His Prize Pupil

In all my impatience, I’ve failed to stop and notice how perfect she is in her shyness.

How sweet her blush is, coupled with those white teeth that gnaw on her bottom lip.

The silk of her robe shifts, catching the lamplight with every shallow breath she takes.

My rudeness has kept her from coming more than a few inches into the room. I don’t want her fear, do I? I want her trust. I want her to give herself over to me without any question that I know what’s best while we’re in this room. If that’s going to happen, I need to put a leash on the animal inside me for a while longer until she’s ready to do that.

“I apologize for being abrupt. You didn’t expect me to be young and I didn’t expect you to be so beautiful,” I say honestly, though the strain of arousal still thickens my voice. “Would you care to peel yourself off the door?”

After a second, she nods and advances toward me, the ties of her robe twined around her fingers. A drum beat begins inside of me and with every step she takes in my direction, it grows louder, deeper. I’ve never had this sense before of being on the verge of something life changing, but I have it now. My abdomen is tied in a tightening knot—and when the lamplight reveals her eyes, it yanks taut.

One blue, one brown.

An anomaly.

Eager to study them closely, my hand is reaching out to tip up her chin before I can stop it. She sucks in a breath and backs away, dropping her head forward so blonde hair falls like a curtain on either side of her face. Hiding. “Are my weirdo eyes going to be a deal breaker?”

“What? No.” Christ, I’m making a mess of this. “There is nothing weird about them. Nothing whatsoever. They’re extraordinary.”

She lifts her head again, revealing that some of the shyness has faded from her expression. “They’re kind of my worst enemy.”

“Why?”

She licks her lips and lowers her voice, as if she’s getting ready to share a secret with me, and I hold my breath, not wanting to miss a single syllable. “When I lie, the brown one turns to kind of a mossy green. It earned me a lot of timeouts when I was younger.”

“What about when you got older?”

“I learned to wear sunglasses.”

A laugh tumbles out of me, unexpected and authentic, and her smile grows. Only moments ago, my cock ruled my life. But while I’m still hard as nails and desperate for relief from this girl, there’s also an odd fullness in my chest. I can’t seem to stop staring at her. Or wanting to hear what she’s going to say next. “What is your name?”

A brief hesitation. “I shouldn’t tell you that.”

I step closer and find myself untangling her fingers from the robe belt. “Please.”

“Alana,” she whispers, watching me work. “Yours?”

There’s no harm in her knowing, as long as my last name is kept confidential. Plus, I want to hear her say it. Badly. “Gavin.”

“Gavin.” The way she rakes her bottom lip through her teeth when pronouncing the V has my cock pushing up against my zipper. As does the blush that renews itself on her cheeks. “Estelle told me you want be called something else, though,” she whispers.

There’s no help for me. I groan like a broken man, the very fact that this beautiful girl has knowledge of my hunger, that she is here to service it, is almost enough to push me over the edge. “That’s right,” I rasp. “How do you feel about that?”

Alana takes a moment to think. “Well, when I thought you were going to look and sound like real-life Elmer Fudd, I didn’t feel so great about it.” Again, she elicits a chuckle from me. “But you’re…hot.” That confession visibly embarrasses her, but she keeps going. “You also seem kind of decent.”

“Decent?”

“Yes.” With her fingers unraveled from the silk, I keep her hands in mine, making circles in her palms with my thumbs. I wonder if she realizes that with every lap my thumb takes, her nipples harden more and more, creating tight points against the panels of her robe. “I can’t see you doing the things Estelle said you would.”

That earns an eyebrow raise. “What did Estelle say I would do?”

“I’d rather not repeat it,” she blurts.

I bring her wrist to my mouth and drop an open-mouthed kiss on her pulse. “If you can’t repeat the words, Alana, how are you going to do this with me?”

“You ordered a virgin, didn’t you? Aren’t nerves kind of par for the course?”

My mouth stills. “Virgin?” I’m an idiot for not recognizing the possibility before. Maybe part of me chalked up her shyness to part of the game. But she would have to be an Academy Award-winning actress to pull off this level of inexperience. “I didn’t order a virgin, Alana,” I say truthfully, watching surprise light her eyes. Especially the blue one.