Undisclosed Desire: An Alpha Billionaire Romance: + bonus novel (29 page)

"I'm gonna c-"

He stops. A mere second before my orgasm explodes, he withdraws his face and fingers at once, getting back up on his feet and looking down on me with dark and narrow eyes.

"No, you're not," he says.

I stare at him, my cheeks flushed with red heat and a sudden sense of shame overcoming me in light of my exposed position.

"Get up," he says, reaching his hand out for me to hold on to.

I sigh and take his helping hand to sit up on the edge of the table, folding my hands in my lap and looking up at him expectantly.

He leans down and grants me a kiss on the lips. A passionate but quick peck, nothing more. His face remains close to mine, looking at me with his characteristic attentiveness. I wait for the next command while staring into the darkness of his eyes.

Instead of telling me what to do, he holds me by the shoulders and helps me to sit up. His hands are back on my tortured nipples a moment later, and he regards them with a painful squeeze before he continues.

"Get down from the table and turn around," he says. "Hands on the table, ass to me."

I obey and reluctantly place my hand at the edge of table, turning my back to him.

"You can look prettier than that," he says. "Arch your back. Show me that pretty ass."

I blush as I follow his command.

"Good girl."

His praise sends another wave of lust through my core and I flinch with arousal when I feel his strong hands on my bare behind. He caresses the pale skin on my ass cheeks, and just as I'm beginning to relax and lean into his gentle touch, he withdraws his hands and uses one of them to land a painful sting on my behind.

I yelp, biting my tongue a moment later. I can't be loud in here.

"Hush!" He warns. "You deserve this."

His hand lands on my ass again, and again, sending hot stings of pain through my entire body. It hurts more with every strike against my flesh, the fiery song of ache drowning out every other thought and sound. Yet, I find myself hollowing my back between every blow, my entrance wet with desire, begging for him to touch me again. To be inside me.

I have never been spanked before, and especially not like this. It hurts a lot more than I thought it would, and it feels a lot better than I ever imagined.

I'm panting and sweating by the time he stops. My body is processing the pain, while my mind tries to cope with the fact that I'm more aroused than I've ever been in my entire life before.

I'm burning, desire throbbing through my entire being. I feel as if I could come instantly, with just the touch of the tip of his finger. 

But he has other plans.

"Get dressed," he whispers from behind. "We're done for today."

A shock wave of horror unfolds through my body.

What? He's sending me home like this? After all he did?

"I thought we were just getting started...," I whisper helplessly as I stand up and turn around to him, ready to get down on my knees and beg him to finish me off. I'd do just about anything for a proper climax right now. He can't leave things like this!

"We are," he concurs. "You've a lot to learn, Lana. The first lesson being that you get punishments for bad behavior."

I'm suddenly aware of my own nakedness and quickly fix my skirt to cover myself as best as I can, lowering my eyes in the process.

"And this is how you punish me?" I want to know. "By leading me on and then humiliating me by not stopping when..."

My voice breaks off. I feel so utterly ashamed. I never knew how crushing it could feel to be denied a climax when it was already within reach.

I flinch when his hand touches my cheek, softly caressing the skin along my jawline before he puts his index finger beneath my chin and lifts my head up to look at him.

"I did not lead you on," he says. "But yes, this is how I'm punishing you for being such a condescending brat during our first encounter. For rolling your eyes at me and for failing to show me the respect I deserve."

Asshole.

Tears are threatening to make their appearance. My vision blurs while I fight them. I'm not going to cry. How pathetic would that be? To cry like a baby, because I wasn't allowed to come.

But it's so much more than that.

Mr. Portland observes me with a smile. There's nothing cunning or mean about it, no spitefulness. Yet, I can't help hating him in this moment.

"You sweet, sweet girl," he whispers. "You'll learn. And you'll be better next time, right?"

Next time? Is he going to do this again? Knock down my walls of protection just to humiliate me in the long run? So I could learn? Learn what?

To obey. To submit.

"Excuse me," I say, evading his touch as I turn to the pile of clothes on the chair to my left. "I have to go."

"Yes, you do," he agrees.

JACKSON

My heart sinks every time the bell rings to end our math class and we're released back into the dreaded hallways. I know this feeling is exclusive to me, as everyone else jumps up with relief and can't wait to get out of the classroom.

For me, math class may not be fun either, but it is the only time of the day during which I feel safe and somewhat happy while I'm at school. It's the time when I can bathe in Aileen's presence and admire her from afar, watching her play with her hair or carefully lay out her pens and paper to take notes for class. She's so organized, so controlled and calm. Everything she says is smart and polite. I've never heard her give a wrong answer or conduct in nasty gossip in or outside of class.

Unlike me, she's not an outcast either. She's not one of the cool girls, the really popular ones, but she's not shunned either. I see her casually talking to other students, sometimes laughing with them, but never laughing about the misfortune of someone else. Her laughter is deeper and more restrained than those of other girls. It seems as if she never lets go, never loses control over herself in any way. I wonder what that would look like. What Aileen would look like if she completely lost it, if she broke down in an overwhelming laughing fit, her eyes tearing up, her cheeks turning red and her hair flying wild, losing its silky straight structure.

I wish I could make her look like that. I wish I could see her in a state that no one else has ever seen her in. The thought of her losing control because of something I'm doing to her feels like the most intimate thing I can imagine.

I'm in no hurry to pack my things after class and glance at her while she collects her things with her usual stoic motions.

When she throws her bag over her shoulder and walks out of class, I'm right behind, getting so close for a moment that I catch a waft of her scent, her hair.

I distance myself as soon as we walk out into the hall and watch her from afar as she strides over to her locker that is way too far away from mine. Talking to her would be so much easier if our lockers were right next to each other, but fate has never treated me well.

None of my mean classmates are around, so I enjoy the luxury of walking down the hall without nasty words being thrown at me.

But I'm walking in the wrong direction. Instead of heading to my own locker at the other side of the hall, I find myself walking toward her.

She probably doesn't even know that I exist, and I want to change that. I can't think what came over me, but my body decides it's time to approach her before my brain can agree on a strategy.

Before I know it, I'm standing next to her, trying to casually lean against the neighboring lockers as I smile at her. With how inexperienced and nervous I am, I know that there's nothing casual about my movements or my facial expression, but I hope that she doesn't sense these things right away - or at least doesn't point them out or pick on me.

Aileen shoves her math books inside the locker and casts me curious look from the side.

"Hi?"

I know it's my time to speak, but I'm lost for words. I've never been so close to her and I've never seen her eyes directly focus on me. Their color is the deepest blue I've ever seen, so dark, that I almost mistook them for dark brown or black.

She raises one of her eyebrows and tilts her head to the side, looking at me with her eyes wide with expectation.

I have to say something.

"Hi, I'm... I'm Jackson."

I secretly cringe inside. Where am I going with this? I should thought about a topic. Anything. Anything we could talk about. Or a purpose for me coming to her.

"Yes, I know," she says, her voice soft and friendly. "You're in my math class."

She knows my name! She knows who I am!

"Yes, right," I say, helplessly lowering my eyes. I stare at the tips of her shoes. She's wearing ballerina flats, but still surpasses my height by about an inch or so. I have to look up when I talk to her, which I find appropriate.

"Can I help you somehow?" She asks. There's nothing mean or impatient in her voice. In fact, I can't remember the last time anyone has ever spoken to me in such a nice tone.

While I'm still struggling to find my words, I notice Kendrick and his awful little gang walking down the hall from the corner of my eye. I pray to God that they don't notice me, but of course, that attempt is futile.

"Hey, Jackson Fatson!" Kendrick bellows in my direction. "Got a new girlfriend?"

Humiliation clenches around my heart like a stone cold fist, but what is even worse is the look on Aileen's face.

She blushes and turns around to the boys, her mouth partly opened.

She looks horrified.

"Dumb and fat. You got yourself quite a winner there!" Kendrick yells directly at her.

He doesn't even know her. Aileen has never caught his attention - until I pushed her in the limelight of my daily humiliation.

Her eyes go back and forth between me and Kendrick, her face expressing nothing but horror and fear.

"Yeah, I'd be ashamed, too!" Kendrick adds, and his entourage roars with laughter.

That's it.

I let my bag drop to the floor and lunge at him, fiery rage burning through my insides as I strike out for him. He takes a step back and easily evades my attack, causing me to tumble to the floor.

I almost land flat on my face and barely manage to cushion my fall with my hands. The impact still hurts like a motherfucker, and I let out a pathetically girlish shriek on impact.

The laughter that erupts around me hurts even more than the fall.

"Jackson Fatson!" The chorus chimes, fingers pointing at me, kids dying with laughter.

I stare on the ground in front of me, incapable of moving. For years, I have endured their ridicule, hurtful words and chants, seclusion and loneliness. But this tops everything. I've never found myself on the floor.

In front of her eyes.

I slowly turn around, holding back tears as I search for her beautiful face.

Aileen is standing exactly where she was standing when I lost sight of her. She is holding a bunch of books in her arms, pressed against her chest as if she was trying to protect herself from the gruesome sight in front of her.

Kendrick turns to her.

"Don't you wanna help your loser boyfriend?" He asks, pointing down at me.

Aileen huffs and shakes her head.

"He's not my boyfriend!" She protests.

She lays her eyes on me. I reciprocate her gaze, silently pleading for forgiveness.

And then I see it. Aileen's face has lost all its beauty, her eyes narrowed to slits, her eyebrows furled and her mouth distorted with disgust. Her expression reflects the same condemnation I've seen on so many faces before.

"I don't even know him!" She spits out, her words firing at me like hot daggers. I've never been so hurt in my life before. "He just wanted to copy my homework, because he can't do it himself."

Her hurtful lie is more than I can bear. Tears of anger and deprivation are threatening to roll down my face.

I can't let that happen. I can't cry in front of them. The humiliation would be too devastating.

I hurry to get up from the ground and run away, the students who have gathered to witness my degradation are parting to the side, letting me pass without another comment as I flee to the next boy's restroom.

There, fate is on my side for the first time that day, as I find the restroom completely deserted. I haste over to the sink and turn on the water, leaning over to wash my face. I'm weeping uncontrollably, trying to hide the massive shedding of tears with warm water, in case anyone should walk in and see me.

I've lost her.

I've lost Aileen - or rather the idea I had of her. I never really knew who she was until she saw herself and her reputation threatened and acted just as mean as all the kids who've made my life hell until now. She was afraid to be linked to me in any way, to be degraded from her position of irrelevancy to that of an outcast who gets actively dissed by the cool kids.

No one wants to be at my level, but the way Aileen distanced herself from me, that ugly face of disgust on her. There are no words to describe how disappointed and disillusioned I felt.

The most fucked up thing is: I still want to be close to her. I still want to glimpse behind that stiff and controlled exterior of her and see what lies behind. I want to see her lose control, let go of her tense demeanor and lose herself because of something I'm doing to her.

But I don't want this loss of control to be a laughing fit.

I want to expose her, humiliate her, drive her mad, make her dependent on me for pleasure.

This is the first day I imagine a woman crawling on all fours in front of me. A woman like Aileen Watson.

This is also the day I understand that I cannot stay the person I am if I ever want something like that to happen. Women like Aileen don't get broken by a fat kid who lets himself be dragged down by bad grades and a hostile environment.

I have to change.

And I will, because I have a goal now.