The Mistress

“What is it, then?”

Because he couldn’t hold back anymore, Blake leaned forward and kissed Harrison. Unlike the first kiss on the bed two weeks ago, a kiss that had been slow and sensual and had left Blake questioning everything he ever wanted, thought or believed, this kiss fell flat on Harrison’s unmoving lips.

“What’s wrong?” Blake asked, terrified of the answer.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Harrison gazed at him with narrowed, hooded eyes. Their lips were only an inch apart.

“How do I do it right? Tell me … you’ve done this before.”

“Lesson one—don’t stop breathing.”

“What do you—”

Before Blake could finish asking his question, Harrison had him by the throat.

“I let the whole world fuck me over by day. But you and me, when we’re alone, it’s you who gets fucked. You get to run the school by day. At night, with me, you’re mine. I own you. You want to do this, you never forget that. So … do you want to do this?”

Blake swallowed and felt his Adam’s apple hitting Harrison’s hand.

“Yes, Harrison.”

“At least you finally got my name right.”

Harrison released Blake’s throat and without apology or further preliminaries rose up onto his knees and pulled his shirt off. Blake knew nothing of what Harrison did after school. Homework, right? But he must have been doing something other than studying to get those muscles in his biceps and on his stomach. Blake didn’t get much more time to stare because Harrison unzipped his jeans, grabbed Blake by the back of the neck and pulled his head down.

“Take it,” Harrison ordered, and Blake wrapped his mouth around him and sucked deep. He knew he should have been grossed out by this, by sucking off another guy. But he wanted it, wanted him, and couldn’t get enough.

On his hands and knees with Harrison’s cock down his throat, Blake felt, for the first time in his life, like he was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

“Lesson two …” Harrison reached down and grabbed Blake by the chin, stopping him. “You get me this turned on and there will be consequences.”

“What kind?”

Harrison grabbed Blake’s shirt and pulled. The shirt came off first and then the jeans, the boxers right along with them.

“This kind.”

Grace finished reading the scene and let the eReader slide out of her hand as she closed her eyes. Her swollen clitoris pulsed against her fingers and every muscle in her back tightened like a coiled spring. The images flashed through her mind—the two teenage boys hiding their hunger for each other from the world, the bitterness that they had to hide making them all the more desperate for each other, the young mouths meeting, their bodies joining…. She came hard, rocking against her hand as her vaginal walls contracted against nothing.

She pulled her hand from between her thighs and lay gasping on the bed. Between gasps she heard something vibrating. Not a vibrator, though—she hadn’t packed hers.

Finding her phone, Grace raised it to her ear without checking the number.

“Hello,” she said, taking another breath.

“How’s my Gracie?”

“Amazing …” She gave a throaty laugh and heard Zachary chuckling on the other side of the world.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re amazing or are you leaving it to my imagination?”

“I’ve been reading.”

“Horrible idea. I hate books. Reading’s for bellends.”

“It’s one of your writers.”

“Writing’s for bellends.”

“What about editing? Do you recall editing one called All Hallows High?”

“Oh, God.”

Grace laughed again as she sat up in bed and rested against the headboard.

“What is that for? That ‘oh, God’? It’s fantastic.”

“I think Nora wrote it to test me.”

“It’s a romance novel. Not a very hard test.”

“It’s an erotica novel between two teenage boys at a Catholic school.”

“And?”

“And she’s trying to get a rise out of me with it.”

“She got one out of me. With my husband on the other side of the earth she’ll probably get another one out of me before the night’s over.”

“I’m glad you find a book that includes illegal sexual acts so erotic. The underage boys fuck each other.”

“You remember I’m a teacher. Teenagers, even the boys, do that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yes, and the teacher fucks the boys, too.”

“Dear Lord. Do the boys also—” she dropped her voice to a stage whisper “—smoke marijuana?”

“You’re mocking me.”

“You do remember that you lost your virginity at thirteen, and that I lost mine at eighteen to my own teacher, who happened to be you?”

“Please don’t call me out on my hypocrisy when I’m trying to be hypocritical.”

“Zachary.”

“What?”

“Stop being so vanilla.”