After Class

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

I t had been four days, and I was done crying over him. Four days of lying in bed, barely getting up to feed the cat, let alone cook food and shower. Four days of staring at the far wall where I had stupidly hung the one framed photograph we had together, the picture he had not really wanted to take because he hated pictures and he hated PDA. What had resulted was an awkward "couple-y" photo where I was smiling too wide to make up for the fact that he was not smiling at all, with his arm around my shoulders squishing me half-heartedly to his side.

When I actually thought about it, the last two years had been complete bullshit. Wasted. Why hadn't I left him six months in? Why hadn't I left him when I first even suspected he was sleeping around?

But nope. I had been so determined to make it work "All good relationships take sacrifice, dear," as my mother used to say that I had ignored every huge red flag. My own angry internal voice echoed the cruel last words Ethan Carter had said to me between drags on a cigarette in the Petco parking lot, as I stood there with tears streaming down my face holding a bag of cat food.

"You're just weak , Cass! God, you let me walk all over you. Of course I had to see how far I could push it! You've known aboutSophia for weeks, come on, don't act surprised."

Weak . It brought on a fresh stream of tears. I guess I wasn't done crying.

"Yes you are!" Maya yelled from the other room. Beautiful, crazy, party-girl Maya Thompson. She had been my saving grace over the past few days. Coming over in the evenings to make sure I was eating something other than chicken-flavored ramen noodles. I felt awful, knowing she was worried about me. I felt awful in general.

Maya was the master of handling breakups. I had seen her go through three, and that girl was the quintessential "movie-style breakup" girl. She would get herself a big glass of wine, chug it on her way to the club, and vomit everything up at the end of the night as if she was literally purging out her ex. When I had seen her cry, it was angry tears. She would sit there and say, "He'll realize what he's missing. He'll fucking regret it. Watch him come crawling back in a month, Cass, just watch!"

I really, really wished I could do that. I wished I could see my own value. How sad is that? God.

"Come on girl, up, get out of that bed before you atrophy to it."

I opened my swollen eyes at Maya, who stood with her arms crossed over me. She had let herself in, as usual, so I hadn't actually seen her yet since she had been so preoccupied cleaning up my disastrous kitchen. Her long black hair was in a high ponytail, she had false lashes on, and was wearing a short off-the-shoulder red dress.

I sniffled. I had been wearing the same 5-year-old Victoria's Secret leggings and Ethan's old t-shirt for days. "What are you all dressed up for?"

"Because we're going out ," she said, flinging back my blankets and then going to my closet, rifling through the hangers. "You've been in this apartment way too long. This isn't healthy, Cass. Why are you even sad? You know that guy was such an asshole. He was always an asshole. Two years and he wouldn't even meet your parents? Come on ."

I sat up, realizing I really needed a shower. I also really needed to clean my room: there were five half-empty mugs of tea on my bedside table alone. I shuffled to the bathroom and turned the water on as hot as it would go. Just below scalding, perfect . When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I was honestly a little horrified. There were dark bags under my eyes, I looked like I had lost 5 pounds, and my brown hair was a complete rat's nest.

"Get it together, Cassandra," I said, frowning at my sad mirror-self. "Maya is right. Just get the hell over him already."

Body wash and hot water really do wonders. By the time I had blow-dried and straightened my hair, Maya had already chosen my outfit for the night: a little black dress with a strappy, harness-inspired cutout around the neck and above the very low-cut neckline. I had been so excited when I got that dress and Ethan had hated it. He had said it made me look slutty. So it had gone into the back of my closet, unworn. It actually still had the tags on it.

It still looked as good as when I had first tried it on. It made me feel like I could be one of those kinky porn girls, except my ass was too flat and my tits were too small. I made a mental note to buy a new push-up bra ASAP. Ethan had never liked those on me either.

Go figure, the girl he had left me for was a queen of short skirts and big cleavage.

We took an Uber downtown, Maya sneaking us vodka shots in an innocent-looking water bottle.

"Where are we even going?" I said. "You know my classes start tomorrow right? I really can't get too turned up." She looked at me incredulously. " Really , Maya, I can't."

"Okay, okay," she said, pouting a little. "We're going to Bailey's!"

"Oh god, Bailey's ? Maya that's such a frat boy bar-"

"Yeah, exactly. Dozens of horny frat boys who are all gonna want a piece of hot Cass ass. Trust me . A little flirting, maybe making out with a stranger you'll never see again? It's good for your self-esteem."

I was pretty sure there had been studies published saying the exact opposite, but whatever. We were already there and I was three shots deep thanks to Maya's vodka. The Uber dropped us off right in front, where there was luckily no line. The bar was packed nonetheless, mostly college kids getting in their last night out before classes started up again. Maya and I wormed our way up to the bar where she ordered for us, and then put a bright blue drink in a plastic cup into my hand.

"Adios!" she said cheerily, and downed half of hers before dragging me out amongst the crowd.

The Chainsmokers was blasting over the sound system, a song that had been good the first time I heard it until I couldn't turn on the radio without it playing on every other station. I followed Maya around as she saw people she knew and went up to say hi, sipping my drinking and smiling and nodding appropriately. I never knew what to do with myself in bars. Clubs were easier, since I could just dance and pretend I was tripping out if I wanted someone to leave me alone. Luckily for me, Maya took most of the attention so I was spared having to get too involved talking with strangers. The drink was also taking a much more rapid affect than I had expected. Suddenly everything was feeling great.

Just great.

Of course Maya managed to latch on to some thickly-muscled hunk and disappeared onto the dance floor with him. "I'll be right back," she slurred. " Right back, okay Casszy, just stay right there."

I leaned against the bar where she had left me, setting down my empty cup. My head was feeling light, and everything felt a little numb. Definitely drunk. Crap. A guy offered to buy me a drink, but he honestly looked just a little too much like Ethan. I lied and told him I was waiting for my boyfriend to get back, motioning in the general direction of the bathroom.

And that's when I saw him.

He was sitting at one of the few tall round tables in the place, chin resting on his fist. He looked like someone had picked him up out of a library and plopped him into a bar. He had tousled dark blonde hair, with a slim build and cheekbones sharp enough to cut a girl. Damn. Thin silver glasses sat on his nose, and he was . . . actually reading a book?

In a bar?

The liquor was giving me courage, and with a deep breath I sidled over.

"Hi," I said, trying to seem casual and confident. He glanced up at me in surprise, as if he had forgotten that he was actually in a public place.

"Hello," he said, with the slightest hint of a smile around his perfect lips. Oh god. The liquor was making me horny too.

"Are you really reading Marquis de Sade?" I said, nodding at the book in his hands, Philosophy in the Bedroom. He laughed, looking at the book as if a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, ahh," he shrugged. "Classes start tomorrow. I have to study up. You're familiar with de Sade?"

"I've read some of his short fiction," I said. "He's one seriously twisted fuck."

That got him to laugh. I liked the way his eyes lit up when he did. He was nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I still haven't quite been able to get through 120 Days of Sodom . Just so disturbing. But I find libertine philosophy, over all, to be pretty interesting-"

"Heeeeyyyy, giiiiirl!" Maya suddenly wrapped herself around me, hugging me way too tightly. Wow, she was drunk. She still had hunky-boy with her too. She motioned to him, "This is Rich, by the way. Oooh, and hello , who is this?"

"Adrian," he said, extending his hand to her. She looked confused, so he said his name again, louder this time. I don't think it actually did any good, because she called him Caitlyn for the rest of the night.

"Come on, we need more drinks," she said, tugging at me before her man-hunk shoved his way up to the bar. I really did not think I needed another drink. She definitely didn't need one. I looked back at Adrian a little helplessly.

"Do you want a drink?" I said.

He got up from his seat, tucking the book under his arm. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? I'll buy."

Maya was downing some pink thing with a cherry in it. Man-hunk was asking her if she could tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue. Now that he was standing, I realized how tall this Adrian guy was. He wasn't muscular, but he was well-built, slim and long. Like a pianist, or a painter, or something romantic like that. God. I really didn't need another drink.

"I'll get an Old Fashioned," Adrian said, before turning to me. "What would you like?"

"Oh, same thing you're having." I was slurring. Dammit. He frowned.

"Are you sure?"

I wasn't. But I said I was.

My ability to form short term memories for the rest of the night was awful. I remember a lot of 80's songs playing. I remember discovering that Old Fashioned's tasted awful, so Adrian finished mine for me. I had some vague recollection of grinding on him to Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar On Me.

Then we were on the sidewalk. My heels were in my hand because my feet hurt like hell and I was telling Adrian that I could just walk back to my apartment because it was only two blocks. Maya had gotten an Uber with man-hunk, but it didn't matter because I knew this city like the back of my hand and I could walk two blocks at 1 in the morning no problem.

Adrian got an Uber. "I'm not letting you out of my sight," he said, helping me get into the car without hitting my head.

"Good, I'm not letting you out of my sight," I said. I wasn't really sure how loud I was speaking. Adrian had this amused little smile on his face, but I still felt as if I should apologize. I hiccupped. "Sorry. Sorry, Adrian."

He looked genuinely concerned. "Why?"

I bent over in the seat. I considered vomiting but decided that wasn't a good idea. "I'm just so drunk," I muttered.

I heard him laugh. That made me happy. "I know. Don't worry about it."

By the time we had reached my apartment, I knew exactly what I wanted. "You're coming up, right?" I said, as the car pulled to the sidewalk. He shook his head quickly.

"That's not a good idea," he said, but he sounded as if he regretted saying it. "You're too drunk."

I frowned and shoved him gently. "I'm not. Come on. Come up. You have to at least see me to my apartment right?"

Adrian considered a moment. His eyes – dark, chocolate-y brown – were suddenly hard when they met mine. Almost . . . scary.

"If I go up there," he said slowly. "You're not really going to get any sleep."

I grinned, feeling a kid in a candy shop. I took his hand and pulled him along after me as we left the car. "Come on then. Sleep is overrated."

I had forgotten what a mess my apartment was. I really hoped Adrian wouldn't notice. Luckily, he noticed Charles instead, my fluffy white cat, and he paused to give him chin scratches. He was hot and he liked cats? God damn.

"Are you sure about this?" he said, after I had managed to get him as far as the living room and then had to sit down on the couch. "You're really drunk." He kept saying that. Annoying.

"You're drunk too," I said. I had unhooked his belt from his jeans, and yanked it out of the loops. I folded it over and snapped it, mock-threatening. "Have you been a bad boy?"

He leaned down, his arms on either side of me against the couch, looking down at me. "Oh, no, no, no. You've been a very naughty girl."

Oh . Heat blossomed deep within me. I would have dropped the belt if he hadn't held out his hand for it. I set it gently in his hands. Was he really . . . was he actually going to-?

"Hold out your hands," he said softly, his voice a command I could not disobey. I did as he said, watching in drunken mystification as he looped the belt around and formed a pair of cuffs around my wrists. Keeping a hold on the loose end, he pulled my bound hands above my head. I felt his hand shaking as he stroked along my chin.

"Is this still alright with you?" he said. "Because I really . . . really want to do bad things to you."

I didn't even hesitate. "You can do whatever you want."

The grin that spread across his face was so deliciously predatory. I felt like I shrunk under him, suddenly small and helpless, his willing victim. He took a few moments to just look at me, and to see the appreciation in his gaze made me glow.

"Hmm," he said, examining the cuffs. "Let's try something different."

He released the cuffs, setting the belt aside and crushing me in his arms, his lips finding mine in a deep, passionate kiss. I felt his teeth clip my lip and then his hand was tangled in my hair, holding my head back and baring my throat to a trail of nips and sucks on my tender skin. I was gasping, shaking at every touch. I imagined one of those dramatic Harlequin Romance book covers, and realized I felt how they looked.

He pulled down the zipper on my dress as he kissed me, slipping it off me with expert fingers. Again, the appreciation with which he looked over my body, lingering in all the right place, made me tingle. He hooked his finger under my panties, but didn't pull them down. He was biting his lip, as if he was struggling.

Suddenly he laid me back on the couch, standing above me with the belt in his hand. "Curl your legs up to your chest," he said. "And put your wrists together behind your thighs.

I was little confused, until I actually got in position and he began to cuff my hands again. I realized that in this position, all my most intimate parts were perfectly exposed to him, and I could do nothing to cover them with my hands bound. The feeling of tightness and bondage was driving me wild. I found myself whimpering before he even touched me.

He grinned, running his fingers up the back of my thighs. "Do you like this?"

"Y-yes," I stuttered. My panties were soaked, a desperate need making me ache and chasing away the drunken haze that had clouded my thoughts. "Adrian . . . please . . ."

He leaned over me, his face far from the inconspicuous library boy he had appeared as at the bar. "Please what?" he said, and I felt his fingers hook around my panties again. This time, however, he slipped them up and pressed part of them into my bound hands. "Hold these out of my way," he said. "And try not to be too loud."

He trailed kisses down my legs, his fingers caressing along my body. His mouth was so close I could hardly stand it. Goosebumps covered me. "Please . . ." I moaned again.

Suddenly his mouth was on me. His tongue caressed along every fold, teased along every overwhelmingly sensitive part, so that my whole body began to shudder and I threw my head back as I groaned at the pleasure. He alternated between gentle sucks and precision strokes with his tongue, building up such a heat in me that I felt ready to explode. I was panting, and felt as if I had to struggle just to stop the seemingly endless tease.

I felt him chuckle against me as I pulled at the belt. "You're so sensitive," he said. He rose off of me for a moment, his tongue licking over his lips. "You're delicious, Cass. Every time you squirm you get a little bit wetter."

I felt as if I should have blushed, but all the heat and blood in me was centered squarely between my legs. It was all I could think of. I wanted so badly to feel his tongue again. "More please," I whimpered, wiggling the little bit I could with how bound I was. It was so frustrating to not be able to touch him, even more so when he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, his porcelain skin peppered with a light trail of hair across his chest and in a happy trail to his groin. I felt his fingers dig into my thighs. The way he looked at me . . . god , it was like he wanted to eat me alive.

"I'm really trying to go easy on you, Cass," he said. "But all your begging is really making that difficult." He leaned down, and whispered. "I want to give you something to really beg about."

I felt his fingers trace along between my legs, slick with the wetness there. He circled my clit, pressed – and then was inside of me. I clenched my mouth shut tight against the scream of pleasure that wanted to come out, muffling it down to a desperate cry. My feet kicked uncontrollably. He had one hand on my chest, firmly holding me down, watching my face with rapt attention as he slowly caressed inside me with his finger. He pulled out, and then thrust in again, this time with two fingers. I squealed.

"Next time I'll do something about all this kicking of yours," he said. "I'll need to teach you how to hold still."

Next time. Holy crap.

His fingers kept thrusting in a tantalizingly slow, methodical rhythm, and then he took his other hand and began to tease my clit. Now every thrust was bringing a squeal out of me, and I felt myself getting unbearably closer . . . and closer . . .

The orgasm wracked my entire body. Every part of me clenched and I pressed my face desperately into the couch as I screamed. He cruelly, unbearably, thrust faster as I came, drawing out my scream with a surgeon's precision. Hearing my cry subsiding, he withdrew his fingers and slowly licked them, watching me as he did.

" Fuck , Adrian," I breathed. I couldn't even form coherent sentences. I could hardly breathe. I watched as he stood up from the couch and unbuttoned his jeans.

"That's exactly what I intend to do," he said. He paused suddenly, and said, "Do you have condoms? I wasn't exactly . . . prepared for this."

"Bedside drawer," I said, a little breathlessly and extremely impatient. He disappeared into the bedroom for a moment, and came back with the tiny blue packet in his hand.

He kicked off his jeans, and then his briefs. He was hard and ready, rolling the condom quickly over his tip. Any hopes I'd had of being untied for this were cast away when he positioned himself above me, and I felt the tip of that thick thing tease my opening.

"Ready?" he whispered. I moaned and nodded, then moaned even louder as he stretched me, my already sensitive muscles spasming at the sensation and I almost came again. His careful control and maddening patience when pleasuring me was gone: he thrust into me with an urgency that made me grit my teeth at combination of pain and pleasure. One hand he wrapped around my throat, stifling my air, and the other he continued to tease my clit. All I could do was lay there, crying out his name with increasing ecstasy, until I heard him moan and felt him press even deeper inside me as he climaxed.

"We should get you to bed," was the last thing I heard him say as he removed the belt from around my wrists. All the liquor, adrenaline, and raging hormones were catching up with me swiftly. I was only barely aware of him scooping me up in his arms before I was sleeping like a baby.