“Take me home.” It’s not a question. He knows I don’t mean my house. He sighs, settling back in his seat after closing the door. He grabs a fist full of my hair, bringing my head to rest under his chin. He kisses my forehead three times before releasing me and turning the car back around.
I doubt Remington has eaten today, so I stop at an In-N-Out on the way back to my place. I look over to see her dipping a French fry into her chocolate shake, her heavy eyelids desperately trying to stay awake. This fucking girl. All in one day she’s dealt with Mikaela, Christian and Benton, her dad, Ryan, and me. Yet she still sits there, eating a chocolate shake like all is okay in her world.
I, on the other hand, am about three seconds from exploding. I may appear calm, but I’ve done nothing but pummel him in my mind since I got the call.
“Food good?” I ask, gesturing toward her half-eaten burger.
“So good,” she moans, leaning her head on the headrest. She drops her head to the side to look over at me. “You take me to the nicest places.”
“Brat.” I know she’s teasing, but it gets me wondering what it would be like if I wasn’t her teacher, and I could take her on real dates. How we still have the whole school year ahead of us, and we’re already in so deep. It would be selfish of me to let this continue. But I’m a selfish man when it comes to Remington Stringer.
“Have you heard anything about Christian?” I ask in attempt to distract myself from my current train of thought. I pull up to the gate and punch in the code.
“No. I tried to go to the hospital after school, but he didn’t answer his texts to tell me where he was. Then when I called, his parents picked up and told me they didn’t want any visitors.” She clenches a fist on her lap, and I have to hold back a smirk. My girl is a little spitfire.
“He’ll be okay,” I assure her.
“I know.” She nods. “God, I could punch Benton. All of this over a secret.”
Remington hasn’t explained their situation, but from what I overheard after the fight, I can fill in the blanks. When I pull into my driveway, she doesn’t make a move to get out.
“Secrets ruin lives, Pierce.” And I know she’s not talking about Christian anymore. I don’t have a response for that. I won’t lie to her and tell her everything will work out, or that we’ll both come out of this unscathed. Because one of us is bound to get burned. We both know that.
Finally, she unbuckles her seatbelt and hops out of the car. When we walk into my house, it’s dark, tranquil, and deafeningly quiet. The complete opposite of the chaos that is Remington’s life. She looks around, taking in her surroundings like it’s the first time she’s really seeing my house. I guess it kind of is, seeing as how the only other time she was here, I had her flat on her back in two seconds flat.
She heads straight for the stairs, tracing the bannister with one finger as she makes her way to my room. She looks back at me, her chin resting on her shoulder, her hair a tangled mess that spills down her back. The look in her eye is a stark contrast to the hardened one that usually resides there. She’s dropping the shield, letting me see her vulnerable side, and begging me not to make her regret it.
“I need you. I don’t want to think about Ryan or Kaela or my dad or any of them. In here—in your house—I feel like none of that can touch us. I want you to fuck me, Mr. James. Are you coming?” she asks simply, softly.
“Hopefully more than once.”
I storm up the steps after her, and she giggles—fucking giggles—and runs for my room. I tackle her on my bed, her back to my front. Her ass to my cock. I grip both of her wrists above her head in one hand and smooth her hair out of her face with my other one. I grind myself into her backside, and she moans softly. I lick the shell of her ear before fisting her hair.
“I can’t promise you forever, Remi girl. I can’t even promise that one of us won’t get hurt. But I can promise a few things,” I whisper roughly into her ear. She arches back into me. “I promise to take care of you, even when you won’t let me. I promise that while I’m with you, I won’t so much as think of another woman, and I promise to fuck you good, and to love every minute of it.” She wiggles against me again, her breathing turning ragged. I reach down and flip up her skirt. I palm her ass and squeeze before giving it a sharp slap, which earns me a yelp.
“Is that enough for you?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Good. Because I’d like to fuck you now.” I tug at her panties, sliding them down just far enough. I unzip my slacks and pull myself out. I slide the head of my cock through her slit, making sure she’s wet enough—of course, she is; she’s always ready for me—before shoving inside her in one hard thrust.
“Shit!” she yells on a gasp, lurching forward. I pull her back by her hips and hold her in place.
“Don’t run from my dick, baby. Keep your ass up.” She nods frantically, her face smothered in my sheets. I pull out at a leisurely pace before I dive back in. She moans, low and keening. I nudge her legs with mine until her knees are tucked up under her chest. Bracing my hands behind me on the bed, I lean back and watch myself slide in and out. She’s on display for me, her uniform skirt bunched up around her hips. Fuck. The sight alone is enough to make me come. When she pushes herself up on her forearms and starts to fuck me back, I snap. I reach forward and fist her skirt, using it as leverage to fuck her harder.
“So good,” she mumbles into the sheets.
“Everything is with you.” She pulls away from me and my dick pops up, smacking into my stomach. Before I can ask what she’s doing, she turns around, crawling back to me. She dips her head down and takes one long lick of my cock.
“I’ve been dying to taste you,” she says before swirling her tongue around my tip, never breaking eye contact.
Jesus Christ.
When I think nothing can possibly be any better than Remington’s tongue, she takes me into her mouth and closes her lips around me. My hips pump forward on their own accord, and she gags a little. I pull back slightly, running my hands through her hair.
“Suck me,” I growl. And she does, with the perfect amount of pressure.
“Do you taste yourself on me?” She hums her answer and wraps one hand around my base, working my shaft while she sucks on my crown. I guide her movements, going a little deeper each time. When I hit the back of her throat, tears spring to her eyes, and it only makes me harder. She holds my hips and looks up at me, wide green eyes, black mascara running down her cheeks. So damn beautiful.