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I took the two steps to reach the first desk in the front row and planted my ass on the edge.

“Look, I’m not skilled at beating around the bush,” she said, “so let’s just cut to the chase.”

I stared at her.

“There is a significant difference between the work you complete at home and the work you complete in class,” she continued. “And I notice the difference in the handwriting, as well. I’m not going to ask you to defend yourself, because we both know what’s really going on, and I’m not going to waste either of our time.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

She paused, licking her lips and clearing her throat. “All I’m going to say is ‘stop’.” She tipped her chin down at me. “Do the work, or you won’t pass.”

Uh-huh. I kept my eyes on hers, but I could still see the hard, little points of her nipples jutting through her dress. Maybe it was cold. Maybe it wasn’t. I just wanted to see them.

My breathing quickened and my cock started to swell with the image of her undressed, and I ground my teeth together to keep my urges in check for as long as possible.

When I didn’t reply, she prompted me. “Do you understand?”

I cast my gaze upward again, imagining her glossy red lipstick smeared all over my pillow from being ‘face down, ass up’ in my bed all night. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

She stood there, looking confused like she didn’t expect it to go that smoothly, but then nodded and offered me a goodwill half-smile. “Okay, then. Have a good day,” she said, dismissing me.

I almost snorted. We weren’t done.

My turn.

“May I ask you a question?” I said, pulling up a picture of her on my phone. “Is this you?”

I stood up and strolled over to her, not stopping until I was close enough to look down at her. Her eyes shot from the phone in my hand up to me and back down again in our suddenly intimate space, trying to take a step back but only meeting her desk.

I held it up, speaking softly. “You don’t look a lot different.”

She swallowed again. It was one of many pictures I found on her social media, apparently from after her junior year of high school when she was away at summer camp. She posed with friends on her bunk, smiling and innocent, hair down, tan legs in cute jean shorts, no makeup and braces…

She pursed her lips. “I know how to use mascara now.”

Turning her back to me, she lifted the chalk and began writing on the board.

“You’re blushing,” I commented. “Are you embarrassed?”

“That’s enough.”

Young Miss Jennings was a dork, but she had potential. I let my eyes wander down the curve of her waist to her ass and sexy legs. Obviously.

“You see, I’m not lazy or dumb,” I said, coming up behind her, just out of reach. “I’m just not interested in doing anything I don’t enjoy. But things I love doing?” I lowered my voice, playing with her. “I could go all night, Miss Jennings.”

She twisted her head to the side again, her hand paused mid-sentence on the chalkboard. Her mouth opened and closed twice before words came out. “I have work to do.”

I shot out my hand, planting it on the board in front of her and leaning in so close, her hair tickled my lips. “Guys like me didn’t go for you in high school, did they?” I taunted in a low voice. “No one ate you out in the backseat of a car. No one took off your panties and dry-humped you on your parents’ couch while they were in the next room.” I slowly ran my finger over the zipper at the back of her dress as her body went rigid and her breathing turned shallow. “No one sucked your tits and made your pussy wet on someone else’s bunk beds in a room upstairs at some party in a house you didn’t know.”

She whipped around, her teeth slightly bared. “I’m going to report you.”

“Please don’t.” I smirked. “If I were there, though, I would’ve broken your cherry.” I dropped my voice to a whisper, leaning in. “I like the quiet ones.”

She shook her head, the brown of her eyes warm and dark. “I was warned about you boys. This won’t get you an A. Someday you’ll learn the world will make you work for something you want.”

“Oh, I don’t mind working.” I planted my other hand on the board at the side of her head and looked down at her.

My little Lit teacher was only six years older than me, and while every guy in school loved to look at her, I was the one who would have her, because nothing else would do. I was bored. So bored all the time with the brainless twits downstairs who never said ‘no’ and couldn’t satisfy the sordid need inside me to be deviant in everything I did. I didn’t want to fuck. I wanted to get dirty, and I wanted to get her dirty. I didn’t want to be the only one who…

I couldn’t finish the thought. My friends—as much as they liked to play at being bad, they were still always clean. Their desires were normal, getting off was physical, and fun was just around the corner.

But for me, everything was harder. I couldn’t detach from my brain, and I wasn’t happy unless it was a mindfuck. I didn’t want Miss Jennings to enjoy it. I wanted her to hate that she enjoyed it.

I inched in, holding her eyes and moving in for her mouth.

But she planted her hands on my chest, halting me. “Stop it.”

I let the weight of my body slowly press into hers, the heat of her breath falling on my mouth as I shook my head.

She breathed faster, her eyes dropping to my lips, and I could see that look on her face that I’d seen a hundred times before. Everyone lets themselves indulge in a moment of consideration.

“I don’t need an A, and I’m not afraid of what you can do to me,” I said, flicking her top lip with my tongue and hearing her whimper. “I just want you to slide up your dress, lie down on the desk, and spread your legs like a good teacher who just wants her student to eat his breakfast.”

She growled, raised her hand, and fucking slapped me.

But I barely moved, the sting of her hand filtering down into my neck within seconds.

Grabbing both of her wrists, I held them against the chalkboard at her side, trying to hold in my grin. “You just hit a minor. It hurt, Miss Jennings.”

Her chest rose and fell hard as she seethed and tried to squirm out of my hold.

“I know you want this.” I let my eyes fall down her body. “Your skirts are getting tighter. Your tops lower cut. You’re not my first rodeo. I know how to keep this a secret.”

“No matter what a woman wears, she’s not asking for it.”

“So that’s not you then?” I gestured my head toward the windows. “Peering down from the window when the team’s exercising on the field? Watching me?”

We were nearly eight weeks into my senior year, and coach had us on the outside courts after school as much as possible while the weather held. I started noticing her gazing down a few weeks ago and then quickly ducking away when I would notice her. Just went to show, we want what we want and we were built to burn.

“You stare especially long when I have my shirt off.” I dropped my eyes to her lips. “Which I take off more now, because I know you like it.”

She lost her breath, opening her mouth as she stared at mine.

“If I had been in your high school,” I told her, leaning in to her ear, “I’d come up to you in front of your friends and whisper in your ear ‘I want to touch you.’” I whispered the last and then came back around, holding her eyes. “And then I’d take your hand and lead you down to the basement and into the dark wrestling room where no one ever is, and I’d start to take off your clothes.”

“Mr. Torrance,” she choked out, and then pleaded, “Damon, please.”

Fear etched across her face, but not the fear of not being able to stop me. It was the fear of wanting something but not wanting to get caught.

“And then I’d push you down on the mat,” I said, “lift up your skirt,” I let go of one of her wrists, and wrapped one hand around her neck, “and fuck your tight, little body while I sucked on your tits.”

She panted, and before she could say anything, I sank my mouth into hers, her groan getting lost down my throat. I kissed her hard, tasting the strawberries she had for breakfast and feeling her arms wrapped around my neck.

I pulled them off and lifted her off the ground, turning us around and planting her ass on her desk, immediately pushing up her dress.

Reaching under, I slipped my fingers under her panties and pulled them down her smooth, tan legs, over her heels, and dropped them to the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling my heart pound a little harder.

I’m gonna fuck her. I’m gonna have her begging to come and take pleasure later today as she tries to lecture the class knowing her fucking panties are in my pocket. I’m gonna come back for seconds tomorrow and maybe bring Will and watch her ride him in her own desk chair.

Yeah. My heart skipped a beat, and I stopped breathing for a moment. My dick hardened, and I licked a trail up her leg to the inside of her thigh as I stood up.

“Why me?” she asked, leaning back on her hands and biting her bottom lip.

I pushed her down, forcing her back onto the desk. “Because it’s sordid,” I growled.

Hiking up her skirt the rest of the way, I checked the door again, remembering I’d closed and locked it, and then dove down, covering her goddamn cunt with my mouth, the little gasp and cry that followed making my eyes close in satisfaction. Just spread your fucking legs and let me have my way. That’s what you’re here for.

Wrapping my hand around her thigh, I held on as I sucked, kissed, pulled, bit, and penetrated her, tasting her clit and making her squirm and moan with every inch I teased. She wasn’t the first teacher I’d seen like this, but she was the first one I’d touched, and I looked up at her as I sucked on her, seeing how much she liked it. This was almost too easy. It was less of a turn on when it was easy.

“Pull down the top of your dress,” I ordered her, flicking her clit with my tongue.

She let out little moans again and again as she pulled down one side and then the other, baring her naked breasts. Better. She looked vulnerable. Half-naked, legs spread for one of her students, glasses…

“You’re so good at that,” she panted.

I bit her lightly, making her gasp. Don’t talk.

She started moving into my mouth and took my head in her hands. I shoved them away and pressed a hand on her stomach, keeping her ass on the desk. I licked and sucked again and again, liking her in my mouth, because I was in control and she was at my mercy. Everything was happening to her right now and whatever I wanted to give her.

“God, yeah,” she moaned. “That’s so good.”

I snapped out of my head for a moment, hearing another voice instead.

That’s a good boy. You’re getting so good at that, baby.

I stopped working Miss Jennings, needing to swallow, because my mouth was suddenly dry.

Forcing myself on, I pushed the voice out of my head and slid two fingers inside her as I played with her clit with my tongue.

“God, you’re doing so well,” Miss Jennings said, refusing to shut the fuck up. “Don’t stop. Keep going, baby.”

Baby? What the fuck?

I clenched my teeth and stood straight, breathing hard and damn near ripping at my belt buckle to unfasten it. She might have some duct tape in her desk. She needed to be shut up. Heat flooded my neck and chest as I fought to get back in my head where I was distracted.

But she rose up off the desk, trying to kiss me and take over unfastening the belt. “I want to suck you,” she breathed out. “I want to taste you.”

It gets hard when I do that. That means you like it.

The memory of those words knotted over and over again in my gut, and I pulled her hands away. “No.”

I didn’t like that.

“Do as your told,” she said, trying to play.

But I lost it. I grabbed her neck and held her still as I got in her face. “I don’t like that.”

Yeah, you like it, don’t you, baby? You’re such a good boy.

I shoved her away and backed up, refastening my belt. My pulse pounded in my ears, and my skin crawled as the walls closed in. I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t breathe.

Fuck.

“What?” I heard Miss Jennings say as she held up her arms, covering herself. “I want it, Damon. You knew I wanted you. This was so hot. Come on.” She reached for me and stood up, trying to wrap her arms around my body. “Finish me,” she whispered, her sticky, snake-arms like fire on my skin.

I pushed her off and ran a hand through my hair. “Stupid bitch.”

And I walked away from her, unlocking the door and throwing it open as I charged into the still mostly empty hallway. Nausea rolled through my stomach.

Why couldn’t she shut up? Why couldn’t she just shut her fucking mouth? Most people did what they were told.

I bolted down the stairs and then the next flight as well, turning the corner and pushing through the door into the men’s room.

I shouldn’t have touched her. I walked to the sink and spit, still tasting her and spit again. I turned on the water, filled my hands, and splashed my face to try to cool down. I did it again and again, wiping my face on my sleeve.

I stared at myself in the mirror as I ran my hand through my hair, dragging my nails over my scalp and down my neck. Down my neck, digging in, deeper and deeper.

Come sleep with me, my sweet. And the memory of climbing in her big bed with the thick comforter as she held me to her naked body.

I let my eyes close and my forehead fall into the mirror as I breathed. “I should have fucked her,” I mumbled to myself. “I should’ve taped her mouth, turned her over, and fucked her.”

Everything turned black behind my eyelids, and I was sinking into a black hole. I felt the needles prick at the back of my throat.

I dug out my phone and hit all the buttons without even looking. It started to ring, and I held it up to my ear.

“Damon?” Banks answered.

I paused, breathing hard. “Banks...”

“Do you need me?”

I blinked my eyes open, checking the door to make sure no one was coming in. “There’s no time.”

We had to do this over the phone.

But she started to argue. “Damon—”

“Fuck, what good are you?” I squeezed the phone so hard I heard it crack.

She fell silent, and I pictured her in my room where she was cleaning or reading or taking care of my snakes, and I wished she was here, because this would be so much quicker.

Do it. Just do it.

I heard her clear her throat and let out a sigh. “You know…” She gave me her best annoyed tone. “I got shit to do. Is this all you’re calling me for? Jesus, you’re such a fucking baby.”

My fingers twitched with the urge to fist. Good. Keep going. I slid into a stall and locked the door. “Go ahead,” I egged her on. “Say that again?”

“Or what?” she shot back. “What will you do? You’re so goddamn weak, you have to call me because someone hurt your feelings? Someone stepped on your toe, baby, is that it? Michael, Kai, and Will must be doing Jesus a favor to even consider breathing the same air as you.”

My jaw locked.

“The only reason I stick around here is for the money, but I don’t even care about that anymore,” she continued, “because I want to fucking vomit every time I have to look at your stupid face. Jesus, I really am sick of this shit.”

My chest shook, and I balled my fist over and over again. She’s lying. She’s doing what she’s supposed to do. I need her to hurt me, because pain covers up pain, and if I feel one, I won’t feel the other. I need her to push back down what tries to crop back up.

“What?” She smarted off. “What are you going to say? Nothing, that’s what. You can’t even manage an hour away from me before you’re having a Malibu-fucking-Barbie panic attack. No wonder Daddy likes me best. I’m the son he always wanted.”

And I feel a slice inside my stomach. That one cut.

Because I thought she might be right. My father wouldn’t even acknowledge her as his kid, but he trusted her. He entrusted her.

Her. A bastard gutter rat who would be turning tricks just like her junkie mother if I hadn’t literally bought her ass when she was twelve. She lived in a mansion, because of me. She had three meals a day, because of me. She was safe, because of me.

“What did you say?” I gritted out.

I could hear her breathing shake. She was losing the nerve. “Damon, please…”

“Say it again!”

She gasped, choking down her tears and forcing the words out. “We laugh about you every day while you’re gone.” Her voice grew harder. “He can’t trust you to grow up. He can’t give you any responsibility. Everyone laughs about you. Especially the guy doing me in your bed right now.”

I shook my head, gripping the top of the stall door. No one was supposed to touch her.

“God, you weren’t even out of the house before the first one was inside me,” she said, digging deep. “I’ve been getting pounded all morning. Why don’t you get to class and leave us the fuck alone?”

I clenched my teeth, seeing her in my bed with a line of my father’s men taking their turns. Smiling at her. Enjoying her. Using her. Treating her like trash.

And I kicked the door. I kicked it again and again, growling until it gave way and swung open, hitting the wall behind it.

Fuck, yes. And just like that…everything relaxed. My limbs felt exhausted, and I saw my sister, in my room at home right now, fully dressed with her collar up to her neck, crying, and her books spilled onto the floor, because she was innocent, pure, and the sweetest girl I would ever know.

Everything she said, I made her say, because we could only feel one pain at a time, and maybe if I could pile on enough dirt, I’d get so buried I wouldn’t be able to think.

And sometimes, I could overpower whatever was in my head by making my own victims.

Like Miss Jennings. Like Banks. Maybe I didn’t like being alone, and I wouldn’t be if everyone else was as dirty as me.

At home, there were other things I’d ask her to do to stop the pain, but when she wasn’t in front of me we had to improvise.

The memories that had sprung up in Jennings’ room were so far way now, I couldn’t even remember what had set me off. I walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and pooled some water in my hand before taking a drink, feeling the cool water soothe the heat in my head.

The last twenty minutes never happened.

“Damon?” I heard Banks call. “Damon!”

I stood up straight and held the phone back up to my ear.

“Better?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I checked my face and hair in the mirror, seeing the rage start to fade, and my skin turn pale again. “Yeah...”

“Please stop making me do that…”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up, ignoring her. What she wanted was ultimately unimportant. We would do what we had to do.

Straightening my clothes, I felt the phone vibrate in my hand again and looked to see who it was.

 

***Damon K. Torrance***

Please see Mr. Kincaid in the dean’s office before the first bell this morning.

cc: Gabriel Torrance

Thank you.

 

Goddammit.

I checked the time on my phone, seeing that I had eight minutes till bell. I wanted to smoke.

Sticking the phone in my back pocket, I let out a long breath and tilted my neck to each side, hearing it crack. Every time I got summoned, my father got the same text, keeping him abreast of whatever was going on as if he cared. He knew if it was important enough, they would call him directly. Which they had done plenty in my tenure at this school.

I used to want his attention. Now I just hated it when they reminded him that I existed. I wasn’t excited to leave town for college next summer, but I couldn’t wait to get out of that house, either.

So what bullshit did I do now that Kincaid needed to hassle me?

I left the bathroom, brushing the shoulder of another student as I crossed the hallway and entered the school office. Swinging the door open, I walked up to the long, dark wood counter and shot a glare to Mrs. Devasquez, the secretary.

“Have a seat,” she said, her short gray hair unmoving as she nodded to the chairs behind me. “The dean will call you when he’s ready.”

I simply turned around and propped my elbows up on the counter, waiting.

Drumming my fingers as my hand dangled over the edge of the counter, I noticed no one else was in the office, but I perked my ears at several voices coming from Kincaid’s office to my left. I looked over, seeing bodies rise up, as if from sitting positions, behind the frosted glass.

“Why aren’t you in uniform?” I heard Devasquez challenge behind me.

“Is it 7:45 yet?”

I didn’t turn around to look at her, and she didn’t open her mouth again.

I hated this room. Most of the classrooms in this old school had been updated over time, the fancy gray stone exterior preserved, and everything in a condition which was expected from parents who paid a substantial tuition every year, but this room reminded me of home. Dark wood, shiny with a noxious odor from years of layers of furniture polish, high ceilings with rafters that collected dust, and cobblestone floors that never quite made me feel like my feet were firmly on the ground.

Kincaid’s door opened and voices flooded out.

I turned to see Margot Ashby lead the way out of the office, saying as they all left, “Thank you, Charles. I know you and the teachers have gone above and beyond to help Winter re-assimilate.”

Winter… My eyes narrowed.

And then she appeared. Holding her mother’s arm and trailing slowly behind.

I stopped breathing for a moment. Jesus Christ. What the hell was she doing here?

The little girl in the fountain. She’d grown up. She couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen now, but the baby fat was gone, her white tutu gone, and her eyes on me…gone. She would never look at me again.

Her older sister, who was my age, squeezed out first, while Kincaid and their father, the mayor, trailed behind.

“We’ll keep her up here until Miss Fane arrives,” I heard Kincaid say as they all drifted into the main office. “She has all the instructions to help Winter through her first few weeks, and since they’re in the same grade, it was easy placing them in the same classes.”

Same classes.

Miss Fane. Erika Fane? She and Winter were going to be in the same classes? Then that meant Winter was a freshman.

And she’d come home to go to high school.

I fought not to smile, practically fucking delighted with the potential of this new distraction.

She came up alongside her mother and dropped her hand when everyone stopped, not needing to hang on any longer than necessary, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her blue eyes still looked so innocent and carefree but probably only because she didn’t know I was less than five feet away from her. I wondered how well she remembered me.

But there was a defiant lift to her chin that intrigued me.

How easily one pain replaced another. How I could barely remember the hurt in my head just a few minutes ago and Miss Jennings seemed like a distant memory. I inhaled a deep, quiet breath, filling my lungs with the welcome fresh air.

“Does she have to wear the blazer?” Mrs. Ashby asked. “We tried to get her to wear it, but—”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Kincaid answered. “As long as she’s in Thunder Bay colors, we’re good.”

Winter wore the standard blue and green plaid skirt, but while most everyone wore blouses or Oxfords under their blazers, I could see a white Polo hanging out from under the hem of her navy blue hoodie.

Rebel.

“What’s the dress code say about wearing shoes from dumpsters?” Arion, her sister, chimed in as she knelt down to tie Winter’s Doc Martens that were scuffed beyond repair on both toes with laces dragging. “You’d think someone who needs a hand to walk everywhere so she doesn’t trip would know how to double-knot.”

“Bite me.” Winter yanked her foot away and felt for the counter next to me. I wasn’t sure how she knew it was there, but she found it and then knelt down to tie her boot, her long, layered blonde hair hanging around her.

Everyone in the room suddenly fell silent, and I looked up to see her parents staring at me, suddenly realizing I was in the room. Three inches from their daughter.

Winter rose, her hand brushing my jeans.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, finally noticing someone was here.

Her mother inhaled, darting toward us. “Um, actually, Charles, we’ll wait with Winter in the library.” She came up and grabbed Winter, pulling her away from me. “If you could send Erika there when she arrives…”

“Of course.”

Margot, Arion, and Winter filtered into the corridor, and my head started swimming with all the possibilities now laying in front of me. I wasn’t sure if she thought about me or what she thought about me, but I knew she wouldn’t forget me. She would never be able to forget.

The door closed behind them, and I saw Griffin Ashby, our city mayor, start to follow, but then he stopped as he reached me.

I stared at his profile, his dark gray suit and blue tie perfectly pressed as he focused ahead, refusing to spare me any eye contact.

“Someday you’ll be in a cage,” he said. “And hopefully sooner rather than later, so you can’t do any more damage. Mr. Kincaid will fill you in on the do’s and don’ts while my youngest is in attendance at this school.” And then he finally turned his head to look at me with disdain “Mark my words, if you fail to behave, I will end you, and it’ll be for good.”

Turning away, he left the office, and my lips twitched with a smile. Six years ago, his little girl and I changed each other, and while I couldn’t change her back, I could certainly give her some new memories of me.

Now that… I could do.

It was settled, then.

I heard Mr. Kincaid clear his throat as he held his office door open for me. “Mr. Torrance, if you please?”

 

 

 

Damon

 

Present

 

“Ten moves and you have me,” Mr. Garin told me. “Do you see it?”

I stared at the board between us, calculating the moves I needed to make for checkmate while trying to anticipate his counter moves.

Yeah, I see it. But what fun would that be?

I reached for my pawn at E2.

“Don’t,” he scolded.