Beautiful Torment (12 page)

“Hi,” I meet his lips as they lightly press against mine. They’re soft and sweet, and I hope this doesn’t count as our
one more kiss
because it’s far too quick.

“Thank you,” he pulls away, opening the door back up.

“Yeah,” I bite my lip to stop my wide smile.

“You’re pretty proud of yourself right about now, aren’t you?” He jokes, and I can’t help my laugh. “I bet you’re pretty wet too,” he whispers.

“Maybe.” I don’t think I’ve ever been more soaked.

“Stay late today and I’ll fix that,” he demands, and my heart beats rapidly, looking at him expectantly. “That kiss was too short to count,” he breathes, and it’s like he can read my mind. “I think maybe we should have one more.”

I nod, beaming in agreement, just as Ashley walks through the door.

“Oh my God!” She gushes. “You’ll never guess what you missed during lunch!”

I briefly listen to her story before heading to study hall, knowing full well I’ll have to make a pit stop to the bathroom on my way.

Public speaking has been really awkward lately, ever since winter break. Hannah arranged for the three of us to go to the movies again, only she didn’t tell me about it, since she wanted to go alone with Nick.

Well, Nick’s pissed I bailed, even though I didn’t know about it, and Hannah swore me to secrecy. Honestly, I don’t even care about the whole thing, but to Hannah,
it’s the
biggest deal in the world
.

However, during this movie they went to alone together, apparently Hannah disclosed her crush by attempting to hold Nick’s hand. He then flat out said that he likes me.

She abruptly left, mid-movie.

Talk about awkward.

Things haven’t been same between any of us, and it’s so unbelievably uncomfortable, I wish I could change my seat.

The class moves unbelievably slowly, and I’ve never been more eager for after school math. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ll be meeting up with my chemistry teacher after that.

I leave math late, and I’m disappointed when I find his office door locked, and the lights out. I head down the hall to check his classroom, and it’s the same, dark and empty.

“Shit,” I mumble, throwing my head back. I’m too late; he must have left already.

“Looking for me?” I smile at his voice before turning around.

“I thought you left.”

“I told you to meet me,” he chuckles, walking past me in his workout clothes, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as he continues down the hall. “I would never just leave.”

I follow him into his office, the shutting of the door and the clicking of the lock further stimulating me. Before I have a chance to fully drop my bag, it falls out of my grasp as he grabs me and forcefully pins me against the door in the most arousing way.

“God, what you did to me today,” he mutters against my cheek, lifting my arms high above my head as he presses his raging hard on against my stomach. “And you have got to stop staring at me during class.”

“But I always look at you,” I whisper, breathless.

His eyes are laced with amusement. “That was before I knew what it was like to actually kiss you.” He seals his words against my mouth, softly mirroring our kiss from this afternoon. I go wrap my arms around him, but he stops me, tightly holding them in place above my head and against the cold door. I deepen our kiss with my mouth, shoving my body against his. He pulls back, already gaping for air.

“I know,” I roll my eyes, already breathing heavily too. “This is the last time.”

I involuntarily shove my hips towards his; he smirks as he pushes his right leg between mine. I open my legs automatically, welcoming him, and the contact of his thigh feels so good against my ache. I close my eyes, embracing the sensation, as he then moves his hands from my wrists, lacing his fingers with mine, a perfect fitting puzzle.

“Better make this last one memorable then,” I whisper.

“Was the last one not?” He chuckles, grazing my cheek.

“It was
too
memorable,” I confess. “That’s the problem.”

“Luci,” he all but licks my lips as he says my name.

I push my mouth back onto his and he returns my kiss with so much passion that I lose my balance. I drop down onto his leg, drunk on him. He rocks me against the door as his lips move to the corners of my mouth; placing light kisses all the way to down to my chin and up to my ear.

“I bet you’re soaked,” he nibbles on my ear lobe and I moan against him.

Soaked? I’m absolutely drenched.

He starts to lightly sway his leg between mine; shoving his stiffness against me while his thigh rubs my mound in an excruciating good way. I can feel my clit practically beating against him.

He returns his mouth to mine and we’re lost, drowning, overwhelmed in each other. He finally lets go of my hands and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close. He moves his around my waist and does the same.

We both groan as he picks me up, so I’m straddling his waist. His hands move to my ass, squeezing and knocking me into him.

“Let me take them off,” I pant. My jeans are in the way and I want to feel him right up against me like I did yesterday. He moans and thrusts one more time before setting me down. He’s still kissing me as I undo the button, followed by the zipper.

“Underwear too,” he breathes, and I pause, staring up at him. “Let me watch you touch yourself?” He asks, and I know he’s wary of my shocked expression. “It’s only fair, based on the amount of times you’ve seen me.” He smirks, and I’m done, about to explode from his look alone.

I continue to slide my jeans off, underwear too, as I take a seat in his chair, placing my legs on either side of the arm rests, spreading them wide.

“Shit,” he takes me in; the hungry look in his eye unforgettable.

I’m suddenly completely comfortable, knowing that he’s craving me as much as I am him. The bulge in his pants is almost eye level now, and it’s taking me all that I have not to reach out and touch it. I hesitate, self-conscious over what I’m about to do.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He leans in, pressing his lips against mine.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Then you freaked out.”

“You’re able to spread so wide,” he notices in a daze. “So flexible.”

I laugh, what an odd thing to say.

“I danced for years,” I respond. “Ballet.”

“I can see that,” he smiles. “So refined and elegant.” He backs away, shaking his head before grabbing my right hand. He licks each of my fingers, sucking softly on the pads. “Touch yourself,” he whispers, and I’m so turned on in this very moment that there’s nothing more I’d rather do.

I slowly reach down between my legs. I don’t even have to spread the lips; I’m already so swollen. I start rubbing the little nub in gentle circles, watching as his mouth falls open. He falters back, a brand new fire blazing in his eyes. I’m rendered defeated and I close my eyes from the pleasure as my fingers pick up speed.

“That’s it, rub yourself… faster,” he encourages, and when I open my eyes I see him palming himself over his pants. I massage myself faster, just like he asks, already feeling the familiar build up.

He’s so fucking hot.

I bite my lip and throw my head back as I thrust my hips gently into my own palm, having to slow myself down. I quicken my pace again almost immediately, my need too strong, hearing as he moves his hand into his pants. I can’t take my eyes off his, but I see the movement out of the corner of my eye, and I glance down quickly, watching as he strokes himself with a viscous rhythm. My fingers start to move faster, matching his, and I let out a long moan.

“Don’t stop,” he pants. “Oh God! Faster Luci!”

I let out another whimper as he pushes the front of his pants down, exposing himself. He’s vigorously thrusting into his hand, the tip of him practically purple as he watches me intently.

“The top,” I heave, squirming against myself, watching as he focuses on his head, just like I asked, rubbing it between his thumb and pointer finger, almost like a pinch except in a fast motion. He throws his head back in pure ecstasy and I’m on the verge of becoming lost, becoming found.

“Oh that feels good,” he groans before smiling at me. “You know just what I like.” He words are my undoing and once he returns to stroking his entire length I’m done.

“Ah!” I shout, and my legs start to shake. He walks towards me, bending down, his mouth meeting mine. My fingers are working overtime, imagining it’s his tongue caressing me as I feel the rapid movement of his arm jerking himself roughly. He grunts my name into my mouth and pleasure continues to pool in my stomach, my back arching, shoving my chest against the top of his.

“Yes, come for me, Luci,” he grunts again, and to my utter shock and pleasure, he shoves his finger inside of me. I clamp around it, pulsing, milking it as I come undone. “Shit, you’re making me come,” he pants, shifting his stance. I hear the plop of his fluid as it splatters and on to the floor. “God are you snug,” he groans softly, his finger still moving in and out of me slowly as his other hand pumps himself. I’m still going, circling my clit quickly and crying out, never having had an orgasm last this long.

“That’s it, keep coming around my finger,” he soothes my whimpering with a kiss, and when he pulls back I finally look over, watching his last few drops squirt out onto the floor.

He doesn’t take his finger out of me right away, but when he does, it leaves me feeling empty, not to mention a little silly - sitting here naked from the waist down with my legs wide open.

He steps back and I take my legs off the sides of the chair and close them, watching as he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks.

“You taste so good,” he moans before pulling up the front of his pants and bending down to retrieve mine.

His eyes are glued to me as I get dressed, and I don’t say anything as I reach down and pick up my bag, ready to leave.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing my arm. He pulls me close and brushes his lips against mine. I automatically sink into him and next thing I know, we’re making out again.

NO LONGER INNOCENT

I don’t arrive super early the next morning, but early enough to pass by his classroom before first period. I’ve been replaying my words, and the things that I’ve said over the past couple of days in my head all night. I hate how desperate I sound when it comes to him, and I feel foolish over how he’s taken such a hold on me.

“Hey, Trouble!” He smiles, already sitting at his desk, his classroom still empty.

“Morning,” I smile back, taking a bite of my bagel, trying to act like I don’t want to jump him right now. “Want some?”

“I’m good, thanks,” he laughs.

I sink against the doorframe, wanting to come in, but also not wanting to keep throwing myself at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, which adds another item to the list of things I loathe about myself: How much I’ve let him get to know me.

“Nothing,” I clear my throat. “I better get to my locker.”

“Okay,” he nods, perplexed. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, see you at lunch,” I wave.

I don’t make it more than halfway down the hall before hesitating. This isn’t how we are. We don’t dilly-dally and things don’t get weird.

I walk back into his classroom and slam the door. He looks up, confused.

“You know what, I’m not okay.” I throw my bag down and toss the bagel in the trash as I step onto the platform confidently. I grab his face and press my mouth against his, hard.

He kisses me back, shoving his fingers into my hair. His tongue meets mine and we’re melting into this terrible conundrum, because this feeling, our touch, is absolutely mind-blowing and addicting. 

“Luci,” he pulls back before colliding with my mouth again, our alluring battle continuing.

“Luci,” he repeats, causing me to add yet another item to my hate list: Despising how I know; just by the way he says my name, that this is not going to be good.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he pulls back and can’t even meet my eye as he says it.

Anguish rips through me. “I thought you said you were tired of fighting it?”

“I
have
to,” he sighs.

“Fine!” I all but stamp my feet as I storm out.

I know, not my most mature or shining moment. Please don’t judge.

The day moves at an agonizing rate. I write a terrible essay in English, and give a horrible oral report on the Civil War in social studies. I was so prepared for it too!

I’m embarrassed, upset, and perturbed, but what else is new?

It’s hard to accept that he’s back to fighting us, as I’ve basically come apart in front of him twice now. Yet, I’m still not ready to give up.

Maybe I’m just that determined of a person, or maybe it’s because I refuse to let go.

I’m at my locker between periods, and I know he see’s me as he heads into the main office. I’m still there when the bell rings, watching his vivid blue eyes as he approaches, unsure how badly I messed up earlier and if we’re still on for lunch. He offers me a tight smile as he walks right by, not stopping.

Fuck.

“Aren’t you coming?” He looks over his shoulder as he continues his path to his classroom.

Relief washes over me as I fall in line directly behind him.

“No Madison?” I ask, I thought for sure once she knew he also had a free period she would be here all the time.

“I put a stop that quickly,” he laughs, and I can’t help the thought,
just like you put a stop to us quickly
.

“So, what’ve you been reading lately?” He pulls up a chair and takes out his lunch.

I answer, and we’re back to talking, like nothing’s
ever
happened between us.

Throughout lab he doesn’t make any eye contact with me. It stresses me out, like maybe I did something wrong after all.

Then, my mind really takes off when, during chemistry, he changes our seats. I’m taken by complete surprise when he places me in the
very last row, in the very last seat
, a far cry from where I was before, front and center.

I stay after school, not for math, but with
him
, because I’m pathetic like that, a small sliver of hope still remains that he’ll invite me into his office once everyone leaves.

When 3:10 rolls around, I’m still seated in my new seat in the very back. Madison lingers the longest, and I think she’s never going to leave. I try not to compare my desperation with hers. It’s like she’s seeing if she can outlast me, which she obviously can’t.

“Have a good night,” he says to her, obviously her cue to go.

He still hasn’t even looked at me, and when she finally walks out, he starts erasing the board. I try not to stare at him, obsessed and consumed.

“Would it be better if I switched classes?” My voice is low, unsure. It’s not what I want, but I’ve thought about it before. Maybe now would be the right time.

“God no!” He throws the eraser on his desk and walks over, sitting backwards in the chair in front of me.

“I just thought maybe it would be easier if I did,” I shrug, my face sad.

“No,” his voice is firm. “I still have to see you.”

“Then why not the rest?”

He sighs, his face struggling, like he’s asked himself this very question a million times. “What do you think could possibly happen, Luci?” His mask is back up, he’s back to being angry and annoyed. “That we’ll
go out
, around town?” His tone hits me hard. “We could never be seen,
anywhere
. We could never go outside of these walls. And even here, it’s all in secrecy. It could never be real.
We
can never be real. You understand that, right?”

I nod. It’s cruel and honest, but I get it. But it doesn’t change how I feel.

“Something is better than nothing,” I confess. “I don’t need some sort of relationship.

” I hate how I’m practically begging.

“I know you,” he shakes his head. “And you’re wrong. I see the way you look at me.”

“And what about you?” I shout, irate over his attitude,
the way I look at him
? What about
the way he looks at me
?

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “I know the reality of it.”

“Okay,” I roll my eyes. “You’re clearly so much better than I am then.”

“Lu-”

“No, I get it,” I grab my bag. “See you.”

A week and a half passes and I’m miserable. It kills me, because I know he is too.

We’ve still been eating lunch together every other day, and it’s torture, not to mention a little weird.

I never wanted things to be weird.

I shove my books in my locker, picking up the ones that fall back out. It’s like my own locker is yelling at me over how stupid I am, screaming at me to get over him. 

“Hola, Luci,” Mr. Pearl’s voice frightens me. It wasn’t the one I was expecting to hear. We exchange quick pleasantries in Spanish as he walks by: hello, how are you, I am good and you, I’m fine, thanks for asking.

I bend down to pick up the last book, ramming it back into the small space.

“Didn’t peg you as a Spanish taker,”
he
laughs, no doubt at the scene before him.

I suppose me arguing with my locker is quite amusing.

I knew he would show up, his smooth, arrogant voice making me tremble. I slam my locker in a huff.

“Why not?”

He shrugs in response, and I don’t know why I feel the need to defend myself.

“It’s practical. A lot of people speak Spanish in this Country.”

“Okay,” he laughs, no doubt over how I take offense over the smallest things.

“What did you take?” I ask as we fall in line, walking down the empty hallway to his classroom.

“Je me ennuie de ton baiser. Vous êtes tout ce qui est dans mon esprit,” he smiles.

His mouth enthralls me, and I pause in the doorway, stunned. The way he moves over each word with such ease, his French perfect.

Wetness saturates me and I fidget as I enter the classroom.

“What does it mean?” I sit down, trying to adjust how uncomfortable I am.

He laughs as he turns to grab a chair.

I take the moment to jot down the sound of his words, determined to look them up later.

“I travelled a lot as a kid and fell in love with the language.”

“How artsy,” I joke and he snickers.

“Oh!” He bounces in his chair and I laugh. “I finally saw
The Fellowship Of The Ring
this weekend!”

“Ah!” I exclaim.

I’ve been waiting for him to see it, but my face suddenly plummets as I think about the last time he was at the movies, on a date.

“What?” He asks upon my unexpected mood change. “I thought you were dying to talk about it?”

“I am,” I shake my head, watching as the light switch goes off, ashamed that he knows what I’m thinking. Surely by now he’s remembering our conversation from a couple of weeks ago, how he pointed out we could never go out in public. He’s right, of course. We can do something as simple as see a movie together.

“I went with my sister,” he offers.

“It doesn’t matter,” I sigh. He bows his head and I will my thoughts away.

“Okay, so let’s hear what you thought.”

Ashley invites Chloe and I over after school, but I bail, too anxious to get home and look up the French he spoke to me today.

The second I bound through the front door I run straight to my room, pressing the power button on my old computer and waiting for it to buzz to life. Gracie pops her head in, wanting to hang out, but I tell her I’m busy. I connect to the Internet and pull up a search engine, clicking on the first translation website the results provide. I type the words I wrote in my notebook, and wait.

My body falls back against my desk chair as I gape at what’s on the screen before me.

I miss your kiss. You’re all that’s on my mind.

His words are what inspire me to go to his office the next day during lunch. I have to know if his routine is still in tact. If his lust for me is still so powerful that he feels the need to relieve himself in the middle of the day.

His office door opens easily and I’m brought face to face with him, sitting, his piercing eyes staring directly at me. He looks down and I follow his stare. His pants are wide open, and he’s squeezing his hard length while lightly rubbing the tip with his thumb. My eyes water, a mix of elation and anguish, as I slide inside and shut the door behind me, clicking the bolt in place.

“Why don’t you ever lock your door?” I practically whimper as my hands twist behind my back.

“Maybe I’ve been waiting for you,” he confesses, a hint of a smile around his lips.

“And if I didn’t come?”

He laughs, a naughty sound that causes adrenaline to pump through my veins.

“I can’t take the back and forth,” I admit, moving towards him. “You either want me or you don’t.”

“How can you ever doubt me not wanting you?” He leans forward and grabs my hand, tracing soft circles over my palm.

“I feel like I keep forcing you,” I confess, looking away.

“Does this feel like you’re forcing me?” He moves my hand to his erect penis, while his other grabs onto me, pulling me forward so I forcefully land on his lips.

He opens his legs and I fall between them. I move my arms around his shoulders, leaning down, meeting his embrace.

“That was a pretty slick move with the French,” I whisper.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirks before repeating his words. “Vous êtes tout ce qui est dans mon espri.”

His lips find mine again as our tongues enter a ferocious combat of pure indulgence. I thrust my left hand into his hair as my right grabs hold of his penis tightly.

“Tug on it like you did last time,” he mumbles. “My hand doesn’t feel nearly as good as yours.”

I moan against his mouth as he jerks and swells at my touch. I wrap my other hand around him too, using both to pump him with a resilient power. He grunts, his breath hot on me, already letting me know he’s close.

I let go of him, backing away before dropping to my knees.

“Oh God, Luci, what are you doing?”

I want to taste him. I
have
to taste him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, and the unmistakable want in his voice makes me smile, because there’s nothing
I
want
to do
more
than this.

“Yes I do,” I answer, my own hooded expression finding his as I lightly place a kiss directly on the head of him.