Misbehaved

“Why don’t you find out?”

I pull my fingers out and swirl them around the rim of his beer, then I bring the wetness back, rubbing faster, harder. I’m close, and when he brings the bottle to his lips and takes a long pull—his eyes never leaving mine—I’m done for. A primitive growl leaves his lips after he is done, and his tongue darts out, swiping over his lower lip to lick the remainder of my arousal. His lips are glistening with how I feel

about him. With how much I want him.

“Pierce.” His name comes out as a whine, and then I climax long and hard, my mouth falling open in a silent scream. I start to close my legs out of reflex, but I feel two strong hands grip my knees, keeping me spread open for him. And then I’m coming again, long and hard.

“Fuck,” I whisper, still jerking from the intensity of my orgasm.

“Shit!” he roars, dropping his hands from my knees like they’re on fire. I’m still floating when he stands abruptly and walks away, slamming the door to the little bathroom behind him.

It gives me time to make myself comfortable in my new domain.

The one I will reign, if only for a few days.

The one where I will make him my king.

I always used to frown upon men who let their dicks dictate their behavior.

Maybe it’s because my father dipped his into anything with a pulse when I was younger. He didn’t limit himself to his mistresses or to one-night stands when he was gone on one of his many business trips. He liked underage kids, too. Boys and girls alike. And fuck, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out, at this point, that he fucked sheep too if the opportunity presented itself.

Gwen was the one who had found out about it. Out of all people.

She was a good girl, begging to be acknowledged by my father. Thing was, he never really cared too much for us. Not that it deterred her from trying.

One day, when he got back from Zurich and dumped his suitcase in the middle of the foyer like the fucking useless sack of sperm that he was, she took it upon herself to unpack for him. Put his dirty laundry in the wash and rearrange his shoes on their rack.

She found some dirty laundry, all right. Mixed in his luggage were photos of him with countless women and boys in compromising positions.

Psychology 101—kids either want to grow up to be exactly like their parents, or the complete opposite. I sure know where I stand.

That’s why it rubbed me the wrong fucking way when I found myself prying my student’s thighs open so I could see her slick, pink cunt glistening for me while she was climaxing on my table. In my boat. In the middle of the night.

What’s wrong with me? Shit, everything. Everything is wrong with me.

As soon as I closed the door to the bathroom behind me, I started jerking off like a sixteen-year-old on Ecstasy. I didn’t even have the half-assed dignity to get into the actual shower. No. I propped one leg over the toilet seat, one hand against the wall, and went to town with the image of her fingering herself.

The blood on her thighs.

The look in her eyes.

Her desperation. My desperation.

I needed to get her out of that mess, but I couldn’t risk her knowing my real address. We were already crossing lines and limits at a dangerous speed.

Even now, as I stare at her sleeping figure, I know that it’s wrong. I don’t look at her like a concerned teacher should look at his student. I look at her like a hunter who is about to devour his next prey.

I need to fight it. Every brain cell in my mind screams at me to put a fucking stop to it while I still can, because the doors leading out of this mess are closing one by one at an incredible speed. But then my instincts, my body, my whole being, is screaming at me to take her.

I want to mark her.

I want to fuck her.

I want to do things that I cannot justify. Not as a lawyer. Not as a teacher. Not as a man. And not as a decent human being.

Her eyes flutter open ever so gently. I sit in front of the couch she is sleeping on. I spent the night upstairs on the deck staring at the mountains and didn’t sleep a wink. I can see that she is confused. It takes her a few seconds to remember what happened last night. The party. Ryan losing his shit. Me taking her to the boat. And then…

Don’t even think about it, bastard. Erase it from your goddamn memory, as you should.