Chapter 19
HARPER
Sitting here is torture. The images of what might happen when I walk into that closet are vivid in my mind.
Having sex with Nate, here at school, where our relationship is strictly off limits.
And in a public place. Where anyone might hear us…
or even walk in. It’s almost painful, how turned on I am by the thought.
I look up at the clock. Three of my five minutes are up.
I want to draw it out a little, leave him waiting, maybe wondering if I’m going to go through with it.
But I can’t just sit here anymore. Nate is in there and I want him more than I want air in my lungs.
He’s the only person who can silence the hurricane of emotions I’ve been feeling all day.
I stand on shaky legs, my eyes darting around the room. No one is watching. I grab my bag, crossing quickly to the closet and finding the door unlocked. Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle and step into the darkness.
“Took you long enough,” his voice says from somewhere inside. “Teacher is going to have to punish you for your tardiness.”
Before my eyes adjust enough to find him, hands grip my hips and pull me away from the door. I can’t help but let out a little squeal, surprised in spite of myself. Nate moves around me and I can feel him in the darkness, his body warm and hard as he reaches back to lock the closet door.
“That’s better,” he mutters, then pulls on the dangling string above my head. The closet fills with harsh light.
“Couldn’t we keep that off?” I ask, squinting at him in the sudden brightness. He kept the glasses on. Score.
Nate snorts. “Wanna pretend like this is something else? No such luck, Miss Cain. You’re about to screw your professor in the closet at your school’s library to get a better grade. There’s no sugarcoating that.”
Hot fire rushes through my core at his words. I love that he’s playing along, that he’s taking my game seriously. God, all I want is to get lost in this, to get lost in him. And Nate realized that, just by looking at me. He knows exactly what I need.
To my horror, a lump comes to my throat and I struggle to swallow, not wanting him to see.
But of course he does. He reaches out a hand, brushing it along my jaw, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes.
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just watches me in that dark, intense way of his, like he’s waiting for something.
I swallow a few more times before taking a deep breath, straightening my shoulders. I’m ready.
He grins, just for a second, before his face turns haughty once more. Back in character. Ready to play.
“You never know,” he continues, as if we’d never paused. “You might even enjoy this. I have been told I give girls like you a pretty good time.”
“So you do this on a regular basis?” I ask, willing myself to fall into it, to get lost. “Take advantage of desperate girls?”
“Not regularly, no. Only when the girl in question has already been driving me crazy.”
I look at him, widening my eyes in mock surprise. “I’ve been driving you crazy?”
“Oh, like you didn’t know,” he says, a tinge of what I think might be real frustration in his voice.
“Waltzing around my lecture hall in that damn short skirt, getting lost in daydreams and spending an hour running your tongue over those plump lips. Looking up at me with that lost little girl expression. You knew exactly what you were doing to me.”
There’s something in his eyes that tells me that this part, at least, isn’t all pretend. My knees suddenly feel shaky, everything becoming more real to me. “I didn’t,” I whisper. “I swear I didn’t.”
He stays exactly where he is, watching me. “You’re a fucking tease, Miss Cain. The least you can do is admit it.”
His words send a little rush of shame through me, even though I know they’re an act. And that shame, in turn, brings a delicious heat to my cheeks, my chest. It turns me on so much when he talks to me like this, when he’s demeaning.
There was a time when that scared me, the desire to feel degraded.
When it made me feel bad about myself, made me doubt all my desires.
But with Nate, I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to feel bad about anything.
Because he sees everything there is in me, the powerful and the shameful. And he likes it all.
The expression on his face is so predatory that I have to look away, fear mixing in with the shame in a heady combination.
Instead I glance around the sparse room.
It’s dingy, depressing. The bare bulb above us has seen better days—it swings lightly in the air from the vent above, flickering weakly at random intervals.
The walls are covered with metal shelves, each containing a variety of office supplies.
Several boxes of printer paper are stacked tall in front of the far wall.
And it turns me on even more. That we’re going to do this in a dirty, dingy little room. That we can still hear the sounds of the library right outside the door, students and teachers mere feet away.
“Miss Cain,” he says, his voice low and demanding and it makes me jump, pulling my attention away from the shelves to look at him. “Why did you come in here?”
I clear my throat. “Because you said you would fix my grade if I do what you want.”
“And what do you think I want you to do?”
“I think…I think…” I’m having trouble making the words come. I look up into his eyes and see that he’s deadly serious. And it makes this feel so real.
He takes a step closer to me, then another, and now he’s close enough for me to feel his hot breath brush across my cheeks when he leans forward. “Did you think I would want to fuck you?”
I suppress a groan, nodding.
He smiles, pleased. “Well you were right. Now take off your clothes.”
I gasp at his abrupt demand. Apparently, we’re getting right down to it. And that’s fine by me. I want nothing more than to be naked in front of him. But I force myself to pause, to look uncertain. To play along.
“Is that a problem?” he asks.
“There are people out there!” I whisper, looking towards the door.
He chuckles. “I locked the door. Now I want to see that tight little body of yours.” He looks down at his watch, his jaw clenching. “I’m getting impatient.”
With shaking hands, I pull my sweater over my head. My denim skirt follows, and within a minute I’m standing before him in my hot pink bra and panties. I move my hands to the clasp on my bra, but he stops me.
“I want to look at you,” he breathes. “Hot pink? A thong? I would have thought you’d go more for the virginal white cotton look. I guess you aren’t as innocent as you want people to believe.”
I flush. Even in our pretend, his words ring true. I’m definitely not innocent.
Nate keeps his eyes on me as he slowly begins to circle me in the cramped space. He’s looking me over, sizing me up, and his blatant appraisal brings even more color to my skin, my heart beating fast in anticipation. I’m so turned on and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“You’re gorgeous,” he says softly, behind me now, and his fingertips gently brush across the exposed skin of my ass cheeks, making me shiver. “And so responsive to my touch. I think you’re going to enjoy this almost as much as I will.”
Before I can respond, he grabs my ass, squeezing tightly, then spins me around, the movement making me dizzy. “But to tell you the truth,” he snarls, his voice as rough as his touch. “I don’t really give a fuck whether you like it or not. Because I sure as hell will.”
Then he’s kissing me, hard, forcing the breath from my lungs as his hands continue to roughly kneed the flesh of my ass.
He pulls my body flush with his and, oh, God, I can already feel his erection straining against my stomach and it’s so good.
He’s so hard and all I can do is moan and want and let him kiss me, his mouth hot and demanding.
I yield to it, to his rough kisses, feeling the fire start to ignite in my stomach.
He pushes my lips apart with his tongue, insistent, plundering my mouth with abandon. I whimper, unable to hold it back.
This is perfect. He’s perfect.
“You like that?” he asks against my mouth.
“Little Harper likes it rough. Who would have thought?” He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs and I cry out in pleasure and in pain.
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to hear,” he murmurs, his smile wicked.
He moves his hands up to the small of my back, pressing me even closer into his body, then higher, to the clasp on my bra.
“I can’t wait to see your tits,” he mutters against my mouth. “I fucking dream of those tits, all the time. I can’t work, I can’t do anything.” His eyes are blazing as he stares into my face. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to jerk off in my office, thinking about you?”
I whimper but he doesn’t give me a chance to respond, plunging his tongue into my mouth again.
Then he pulls the unfastened bra away and throws it to the ground, staring down at me.
My chest is heaving from his kisses, my skin flushed as his gaze locks on my breasts.
The intensity in his eyes sends another wave of desire to my center.
This is how he always looks at me—like it’s the first time. Like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Fuck,” he mutters. He reaches forward and grabs my breasts, his hands rough as he squeezes and cups them. “Gorgeous. I fucking love your tits.” He squeezes harder, and harder still, until I can’t help but cry out. “Hush,” he mutters. “You asked for this.”
I stand there before him, letting him manhandle my breasts, the rough way he’s touching me and talking to me setting fire to my insides.