Then my mind wanders to a certain little brunette and how she felt in my arms, her tits pressed against my chest as I slid my tongue between her lips. Everly may be older than me, and I’m not really into the older woman thing, but she didn’t kiss like a woman in her thirties. Well, not that I have any experience to base that on.
No, with my eyes closed and my tongue in her mouth, she didn’t feel any older at all. And her age certainly didn’t stop my brain from wondering what she might taste like if I had my tongue buried in a different set of lips.
My cock reacts to that thought, and I pump a little faster. Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine it’s Everly’s mouth on my cock. We’re in the lecture hall and she’s wearing that dress she wore on the first day of school with the green sweater. She lifts it up to show me her wet pussy underneath, no panties, of course.
Then I imagine spinning her around and fucking her hard from behind over her desk while she begs me to be quiet so no one hears. It only makes me thrust harder so she has no choice but to scream.
Finally, my balls tighten, and I pull Allie’s mouth off in a rush so I can shoot my load all over her face. She keeps her mouth open as it lands on her tongue and cheeks.
After a moment, I turn toward the nightstand to grab her a tissue and help clean her up. She has a lazy smile on her face as she tucks the stray hairs behind her ears.
Then she stands up to place a warm kiss on my lips, but I don’t really return the kiss, not much at least. Allie’s nice and all, but I’m not exactly feeling it with her. I mean, I just got off on a fantasy with my teacher while she blew me. Can’t exactly say there are sparks here.
“Thanks, babe,” I mutter as I slowly make my way toward the door. Just as I reach the living room, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s past midnight at this point, but the alert is coming from Everly’s security system. There’s motion at her front door.
Clicking the app, I watch as a grainy night vision video shows a man stumbling toward the front door, leaning against a pillar on her front porch. Who the fuck is this guy?
“Evie...let me in, sugar tits.”
A moment later, her front door opens, and I hear her laugh. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asks, grabbing him before he topples over into her flower garden.
Then, she drags him into the house, and my blood starts to boil. Closing the app, I pull up my texts and jab out an angry message.
Me: Tell your booty call to go home.
It takes a moment before she types out a reply.
Everly: What the fuck? You’re spying on me?
Me: If I don’t see him walking out that front door in fifteen seconds, I’m coming over.
Everly: Relax! He’s my best friend. He’s drunk, and he’s gay.
Me: So call him an Uber.
Everly: Not going to happen, Cullen.
With my jaw clenched, I stare down at my phone. No, this bitch needs to know who’s in charge. I can’t let this shit slip. This isn’t a joke to me.
I mean, sure, I didn’t really plan for things to get this intense this fast, but seeing Everly again just fired something up in me. And I don’t even know what my plan is, only that I want control over her in every single sense of the word. I don’t want her to have even a sliver of freedom or happiness in her life without me controlling it. I need to know she did not win a perfect life while I suffer. I want her to pay.
Me: Send me a picture of him sleeping on the fucking couch then.
A moment later a picture is already uploading in my texts. And sure as shit, the guy is passed out, still dressed, shoes and everything. One of his long legs is hanging off the side of the couch.
Me: Now a selfie of you in your bed.
Another picture opens on the screen. It’s dark in the room, but I can make out her pale skin and dimpled cheeks in the moonlight. Her head is on the pillow and I spot the pink polka dot lapel of her pajamas.
And I can’t fucking help myself as I hit the video call button.
She answers after one ring.
Taking my phone back into the guest room, I find it empty, and I close myself in. Everyone else at the party was lounging around the TV in the dark watching some movie on Netflix, so they won’t even miss me. Fuck, they probably forgot I was even here.
“Show me your pajamas,” I say once her face pops up on the dark screen.
She pulls the phone away from her body, putting the entire pink polka dot top into view. They are not by any stretch of the imagination sexy pajamas. They are sensible, button-up, soft, pajamas that a middle-aged woman would wear if she no longer cared about exciting her husband.
But for some fucking reason, my dick starts to rouse to life as I see Everly in them.
“Unbutton them,” I whisper, and I mean you can’t blame me for trying. I am still high off my ass.
“No. We’re not doing that, Cullen. You can’t blackmail me into doing sexual shit for you. That’s where I draw the line. You might as well get me fired now if that’s what—“
“Okay, okay…Jesus. Settle the fuck down.”
“You hardly seem like the kind of guy who needs to blackmail his teacher into sexual shit anyway,” she says, and I smile.
“As a matter of fact, I just came all over my coworker’s face, so you’re actually right about that.” I don’t know why I just told her that. Again…maybe because I’m high, but blackmail or not, it’s a weird thing to tell a grown woman you have a semi-professional relationship with.
“Lovely,” she mutters, not sounding very interested in that. “No girlfriend then?”
She’s lying on her side in the dark, the phone propped on the pillow next to her. I mimic her position, flopping on the guest bed and holding my phone in a similar way.
“Fuck no.”
“Why not?”
“Because every girl I date only wants to stick around for a few fucks before she loses interest and ghosts me. Wait—” It suddenly fucking occurs to me that I’m running my mouth, and I don’t quite remember how that happened. “Since when do you get to ask the questions?”
“I’m a journalist, Cullen. It’s my job. You’re literally in my class.”
“Yeah well, no more questions from you. I’ll be asking them from now on.”
“Fine,” she mutters. “Can I go to sleep now, sir?” She’s mocking me, but I don’t care.
“No. What’s your friend’s name?” I ask.
“Thomas. Why? You’re not going to torment him too, are you?”
“Should I?”
“No. He’s harmless. He was my editor, and he had nothing to do with your case.”
“Why do you let him crash on your couch unannounced?” I ask, fighting off a yawn.
“Because he’s my friend, and he probably struck out at the bar, so he doesn’t want to go home alone. It’s something that happens in your thirties. You have to face your loneliness without seeing an end in sight, and it sucks.”
I’m not going to fucking tell her I feel that shit too at only eighteen. Instead, I stick to crude instead of deep. “Have you fucked him?”
“I told you he’s gay.”
“So? Maybe he was curious. Or just in the mood to try some pussy. Answer the question.”
“No. We haven’t had sex. So, what if we had?”