Chapter 9
9
Aviva
W hen class ended, I expected Jack to release my neck and swagger off to wherever he came from—the pits of hell, most likely.
As the rest of the students filed out of the room, he released my neck, stretching out his own before standing up from his seat and holding out a hand.
“Shall we, princess?”
“Stop calling me that,” I said. It was almost becoming automatic at this point. “And stop with this faux gallantry. I know who you really are.”
Jack stood there patiently, waiting for Dylan to leave.
“Everything okay, Aviva?” Dylan asked, sounding concerned. I considered, for one moment, just one moment, telling him everything, but I knew nothing good would come of it. Jack’s threats were clear: If I exposed him for assaulting me and blackmailing me, he would tell the administration I’d broken into the locker room—and the NHL that Asher had “falsely” accused Joshua Jensen of abuse and assault. I couldn’t take that risk. No, I was putting up with this bullshit for Asher’s future, and my own. Like it or not, Jack Feldman was right: he owned me. I just didn’t have to make it easy for him.
“Everything’s fine! See you next week!” I said.
“You sure?”
“You heard her,” Jack said.
Dylan stiffened, glaring at Jack. But whatever power Jack had over him held. With one last glance at us, he left us alone in the room.
The moment our professor was gone, Jack’s mask disappeared. He loomed over me, pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear and lingering there, the gentle motion at odds with his cold, hard expression. This was the real Jack Feldman, not the golden boy he played in public.
It was terrifying how gorgeous he was—short, dark hair, angry gray eyes framed by dark, thick lashes that would have almost made him look pretty if it weren’t for the square, sculpted, currently tight jaw and beautifully cruel mouth. That mouth had been on me, had kissed me, had licked me and sucked me and briefly made me forget everything including who I was and what mattered to me. In some ways, it was good he hated me, because it would keep whatever happened between us as strictly blackmail. A kind, caring Jack Feldman? That had heartbreak written all over it.
Jack moved away from me, checking something on the door. Seemingly satisfied, he shut it and locked it. The click echoed in the small lecture room with a frightening finality. I jumped.
Grabbing Dylan’s chair, he pulled it out from the table and placing it against the door before leaning back in it like he didn’t have a care in the world .
“Come here,” he ordered.
Everything in me screamed to disobey. I hadn’t come this far in life to become some asshole jock’s meaningless plaything.
“Aviva.” Jack’s voice was like a slap. “Come. Here.”
Reluctantly, with daggers in my eyes, I rose and walked toward him.
“Such an angry little spy,” he murmured, pulling me between his legs. “You must hate this: being forced, not having control. Or maybe you love it.”
I stiffened at the jab.
He smirked at me. “Either way, don’t worry: it’s only going to get worse.” His voice went hard. “Now, strip .”
Out of reflex, I covered my chest, leaning away from him.
“Lower your arms,” he ordered.
I shook my head. Anything but that. I could handle a lot, but I couldn’t handle the revulsion on Jack’s face when he saw my scar.
“Not my shirt, Jack. Please. ”
He considered, gazing up at me. My whole body tingled, the way it had at the party when we’d first looked at each other. Once again, it felt like he could see right through me, like all of me was bare. I forced myself to keep my head raised high.
Finally, he smirked. “Fine. But one of these days I’m going to rip off your top and look at your naked breasts. You won’t know when it’s coming, but I promise—it’s coming.”
Fear filled me, but I didn’t argue. It wasn’t worth it.
He jerked his chin at my jeans. “Get to it.”
Standing so close to him, it was a struggle to unbutton them and shove them down my legs, especially since he didn’t help, just watched me, a small smirk playing on his lips. Lifting one leg and the other, I kicked them away .
Eyes on my underwear, Jack’s nostrils flared. And then he shocked me when he leaned forward, shoving his nose against my pussy.
Holy fucking shit, he was smelling me.
He dropped a soft kiss on my clit above my underwear, gazing up at me through his dark lashes. The tenderness of the action, which had to be fake, was belied by his words.
“Your little pussy smells so good. Already wet and ready for me. Raw and juicy and…” He kissed my clit again, and my thighs clenched. “Honest. Unlike the rest of you.”
I protested before I could stop myself. “I’m not a liar.”
“Aren’t you?”
Silence stretched between us, his hot breath on me, his eyes on mine, unspoken words between us. Some language being spoken that I couldn’t, wouldn’t understand. I refused to. Jack couldn’t see me, know me, and I didn’t want to know him, either.
That way lay dragons.
He sat back, all business now. “Lose the panties.”
I gulped, shoving them down my legs and kicking them out of the way.
His gray eyes were so dark, they were almost black. “So. Fucking. Wet, ” he said, his words a sharp staccato that slapped the walls of the small seminar room.
“Take me out,” he ordered. “And grab the condom out of my left pocket.”
I balked. A blowjob was one thing, an orgasm…fine. Whatever. I’d survived it. But actual sex? When I’d never had sex before? Much less with someone who loathed me like Jack did? I wouldn’t survive it.
“I’m not fucking you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Then pull my phone out instead. There are some calls I need to make. ”
“Fine,” I spat.
“Now, that doesn’t sound very enthusiastic,” he mused. “I expect a little more eagerness from you, princess.”
“Fine, master, ” I said sweetly, trying to burn him to ash with my eyes.
He chuckled. “Much better.”
Reaching into his left pocket, my hand brushed against his cock, separated from the skin of my fingertips by threadbare fabric. He was already hard, and without thinking, I stroked him. Only once, but that was enough.
He groaned.
A thrill fluttered in my bones. Maybe I had some power, after all.
Locating the foil packet with its serrated edges, I pulled it out of his pocket.
Magnum. Figured.
I held it out for him to take.
He shook his head, once to the right, once to the left. “No, you’re going to do the honors.”
“So not only am I being forced to have sex with you against my will, I have to play a role in my own destruction?”
He grinned, wide and sharklike, his teeth flashing in the dim room. It had gotten late; I hadn’t even realized. I’d been too swept up in Jack’s perversions.
“Now you’re getting it,” he said.
Without any idea of what else to do with it, or where else to put it, I lifted the condom packet to my mouth, biting my teeth down on it to keep it in place. That taken care of, I focused on my task at hand, lowering my hands to Jack’s waistband. I unbuttoned the top button of his jeans with jerky hands before gripping the zipper pull.
Jack put out a hand on mine to stop me. “Slow down, princess. Anticipation is the key to good sex. And,” he grimaced, “I’d rather if you didn’t catch my cock in the zipper.”
“Wish I had thought of that,” I muttered. “Although with my luck, you have analgesia.” I was surprised by his low, husky laughter.
Jack looked as surprised by his response as I was. “You’re funny. And clever.”
“You know what that means?”
“The inability to feel pain.” He winked at me. “I’m more than a pretty face.”
Ugh.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring him. Slowly, I pulled his zipper down, revealing black boxer briefs, and the hard, thick outline of his cock. He inhaled, lifting his hips and helping me pull his jeans down before kicking them off and sending them to join my own clothes. Closing my eyes for one moment, just one moment, to center myself before what came next, I gently lifted the waistband of his boxers up and over his cock, revealing it as, once again, he lifted his hips and I pulled off the only remaining barrier between him, and me.
I stood before him, determined not to tremble but shaking regardless, eyes on his long, thick cock, which curved slightly to the left. He was circumcised, and even though his was only the second dick I’d ever seen, and the first I’d touched, it was so much better than Tom’s uncut, skinny dick.
But why was I thinking about my tormentor’s dick in positive terms?
Jack wrapped his big hand around his big cock and gave it a short, hard tug.
“Like what you see, princess? I guess I didn’t give you much time to peruse the other night. Well, look your fill,” he invited. “But I’m going to play while you get better acquainted.”
He slipped his free hand between my thighs, gathering the wetness gathered there, dragging it up to my clit and circling, circling, circling. My whole body went tight and I gasped, writhing against his fingers, still captivated by the way he worked his cock with his other hand.
Slowly, he pushed one thick finger inside me, then two. He pushed them deep, curving them up in a come hither motion, and began rubbing them up against a part of me that had never been touched before. An unfamiliar sensation took over my body, demanding release. Over and over, pleasure spiraled inside of me, insistent and urgent with nowhere to go, until with a pop, it spilled over and with a shocked jerk and a cry, I came.
Everywhere.
The condom packet tumbled out of my mouth to the floor.
“Fuck, that was fast, princess. Feeling pretty needy, weren’t you? And it looks like you squirted all over the floor.” Jack watched me through slitted eyes. But as much as he tried to sound unaffected, I could hear how turned on he was through the growl in his voice.
I tried to slow down my heart rate and ignore the mess I made. I’d never, ever come like that before. I’d known it was possible, of course, but I hadn’t thought it would be possible for me .
“I’d tell you to lick it up, but I’m not that cruel,” Jack mused, before stroking his cock. “Pick up the condom and put it on me.”
I hesitated.
“Condom, Aviva. Or I knock over your house of cards. ”
I looked down at the condom on the floor, and bent down to pick it up. I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
There was a feather-light touch on my hip: Jack’s hand. The gentleness scared me. I didn’t believe in it for a second. Blinking away tears, refusing to look at my cruel tormentor, I ripped open the condom, removing it slowly. I pulled out the condom with my right hand, pinching the top like they’d taught us in sex ed, then paused, worried I was going to get it wrong and risk even bigger problems.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, the gentleness in his touch reflected in his quiet voice. “Never put a condom on a cock before?”
I didn’t trust it.
“Tom took care of it,” I muttered.
Jack grabbed my right wrist, gripping it tightly. The condom hung there, between us.
“Who the fuck is Tom?”