Anonymous:
Looks like you have no one on your side. I’ll be your friend; will you trust me?
Fucking anonymous, always stirring the pot. But soon enough, I will find out who they are. Exhaling through my nose, I toss the phone, but it doesn’t go far. Blood streams down my cupid's bow and slips past my pursed lips into my sour mouth. Numbness holds me; I don’t know what to do anymore. There’s so many pawns on the board, not even one moving with a clear pattern. My phone vibrates again just as I close my eyes, my mind wandering back to earlier today. A loudbuzzbounces off the wall as the device squirms itself closer.
“Filho1, I need you to be on your game,” my father rambles on as he takes a bite of his breakfast. My stepmother sits beside him, her face stoic and empty. Did she always look this hollowed out? My thoughts are interrupted by the booming voice of my father.
“I think it’s time you begin to pursue Allison.” The name goes down like acid in my throat, making my stomach sink at thethought of being attached to someone as insufferable as her. Beautiful and vain, just the kind of wife for a Safra.
“No,” I respond flatly. “I don’t care for her.”
My father scoffs, slamming his fork into his plate. “Any girl is a bother to you, unless you’re between their legs.” I couldn’t help the eyeroll, the blind leading the blind.
“Like father, like son,” is all I reply, watching as his brown eyes bulge from the anger, and he strikes my face from across the table. The sting is immediate, my cheek burning from the contact, and all I can do is glare at him.
“Amado2.” Lucia’s hand wraps around my father's wrist, trying to de-escalate the situation. It never works; his anger only fuels his reaction, turning him against himself. Her head turns the opposite way from the blow, disheveling her perfectly slicked back bun. Lucia doesn’t cry; instead, she looks down at the table, her knuckles white from how tightly she grips her fork. For a second, I wonder if she would end it all. The thought is a passing one, as my father slams his hand onto the surface. The sound is loud, snapping my attention to him, and he looks down at me like he always does. He points a beady finger my way.
“You will do as I say, or so help me God, Thiago.” The threat was clear. Zayden. He will use him to hurt me, to get under my skin. Just like he did when I was a freshman and wouldn’t join the hunt. He made me watch as he—I shake away the thought. There’s only one way to keep him safe, and that’s feeding myself to the vultures.
“Keep your word, and I’ll do what you want—just not her. Anyone but her.”
He sighs, running a hand over his face, looking at me as if he’s unsure whether to agree or strangle me. I would rather the latter to just get my life over with. But instead, he sits up and clears his throat, while Lucia glances between us, knowing shemissed something important. And I mean, she’s not wrong. She did, but I won’t acknowledge it, and neither does my father.
Flatly, I say to him, “You have my word, but by the end of the semester.”
I wait for a blowback, but none comes. All he does is point his fork at me. Veins bulge over the redness on his forehead. “I want a real arrangement, no more games.”
The sound of footsteps pulls me out of the trance, and quickly I blink away the memories, focusing on the noise that filters over the music playing downstairs. The door creaks open, forcing me to move and find my way underneath the desk just before the door slams shut. There’s a floral scent in the air, and in the silence of the room, I can hear everything much more clearly. The soft, feminine sounds of pleasure fill the quiet space. My lips curl into a grin as the sounds turn into sloppy wet kisses and mewls that have my cock twitching in my pants.
“Fabi,” a woman moans, her voice familiar, and the wheels begin to turn. A plan coming to fruition in a matter of seconds. But before I can soak in my victory, my phone vibrates… Too fucking loud across the marbled tiles.Shit.
I freeze, my eyes glued to the device, illuminating like a beacon as it slides against the floor. My pulse quickens while I wait for them to find either the phone or me.
“Did you hear that?” Fabiola asks quietly; the sounds of smooshes drown out the vibrations.
“Shh, Fabi,” the woman's voice says, her tone clearer. It’s now impossible to miss our professor’s delicate cadence as she continues to kiss her flesh. From the reflection on the glass, I can see her pressing Fabiola’s ass against the edge of the desk. The sight is truly a wet dream, and it screams opportunity for a shark like me. Using my leg, I inch the phone closer to me and grab it just as the symphony of arousal surrounds us in its lullaby. Opening the phone camera, I record them. I’m sure the schoolboard would love to see Ms. Torres, Villalargos’ art teacher, fingering her student. I know I do.
The desk moves with each plunge of Ms. Torres’ fingers inside Fabiola—the crowned one writhes and moans, probably celebrating that her future with Peter is no longer a thing. Her legs are splayed open; her green dress bunched around her waist. My cock aches beneath my pants, desire surging through me. I’ve always enjoyed watching, and this time is no different. My smile deepens as Ms. Torres brings Fabiola closer to the edge. Tasting sweet victory at the tip of my tongue. The video is damning evidence, not sure when I’ll need this, but knowledge is currency in places like this.
“Mmm, you like that, baby?” Ms. Torres purrs as Fabiola’s heels hit the wooden surface, almost startling me. “Yes, fuck. I need you.”
“You have me,” Fabiola breathes as a stream of curses falls from her lips. The beautiful, crowned one comes hard, her body shaking from the intensity, making the items on the desk rattle and fall off the desk. They continue to kiss passionately, and Ms. Torres grips her with possession, all while I wait patiently like a snake in the grass, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Zayden comes to the forefront of my mind, and before I know it, I'm replaying my moment with him. Wondering what he’s doing now, I pull up the app tracking his location. His red dot moves across the field, and I smile. Even in the cold, he practices. Maybe I’ll pay him a little visit.
I exit the app just in time for the women to finally pull away after saying their goodbyes. Ms. Torres exits first, leaving Fabiola to wait behind for a few minutes. Just as her heels click towards the door, I push the seat near me—the sound of the chair scraping against the tiles has her stopping in her tracks.
“Who’s there?” Fabiola asks with a small quiver in her voice. My finger moves back between apps and lands on the video.Fabiola’s moans fill the space as I come out of the hiding spot with a smile on my face.
“Thiago,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing to slits.
“I think we should have a little chat.”
1. Son
2. beloved
Chapter Four
