Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Laurel
I should have known a man like Leonid doesn’t give up easily.
No matter how hard I try to make him see reason, he refuses to back down. He insists we must continue seeing each other, and the worst part is, I kinda want us to. No, scratch that, I need us to keep seeing each other.
I can’t stop thinking about him. Every time I close my eyes, I feel his hands, his mouth, the way he stretched me and made me come apart. I want more. But I have to listen to the voice of reason.
It’s evening now. I’m lying awake in my bed, phone glowing in the dark, arguing with him via text for what feels like the hundredth time.
Me: I know you’ve never been told no before. But I mean it when I say, no, we can’t go on this. We have to stop.
Leonid: I can think of several reasons why we shouldn’t. Like making you come on my tongue again, splitting you in half with my cock, mind-blowing orgasms. Need I go on?
My thighs snap together before I can stop the reaction. Heat floods my core. My body remembers vividly. I hate that it does. He’s not making this any easier.
Another text lights up the screen.
Leonid: You’re having flashbacks, aren’t you?
My fingers tremble as I type.
Me: Leonid, we can’t go on. We have to stop.
Leonid: That doesn’t answer my question. Are you having flashbacks?
I hesitate. There’s no use in lying.
Me: Yes.
Leonid: Are you touching yourself?
My hand is already sliding down my stomach, fingertips brushing the edge of my panties. I freeze. Snatch my hand back like I’ve been burned. I need to focus.
Me: You don’t seem to get what I’m saying. I could lose my job if this gets out. My reputation. My career. Everything I’ve worked for will be ruined. I can’t have that happen.
The three dots appear immediately. Then:
Leonid: I would never let that happen to you.
I read it twice. A dangerous little spark of relief tries to bloom in my chest. I crush it before it can take root.
Me: It would be foolish to risk my future because of what we’re doing.
Leonid: Baby. Nothing about you or your future is at risk while you’re with me. I promise you won’t lose your job. And if it ever made you feel safer… I can get you another one. Better pay.
Baby. I can’t help the tiny, involuntary smile that tugs at my lips before I catch myself. I hate how easily he disarms me.
Me: No. I like working at the school. I like my students.
Leonid: Fine. I’ll make sure your job and your career are never threatened. But we are not over. Not anytime soon.
I stare at the message. He doesn’t seem to be getting the message I’ve been trying to pass.
Leonid: Have you gone silent on me?
Leonid: Laurel.
Even through text, I can hear the growl in it, the same tone he used when he pinned my wrists above my head and fucked me until I forgot my own name.
My core clenches. I squeeze my thighs together again.
Me: This isn’t a good idea.
Leonid: So you’ve been saying. Our definition of bad is obviously different. Too late to back out now, solnyshko. You already let me inside you. You already came screaming my name. You’re mine now.
Me: Solnyshko, what does it mean?
Leonid: Sunshine
I close my eyes, breath shaky. He thinks I’m sunshine? Oh, the things this man does to me. I can’t argue with that.
Leonid: Go to bed, solnyshko. You’ll hear from me tomorrow.
I don’t reply. I set the phone face-down, roll over, and pull the covers up to my chin. Sleep comes eventually. And the next morning, as I’m rushing around my apartment, trying to get ready for work, the doorbell buzzes.
I open the door to find a courier with a black parcel and an electronic clipboard. “Miss Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“I have a delivery for you. Sign here, please.”
I sign, confused. I didn’t order anything.
The box is matte black, no logo, no return address. I carry it inside, set it on the kitchen counter, and my phone rings at the exact same second.
Leonid.
“Hello?”
“Did you get my parcel?” His voice rolls through the line, deep, calm, that faint accent wrapping around the words like smoke.
I blink. “So you’re the one who sent this?”
He growls low. “Who else would be sending packages to your door?”
I laugh. “What’s inside?”
“Open it and see.”
I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder, tear the tape. What I find inside makes my breath catch.
A vaginal plug. Pink silicone, curved, with a flared base and a small gem at the end that glints under the kitchen light.
I stare. “What…why?”
“Wear it.”
I swallow. “Okay… how does it work?”
There’s a pause. Then his voice drops, rougher. “You don’t have to worry about that. Just put it in. I’ll control it from here.”
My cheeks burn. “How?”
“There’s an app. I have access. Put it on before you leave for school.”
“What?” My voice cracks. “Leonid—”
“Be a good girl,” he says, “and put it in, Laurel.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone, then at the toy in my hand. I should throw it away. I should text him back and tell him no. I should do anything except what I’m about to do.
But when he calls me a good girl, something inside me melts.
I walk back to my bedroom and slide my panties down. The plug is cool at first, smooth silicone against my entrance. I’m already a little wet just from his voice.
I ease it in slowly. There’s a stretch, a slight pressure, then it settles. It’s uncomfortable at first, but my body adjusts quickly; the fullness turns warm, almost pleasurable.
I finish getting ready, feeling it with every step. I grab my bag, lock the door behind me, and head to school.
Throughout the day at school, the plug buzzes inside me at the most inconvenient moments.
Every time I stand to write on the board, every time I cross my legs during story time, I feel it. Just enough to make me falter mid-sentence.
In the middle of math centers, it ramps up, short pulses that have me gripping the edge of a desk, my vision blurring. I text Leonid under the table, fingers shaking.
Me: Please stop. I’m going to embarrass myself in front of my colleagues and students.
No response
Me: I’m taking it off
Leonid: Don’t you dare!
By lunch, Maria from second grade studies me over her salad, her brow creasing. “Laurel, are you okay? You look… flushed.”
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a laugh. “Just… hot in here.”
She glances around, confused. “But the air-conditioning is on full blast.”
“Maybe it’s a hot flash. My aunt started getting those when she hit menopause,” comes Aria’s grating voice.
Ignoring her, I grab a donut from the box and make a beeline for the restroom.
I barely make it into an empty stall before the sensation peaks. I bite down hard on the donut to keep myself quiet, knuckles whitening as an orgasm takes over my body.
When the waves finally recede, I’m panting, forehead pressed to the stall door, legs like jelly. The buzzing eases, drops to a low, almost gentle hum, and then fades completely.
I toss the ruined donut in the trash, wash my hands, and stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Maria wasn’t wrong. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes a little too bright.
I splash cold water on my face until I look passably composed, then straighten my blouse and head back to class.
The rest of the afternoon is marginally better, as the buzzing is subdued, but all I can think about is getting home and ripping the damn thing out. Except I can’t. Because tonight, we have a parent–teacher meeting.
I’m setting up the classroom when the door opens, and Leonid walks in.
He’s in a charcoal suit and a gray tie. “Hello, Ms. Harper.”
He winks at me, then takes a seat among the other parents.
He’s never come to one of these before. He always sends a representative, some assistant who takes notes and leaves early.
I take out my phone and type: What are you doing here?
Leonid: For the meeting, of course. A certain someone told me I needed to be more present. Problem?
I stare at the screen. He isn’t wrong. I did tell him that. But how am I supposed to concentrate with him in the same room, while wearing this plug?
I’m pulled out of my thoughts when the Principal walks in, and the meeting starts. I stand at the front, smiling, explaining report cards, behavior trends, and upcoming field trips.
I have just finished talking, and a parent is asking a question when the buzzing begins again. Low at first, then building. I grip the podium, thighs clenching, words stuttering.
“Ms. Harper? You alright?” The Principal asks, looking concerned.
I nod too quickly. “Yes, sorry. Just… excuse me for a second.”
I walk fast out of the room and straight to the staff restroom down the hall. The door shuts behind me. I brace my hands on the sink, breathing hard. Leonid is going to be the death of me.
The buzzing intensifies. I squeeze my thighs together, biting my lip so hard I taste blood. It’s too much, too strong. Pleasure coils inside me, and I can’t hold it back.
My knees buckle. I come hard, shaking, head dropping forward as waves crash through me.
The door opens, and Leonid steps in and locks it behind him.
I whirl. “What are you doing here? Anyone could—”
He’s on me in two strides.
His mouth crashes down on mine, swallowing the rest of my protest. One hand fists in my hair, tilting my head; the other slides under my skirt, fingers finding the soaked plug still inside me. He groans against my lips when he feels how wet I am.
He pulls back just enough to speak, voice rough. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day.”
His fingers hook the base of the plug and tug. It slips free with a wet sound. My pussy clenches around nothing, aching at the sudden emptiness.
He tsks softly. “Look how wet you are. You’ve been enjoying having it in you, haven’t you?”
I have yet to form a response when he replaces it with two thick fingers, pushing in deep, curling, stroking that spot that makes my vision white out. I buck against the counter, hips chasing his hand.
“Quiet,” he growls, then covers my mouth with his palm. I moan against his skin, muffled. His fingers pump faster, thumb circling my clit.
Pleasure builds again. My nails dig into his forearm. My head falls back against his shoulder.
He kisses my temple, voice low in my ear. “Come again for me, solnyshko.”
The words tip me over.
I shatter, silent scream against his hand, body convulsing, walls pulsing around his fingers. He works me through it until I’m trembling, boneless, clinging to him to stay upright.
He withdraws his fingers slowly. Brings them to his mouth. Licks them clean while holding my gaze.
Then he kisses me, soft now, almost tender.
“You okay?” he murmurs against my lips.
I nod, still shaking. Leonid, though, looks completely unaffected.
He reaches for me, tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, smooths the rest back into place with gentle fingers, and then proceeds to straighten my skirt, smooth my hair, and unlock the door.
He picks up my panties that he tossed on the counter earlier, then slips them alongside the plug into the inner pocket of his jacket.
“You should get back in there,” he says quietly. “Before they notice you’ve been gone too long.”
I nod, dazed, still catching my breath. He tucks another loose piece of hair behind my ear, thumb lingering on my cheek.
“Put on a good act, solnyshko,” he murmurs. “Or everyone is going to know you just got finger-fucked in the staff bathroom.”
I swat his hand away, cheeks flaming. “You’re not helping.”
He chuckles, then steps back. I take a deep, shaky breath, force my legs to work, and practically run from the restroom.
The meeting is almost over when I slip back into the classroom. I slide into my seat at the front, face burning, avoiding every pair of eyes. Dr. Ellis is wrapping up the last few announcements.
Leonid returns a minute later, calm, unruffled, suit jacket perfectly in place. I don’t look at him for the rest of the meeting.
And the moment the meeting ends, I mumble goodbyes, gather my things, and bolt for the parking lot before anyone can stop me.
But when I walk up to my door, I freeze.
Leonid is already here. He’s leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed, suit jacket open, that same unreadable expression on his face.
“You seemed in a hurry to get away, Miss Harper.”