Chapter Twelve #2
She stays behind, and soon as she’s in my office, I shut the door with a force, grab her by the arms and shove her against the wall beside it.
The back of her head thuds softly against the wall and those twin amber flames peer up at me in a wide and shocked expression.
The same expression I imagine she’d have when I slide every fucking millimeter of myself into her.
Her perfect plump lips part slightly in her surprise and I take the opportunity and lick her bottom lip, tugging it into my mouth.
Raven Monroe tastes of mint and macchiato, of strawberry flavored lip-gloss and smells of all the good things that blossom in the Spring with just enough spice, musk and amber that reminds me she is purely autumn on the cusp of winter.
She is the embodiment of crisp cool nights, warmth of roaring bonfires, pink super moons, the silence of absent cicadas and critters, of death in its most beautiful and natural form.
She is the promise of new beginnings and transitions that come with time and rage.
Furious like a fire devouring a house until only its charred skeleton remains standing.
I am addicted to her smoke, inhaling it sadistically, letting it settle into my lungs like cancer. That’s what she is. An insidious tumor spreading in my brain, invading all of my thoughts.
I am almost too delighted when she tenses, only to relax against me, and her tongue fills my mouth, tangling with mine.
It is an angry, primal kiss that ends with her biting my lower lip until a metallic flavor bursts on my taste buds, and I growl, pulling away to wipe at the blood coming from my lower lip.
She slaps me, the crack loud in the deafening silence of my office, and all the blood in my body rushes to my groin.
I go to kiss her again and she fucking. Spits. On. Me.
“Lick it up.” I growl, heart thumping wildly in my chest, dick begging to be released.
She turns her head away from me.
Oh no. That won’t do.
I tilt her head by the chin with my thumb and forefinger and turn her to face me. “If you want to act like a bitch, open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and lap up your mess like a good fucking girl.”
I don’t miss the way she shivers against me.
The pink, wet tip of her tongue slips out and I almost cum as she licks up her own spit from my face, taking extra special care when she gets to my lips.
I open my mouth, let her lick the blood off my tongue and all that mint and macchiato and iron thrills me.
“Raven, you never turned in your paper to me by end of day Thursday.” I taunt.
She turns to me, a look of pure horror on her face .
I crowd her. “I said, for you to ‘turn it into me and only me.’ I didn’t say on my desk.
I didn’t say in front of me. I said, ‘ to me.’ ” I lick the seam of her lips - tinged red with my blood.
The sight alone has me weak. “The next time you choose to disobey me, I’ll have to punish you.
You already failed your first debate and skipped class on Friday.
Don’t let it happen again, Siren, you won’t like the punishment,” I reach out to squeeze a pert nipple.
I grab her wrist when it flies out to slap me again, I almost purr in her defiance.
“Or maybe you will. Turn around, hands on the wall.”
When she doesn’t obey, I force her to turn, pull her hips so they jut out, bent slightly. I kick her feet to further open her legs and push her skirt up. I bite my fist to keep from moaning at the sight before me.
Those thigh high socks and matching black thong making me feral.
I spank one cheek, and then the other, pleased when my handprints show up pink.
If she wants to be a brat, I’ll punish her accordingly.
I rub the thick globes of her ass, pulling her apart, then spank again and again and again until her skin is warm to the touch, only massaging until she pushes back.
I know what she wants, what she needs. Little brat thinks because she won’t speak to me that I won’t do as I please to her succulent little body, torture her the way she tortures me, she’s wrong. Dead fucking wrong. The slit on her panties is soaking when I brush my fingertips against her.
I turn her only to slam her back against the wall, hiking her leg over my hip, and grab her ass with both hands, splitting it open. “Tell me you’ve let him fuck you.”
Her eyes shine with defiance, rubbing her pussy against my slack-covered crotch and I groan against her. “I need inside of you, Raven, do not play coy with me. Tell me you let him rupture you so I can fuck you like a beast.”
She does her best to shove me off, bucking her hips, heightening her own pleasure. I reach between us to the hem of her thong and shove a finger inside, that fucking piece of internal skin, barring me. I drop her, but still unwilling to let her go fully.
“You have no idea how badly I’d fucking do it just to claim you but I won’t have your virginal blood on me.
So fine, Raven,” I grab her by the hair and shove her to her knees.
“Open your fucking mouth. I'm going to fuck your flawless face and you’re going to be a very good girl and swallow every last drop.” She claws at my thighs and I pull her hair a little more, tears welling into the corners of her eyes.
Perfect.
I unzip my trousers, pull out my cock and swell with pride when she sees what I’m working with. “Tongue out. Taste me.”
My siren obeys, and as soon as her tongue is out I gather my saliva and spit it on her waiting tongue, sneering as she scrunches up her nose and then I push the tip of my cock past those strawberry lips.
Her mouth is a wet, velvet haven. “Relax your throat. Fuck, yes. There. So fucking good. Am I the first cock you’ve swallowed? ”
Her eyes narrow a resounding yes in that one look and an animalistic pride surges through me.
“Keep your eyes on me. Suck. Good fucking girl. This won’t take me long.
” I pump my hips, guiding her head by her hair, watching as her cheeks hollow and I fill them back up again as I shove deeper and deeper with each thrust. “Swallow when you feel like gagging. Just like that. A little more. Yes, Siren, yes. Oh. Fuck!”
I cum like a man possessed, my orgasm builds into a searing white-hot pleasure that detonates throughout my body, causing constellations to form in the periphery of my vision as I unload into her warm throat, groaning heavily, thighs shaking, keeping my eyes on the sight of her drinking me like my cum is an elixir of youth.
I finally let her go, tucking myself back into my slacks and she scrambles up to her feet, just as angry as she was when we started but with eyes heavy and full of lust.
Before she opens the door with her back to me, I say, with a smirk, “Being my little secret slut looks so good on you, Siren.”
When she opens the door, she jumps back and I lean over to see the red-rimmed eyes of a young man whose heart has shattered into a thousand pieces, turned to dust, and kicked up by the wind. Jonas says nothing, just nods once, unwilling to look at either of us and leaves us.
I expect her to run after him, to speak his name, to forget the facade, and scream to apologize and tell him she was the victim, not a willing participant…
she doesn’t. She throws me a glance full of hatred, tears spilling over, her jaw opens and closes in quick succession, trying so hard to scream after him.
Her hand flies to her th roat, like Ariel when Ursula takes her voice and my own siren flies after him.
The exchange bothers me, unsettling my bones.
To know she would scream for him if she could.
After one soul revitalizing kiss, I conclude that loving Raven Monroe in her entirety must be maddening, infuriating, all-encompassing and I’m not sure if I could withstand the storm that is she. And for some reason, I want to try .
It isn’t until Wednesday morning when Jonas doesn’t attend my class, she shows up, almost catatonic.
A creepy little living phantasm. Her hair is unkempt and disheveled, as if she couldn’t bear the weight of holding a hairbrush up, eyes dark, bags underneath them, cheekbones hollowed out and protruding, her uniform sits wrong on her frame and all she does in my class is stare at the empty chair beside her longingly, Jonas' absence so much louder than it should be.
After my lecture, she comes to me, slowly, her gait lazy and unrefined as if her shoes are too big for her feet. She doesn’t meet my eyes just watches as my hands take the paper she offers to me.
“Raven, I-" I what ? I’m sorry? I almost scoff at the thought. I’m not sorry I felt those perfect lips wrapped around my cock; not sorry my tip was enveloped by her velvety throat. I’m definitely not sorry that when I kissed her, something inside of me roared to life.
I am sorry, a tiny bit, that I seem to have broken her in a way I never intended to. But she doesn’t give me the chance to even try to apologize. She simply sighs silently, her entire chest depressing into itself, blinks, and leaves me to my thoughts.
She doesn’t come in on Friday morning.
I grade her paper. An effortless A.
I visit Inferno.
The following Monday morning Jonas appears, looking freshly ravaged and not at all brooding.
Raven tenses at his presence when he walks by her to climb up the stairs to get to the seats high up and far away from her and then leaves midway through my lecture when she hears him laughing, talking loudly with other students.
She arrives Wednesday morning, looking even more pitiful, her clothes hanging off her body, no light in her eyes only to hand in her debate but does not stay for my lecture. I thank her as Jonas strides in, arm draped over a petite blonde's shoulder.
I grade her paper, messily scrawled in cursive as if the pen was too heavy. Another annoying effortless A.
Only Jonas shows up on Friday, sitting far away from the blonde, who casually throws him furious glances but he ignores her.
I don’t visit Inferno.
Instead, I find myself at Rayne-Moore Stadium and watch the first home game of the season. I get there in time to watch #19, Jonas Anderson, Yellow Jackets wide receiver, get benched for fighting with our own Quarterback, the charming Chase Prescott.
Yellow Jackets win 21-20 by the skin of their teeth.
________
The following week is more or less the same. Looking gaunt and too skinny, malnourished, like she hasn’t eaten in weeks, Monday morning she stays in my lecture long enough to get the name of the next idiot killer that got caught being foolish, and then she leaves.
Wednesday morning, she turns in her paper and leaves.
I’m left entirely unsatisfied. A total of forty minutes in the span of a week with her in my periphery is not long enough.
I’m not a man of regrets. But seeing her like this, like she has no light, no fight left in her, and Jonas parading around like a fucking king, completely unaffected, makes me sick.
He never deserved her. Couldn’t even fight for her.
Didn’t even have the balls to report me to Whitmore.
Pathetic.
Saturday night I finally get around to grading her essay, two tumblers of Macallan deep.
________
Sunday evening, an alert from the school wakes my uninteresting cell phone sitting to the right of me on my end table beside the tumbler filled with three fingers of Macallan.
Rayne-Moore University Campus – All Classes Canceled .
Followed by a second alert from the local news station.
Body of RMU’s Yellow Jackets Star Quarterback, Chase Prescott, 22, Found Sunday Morning.