More like circling the drain,I think.To be at a school like that.
“Isn’t that place kind of rough?” I ask, remembering how the surrounding neighborhood was run-down when we went to school there.
“It is,” she answers with a soft smile. “That’s why I teach there. Those kids need someone who gives a damn. They need extra attention.”
Great. She’s a bleeding heart. One of those people who think they can make a “difference.” Well, she’ll learn soon enough that the world is fucked and all that matters is looking out for yourself.
Strangely irritated by the thought of her wasting her time on those delinquents, I tell her, “Get on the bed.” I don’t bother smiling.
Her face falls, just for a second, but I notice. “I thought you said this was a date.”
“It is. A date where I fuck you.” I gesture toward the king bed with my chin.
She glances back at the doorway that leads to her kitchen and living room. “But I made dinner.”
Forthe first time, I notice the smell in the apartment. Something garlicky and aromatic. I quirk my head, confused.
“My grandma’s spaghetti with garlic bread and spinach salad.” Jessica winds her hands in front of her, probably nervous to see my reaction. “It’s delicious,” she adds, like she’s trying to convince me.
I stand there, torn. On the one hand, I’m touched she made food for me. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. On the other hand, when I said “date,” I thought she would understand I meant sex.
Nothing more.
Dinner is definitely something more.
I take a step closer and then another until I’m towering over her, our chests almost touching. Her breathing hitches, then speeds up. I lower my lips to her ear and murmur, “There’s only one thing I’m interested in tasting tonight, and it’s not your grandmother’s spaghetti.”
I’m so close I hear when she takes a large swallow. “Are you sure? We could eat and then…” She trails off uncertainly.
“I’m sure.” I shove her back, and her knees buckle. Jessica lands with a thump on the soft white duvet that covers her new bed.
I ordered that for her too.
Her breath catches, a small, delicate sound that tightens something deep in my stomach.
“I saw in the office how much you like it when I touch you.”
Jessica blushes bright red, all the way to her hairline. Her fingers flex at her sides, her weight shifting. “I—I wasn’t sure you noticed,” she mumbles, staring at the floor.
I take a single finger and place it under her chin, tilting her face up to mine. “I did.” I let the words settle between us. “I enjoyed it. I want you to lose control like that again.”
Jessica’s lips part slightly. A flicker of hesitation, and then—there it is—that moment of submission. The way her pulse jumps at her throat. The way her pupils widen, her body reacting before her mind can catch up.
I reach into the satchel and unzip it. Inside, several ropes lie neatly coiled. Jessica’s eyes widen when I bring them out. “Made of hemp,” I say, holding them up, “so they won’t stretch when they’re under tension.”
“Umm,” she stutters, eyeing the ropes like they’re going to bite her. Her throat bobs in a swallow.
I remind myself to be patient. The women I usually screw are used to this. That’s why I choose them and they choose me.
Jessica is different.
The thought that I can be the one to initiate her into this world makes my cock harden.
“You pick a safe word,” I say gently, surprised I’m explaining all this. I had originally planned on coming over here and taking what I wanted, but I don’t like the fear that ripples over her face. If we’re going to do this, I want her to enjoy it as much as I do. That means I’ll have to take my time. “If you say the safe word, we stop. No questions asked.”
“Here.” I hold out the rope. “Feel it. It’s not too rough. It won’t leave any marks.”
Hesitantly, she takes it and unspools it slowly, running it through her hands. The moment her fingers skim the fibers, I see the shift. The curiosity in her eyes. The way she tests the texture against her palm. I want to tell her more, but I bite my tongue and give her the space to make her own decision.
