Sinful

I do as he says, trembling with need as he rucks my skirt up around my waist.

His mouth is hot on my neck as his cock, still hard for me, presses at my entrance. That’s the bright side of dating an eighteen-year-old—it doesn’t take much to get him ready for me again.

“You’re going to teach class all day with my cum inside you, Miss James,” he promises.

I bite my lip at that.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks in a low voice.

“You,” I say. “It’s always been you, Rome. Now hurry up before someone sees. I have class at ten.”

He chuckles in my ear. “I don’t fucking think so.”

With one thrust, he’s inside. I give an inaudible moan as he nibbles my neck and fills me up to the point I can’t take anymore. He pulls out all the way, and then he forces himself into me as deep as he can, slowly. Every time he bottoms out, he shoves deeper, making me bite myself to stop from making any noise.

“You…need…to hurry,” I say after ten minutes of him driving into me, dragging me down into oblivion.

“And you need to shut the fuck up, or they’ll hear you,” he chides softly, biting my ear lobe.

His fingers tangle in my hair before tugging sharply, pulling my head back. His tongue invades my mouth, effectively shutting me up as he picks up the pace. The motion of it has my breath coming in short gasps. It’s enough to make me chase the ebb and flow of pleasure with my fingers as he pounds me from behind. He comes a second time, gripping me tightly as he ejects his load, the warmth of him spreading between my legs.

As I hear the click of heels as someone walks toward us, he tenses and then pulls out quickly, a knee-jerk reaction.

I don’t give my body any time to mourn the loss of him and my orgasm. I pull up my wet underwear and yank my skirt in place just as a junior walks into the corner of the library we are in.

We start browsing the forgotten history section like we have a reason to be there. I grab a book and snap it open. Romain shoves one of hands in his pockets, having dressed at a breakneck speed, and sidles up to me. As soon as the junior turns away, he leans close to inspect the spine of a book over my shoulder, his other hand discreetly cupping my panties under my skirt. He massages the cum-soaked material against my throbbing center. “Enjoy your next class, Miss James,” he says with all the innocence in the world. Then he walks away.

I’m flushed all over, frustrated too, as I pretend to read with Romain’s parting gift to me running down my leg.

I’m going to hell.

When I finally work up the courage to leave the library, Romain is watching me from one of the study desks, a twisted smile on his face. He bends over and taps something into his phone. My own phone pings, so I know it’s a message from him.

I read it once I get to the bathroom.

Remember.

Keep it in you all day.

I’ll be checking later.

Days turn into weeks,and weeks turn into not enough.

When he’s not around, I’m anxious.

When he is, I’m flustered.

All I can think about is him consuming me in every possible way. And he does. It’s not enough to wait for me after school and tie me to the bed. Romain starts showing up in places where anyone can walk in on us. Some spots are secluded enough that I can let my guard down, others, we play a game where he forces me to do things I never would.

I blow him in the boys’ locker room after his games when all his friends have showered and left. He fucks me in the bell tower during break times when anyone could look up. It becomes a hedonistic whirl of pleasure and power.

It’s only a matter of time before we get caught.

A small part of me doesn’t care anymore.

And the rest is petrified about what will happen when we do.

“Be my date to the Winter Ball,” Romain asks me one night while we’re in bed. I narrow my eyes at him, looking into his.