Chapter 8
chapter eight
The moment I step into the classroom, my heart races in anticipation. He’s there, seated in his usual spot. I walk over to the empty seat next to Alec, not bothering to meet his gaze as I sit down. He doesn't say anything, just continues staring straight ahead.
All those confessions, his fingers inside me, and we’re going to pretend nothing happened, like a couple of pros.
"Alright, class," Professor Harlow starts, his voice commanding attention. "Today we'll be discussing the implications of the socioeconomic gap in our society."
“I picked up the birth control first thing this morning,” I say as quietly as I can.
“Oh,” Alec says simply as he stares straight ahead at the professor.
“A few days and then we’ll be good,” I say.
Alec gives a noise of affirmation but continues to act like he’s listening to the professor.
As the lecture continues, I can feel Alec's presence beside me, and it's unnervingly distracting. Suddenly, I feel the warmth of his hand on my thigh beneath the table. My breath hitches as his fingers slowly inch their way closer to my center. Just as I'm about to tell him off, the professor calls on me.
"Ms. Winters, can you give us an example of how this gap affects education?"
My mind goes blank as Alec's fingers continue their teasing journey, making it impossible for me to focus on anything else. I open my mouth, trying to form words, but nothing comes out.
"Um..." I stammer, praying for the ground to swallow me whole. "I...uh..."
"Perhaps," Alec interjects smoothly, saving me from further embarrassment, "Salem meant to mention how students with wealthier backgrounds have greater access to resources and opportunities, while those from lower-income families face financial barriers and fewer chances for success."
"Very well put, Mr. Vanderholt," Professor Harlow nods approvingly, moving on. I shoot Alec a mix of gratitude and irritation, my cheeks burning.
"Thanks," I mutter under my breath, trying to regain control of my racing thoughts.
"Anytime, Dora," Alec replies softly, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
“Dora?” I question quietly, my brows furrowing.
“As in the explorer,” he says with a smirk as his fingers brush against my center, over my panties. I want to die when he finds me wet already.
Fuck.
“You can’t use that nickname,” I growl. “It’s a kid’s cartoon.”
“Still seems fitting,” he says quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the professor so as not to be caught.
As his fingers continue their torturous exploration, I fight to concentrate on the lecture, each word spoken by Professor Harlow becoming increasingly difficult to focus on. Alec's touch is electrifying, consuming.
And when I’m two seconds from falling over the edge and making a complete embarrassment of myself by crying out with an orgasm in the middle of class, I grab Alec’s hand and shove it away from me.
“Something wrong, Dora?” he asks with a smirk.
“You’re evil,” I say, my chest rising and falling much too quickly. “Let’s see how you like it.”
My heart races as I gather the courage to turn the tables on Alec. I shoot a quick glance at Professor Hughes, making sure he's absorbed in his lecture before I slide my hand onto Alec's lap. The momentary shock on his face tells me he doesn't expect what's coming.
I grip him through his pants, feeling his length and hardness beneath the fabric. Oh, fuck. How is that ever going to fit inside me? Caught off guard, Alec lets out a soft moan that barely anyone can hear but me. My pulse quickens, the thrill surging through me like electricity. I savor the satisfaction of having him at my mercy for once.
"Fuck, Salem," he whispers so quietly only I can hear it, his jaw clenched as he tries to maintain composure.
"Careful now," I murmur back, squeezing him just a little tighter, feeling a heady mix of power and arousal. "Wouldn't want our classmates to catch on, would we?"
"Turnabout's fair play, I suppose," he grunts, his eyes narrowing dangerously. It's clear he didn't anticipate this side of me, but there's also a spark of excitement in his gaze.
Before our game can escalate further, Professor Harlow announces an open debate on the topic at hand, and I reluctantly release Alec.
"Regarding the issue of income inequality in education," I begin, raising my hand, "it's essential to address not just the financial barriers faced by lower-income students but also the cultural and social factors contributing to this disparity."
As much as I was enjoying every second of having my hand wrapped around Alec’s dick, I did come to this class to learn. As I argue my point, my focus shifts from Alec to the subject matter. This is my territory, after all – a place where my intellect and determination shine. I notice several classmates nodding along, while others scribble down notes.
Alec looks like he’s listening intently, but I don’t miss it when he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, requiring some rearranging. I feel way too damn smug that I’m the reason for his discomfort.
"An interesting perspective, Salem," Alec says smoothly though, meeting my gaze with a challenging smirk. "However, it's also important to consider the role personal responsibility plays in one's success. Wealthy or not, an individual's drive and ambition can propel them to great heights."
I think he’s trying to compliment me. But his words are ever laced with barbs. "You're right, Alec. Personal responsibility is a factor," I concede. "But let's not pretend that everyone has the same starting point. Some people have had everything handed to them on a silver platter. While the rest of us had to scrounge for even a fork."
"I’d be happy to let you borrow my utensils, they’re the perfect fit," he shoots back, his expression turning positively evil.
Oh, he’s bad.
"That’s enough of you two," Professor Harlow interrupts with a growl before this can go farther. "Let's remember to keep things civil and focused on the topic at hand."
But our poor professor has no idea what Alec was really referring to.
His dick.
Which was in my hand, in his classroom, just a few moments ago.
I blush hard, and sit back in my seat, as if I didn’t just do something so completely out of character.
That night as I get ready to leave my dorm room, a notification dings from my phone. New post by Vice. Without even seeing the content, my face blushes. My fingers shake as I tap on the notification.
Fuck.
It’s a simple video. Alec stands there, shirtless, facing away from the camera. He’s looking out a window, one arm bent as he leans against the frame. I can only see half his masked face, but even this view has my heart racing. The camera does a slow zoom in, and the music is perfectly matched to the moody vibe he has going on.
The caption reads, “Waiting for you.”
Oh shit.
I don’t know how to take that other than as a direct nod to me. Considering I’m supposed to be arriving any minute now at his apartment.
Already, there are twenty comments just in the first sixty seconds of the posting.
Be right there.
Does Vice have a girlfriend?
Heart broken.
Be ready when I arrive, big boy.
These comments are wild. And I blush when I accept the fact that it was written for me, and all these other people are losing their damn minds.
With a smug smile, I walk out my door, and turn toward Alec, Vice’s, apartment.
Ten minutes later, I raise my fist to knock on the door, but before I even make contact, it’s yanked open. Alec meets me with hungry, serious eyes that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Get in here,” he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, he cups my face in his hands and pulls me toward him, his lips finding the sensitive skin of my neck.
"Tell me what you want tonight," he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot and enticing.
A wicked smile pulls on my lips when my eyes find the window Alec was standing in front of in his video. “I liked your post,” I admit, my words coming out breathy as his lips make their way across my throat.
“Good,” he says without breaking contact. “Now, be a good girl, and tell me what you want.”
I swallow hard, feeling both vulnerable and emboldened. I thought about this on my way over, knowing he would request, and I needed an answer. "I... I want to be naked," I admit, my cheeks heating at the confession. My body has always been a source of insecurity for me, but there's something about Alec's presence that makes me feel braver than ever before. “I’ve… I’ve never felt particularly comfortable being naked in front of anybody.”
"Really?" He pulls back slightly, surprise etched on his irritatingly handsome face. "Salem, you have no reason to be self-conscious. Your body is fucking perfect."
My heart skips a beat at his words, but I can't help but roll my eyes. "Sure, coming from the guy who looks like a Greek god."
Alec grins, his fingers tracing patterns along my jawline. "I mean it. Let me show you just how perfect I think you are."
His lips claim mine. Hot. Demanding. Guiding. With every touch, with every kiss, I start to feel my anxiety melting away as I surrender. His hands roam over my clothed body, each touch sending sparks through my veins. Our banter and rivalry seem to fade away, replaced by an overwhelming desire that neither of us can deny.
Outside, the moon climbs into the sky before it creeps through the blinds, casting a soft glow on Alec's face as he begins to undress me. His large, warm hands start at the hem of my shirt, lifting it slowly over my head. My heart races, the mix of anticipation and vulnerability blending into a heady cocktail.
"Your skin is so soft," Alec murmurs, his fingers trailing over my exposed stomach. "Like silk." He bends down, pressing a gentle kiss just above my navel, sending shivers down my spine.
"Really?" I can't help but let out a small, breathless laugh. "You're comparing me to fabric now?"
"Only the finest kind," he replies with a smirk, his gaze locked onto mine. He unhooks my bra next, sliding the straps down my arms and letting it fall to the floor. The cool air brushes against my bare skin, but Alec's touch is like fire, igniting every nerve ending.
"Your tits are damn perfect," he whispers, cupping them in his hands. His thumbs circle my nipples, teasing them until they harden beneath his touch. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, my body responding eagerly to his praise.
"Fuck, Alec," I gasp, my legs trembling as he continues downwards. He unzips my jeans with agonizing slowness, peeling them off my legs along with my panties. They drop to my ankles and I step out of them.
Now fully naked, I stand before him, and my heart is absolutely racing.
I’ve never just stood before someone completely bare. It’s terrifying and empowering at the same time.
"Look at you," Alec breathes, his eyes roaming over my vulnerable form. "So fucking beautiful."
“Shit,” I breathe, my voice barely audible as my eyes graze down the length of him. I can see the silhouette of his hardness through his own jeans and my mouth goes dry. "I want you inside me."
"Patience, Salem," he admonishes gently, guiding me towards the kitchen island. He lifts me up onto the cool surface, spreading my legs wide. And my face goes hot red as I sit here, fully on display. But I see no hesitance in those blue eyes of his. Only hot desire. "You know we have to wait a few days. We can't rush this. Besides, I want you to see yourself as I make you come."
I’m trembling and there’s an argument going on in my head. I want to cover up. To hide. To at least turn the damn light off. But that’s not the point of us doing what we’re doing. I wanted to explore these desires of mine, and embrace the fact that I have desires. And Alec seems damn determined to help me get there.
As his fingers trace patterns on my inner thighs, my mind races with anticipation. I watch him intently, trying to memorize every detail of this moment – the way his blond hair falls into his eyes, the way his muscles flex as he moves, and most importantly, the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters in the world.
Alec reaches for something behind me, and I can't help but feel a shiver of anticipation race down my spine. He presents me with a beautifully wrapped gift box, the silver paper sparkling under the kitchen lights.
"Open it," he instructs, his voice dark and commanding.
I unwrap the box carefully, curious what the golden boy of Westcroft University has gotten me. When I open the lid, my cheeks heat with a deep blush. Nestled among soft black velvet is a luxurious glass dildo, its elegant curves demanding attention.
"Um, Alec... what's this for?" I stammer, unable to tear my eyes away from the intimate gift.
He smirks, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Consider it a present for home practice in our pursuits."
"Home practice?" I echo, lifting an eyebrow skeptically.
"Trust me, you'll enjoy it." He takes the dildo from the box, holding it up between us. "Now watch closely, Salem."
My heart races as Alec positions the glass toy at my entrance, teasing me with the smooth, cool surface. It feels foreign yet thrilling, a stark contrast to the warmth of his fingers from before. As he begins to insert it, I force myself to keep my eyes open, determined to follow his instructions.
"Good girl," he praises, noting my compliance.
My legs are trembling as Alec continues to work the glass dildo in and out of me, his movements becoming faster and more intense with each passing second. I'm struggling to keep my eyes open, but it's getting increasingly difficult as waves of pleasure consume me.
"Relax, Salem," Alec whispers, sensing my tension. "You're allowed to enjoy this."
His words give me permission to let go and embrace the sensations coursing through my body. I close my eyes and surrender myself to the pleasure, allowing myself to moan and whimper uncontrollably. It feels liberating, finally letting go of all inhibitions.
Alec leans in, cupping his free hand behind my head, and captures my lips in a passionate kiss as he continues his ministrations with the toy. As I’m dragged closer to the edge of the counter, I can feel his hardness pressing against me through his jeans, adding another layer of arousal to the mix. I want him inside me so badly, but at the same time, I don't want this moment to end.
As another wave of intensity rolls through me, my head lolls back and I moan. Alec chuckles with greedy pleasure, and suddenly he rubs his thumb over my clit.
Shit. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Bare fucking naked. Legs spread wide, displaying the most intimate part of myself. On the kitchen island. With Alec Vanderholt himself—Vice—pushing me to the brink of madness.
"Let go, Salem," Alec encourages, his voice low and seductive. "Don't hold back."
As if on cue, I feel the coil in my stomach tighten, and I know I'm teetering on the edge of climax. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and my legs tremble around him.
"Watch yourself," he reminds me, his gaze hot and heavy on my flushed face.
I force my eyes to remain open as he works the dildo in and out of me, each thrust pushing me higher and closer to release. My body is a live wire, every nerve ending alight with electricity, and I know I can't hold back much longer.
"Fuck, Alec," I gasp, unable to contain the profanity. "I'm so close."
"Come for me, Salem," he commands, his voice firm yet gentle. "Let go."
And with that final command, I shatter. Waves of ecstasy crash over me, overwhelming my senses and stealing my breath away. I feel it everywhere. Rushing up from my toes, over my thighs, gathering from my fingertips, rushing down my neck, before it all explodes from where he’s rubbing me and pumping that beautiful glass in and out of me.
I fucking erupt.
Through it all, I keep my eyes locked on his expert hands, watching as Alec brings me to the most intense orgasm of my life.
The aftershocks of my orgasm still reverberate through me as Alec kisses me softly, his lips tender against mine. His hands glide over my body, fingertips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. The way he touches me is possessive yet gentle, like he's memorizing every curve and hollow of my body.
"You feel so damn good, Salem," he murmurs into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Every inch of you is perfect."
I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks at his words, but the warmth in his voice makes me believe him. Like, actually believe him. People can say whatever they want, but that doesn’t mean you buy it. But the combination of his touch and his words, I actually believe Alec.
"Thank you," I whisper, not knowing what else to say. All my life, I've fought to prove myself in a world that seemed determined to remind me of my shortcomings. But with Alec, I feel seen, appreciated exactly as I am.
"Hey," he says, tilting my chin up so our eyes meet. "You don't need to thank me. I'm just telling you the truth."
Before I can respond, there's a sudden knock on the door, and we both freeze. Panic surges through me, and I scramble off the kitchen island, frantically gathering my clothes from the floor. Alec's eyes are wide.
"Bedroom," he whispers urgently. "I'll take care of this."
I nod, clutching my clothes to my chest as I dash into his room. The door clicks shut behind me, and I press my ear against it, listening to the muffled voices on the other side.
"Father," Alec says, his own voice strained. "What brings you here?"
Oh, shit.
"Can't a father visit his son?" Mr. Vanderholt replies, though his tone isn’t particularly friendly.
I quickly pull my clothes back on, my heart pounding in my chest as I listen to the conversation between them. I can hear the tension in Alec's voice, and I have to wonder, what has Alec’s home life been like?
"Of course," Alec says, finally managing to regain some composure. "What can I do for you?"
"Actually," Mr. Vanderholt begins, his voice dropping low. "There's something we need to discuss."
The door to Alec's bedroom muffles their voices, but I can still make out the words just barely as they come inside and shut the door.
"As you know the school's gala fundraiser is coming up,” his father says, and I don’t know what it is, but his voice sends a chill down my spine. Maybe it’s the complete lack of warmth as he speaks to his son. “Your presence there is non-negotiable. There will be important people there, and you need to represent our family well."
"I know what is expected of me,” Alec says coldly. The irritation in his voice clear even through the door.
“And I expect you to give Victoria some attention,” he says. And with his words, my stomach drops.
Victoria. Dammit. My stomach sinks just at the mention of her name. The entire world knows Alec Vanderholt is expected to marry her some day. Their families have been partnered in business since the dawn of time, and it’s all but an arranged marriage.
Alec may have assured me he has no interest in her, but the rest of the world seems oblivious.
“You seem to be under the delusion that Victoria and I are going to magically fall in love, when there’s never been a spark in the six years you’ve been trying to shove her down my throat,” Alec counters through what sounds like clenched teeth.
“No one said anything about love, son,” Mr. Vanderholt replies coldly.
My heart is thundering.
Alec and I said no strings attached. This is about exploration and rawness. I have no claim on him, and he has no claim on me. But the thought of Alec being with Victoria? My blood turns lava hot.
“You know what is expected of you,” Alec’s father says calmly. “Have your fun while you can, son. We all know what must be done in the Vanderholt name eventually.”
"Look, I'll be there at the gala,” Alec says sharply, trying to change the subject.
"Is it too much to expect a little enthusiasm?" Mr. Vanderholt retorts, and I can almost see the look of exasperation on his face. "This isn't just about you, Alec. It's our legacy."
"Legacy" seems to be the magic word that gets under Alec's skin, and I can't help but feel a flicker of sympathy for him. I know what it's like to have your entire future mapped out for you, but at least I chose my map. Alec, it seems, has had little choice in the matter.
"Whatever," he mutters, and I can tell he's biting back something more scathing. "What else do you want from me?"
"Actually," Mr. Vanderholt says, his tone shifting to something more casual, "I thought we could order dinner."
"Great," Alec replies tersely. "Just what I needed."
As they continue to talk, I finish dressing and cast a glance around the room, searching for an exit. I can't stay here any longer – it's only a matter of time before Alec's father discovers my presence, and that's a confrontation I'd rather avoid.
My eyes land on the window, and to my relief, there’s a sturdy looking fire escape. I tiptoe over, careful not to make a sound, and ease the window open as silently as possible.
I wince as I step out onto the roughly textured metal. My shoes are by the front door, and I pray Alec’s father didn’t notice them. But it leaves me making my escape barefoot. Talk about a walk of shame.
But as I slip away from Alec's apartment, I can't help but feel a rush of adrenaline. I just got brought to the best orgasm of my life on a rich boy’s kitchen island, and then snuck out his window.
So much for Salem Winters being the timid, innocent little girl.