Finding Their Balance (38 page)

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Authors: M.Q. Barber

BOOK: Finding Their Balance
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“Everything appears in order, I trust?” Henry held Jay in the hall.

Her pet shuffled his feet. Shaping the scene with Henry for his approval, she’d been equally bouncy and impatient. Thinking on her feet. Wanting to start right away.

“You and Jay both,” he’d murmured as he kissed her nose. “So eager to be teacher’s pets.”

“All good,” she called. Deep breath. Spin. Smile. “Thank you so much for coming.” She tugged Jay inside, his hand warm and comforting as he absorbed her jitters. “I’m kinda nervous about passing my practical. Having you as my practice student will crush those worries.”

Henry entered last, shutting the door behind him.

“I’ll need you to follow my directions through a few assignments while my adviser”—she gestured to Henry—“evaluates my performance.” Enough detail to lay out a scenario for Jay, but vagueness, too, to leave room for the excitement of the unknown. “You’ll help me look good in front of my teacher, won’t you, Jay?”

“Yes, Mistress.” He took the front-row seat she directed, folding his long limbs beneath the attached desk. Either aiming to impress her with his posture or bowing to Henry-ingrained habits, he sat straight and clasped his hands in front of him. “I have lots of experience with homework.” He flashed his sweetest smirk. “If your in-class assignments are anything like those, you should get an ‘A’ out of me.”

“Mm-hmm. We’ll discover what I can get out of you.” Tipping her head, she peeked under the desk and passed him by. Space would calm her racing heart. She paced a count of ten behind him, clicking her heels on the hardwood.

Henry leaned along the side wall, far enough to fade from Jay’s awareness. This was her show. He’d unbuttoned his coat and pocketed his hands, a casual bystander, enjoying a performance he hadn’t scripted. Unless she invited him in, he’d hang back and watch her work.

“Attendance first.” She clicked to a stop at the back of the aisle to Jay’s left. “Stand when I call your name, please.”

A coiled spring of readiness, he vibrated in his seat as she rattled off three fakes.

“Jay.”

He shot up. “Present, Mistress.”

“You are, aren’t you?” Crooning, she sauntered up and crossed rows. “Not like those tardy students who can’t be bothered. You actually”—standing before him, she dragged a finger from his navel to his neck—“show up.”

He breathed into her touch, pressing forward without demand.

“My star pupil.” She tapped the desk. “Sit, please. Geography lesson first.” An easy subject for Jay. A gamble for her, the chance for a pop quiz in case he stumbled and she needed to correct without punishing. “Who can name a state that borders Massachusetts?”

Jay thrust his hand in the air. He didn’t wave for attention, but his arm trembled nonetheless. His taut body shouted a silent
pick me
.

“We’ll hear from the front row on this question. Jay?”

“New Hampshire, Mistress.” The pride filling out his tenor might have been for his home state or his pleasure in giving a correct answer. Maybe just for being her first choice.

“Excellent.” Unable to stay away from him, from the strength in his shoulders and the misaligned strands of dark hair brushing his neck, she crept closer. “Stand when you give your next answer, please.” She finger-combed his wayward hair and drifted down his sloping back until she hit curving wood. The seat confounded her need for him, blocked her ability to run her hands and her eyes to the last margin of her territory. Smart in theory, lousy in practice. “Beside your desk will be fine.”

Murmuring assent, he chased her touch. The desk squeaked in a rubber-footed backslide with his shifting weight.

She drummed the honey maple under her fingernails. “Can you also name a state many people think borders Massachusetts but doesn’t?”

With a jackrabbit leap, Jay launched to his feet. The desk rocked. “Maine, Mistress.”

“Much better.” The view, too. Ever-playful Jay flexed his gorgeous tight ass for her. “And still with the correct answer.”

His squirming excitement deserved to be shared. Despite her in-charge declaration and the thrill of playing the lead role, Henry’s silence registered as an absence. “He’s a quick learner, isn’t he, sir?”

Coat discarded, he watched them in his shirtsleeves, his pants rippling across a familiar thick outline. “I’ve always found him so. Particularly when he’s in competent hands.”

Jay, sighing, echoed her bliss.

“Such powerful legs he has.” She crouched, near enough the heat of his arousal warmed her face, and squeezed her thighs against the urge to open for him. “Fluid movements.” Tickling the backs of his knees, she set him prancing in a minuscule dance. “Are you a runner, Jay?”

“No, Mistress, but I’ll run if you want me to.” He had the energy. Running a 5K wouldn’t soften the steel in his cock when he’d set his mind on a reward.

“Running’s so hard on the knees.” She palmed the insides of his, working upward along trembling muscles and taut tendons. Sturdy, studly Jay could go the distance. “A swimmer, then?”

“No, Mistress.” He spread his feet by millimeters, a graceful slide pushing his stance wider and presenting his cock as if she hadn’t noticed the beautifully plump head inches from her lips. “I ride my bike a lot.”

The backs of his thighs earned a final stroke as she stood.

He whimpered, high-pitched and needy, but held his position.

“Speed and endurance.” With tender affection for her well-behaved puppy, she scratched his stomach. He’d proved he had the stamina to wait and the faith to let her decide when and how he would be touched. When and how he’d receive his release. “What a perfect package you are.”

His cock bounced. Did he think he could will himself into her palm? His urgent desire put him right on target for her plans.

“Let’s see if you’re as excellent at spelling as you are at geography.” Stepping aside, she waved him forward. “At the board, please.”

He took his at-ease pose, legs spread and hands tucked behind his back, wrists clasped above his ass.

Chalk pinched between her thumb and middle finger, she pressed the short stick into his right hand. “Writing implements up.”

In unquestioning obedience, he gripped the chalk and raised his arm to the board. “Ready, Mistress.”

“Good boy.” Her arm fit snug around his hip as she closed her hand around his shaft.

Gasping, he jerked his hips and won a free stroke.

“I need a solid, reliable pen for grading.” Soft and squirmy, all of him, except the rigid cock she teased with an almost-there massage. The short-trimmed, fuzzy hair surrounding him tickled her palm. “One that won’t spill any ink until I’m ready to judge your work. This is just the one I want.”

As if steeling himself for a marathon ride, he blew out a breath. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“First word.” Channeling his energy into mental work would distract him from coming too soon, but if he got out in front of her, she’d shorten the quiz. “Breathe.” She matched action to speech, emptying her lungs beside his ear. “Breathe.”

Chalk scraped and clacked as he shuddered. His swaying hips dragged her dress back and forth, so close they stood. The chalk fell silent. “Finished, Mistress.”

“Good. That’s good, Jay. Second word.” She swept her nose along the top of his shoulder. “Nuzzle.”

The crisp, woody scent of his post-work shower layered with his earthy musk. The sharp freshness lured her in with the demand to dirty him up, to make the lush depths of their combined arousal smother all else.

“Finished—” Her reward stroke caught him mid-word, and he stuttered into a tenor whimper. “Mistress.”

“Wonderful. You’re such a thoughtful student, Jay. Third word.” She sealed her lips to his skin at his high-water mark, the divide between what his shirt covered and where the sun beat down on his neck daily. “Kiss.” A second. “Kiss.” A third. “Kiss.”

As his cock twitched, she gave a quick, encouraging squeeze.

Chalk screeched. His second “s” gained a lengthy tail. He swiped his fist across the chalky trail and left a blur behind. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Penmanship under pressure.” With slow strokes, she soothed his anxiety. “Would you like extra tutoring, Jay? More time with me to practice these skills?”

He moaned, quiet but unmistakable. “If I’m worth your time, Mistress.”

If. Christ. She laid her cheek on his shoulder. Love by osmosis, hers soaking into him while she refilled from Henry, his understanding gaze landing on her and oh-so-worthy Jay.

“You’re worth my everything.” Her kisses morphed into gentle nips. “Fourth word, now. Are you ready?”

“I am, Mistress.” Strong, slender, and eager to please her, he vibrated in the circle of her arms.

“Nibble.” Warm, muscled shoulders fell beneath her tugging teeth. “Are you a nibbler, Jay? A long-legged jackrabbit like you, you must enjoy nibbling whatever slides between your lips.”

His heart thrummed under her left hand, and the echo pulsed through his cock in her right. Pressed behind him, his nudity coursing prickling awareness everywhere they touched, she drew his excitement into herself. Stepped out of herself, as if her ownership granted her access to every wheel and lever controlling the flow of his arousal. As if they shared the same skin, the same mind.

“I do when it’s yours, Mistress.” He executed the slow, unfinished circle of the “e.” “Or my master’s.”

“You do good work.” Countless nights, now, she fell asleep in the aftermath of powerful orgasms he delivered with rolling waves of his tongue. “All that talent.” Mornings, too, when she woke not to the alarm clock but to Henry’s rumbling growl as he climaxed in Jay’s waiting mouth. Her clit pounded, hot and needy. Time to skip a word or two. Jay didn’t need drawn-out foreplay any more than she did. “Do you know what I like to work with, Jay?”

Henry perched against the teacher’s desk, his lips pursed and his green-eyed gaze intent. Her game had reeled him in. Pride nestled alongside her arousal, a pair of spooning partners waking and stretching.

“No, Mistress.” Clutching his chalk, Jay stood poised to write, to kneel, to come—whatever pleased her whims. Her pauses became his. Her desires, his.

“My hands,” she whispered. Power at her fingertips. “Fifth word.
Caress
.”

She swarmed him. The sparse, swirling hair on his chest slipped between her knuckles. Abdominal muscles like finely embossed metal rolled and swelled and dipped with his breath. Narrow hips gave way to thick arrows pointing toward his pleasure. Skirting his cock, she gripped his thighs.

He flexed, unconscious alternation, as if he pedaled in place. A drop of pre-come splashed hot against her wrist. Three letters in, and his hand no longer moved.

“One ‘r.’” Tracing the shape alongside his cock unleashed a whimpering chorus. “Two ‘s’es.”

“Thank—” He shuddered, and his handwriting suffered, but he finished the word. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“It’s my pleasure to help you succeed.” Fluttering her fingers around his cock, she raised invisible sparks on contact. “My privilege to show you what I want from you.” Privileges Jay had granted her and Henry had allowed—no, encouraged. She grew into the spaces between them, tracing her own desires deeper in each expansion.

“Almost done.” She firmed her hold. In Jay’s sexual blueprint, forcefulness equaled security and desire. “Sixth word.” She’d take care of him the way he needed. The way she wanted. “Stroke.”

As she demonstrated, he scrawled the letters in a shaky hand. The chalk flashed up and down, and she matched the pace on his cock.

“I’m real close, Mistress.” An unnecessary but adorable admission. The rich earthiness of his arousal surrounded them with thick, humming tension.

“I know. I know you are.” Hunting for his ejaculatory edge, she upped her rhythm in a calculated push. “You’re my dedicated student. I’m so pleased with you.”

Cock trembling, he poured out an urgent whine. His balls tightened.

“This last word is a command, not a vocabulary exercise.” Air flowed across her lips in a trickle, time slowing as Jay waited on her word. “
Come
.”

The chalk snapped between his fingers. Gasping her name, he bucked his hips. White jets streaked the blackboard.

She pumped with purpose, draining all he offered. Enough to spatter his grade, a sloppy but recognizable A+, below his list.

“I got an A?” Breath sputtering, Jay pressed his forehead to the board and slumped on wobbly legs. Relieved he’d held out so long, or cooling. She’d served his spelling lesson with a side of phys ed.

“Top of the class. Time to take a seat.” Nothing soft showed itself. Her dress, but that was thin and she meant to keep it on. Hard desk, hard seats, hard floor. Shit. She should’ve planned better, because she wanted him on the floor but not uncomfortable. “A nice, soft seat for our star pupil.”

Henry nudged the duffel beside the desk. “I’ve a reward here that ought to suffice.”

Gratitude swamped her. Henry, bringer of the best gifts. Maker of the best plans. A challenge and an example, one she’d push herself to match every time Jay dropped to his knees at her feet, until she deserved his trust and devotion as much as Henry did.

She steered Jay toward the bag. “Go ahead, sweetheart.” Pressing on his shoulder set him sinking with his customary grace despite his still-heaving lungs. “Take your prize.”

As he opened the bag, he sagged against her, his weight a tingling reminder of her own deferred climax. Once she’d gotten him settled, his first touch would be explosive.

Jay raised his hands with a delighted laugh. Familiar, navy blue cotton silk trailed through his fingers. Mumbling thank-yous, he plunged his face in and inhaled.

Henry’d brought along their sheets, the ones she’d awakened wrapped in this morning. Nothing special, except Jay hugged them to his face and chest like he’d won the lottery.

“Good reward?” She tousled his hair.

“Us.” Tipping his head back, he lifted the sheets, silky blue sliding over his arms.

Sure, okay, but he could have that any— “Home.”

He rewarded her understanding with his sunniest smile.

Their games were part of their relationship, but
they
were a them, an us, together, lovers, family, always. They’d go home to the same bed tonight after they’d wrung each other out. The secure constants Jay craved and maybe—no, almost certainly—the reason Henry had devised a lengthy, low-pressure approach to adding her to their relationship.

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