Halfway to me, he strips off his jacket, drops it on the floor.
Grabs his T-shirt behind the neck and tosses it aside, leaving him bare-chested in jeans and boots, his hair in disarray. My femininity clenches at his blatant sexuality, his magnetism, the corded stomach muscles that flex with every one of his panting breaths. Granger doesn’t stop until he reaches me, plucking me up by the waist, depositing me on the desk—
And then he surges between my splayed thighs and kisses me.
I’ve always felt like prey in the spotlight of his attention and that sensation is amplified now. I’m being devoured whole. His mouth is wild, wet, moving over mine the way a man eats a meal when he’s been deprived of food. He’s on the verge of starvation and I’m the only thing that can save him. My lips become pliant along with my body, need screaming through my nerve endings, wanting him, burning for every stroke of his tongue inside my mouth, every moan we release together.
As we frantically try and get our fill, his hands don’t remain still for a second. They scrub up my thighs, pushing up my skirt, and when it won’t go any farther, he wraps a forearm around my waist, lifts me and leaves the garment bunched around my waist. This is unprofessional and scandalous, sitting on my desk with my wet panties showing, but my lust doesn’t care. It’s demanding I let this happen. Let him have me, show me what it means to be helpless and desperate.
We’re mid-kiss when Granger breaks away, groaning brokenly. In pain.
“What’s wrong?” I manage around my laboring breaths.
With his forehead pressed to mine, he hesitates a second. Then he reaches down and unzips his jeans, shoving them down. It takes me a moment to believe what I’m seeing. His erect manhood is there, but it’s wrapped in a silver cage, swollen and miserable. Locked in a device that’s preventing it from growing to the huge shaft he masturbated to an orgasm on Monday night.
“Granger,” I gasp, tracing the smooth metal slats with my fingertip, causing him to jerk and curse. “What is this?”
“Cock cage,” he says through his teeth. “My punishment for pushing you too far the other night. I scared you. I made you run from me.”
“It looks painful,” I say, emotion in my voice. He did this for me? As penance?
His nod is jerky. “Every time you make me hard, it reminds me I behaved like a bastard and not to do it again.” His face falls into the crook of my neck, his fingertips clawing at my hips. “Ah, baby. I’m hard all the time. Your skin, the way you smell, the sound of you showering, even your shoes sitting beside mine near the door. It’s torture. It’s torture and I deserve it.”
“No.” I’m suddenly frantic to stop the pain. End his suffering. “Take it off.”
“That was the other vow I made myself. Only you can take it off. I put the key on your ring.” His stuttered breath bathes my ear. “You own this cock. Torture me or free me, Peyton. You decide.”
I have the sense that I’m on the precipice of a major decision.
If I unlock him, there’s no going back. My body knows it. Once we take this relationship to the next level, we’ll never be just friends again. Maybe we never were just friends to begin with and I was just in denial. But my instincts ring loud and clear, telling me that I’m swimming into a deep end that has no bottom.
So be it.
Offering my mouth for another kiss, a comforting one this time, I search the desk for my keys, finding and lifting them. They rattle in my hand. I feel for the unfamiliar key I never noticed, locating it after a few seconds. Small and jagged.
Pulling back, I study the cage around Granger’s hard sex and find the lock, inserting the little golden key and twisting. When the contraption falls away, landing on the floor of my classroom with a clank, he catches his rapidly swelling shaft in his hand and shouts a curse, his eyes turning a darker shade of black, masturbating himself roughly, his attention blazing a path toward the place between my thighs.
Teeth bared, he releases himself, takes hold of my panties at the waistband and rips them clean off my body. Gripping my buttocks, he yanks me to the edge of the desk with a growl. “I wonder if you realize what you just unlocked.” He stamps his mouth down over mine and I feel it, that thick head prodding my entrance, our flesh oh so slippery. “It’s never going back in the cage, honey. I’m not just talking about my cock. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my subconscious answering on my behalf. Some part of me knows I’ve just made an irreversible decision to be his. I’m not sure everything that entails yet, but I know I can’t survive the night without him giving me pleasure. Showing me what it means, feels like. “I understand, Granger.”