Eighteen (18) (9 page)

God, his answer just makes me wetter
.

“But before we do it again, I need a yes. I know what we’re doing is wrong, Shannon.”

I gulp air. “Then why are you here? Why are you doing this?”

“Tell me to go and I will.”

“You’re not listening. That’s not what I’m asking. I just want to know why.”

He takes his hand out of my shorts and backs up one step.

“You’ve been watching me?”

He just stares at me, like he’s having some deep internal battle.

“OK,” I say, grabbing the handle on the slider and starting to push it closed. But he covers my hand and stops it.

“I live across the street.”

“What?”

He inhales deeply and throws up his hands. “I live across the street. Across Broadway.” He nods his head towards the alley. “I’ve seen you in Bill’s. You eat there all the time.”

“Oh.” It’s far less creepy than I’d been imagining. Sort of anticlimactic, actually. “Well, I’ve had my share of stalkers, thank you. It’s not a turn-on for me.”

He smiles, but looks away, like he’s trying to hide it.

“What?”

“How many stalkers?” he says, giving me a sideways glance.

“One serious one.”

“Define serious,” he says, his smile fading.

“I had to go to court and get a restraining order.”

“When was this?”

“When I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen? Jesus Christ.”

I shrug. “I started early. Got a little wild. Paid the price and learned my lesson.”

“He scared you?”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Very much.”

“Where is he now?”

“Thousands of miles away. It’s not a big deal, but I like to be in control. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“Control of what?”

“Life,” I sneer.

“You can’t control life, Shannon.”

“I can control whether or not I get fucked in a school.”

“So you wanted me to stop?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying? Because I’m confused.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want to date that guy who picked you up?”

“What if I do?”

“I don’t ever take second place. So let me know now and I’ll leave.”

I weigh my options for a moment. I believe him. I really do think he’ll leave. And I think tomorrow he’ll either quit the teacher gig with some excuse, or just be professional from now on. So this is my chance to set a limit.

“Shannon? Do you want to date him?”

I shake my head. “He’s just a friend right now. But I like him. He’s nice.”

“I’m not nice.”

“Is that a statement or a question?”

“Both.”

“Well, why the fuck would I give up a nice guy for you?”

“Because you like the thought of me more.”

“You sure do presume a lot for not knowing anything about me.”

“You just said you were wild. You let me fuck you in the classroom. You came. You’re wet. I know enough.”

“Yesterday you made some snide remark about not knowing what’s good for me. I’m failing to see anything about you that’s good for me.”

“You came,” he repeats. “That was good for you.”

“You want to fuck me and I can get in trouble for that. So how is
that
good for me?”

“I’m the one taking the risk, Shannon. You’re eighteen, you’re allowed to sleep with whoever you want. I’m the teacher so I’m the one who will lose my job.”

“So why do this?”

“I don’t give a fuck about the job. I give a fuck about you. Tell me what you want. Do you want me to quit if we continue? Because I’ll find you another teacher.”

“But why me?” I just don’t get it.

“Why not you? Why are you so insecure? I like the way you look. I like the way you bite your lip when you’re choosing food from Bill’s. I like that angsty expression on your face all the time. The one that says I’ve got problems, leave me the fuck alone. I like this.” And then he leans in and kisses me, his hands in my hair before I even realize what’s happening.

But I kiss him back. Again.

He moans into my mouth. “I like your hair. I like your eyes. I like your legs, and your pussy, and your tits. I wanted to fuck you the minute I saw you. And I was gonna tell Bowman no until I watched you about to lose your shit in the office yesterday morning. So I said yes. And now I want you to say yes too.”

He waits for half a second and when I say nothing, he starts kissing me on my neck. “Say yes,” he whispers. I get a chill down my spine and that tingly feeling is back. “Say yes, Shannon. Because I’m not going to keep going until you say no. We’re not having the rape conversation again.”

He kisses me on the lips, gentle this time, our connection longer, our tongues slower. My hands come up to his neck, something I do when I’m getting turned on. But he pulls me outside, grabs my wrists, and pushes me up against the stucco wall.

I stare up at him feeling a little helpless, but at the same time, I know I can stop him with one word.

Make him continue with one word as well. It’s my choice.

“Yes.” I say it before I change my mind. I know this is a bad idea. Everything about him is a bright red flag for me. But I said it, and his hands are already back where I want them. Squeezing my breast and slipping into my shorts. He fingers me, little flicks across my clit. It sends intense sensations through my body.

“Take your clothes off.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to repeat everything, Shannon. And I don’t want to explain everything. Just fucking do it.”

I look towards the alley.

“No one can see. There’s a seven-foot-tall gate.”

I look the other direction. There’s another patio just fifteen feet away.

“No one can see you there, either. This is a very private patio. Consider it your initiation.”

“Init—”

“Stop talking,” he says with a finger over my lips. “And take your fucking clothes off.” He growls that last part and my heart thumps. His fingertips play with the hem of my shirt, tickling my belly. “Off.”

I stare him in the eyes as I reach down and grab my tank top and begin lifting it over my head. He steps back a few paces, like he needs to get a better look at me. I hold the small bit of fabric in my hand and wait.

He smiles and takes my shirt, stuffing it in his back pocket. “Now those.” He points to my shorts. I glance inside real quick to check on Olivia.

“She’s sleeping. I can see her from here. Off.”

I take a few deep breaths. What the fuck am I doing? But I’m already unbuttoning my shorts. I pull the zipper down, look up at Mateo—he’s smiling—and then wiggle them over my hips and let them fall to the ground at my feet.

“Are you afraid?”

“Should I be?” I whisper back in a small voice that comes off as very much afraid.

“You tell me, Shannon. My opinion doesn’t matter.”

I hook my thumbs into the elastic of my panties and let them drop to the ground as well. When I look up at Mateo, he’s like a wolf. Like he wants to eat me alive.

“Should I leave you like this?”

“What?”

“Are you wet?”

I let out a long breath and nod.

“Show me.”

Jesus. This man. He’s not gonna be easy. He’s gonna make me work for everything.

“Show me,” he says again, only this time with more force.

I reach down between my legs and play with myself, gathering the wetness on the tips of my fingers. I hold them up and they glisten in the light filtering through from the freeway.

He steps forward again, closing the distance between us, takes my fingers in his hand and places them in his mouth.

I have to close my eyes. My knees get a little weak and I’m eternally grateful that this stucco wall is holding me up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Shannon.”

“What?” I gasp.

But he’s already turned away. “Mateo,” I whisper-yell. “Mateo.”

“Stay away from Danny Alexander, Shannon. He’s bad news.”

And then Mateo pushes the gate open and walks through.

“Who the fuck is Danny Alexander?” I ask myself.

Chapter Twelve

I figure it out, of course
. Sunday is Danny Alexander. I just didn’t know his last name.

A second later I get a text.

Unknown Number: I mean it. Stay away from him. Walk to school tomorrow
.

Shannon: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Funny girl. I’ll make you pay for that tomorrow in class.

Shannon: I think I owe you one, actually. So I’ll take that ride and let him know I don’t need any more on the way. I’m not going to drop a friend for a guy like you.

Unknown Number: What kind of guy am I?

Shannon: The kind who gets me wet and leaves me hanging.

My phone rings and I almost drop it. “Hello?”

“Rub one out while I’m on the phone then.”

“What?”

“Shannon, I’m serious about saying things twice. I hate it. Don’t ask me for clarification when you heard me perfectly well.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Now go into your bedroom, lie down on your futon, and play with yourself until you come.”

I just stand there.

“Let me know when you’re in bed.”

I let out a frustrated exhale, but I walk to my room, slip inside, and lie down.

“Turn on the light.”

“Why?”

“So I can watch.”

I look up at my patio-facing window and there he is. I can barely make him out in the darkness, but I see him well enough.

“Do it,” he says. “You might like to think you’re in control, but you’re not. I am.”

“You’re creepy, Mateo.”

“Thank you. But you’re keeping me waiting.”

“I told you, I don’t like stalkers.”

“I’m not a stalker. I’m your boyfriend.”

How many times can he stun me silent in one day?

I get up and flip the light on, walk back to my futon, and lie down. But instead of lying down the right way, so my feet face the opposite wall, I lie down sideways, so Mateo can watch.

I’m sick. I realize this.

But I’m turned on like crazy too. So I close my eyes and reach between my legs.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he says into the phone. “Stick your fingers inside yourself.”

I gush at that. Like, I’m so fucking wet, I might have a problem.

Mateo starts breathing harder on the other end of the phone. “Are you getting off?” I ask.

“Shh,” he says back. But I know he is. I picture him in my head. His fat cock in his fist as he pumps up and down along his shaft. I picture myself lying on the desk in the classroom, panting with surprise and lust. I picture the look on his face when he came on my shirt.

I come with that picture in my head. We groan at the same time, him in the phone next to my ear.

“Feel better?”

I nod.

“Lick your fingers.”

God, I want to come again. Like right now. But I do as he says and place them in my mouth.

“What do they taste like?”

“You,” I say softly. “They taste like you.”

I don’t even bother looking up at the window. I can almost feel his smile. “You’re perfect,” he whispers back. “Should we make it even?”

“Wha—How?”

“I’ll let you watch me get off tomorrow in class. Don’t be late.”

And then I get the hang-up beeps. I stare at the phone for several seconds, relaxing into my post-orgasm state, lying naked in my bed, and thinking about all that happened today. This man, I moan internally. He’s probably more than I can handle. No, not probably. He is. Ten years makes a big difference in sexual appetite.