by BJ Bentley
The rest of the afternoon was fraught with one puking child who I’d sent to the nurse’s office, two co-conspirators in a gambling ring where the pot was comprised of Swedish Fish and Skittles, and one instance of hair pulling, which reminded me to call Kyle’s parents. His behavior wasn’t something I could let slide until parent-teacher conference time rolled around.
I finished confiscating the rest of the candy. “What were you two even betting on?”
They gave each other shifty looks but neither responded. “Adele and Laura, what do we do when someone asks us a question?”
“Answer,” they both mumbled.
“Good. Let’s try this again. What were you two betting your candy on?”
“You, Miss James,” Adele whispered.
I frowned. “Me? What about me?”
Both girls fidgeted in their seats.
I sighed. “Girls?”
Laura finally spoke up. “It started when you went out with Mr. Cotton. Adele bet me that you two would end up getting married, but I said no way because everyone knows that Miss Franklin has a crush on Mr. Cotton and someday they’re going to get married.”
I was too stunned to speak, so Laura continued.
“Then we found out that Mr. Fellows asked you out, and Adele bet me that this time it would be for real, but then we heard you broke up after only one date!”
My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. How did these kids know so much about my personal life? “Does everyone know who I date?” was the dumb question that came out of my mouth.
Each and every student nodded.
“How?”
Adele shrugged before answering. “Teachers gossip, and they don’t pay very good attention to who might hear them when they do.”
I clenched my jaw, inhaling deeply and praying for serenity. With my sugary bounty in hand, I turned back toward the front of the class.
“Miss James?”
I turned back to face Laura. “Yes?” I asked between my gritted teeth.
“There’s another bet,” she began timidly.
For all that is good and holy, do not let these kids find out about Damon. Please, let it be anything other than that.
“Spit it out, Laura.”
“There’s a bet that Miss Sterling’s class will beat us at the science fair.”
Stella Sterling. No. No way. No way was I going to allow my arch nemesis to walk away with that first place ribbon. Not again. I narrowed my eyes as I looked around the classroom. “Did any of you bet against me? Us,” I corrected. “I meant, us.”
They all shook their heads vigorously, and I swore I saw Tierney smirk.
“Good.” I had plans to make.
Chapter 18
Sophie
By the end of the week, Damon had proven that he didn’t listen to a lick of what I’d said about boundaries. He wanted to take me out, but I’d said no. So, then he’d kissed me, and I said yes. He’d quickly deduced a way to get what he wanted from me, and I was nowhere near possessing the self control to fend him off.
So, Friday night I found myself ushered into his Ferrari- apparently, the Escalade really was only in use when Tierney was with him- and driven to a dance club in downtown Portland. The inside of Sway reminded me of a speakeasy from a movie. It was dimly lit, alcohol was flowing freely, and the bodies on the dance floor moved together in the same timeless rhythm that lovers did. There were couples huddled together in horseshoe shaped booths with views of the dance floor. Male servers were dressed in black dress pants, white button downs, and black bow ties. The female servers wore similar attire with one exception- instead of black dress pants, they wore black hot pants. It was a good look but decidedly sexist. The men should have to take their shirts off to even things up a bit.
Damon’s hand at the small of my back led me to a booth along the far wall. It was slightly elevated and isolated with a perfect view of the dance floor. Likely what this club considered VIP seating. One of the male servers took our drink orders as we made ourselves comfortable.
“Do you dance?” I asked, leaning in so Damon could hear me over the music.
“You’ve danced with me before, so you already know the answer to that.”
True. Well, I’d slow danced with him at April and John’s wedding, but that was a vastly different experience than what was currently happening in this club. “Dance with me,” I said, standing and holding out a hand.
“Now?” he asked, surprised. “You don’t want a drink to loosen up first?”
“You brought me here. Show me what you can do,” I challenged.
“Very well.” He took my outstretched hand with a grin and led me to the dance floor. Picking up my right hand with his left, he placed his other hand at my back. “Follow my lead.”
It only took me two steps to realize he was leading me in a salsa. Muscle memory kicked in, and my feet hit every beat as Damon spun me around the floor of the club. He pulled me in far closer than proper dance etiquette called for, and I suddenly felt like Baby Houseman grinding on Johnny Castle’s thigh. At least I had experience and could do far more than carry a watermelon. Dirty Dancing references aside, Damon was an excellent salsa dancer. I found that piece of trivia pleasantly surprising.
The song ended, and we made our way back to our booth where the server had left our drinks.
“Where’d you learn to salsa?” Damon asked.
I sipped my mojito, which was particularly refreshing after having worked up a sweat, and closed my eyes. “Marco,” I said wistfully.
“Excuse me?” He playfully tugged a lock of my hair.
“Marco,” I repeated. “He was a professional latin dancer I met in Cabo when I was there on spring break.” Marco not only taught me to dance that week, but he also proved he had the right kind of hip action both in and out of bed. I didn’t share that with Damon.
“Is this the same Cabo trip that included the pignapping?”
“That’s a distinct possibility.” I took a long sip of mojito, refusing to meet Damon’s eyes. He was never going to let me forget about my past life as a criminal. Stealing and running from the Mexican Federales was not one of my finer moments, but my motivations were pure, at least. Little piggy was going to be raised for slaughter, and I couldn’t resist his curly little tail and piggy snout that wiggled back and forth when he sniffed my hand looking for a treat. I had to save him. I’m not sure if my reputation would benefit from the added information that my actions may have been fueled by too much tequila and Marco’s encouragement, so I left those details out. “Where’d you learn to salsa?” I turned the question back on him.
“Inés,” he answered, matter-of-factly. “Our housekeeper when I was growing up. She was from Cuba, so she knew a thing or two about latin dances. Salsa was her favorite.”
“You had a housekeeper growing up?”
He shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable, though I wasn’t sure why. I knew he’d grown up with wealthy parents, and most wealthy people had household staff of some sort.
“Inés. She was great. I miss her.”
“Do you visit her at all?”
“Ahh, she passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.”
He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Thanks. Anyway, that’s how I learned to dance.”
“You’re really good at it,” I offered.
“I know.” He grinned in that self-satisfied way of his that caused me to shake my head in exasperation.
I emptied my mojito and set the glass down. “Let’s dance until our shoes fall apart.”
His smug grin seemed to intensify as he took my hand, and we spent the next hour working up a sweat to the soundtrack of traditional latin music and losing ourselves in the sensual choreography. By the time we called it quits I had shin splints and an overwhelming desire for a bubble bath.
***
“Thank you for getting me out of the house tonight. I had fun.” It almost pain
ed me to admit that to him, because I didn’t want to encourage his apparent obsession with me. However, I could be civil, and besides, all I’d originally had planned for the evening was a Forensic Files marathon. Salsa dancing was better. And I was counting it as this week’s cardio.
“You’re welcome.”
“Well, goodnight,” I said, turning to unlock my door. He let me, but the moment I was over the threshold, he was hot on my heels. “Really, Damon?”
“I know I’ve asked this before, but when are you going to stop fighting this, Soph?” he asked as he finished throwing the deadbolt into place. “You and I are fucking fantastic together, so help me understand why you’re so determined to stymie this.”
My tongue darted out to wet my lips. It was a bad habit. A nervous gesture. Something I always did when I was put on the spot, and right now Damon was forcing me to face up to my own bullshit. “I just think...maybe we’re not a good fit?” I cringed, hearing the way my voice rose like I was asking a question.
Damon pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something that sounded like, “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Look, I know we agreed to a physical relationship, but I really think-”
“Stop, Sophie. Just...stop. You are, hands down, the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.”
My spine straightened and my shoulders stiffened. “Well, if I’m so frustrating, maybe you should find a woman who’s more...accommodating!” I huffed.
He smirked. “Now, doll, do you really think I’m about to walk away from a challenge? Especially one where I know the reward will be sweeter than the finest honey? How little ye know me, Sophie James.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“You’re incredible.”
Why did it feel like we’ve had this conversation before? “Whatever. I’m going to bed.” I turned and stomped toward the stairs.
“Go ahead, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon!” he called to my back.
I’d almost forgotten about my earlier desire for a bubble bath, but now that I was in my bathroom facing my tub, it came rushing back. I poured the Tahitian vanilla scented bubble bath under the running water and filled the tub while I stripped. Sinking into the luxurious bath, I whimpered at how good it felt. My muscles instantly relaxed under the soothing therapy. I released a contented sigh, leaning my head back against the tub’s rim. I may have dozed off because I never heard Damon come up the stairs or enter the room. It wasn’t until I felt his fingertips on my cheeks that I opened my eyes to see a glass of wine dangling from his other hand.
I took the offered glass and sipped. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome. I’m going to get ready for bed.” He left without waiting for a reply. I guess he didn’t expect one.
I also guessed he was going to continue to bulldoze me at every turn. I was getting tired of resisting, but the idea of giving in like he wanted me to terrified me. Damon had the unique ability to make me forget that I had resolutely left my wild ways behind me. I wasn’t the same wild child I had been in high school or college. I was a teacher. I was responsible for young minds. I was responsible for his daughter’s young mind, for Pete’s sake!
But was I boring? April seemed to think I could afford to let loose a little. I just didn’t trust myself to know when to draw the line between letting loose and being reckless. I had a history of making rash decisions that often ended up getting me into trouble. Poor Life Choices had pretty much been my young adulthood mantra. Could I let this thing with Damon become more than a fling and not get burned? I remember, bitterly, what it was like to go all in and end up being left with nothing when it was all over.
I battled with myself until the water became tepid and most of the bubbles had dissolved. I flipped the switch for the drain and stood. I was reaching for a towel when Damon appeared.
“Feel better?” he asked, holding open a fresh, fluffy towel for me to step into.
Somehow, his question felt loaded, and I wasn’t sure how to answer it. I let him wrap me up and turn me around to face him. “I’m not sure how I feel,” I admitted. It was true; I was more confused than ever.
He drew circles on my collarbone with his thumbs while he contemplated my confession. “That’s fair,” he finally said. “Can you do something for me, though? Can you let me help you figure it out?”
I swallowed, not sure I could give him what he was asking. I did the best I could. “I can try.”
He graced me with one of his heart-stopping smiles. “I have faith in you, Soph. Come on, let’s go to bed.”
That was when I noticed that he was dressed only in his boxer briefs. Presumptuous bastard strikes again. Giving in, just a little, I allowed him to dry me. He swept the towel over my skin in firm, sure movements, doing a thorough job of warming me and didn’t stop me when I pulled on a pair of panties and an old t-shirt to sleep in. We climbed into bed and arranged ourselves into a spooning position. With one breast firmly cradled in his large palm, I fell asleep not thinking at all about how I would inevitably end up with a broken heart when he realized I couldn’t be who he wanted me to be.
Chapter 19
Damon
I woke up early the next morning to Sophie trying to wiggle her way out of my hold.
“Where ya going?” I mumbled, floating in the limbo that existed between sleep and wakefulness.
“Pee,” she mumbled back, apparently just as out of it as I was.
I let her go and heard- since I refused to open my eyes- her scurry to the bathroom. Her bed was warm and comfortable and smelled like her. I got a hard on just inhaling her scent. I heard the toilet flush and the tap turn on. When the water stopped running, I waited for Sophie to climb back into bed, but instead of holding her warm flesh in my arms, I felt her eyes boring into my back.
“What is it, Soph?”
I heard her sniff. “Are you just going to lay there or are you going to get up?”
The corner of my mouth tipped up at the annoyance in her tone. “I don’t sleep in often, so I thought I might take advantage of lying in this warm bed with the girl of my dreams in my arms and her soft skin under my fingers. You feel really good wrapped around me, doll.”
She padded around the bed, and I cracked one eye to peer at her. I expected a snarky comment at the very least, but she surprised me by climbing back into the bed with me. “You get half an hour,” she announced in a manner that suggested I should be grateful for her generosity.
“What do you think I should do with my half an hour?” I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her in, throwing my leg over hers and making sure she could feel what I was packing underneath my boxer briefs.
“You said you wanted to sleep in. So, sleep.” Her mouth said one thing, but her body said another as she shifted her hips, rubbing along my hardened cock.
I dipped my hand into the front of her sleep shorts and felt her wetness coat my fingers. “I have a better idea,” I murmured.
“I’m so glad you do.”
I sealed my lips over hers, tugging her panties off and flinging them over my shoulder to land where-the-fuck-ever. Her t-shirt came off next. It may have landed over a lamp shade, but I couldn’t be sure because I suddenly had the most glorious pair of tits I’d ever had the pleasure of feasting on directly in my line of sight and I had a one-track mind. Those babies were mine. Pulling one nipple between my lips and rolling the other between my fingers, I teased, pinched, and plucked until I felt Sophie’s nails drag down my back.
“Can’t wait another second to get my mouth on your pussy.” I maneuvered myself between her thighs, so I could get my mouth on the prize. I pierced her opening with my tongue and dragged it up to her clit, beginning to draw the alphabet. By the time I made it to Q, she was screaming my name and promising to suck my cock every day for all eternity.
I may have imagined that last part.
I stretched, reaching for the condom I’d left on the nightstand as I was getting ready for bed the night be
fore. I had zero patience ripping open the foil packet and rolling the condom on. Sophie never took her eyes off me, her chest rising and falling with each heaving breath. With her fair skin flushed and damp, her lips swollen, and her blue eyes half closed, she was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. My cock throbbed with its insistence that I shove it into her tight grip.
“Are you going to fuck me or stare at me all day?”
I gripped the base of my cock, tapping the tip against her swollen and sensitive clit. Her hips jumped and a little mewl escaped her lips. It was a sound I wanted to hear her make over and over again. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you, doll,” I drawled. “Remind me again, who does this pussy belong to?”
“Me, last time I checked,” she sassed with one perfectly arched eyebrow.
I tapped her clit with my cock again, earning me that fucking sexy mewl. “Care to reconsider your answer?”
“Damon,” she moaned.
“Just to clarify, are you saying my name as your answer or because you’re begging me to fuck you now?”
“God, you’re an asshole.”
I chuckled, reveling in her torment even though my dick felt like it was going to explode if I didn’t get inside her soon. Leaning over her, I brought us nose to nose. “Tell me I own this pussy, Sophie,” I whispered.
“Just fuck me already!”
I slid just the tip in and stopped. “Tell me what I want to hear.” I knew it was true, but I wanted to make her say the words. I needed to hear her admit it.
She lifted her hips off the bed in an attempt to take more of me inside her, but I pushed her back into the mattress and held her there. “You know what happens to bad girls, Soph. You gonna make me remind you?” The caveman in me was yelling YES, but my cock was weeping and begging for this show to get on the road.
Her eyes flared with excitement though her mouth turned down in frustration or annoyance, I wasn’t sure. Maybe both. “Your half hour is almost up,” she snapped.
“Well, if you want me to fuck you, I suggest you part those pretty lips and say the words. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?”