Eighteen (18) (22 page)

He does it again and this time his touch tickles my palm so bad, I can feel it tingle long after he stops. “What did I write?”

I take a breath, but my eyes close. Why does he make me feel this way?

“Shannon,” he barks. “Fucking answer me.”

“The square root of two over two,” I say.

“Why did I write that?”

“It’s those stupid coordinates on the unit circle test that I didn’t know.”

“God, sometimes I think you’re deaf. Because if you’re not deaf, then I have to wonder why you deliberately refuse to listen to me.
Why
did I write that?”

“Dick,” I say. “Because you’re gonna tell me something about it.”

His hand steals back inside my shirt and palms my breast again. “Good girl. Finally you’re paying attention. It’s a trick, Shannon. A game to help you remember the x and y coordinates. You told me the first day we met your memory is what makes you smart. Unlike you, I listen to the things you tell me, so I came up with a plan to use your talent to help you pass trig. And if you had let me show it to you earlier instead of insisting on taking a test you were so clearly not ready for, you’d be in a better mood right now, I guarantee it.”

I sigh.

“Look at your hand.”

I glance down.

“If your left hand is the upper right quadrant of the unit circle, and your fingers represent the angles of the unit circle, and your pinky is zero degrees, what’s the angle measure of the finger where I’ll put your wedding ring one day?”

“You did not just say that.”

“Answer me.”

“Thirty degrees.”

I can feel him smile into my neck and I have to take a deep breath at that.

“What’s the finger you use to flip me off?”

“Forty-five degrees.”

“And the one you point at me when you’re pissed?”

“Sixty degrees.”

“Thumb?”

“Ninety.”

“Who says you’re not smart? You memorized those OK, right?”

“Fourth graders probably know that much, Mateo. I don’t need a pep talk.”

“Now listen carefully, because what I’m going to show you is magic.”

“You’re so stupid.”

“What did I write on your palm?”

“The square root of two over two.”

“OK, now forget about the twos. There’s a square root sign and a fraction line. Here’s how to remember the coordinates of the unit circle just by looking at your left hand and knowing which angle each finger represents…”

So he tells me.

And he’s right. It’s memory magic. I will never forget this trick as long as I live, that’s how simple it is.

“So when you show up in my kitchen tomorrow to take that test, just remember what I showed you. Now tell me what happened that you needed to go to the ER.”

I tell him. I watch his reflection in the window as I talk. I don’t know if he knows I can see him, because he never glances back at me. But I can tell that he’s sorry he wasn’t there when I needed help, because the frown on his face grows longer and longer as the story goes on.

“I’m sorry. Is it better now?” he asks, lifting my hair aside to look at my ear.

“It’s better,” I say. “I get them all the time and I usually I can just use the leftover drops from the last time to stop it from getting that bad. But I guess my drops were expired and they didn’t work.”

“OK.” He sighs like he’s satisfied with my story. I’m not sure how to take that, but he doesn’t give me much time to wonder about it, because he says, “Be at my house tomorrow after school, and be ready to make good on our deal.”

He starts to back away from me, but I grab his arm and hold him there. “I think we should start over, Mateo. If you really do like me, then let’s just start over and try this all again.”

His face screws up. “We’re not starting over, Shannon. I didn’t do all this fun shit just to wipe the slate clean and pretend it didn’t happen. You come to my house, you take your clothes off, you study at my kitchen table naked, you suck my dick, you take the test, and if you get one right, I’ll lick your pussy until you come. If you pass that test tomorrow, Shannon, I’ll fuck your brains out and you will forget all about starting over because what I will do to your body will be so addictive, you will never want me to stop. Do you understand?”

Why did I ever think he’d give in to me? Why did I ever think I had the power in this relationship? He mows me over like a steamroller.

“Do you. Under. Stand?”

“Got it,” I say.

“You know, there’s something to be said for the wisdom of experience. That’s a lesson you need to learn. Now eat your dinner and go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watch him as he turns and walks to the slider and pulls it open. But he stops again and looks me in the eyes. “And you’re coming to Hawaii with me. So just accept it. And let that fuck of a brother-in-law know you won’t be babysitting that week.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Triangles are your friend,”
Mateo says the next day as I wait on his stoop at the back door. He’s standing on the other side of the screen, shirtless, and looking like a fucking monster of muscle and masculinity.

“Just let me in,” I say.

“They have all the answers, Shannon.”

“It’s fucking raining, Mateo. Just let me in.”

“And if you know certain things about your triangle, you can find out missing information.”

I sigh. “Got it. Let me in or I’m going home. I’m all fucking wet.”

“You know when triangles are not your friend?”

“Tell me.” I give up. He’s musing. I have come to the conclusion that Mateo is one of those deep people. People who think too fucking much. I’m not a thinker, I go on instincts. And right now, my instincts are begging me to just tell him what he wants to hear.

“When you’re in a relationship.”

“Are we in a relationship?” I roll my eyes.

“We are, and I don’t want to be part of a love triangle. I let that Danny Alexander thing drop because you needed help and he was there when I wasn’t. But I won’t make that mistake again. I got us two first-class tickets to Hawaii for spring break.”

“Fancy,” I say. I hate flying, especially over the ocean. It freaks me out and no amount of posh first-class bullshit will change that.

“You may come in.” He opens the screen door wide for me and I step past him.

“I hope you have a fucking dryer,” I say, peeling off my clothes. I’m getting fucked today. That’s all I’m saying. I’ve been studying that little unit-circle trick all damn day. I practiced it in art while I was messing around with Photoshop making graphics for my website. I practiced it in PE when I was walking my laps. I practiced it in every class today. I even recited the angles and the radians to myself on the way over here. I’m ready for that test and I am getting fucked.

I drop my clothes on the floor as I make my way to the kitchen and then stand there naked. “Where’s the test?”

“Sit,” he says, smiling like a fool.

“Mateo—”

“Sit,” he growls.

I sigh, but I sit.

“Today you’re going to learn how to memorize the trigonometric functions.”

“Oh, no, I’m not! Today I’m sucking your dick, taking a test, getting my pussy licked, and then you’re fucking me.”

He almost laughs. Almost. “No, you’re working first.”

“That was not the deal.”

“I make all the deals, Shannon.” He takes my little red textbook out of my backpack and opens it up to chapter two. “I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet. Now look here…”

An hour later I’m still looking at that damn book, and I’ve got those functions memorized using his newest trick, but I’m tired now. My eyes are drooping and I’m not even horny anymore. “You’re not as fun as you first appeared,” I say, yawning.

He eases himself up on the counter of the island in the center of the kitchen and starts unbuckling his belt.

I get a little more interested.

He unbuttons and unzips, looking at me the whole time.

I smile.

He positively grins. “You did good. And you’re gonna take the first test, so you get to suck my dick until I come down your throat. But just so we’re clear, if you want to take a test tomorrow, you have to suck me at school.”

Jesus. Why does he say these things to me? It fucking gets me crazy. I know I should be horrified, but I’m not. He’s turning me on. He’s turning me into a freak. “Noted.”

“Take me out.”

I smile so big my cheeks might crack. The last time I gave him a blow job here, I got so bothered by it, I came. Jesus. I ease up out of my seat and walk over to him. His eyes never leave mine. It’s like he’s more interested in what I’m thinking than my naked body. And that turns me on even more than his hulking cock under those jeans.

I reach for his boxer briefs and pull them down until I see the tip of his cock. God, he has a beautiful cock. The head is thick and perfect. I lick my lips and look up at him.

“Go ahead. If you’re so eager, just do it.”

I pull him out all the way, pumping him gently in my hand. His hand clamps over mine, squeezing. Making me squeeze harder. I lower my head into his lap and wrap my lips around him, sucking on his tip and then swirling my tongue around it like I’m licking a lollipop. His fingers dig into my hair and urge me to take more of him. I know he likes that deep stuff, and I’m not that good at it. But I try hard. I try my best to please him and I’m rewarded with a moan.

I moan too, my vocal cords humming against his shaft as he presses down on my head. I decide to just go for it. Fuck everything. I forget about everything but him. I take him in as far as I can, gag, pull back, the saliva spilling out of my mouth. But I dive down for more and this makes him pull my head away. He jumps down off the counter and stands in front of me.

“Kneel and put your hands on my thighs, Shannon. And don’t move them.”

It’s not an order. Not something I must obey. But the way he says it—well, it makes me
want
to obey. I place my hands flat against his muscular thighs as he gathers my hair in a ponytail, gripping it so tight, it pulls on my scalp.

“Look at me,” he says.

I do. I want nothing more than to look at him. His jaw is covered with stubble two days old. His green eyes are at half-mast as he gazes down at me. His dick is hard and right in front of my lips.

“Open,” he says. “I’m gonna fuck your face and come down your throat.”

I open my mouth and he shoves himself inside so fast, his cock bumps up against my soft palate and makes me gag. But he doesn’t wait for me this time. He’s in control. He’s the one with the power. He pulls my head back by my hair and then thrusts me forward again, hitting that same spot. My fingers are clenched around the loose denim of his jeans as I force myself to give in to what he wants from me.

I never stop looking at him. My eyes are only on him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” And the he rams his cock again and again. I gag, and spit, and noises are coming from my throat that I’ve never heard before. But each time he thrusts, he moans.

I am doing it right, that’s what those moans mean.

The next time he hits my soft palate I wrap my lips around him tighter and suck, bobbing my head to his rhythm. Back and forth so fast, he loses control, stiffens, and then his warm semen is spilling down my throat.

“Swallow,” he groans. “Swallow me.”

I swallow every single drop and when he pulls away and the saliva is spilling down my chin, I lean forward and lick his tip.

“I fucking love you,” he says.

I—can’t move. I can’t speak. I have tears from the stress of being face-fucked running down my cheeks and I’m sure my eye makeup is all smeared. I must look horrible.

But he just said he loves me.

“I do, Shannon. I knew the first time I saw you, I was going to love you forever. It was one of those things you just know.”

And then he pulls me to my feet and kisses me on the mouth. A long, deep kiss that says more than his words ever will.