28. Eleanor
Eleanor
Idon’t know what I’m thinking, asking Headmaster Wright to fuck me right here, in his office. It’s wrong. Illicit. Something we’ll probably regret in the cold light of day.
But I can’t help myself. Not after I saw him with that little boy, so tender and gentle. Not after watching him all evening in that costume.
My God, the costume. There are no words for how divine he looks. I knew he’d be here tonight, but I didn’t think he’d actually dress up. I was teasing when I texted him this morning, expecting a snarky comeback. Expecting to see him in his usual attire, stiff and buttoned-up.
So, rounding the corner to find him looking like that, disheveled hair, intense features, scruffy clothing, and a hint of something feral in his gaze…
Holy shit.
I’ve never seen him look so raw. So… predatory. Like he could drag me into the dark and ruin me, and I’d beg him to do it again.
Tonight was a bit of a mindfuck. I mean, I know I’m at work, but the hallways I walk every day, the place I teach, felt like an alternate dimension. Fog and shadows everywhere.
And him.
The man I can’t stop thinking about, growling in a corner in torn jeans, gaze dark and dangerous, vibrating with barely restrained, dominant energy.
All evening, he looked like he was about to snap. Like he was holding on by a thread. And now? That thread has broken.
He pushes me up against his bookshelves, gripping the back of my neck possessively as he crushes his mouth to mine in a filthy kiss.
His other hand comes to my thigh, hooking it over his hip.
Heat slams through me when I feel the hard length of him, and I wrap my other leg around his waist, letting him pin me to the bookshelves.
“You sure you want this?” he rasps, rutting against me. “Because I’m going to ruin you.”
It’s like he can read my mind.
“Fuck yes.” I writhe against him, loving the friction, needing more. “Please.”
He drags his mouth hungrily down my neck, growling into my skin. There’s something wild about him tonight, almost savage, in the way he bites at my throat like he wants to mark me, claim me, wreck me.
God, how I want him to.
His hands move with a mind of their own, pushing under my costume, shoving fabric aside to touch me, frenzied and urgent. The scrape of his leather gloves on my bare skin makes me whimper with need, the friction of his beard on my throat too much. That beard is so damn hot I could cry.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he grits out. “All night I’ve been holding back.” He rolls his hips against me again, harder this time. “Not anymore.”
Bracing me against the bookshelf, he frees himself with one hand, shoves my panties aside, and thrusts into me hard. I close my eyes, so full with him, pleasure radiating through me.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, voice low and ragged as he presses his forehead to mine. “You feel so perfect. So wet and tight for me.”
His mouth takes mine again as he slams into me, groaning. We kiss in a frantic tangle of teeth and tongues, wet and needy, too desperate for each other to care. I cling to him, taking every bruising thrust, so high on pleasure I never want to come down.
His hand slips between us, fingers finding my clit. I spasm against him, gasping at the contact.
“Yes,” I whisper, head dropping back against the bookshelf. “Please…”
“Such good manners, baby. Tell me. Tell me what you need.”
“You,” I say, breathing ragged. “I just need you. This weekend was torture.”
He pants out a laugh. “This entire semester has been torture, Eleanor. You don’t know what you’ve done to me.” His mouth is hot on my shoulder, teeth nipping. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else for weeks.”
I whimper, wanting to reply, to tell him I feel the same, but I can’t get the words out.
Not with his deep, brutal thrusts, his fingers working my clit so well.
I’m barely hanging on, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into the hard swell of muscle as he drills into me, a feral beast seeking satisfaction.
“Look at me,” he rasps, his hips pounding into me with punishing precision. “I want to see your pretty face when you come.”
I bring my gaze to him, and what I see wrecks me. His pupils are blown wide, hair wild, mouth parted like he’s moments from losing control. I can’t imagine what I look like, but I can feel the flush on my cheeks, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth swollen from his kisses.
“God, you’re so beautiful.” He kisses me roughly, fingers circling exactly where I need them. “So perfect.”
“Please,” I sob, hips rocking helplessly into his hand. “I’m so close, please don’t stop—”
“That’s it,” he rumbles against my mouth. “Make a mess on me, sweetheart. Let me feel all of it.”
That’s all it takes. I shatter around him, crying out into his kiss as my release sweeps me away. He follows with a low, guttural sound, slamming into me one final time, burying his face in my neck, spilling inside me. I cling to him as I dissolve, trembling with disbelief.
Because this didn’t feel wrong. It felt inevitable. Like something we’ve both been starving for.
“Theo,” I whisper, heart thudding hard in my chest.
He strokes my hair with the gentlest fingers. “I know, baby. I know.”
He doesn’t have to say the words. We’ve crossed a line we’d agreed not to cross, and it was fucking everything. We fought it as hard as we could. We’ve fought it since the start of the semester, but losing control on school grounds was inevitable.
He sets me carefully onto shaky legs, and my gaze locks with his. I’ve never seen him look more undone.
Shit. We are in big trouble.