in closer, his dark eyes fixating on mine with severe intensity, leaving me nowhere to go. His lips are so close to mine, but not yet touching. If I moved even the slightest bit, we’d meet for a kiss. An urge to lean up to him travels through my core, but I resist. I’m frozen in his gentle touch, anticipating his next move.
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you,” he breathes. “You like to please, don’t you?”
I don’t know what to reply to that. Is he seriously asking me? Does he even expect an answer?
Good girl.
The words are resonating through my entire body, making my fingers tingle and my core throb with desire. I’m so stunned by my body’s reaction that my mind can barely keep up. I’ve never been dumbfounded before, but this must be what it’s like. This is what it feels like to be utterly lost for words, mesmerized by a man who can make me buzz with excitement without even touching me.
“You’re such a good girl, ready to break the rules to become my good girl,” he adds, looking at me with a loving smile. “May I get a taste of you?”
I stare up at him, lack of understanding written all over my face.
“May I kiss you?” He clarifies, visibly amused at my bewilderment.
Instead of saying anything, I decide to get up on my toes, eliminating that tiny distance between our lips by leaning forward.
He welcomes me with a contented moan, letting go of my chin to place his hand at the back of my head instead, pulling me in closer. While my approach for the kiss was shy and careful, he exercises no such caution. His kiss is soon asking for more, domineering lips forcing mine open. His breathless hunger for me is so enticing, I soon find myself panting with the same desire while our tongues intertwine hungrily.
His taste is just as enchanting as his smell. I’m breathing heavily, yearning to inhale as much as possible of him.
I feel his hand cle
nching into a fist, grabbing the hair at the back of my head and pulling me back. A faint gasp of disappointment escapes my lips as they part from his, and I look up at him, pleading for more.
His eyes are wide with wonder.
“Fuck, you’re…,” he utters.
He stops, staring at me with that same bewildered expression.
Is something wrong? Did he just decide that this is a bad idea after all? Did I do something wrong? Was I too easy?
“What’s-”
“Nothing,” he interrupts. “Do you want this?”
I nod.
“Are you sure?”
I smirk at him. “It’s a bit late to back out now, isn’t it?”
He narrows his eyes, looking at me with a serious face as he shakes his head.
“No, it’s never too late for that, Lana,” he whispers. “Remember that. It’s never too late to say no - to anything I want to do to you.”
His words scare me. What the hell is he talking about?
“Have you ever been dominated?” He seriously wants to know.
My eyes rest on his, trying to read the meaning behind his words.
“I don’t know,” I utter.
He raises his left eyebrow. “You’d know if you had. Believe me.”
“Okay,” I breathe, still not entirely sure what he’s aiming at.
“I’ll show you,” he says, as if he’s reading my mind. “I think you’ll like it. It radiates from your entire being.”
“What does?”
“The need for what I’m about to give to you,” he explains. “I’m rarely mistaken with these things. But in order to make sure this is to result in both of our pleasure, we’ll have to agree on a safe word.”
“A safe word?”
“Yes.” He nods, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “A word that will stop everything immediately. No or stop won’t work. You’ll scream those out anyway-”
“What?” I cut him off. “What are you going to-”
“Hush,” he says, putting his index finger on my lips to stop me from talking. “I won’t do anything you won’t like. I’ll never hurt you unless you ask for it.”
Hurt me? Why would I ask him to hurt me?
I think I’m starting to understand where this is going.
“You’re a sadist?” I ask, while his finger is still on my lips.
He moves his finger away, caressing my cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind my hair.
“Some people like to call it that,” he says. “But I don’t get off on simply hurting you. It’s more than that. It’s different.”
“What do you get off on?”
My heart is still doing somersaults, the rate accelerating with every word that comes from his beautiful lips. His touch feels so weirdly familiar, so intimate and stimulating. When he looks at me, it feels as if he’s looking right into my soul, uncovering my deepest secrets and desires. Cravings that I wasn’t even aware of myself.
“Control,” he says. “And intimacy. You’ll show me things that no one has seen before. Sides of you that no one, maybe not even yourself, knew existed.”
That sounds almost as scary as what he said before, but I don’t dare comment on it.
“I’ll make you scream,” he whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth. “And beg. And cry. I’ll make you come until you faint.”
With every promise, he plants another kiss somewhere on my face, while I stand there, a captive of his words and touch.
“You’ll beg me for more, and you’ll beg me to stop,” he adds. “But I won’t listen to those words alone. That’s why we need a safe word.”
He moves away from me, his hand still at the back of my head, while the other wanders down my torso, stroking along my side as he travels downward.
“Tell me,” he says. “What do you want for your safe word? It has to be unique, something that doesn’t come up in a normal conversation, and nothing like stop, or no, or-”
“Ivy,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows. “Ivy? Short but efficient, I like it.”
His hand rests on my hip, while he continues to caress my skin through the thin fabric of my blouse.
“Remember that word well,” he says. “And use it as soon as I overstep your limits. Once you use your word, everything will stop immediately. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Now,” he says, his grip tightening. “I want you to get undressed - and this time I’ll watch.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LANA
He steps back, his last command still hanging in the air combined with the sudden distance now between us, creates an uncomfortable feeling that resonates through the room.
“You want me to strip?” I clarify.
He buries his hands in his suit pants’ pockets and throws me a wicked smile.
“I want you to obey,” he says. “Get undressed. Start with that lovely blouse. I want to see what I was denied the last time you were here.”
I hesitate. My mind has yet to process what is happening, while my body already reacts to his command. My hands move up to the buttons of my blouse seemingly of their own volition.
I lower my eyes, fixating my fingers as they fiddle with the first button on top.
“Look at me,” he snaps. “Never look away from me.”
Shit.
I slowly raise my eyes up to his, meeting his intense and dark gaze. The hunger in his eyes is evident and it’s turning me on to no end. Men never look at me like this. The last time I came close to dating someone was when one of the guys in my study group from junior year admired me for scoring the highest grade on the test we prepared for. There was never this kind of passion involved. This kind of sincere interest and lust for me. That’s always been reserved for the pretty girls with the short skirts and the heavy makeup.
Though, I realize while slowly unbuttoning my light blouse, I did follow the rules of the game a little today. I dolled myself up, hoping that he’d appreciate it.
But something tells me that I’d be here, with him looking at me with those ravenous eyes either way, mascara or not.
I untuck the blouse from my black pleated skirt and take a deep breath before I remove it completely, placing it on the desk next to me.
“Not there,” he warns. “We’ll need that space.”
I want to ask what he’s talking about, but the dark corners of my mind have an idea about it already. No need to make him say it out loud.
I take the blouse and place it on the chair I was sitting on instead, looking at him for approval.
He nods and urges me to continue.
“What should I… What next?” I ask.
My voice is shaky and thin. I’ve never heard myself like this.
Mr. Portland looks at me, scanning me from head to toe like a predator assessing his prey. I can practically feel his eyes on me, every body part that becomes the focus of his eyes pulses with excitement.
“You’re wearing pantyhose beneath that skirt,” he concludes. “I don’t like that, get rid of them.”
I’m a little startled at his statement. Of course, I’m wearing pantyhose, it’s gotten cold out there and winter is approaching with distinctive steps every day.
I slip out of my shoes and leave them under the desk, reaching beneath my skirt to pull the pantyhose down as elegantly as humanly possible. It’s awkward, especially since he demands that my eyes remain on his and not on what I’m doing. I wish I could look away and hide my shame as I perform this humiliating dance in front of him. Finally, I manage to pull them down, and neatly place them on top of my blouse on the chair.
He hums with approval. His hands are still in his pants’ pockets while he continues to observe me. He’s not touching himself in any way, yet I can see a visible bulge between his legs that wasn’t there before.
Oh my God, I made my teacher hard!
He notices my gaze on his crotch and smiles as I draw away, blushing.
“Not many have this much of an impact on me,” he says, casually tilting his head to the side as he winks at me. “You should be proud of yourself. The anticipation of what’s to come excites me more than anything else I could think of right now.”
I’m standing before him, wearing nothing but my underwear and the pleated skirt. I can feel the warmth in my core, the pleasant quiver of arousal. He’s not the only one who’s overflowing with anticipation. I yearn for his lips and hands on me. It’s agonizing to see him standing that far away from me, only fueling my thrill by watching me.
I’m not a dancer, let alone a stripper. Instead of seductively flaunting my assets for him to watch, I just stand there, shoulders slouching, insecurity trapping me inside that narrow cage that is my timid personality.
How can anyone find this sexy?
I cross my arms, clasping my elbows with my hands as if I was freezing. I’m not cold, but lost and exposed.
The smile on his face reveals that he very much enjoys what he’s seeing. My heart skips a beat when he takes a step forward and approaches me, his tall frame hovering over me as he stops within arm’s reach.
He places his hands on my shoulders. The warmth radiating from his touch wraps me like a soft coat. I feel calm but agitated at the same time. There’s a sense of security around him, that goes so well with the electrifying need of wanting to be touched by him.
Used by him.
The last thought shocks me, but it remains true nonetheless. I want him to use me, to have his way with me, to fuck me mercilessly. The more I follow up on these disturbing thoughts, the more my heart jumps, while my center pulsates with desire.
“I told you to look at me,” he says, his voice calm but daunting.
I hadn’t even realized that I’d lowered my eyes, staring at his chest while dwelling in my overly engaging thoughts.
I look up, meeting his dark eyes once again. Still, he’s smiling. It’s that beautiful dark smile, full of promises and a small dose of threat. Just the right amount.
“I’ll take it from here, if you don’t mind,” he says. “You just be a good girl and do exactly what I tell you to do, understand?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“While I love that terrified look in your eyes, you have nothing to worry about. We’ll start out slow.”