Chapter 10
Ten
Deja
“Deja!” my mom yells and I jerk awake. I panic for a second before I realize I’m under the covers dressed in my pajama bottoms and a faded gray tee instead of the camisole I wore last night. The surest sign that last night wasn’t a dream, however, is the soreness in my nipples and ass.
I’m tempted to tell her I’m sick, but after what happened last night with Gio and Mello, I feel like I need to show up to church just so no one thinks I’m hiding out of guilt.
Brandon is back to his usual self. You would have no idea by looking at him that anything had happened between us last night.
He’s sitting in my pew, flirting with Mackenzie.
He gives me this half-smirk when she’s not looking, and I feel a horrible sensation of insecurity in my gut.
How should I interpret the way he’s teasing Mackenzie?
He didn’t make any promises to me last night, but he was so passionate.
My whole body feels hot when I think about it.
I had acted like a slut, so it shouldn’t surprise me he’s moving on. Guys only like a challenge, after all.
After the service, Mackenzie and I go freshen up in the bathroom. She looks really pretty in a navy skirt and blue and white striped sweater. Her makeup is on point too, and she’s got on two-inch heels. I want to ask, “Why are you trying so hard?” but I know why.
“Are you and Brandon talking?” I ask her while we check our hair in the mirrors.
“Not yet,” she says, smiling. I give her a fake smile in return, but she knows me too well. “What? Why are you making that face?”
“No reason,” I say, innocently. I pull out my lip gloss to redo my lips even though they look fine and we’re about to have snacks anyway.
She grabs me by the shoulders and turns me to face her. “What. Is it?”
“It’s nothing,” I insist. “Just checking in.”
“Checking in?” she says. “Is there something you want to tell me.”
“No,” I say too quickly. “I mean, I don’t think so.”
“So what is it, then?” she presses. “You’re being weird?”
“This is none of my business,” I say, turning towards the door. She grabs my arm again, holding me in place.
“I thought I was your friend,” she says, hitting me where it hurts.
This is so fucking messy. How did I get myself into this situation?
If I’d just remembered to dis-invite Mello from the party, the last fifteen hours would have been a whole lot simpler.
No injury, no spanking, no almost having sex with a guy I hate.
“I am your friend,” I say. “And as your friend I’m telling you to talk to Brandon.”
I leave the bathroom before she can stop me again and find my mom and Devin. I notice when Mackenzie makes a beeline for Brandon, but I turn my back on that because I don’t want her to wave me over or for Brandon to give me the stink eye.
It occurs to me I may have made a mistake. What if Brandon decides I did something wrong again? My ass barely survived the last spanking. I can’t handle another one any time soon.
The rest of the day I’m on tenterhooks. I’m sure Mackenzie told Brandon something.
She texts me after church to thank me for giving her the heads up, so I guess the talk didn’t go that well for Brandon.
Between my Sunday chores, I text Gio to see how he’s doing.
His responses are all one or two words. He is clearly mad at me, probably because I yelled at him in front of all our friends.
I can understand why he’s upset. Mello sends me a three-part text telling me the details of his injury and how he’s doing.
The entire afternoon is spent on chores, and I don’t really see Brandon since he’s raking and bagging leaves and I’m cleaning the bathrooms and dusting.
We sit across from each other at dinner, chewing quietly through bland chicken breast and underdressed salad while my parents talk.
He doesn’t so much as glance at me till the meal is nearly over, but when he speaks, I am shocked.
“Deja’s going to start tutoring me,” he says, looking only at Devin. “Kenzie can’t anymore, so she volunteered.”
“That’s really nice of you,” my mom says, smiling. She sounds both surprised and happy, probably because she thinks this means we’re getting along better.
“I…” I trail off. Brandon is giving me a hard look, as if daring me to contradict him.
“Why can’t Mackenzie tutor you anymore?” Devin asks, clocking the tension between us.
“She’s getting overwhelmed with all her commitments,” Brandon says. “And since Deja lives here, we figured it would be easier.”
What do I say? I am up to my neck in commitments too, but I can tell from Brandon’s expression that if I call him a liar, I’m going to regret it later.
“We don’t want Deja to be overwhelmed either,” Devin says, training narrowed eyes on Brandon. I’ll give the kid credit. He doesn’t even flinch.
“It’s not too much, is it Deja?” The smile is syrupy sweet. Devin’s eyes narrow even more, but I’m pretty cornered.
“I’ll have to look at my schedule,” I say lamely. I need to know Brandon’s plans before I can push back.
“Let me know ASAP,” Devin says. “I can always pay for a tutor if necessary.”
“That’s a great—,” I start to say, but Brandon is speaking too.
“I don’t know—.” We both stop talking. Brandon is first to recover.
“We’ll work it out and let you know tomorrow.
” I nod, tension stiffening my shoulders.
What does Brandon want, anyway? It’s better for him to have a real tutor; he and I are in the same year.
Why does he even want me? It’s probably just some game to torture me.
The chicken breast is dry, but I choke it down anyway.
I’ve just finished putting my pajamas on when Brandon knocks on my bedroom door. He comes in and locks it behind him. I move to open it again, but he rests his forefinger on his lips to let me know he did it so we won’t be overheard. I motion for him to sit in my desk chair.
“I don’t want to tutor you,” I tell him bluntly. His eyes flick up and down my flannel covered body, expression flat.
“Mackenzie doesn’t want to keep doing it,” he says by way of an explanation.
“So let Devin pay for one.”
“She suddenly wanted to know if I was interested. Did you have anything to do with that?”
“Not really.” I try to defend myself. “I just asked her if you guys were talking.”
“Then why did she tell me you said I was seeing someone?”
I cross my arms under my breasts. Am I feeling a niggle of guilt?
“I didn’t say anything remotely like that; she just read a novel into my facial expression. I didn’t mean to cause drama.” That’s not entirely true, is it?
“You didn’t,” he says, mildly. “I like someone else.”
I feel my face heat.
“She got pissed, though, when I told her I just want to be friends and said she wouldn’t tutor me anymore. I really do need your help with that.”
He phrases it like a request, but I know it’s not a request. I’m lucky he didn’t punish me for talking to Mackenzie out of turn. I’m not going to risk another spanking.
“Of course,” I say, swallowing bile. “We just have to work out a time. My schedule is pretty tight.”
He grins, and I guess the words “pretty tight” have made him think of something else entirely.
“Come here,” he says, “and turn around.”
Reluctantly I walk over to him, turning to face away from him when I’m about three feet away. I hear the wheels of the desk chair scrape across the floor, then feel Brandon’s hands on my waistband.
“What are you doing?”
He pulls my pants and underwear to my knees, leaving my bare ass in his face. He asks me to bend forward a little and cups my bottom in his large hands. His palms are pleasantly cool on my tender skin. His fingers press into my flesh, just enough to make me flinch.
“How does it feel?” he asks.
“Sore,” I tell him, “especially when you squeeze it.”
He loosens his grip and smooths his hands over my butt.
“On a scale of 1-10, how much does it hurt?”
“Three, maybe?”
“You had no trouble sitting? You seemed okay at church and tonight at dinner.”
“I’m just used to being sore, from cheer. Trust me when I say I’m still feeling it.” I’ve learned to put pain out of mind when I have to, to just push it to the side and focus on the right now. On the minute I’m currently in.
Brandon lightly strokes the outside of my thigh.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. I feel his warm breath on the small of my back, then soft press of his lips just above my buttocks.
I freeze, afraid to move. I’m really conflicted.
Last night, in the heat of the moment I gave in to my sexual desires, but the unequal power dynamic that I forgot about when my pussy was doing the thinking for me is impossible to ignore.
I feel something cool land on the top of my right butt cheek. Gently, Brandon spreads it with his fingers, till all the areas he spanked are covered. He repeats the action on the other side.
“What is that?”
“It’s healing ointment. It’s supposed to soothe the skin and help you heal faster.”
“Thanks.”
“It just needs a minute to absorb. You can just stand there—I don’t mind the view.”
“You’re kind of a pervert, aren’t you, Brandon?”
“You don’t know the half.”
“I know you like spanking.”
“Spanking, a little bondage, sure, but what I really like is inflicting a little pain. When I take your virginity, it’s going to be exquisite.”
Forgetting that he can see my face reflected in the vanity mirror, I do nothing to hide my horror. Brandon steps closer, brushing my braids over my shoulder. He rearranges them, admiring my reflection in the mirror. His middle finger pushes between my butt cheeks, teasing my other virgin hole.
“Judgement from the girl who creamed when I spanked her and practically purred when I tortured her nipples? A little hypocritical there, Deja.”
“I didn’t do those things.”
“I was there, remember. You like receiving what I like to give. We’re a match. You just have to relax and listen to your body.”
“I would prefer to use my brain, thank you very much.”
“It’s not the easiest thing to accept your own deviance. It took me a long time to understand and embrace my kinks. I can be patient, Deja.”
“Can I pull my pants up now?”
“Sure.” Instead of letting me, though, he reaches down and pulls them up for me. He turns me around and hands me a bottle that reads, “Aftercare Skin Lotion.”
“You can put this on morning and night for the next few days. It will soothe the skin and speed up healing. I put some on your skin after our session, or you’d probably be in more pain right now.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to thank him for that, but why should I. He’d orchestrated the whole thing. Why should I thank him for cleaning up a mess that he made? Taking care of me had been the least he could do.
“Okay,” I say, “I have some reading to do, so...”
“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gives me a little wink, then unlocks the door and exits.