28. I Can’t Quit You Baby

28

I CAN'T QUIT YOU BABY

DAISY

I take a deep breath as I walk onto Lester's driveway and ring the doorbell. I'm still dressed in my emerald green silk gown, because I look hotter than hell in this thing and I didn't want to take it off yet.

The bodice of the dress is draped over me with small pleats, similar to the one Mom wore because we thought it would be fun to match. The neckline is low, but not too low, and the fabric clings to my hips, flaring out toward my feet. The hem is just short enough to show my gorgeous, open-toed black heels. My long hair drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, showing off my cleavage and neck. A brown overnight bag is next to me on the ground, filled with fresh clothes and my sketchbook.

Right when the door opens, Lester's eyes flash over me while his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. Lust and admiration are written all over his face, and I just stand there, letting him take me in with all the confidence in the world.

"God, Daisy…" he breathes out, his voice raspy and raw. "You look like a Greek goddess."

My mouth opens, then shuts with an audible click as I welcome that compliment. "Damn. You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

Swallowing, his eyes still glance at every single part of me. He blinks hard, as if trying to shake himself out of his trance when he remembers I'm standing outside of his door, and we kind of have to be secret about this whole teacher-student thing.

"Come in." He steps aside, and I take the invitation. My heels clack on the wooden floor as I step further into the house. I meet his eyes across the room while he puts my bag down on a little side table next to the front door. "How was the show?"

"Perfect," I say, smiling. "Mom won."

"That's great" He steps closer to me, his gaze never faltering.

"All of us expected it, but that doesn't make it any less special. It's one of the best books she's ever written."

"I can confidently say that it is. I've read them all," he says, walking around me with an intense slowness. When he's behind me, he takes my hair in his hand and brushes it over my shoulder, pressing his body to mine. "It is a crime to look like you do," he hums against my ear, the tone of it vibrating against me and turning my blood into hot lava. "You're radiant. Angelic."

I breathe out a gasp, leaning closer against him as I lose my body in his grasp.

"Would you like a drink?" he asks, softly biting my earlobe.

I grin. "Are you going to let me have alcohol?"

"Alcohol is the least of our worries tonight, compared to what I plan to do with you."

My thighs clench together instantly, and the arousal that floods through me is more intense than I've ever felt before. "Fuck me sideways," I curse, nearly moaning from the sheer rush of adrenaline.

His hand surrounds my throat and he squeezes. "Oh, I plan to. I plan to fuck you in any way I please."

I whimper. "You no longer seem to have any doubts. You're no longer holding back," I choke out, and I damn myself for saying it. I don't want him to think about the trouble this could cause.

He squeezes my throat a little tighter, while his other hand moves down from my waist to my stomach, then even lower. "Because I don't have doubts anymore. I cannot resist you. You told me that we are inevitable. And I've concluded that you were right."

"Took you long enough," I huff, then squeak when he cups my pussy over the fabric of my dress as an answer.

"Better watch that smart mouth of yours, little nymph. Nothing is holding me back anymore. That means I can shut you up any way I like. Shove another pair of panties into your pretty mouth. Make you wear a ball gag. Or just fill it with my cock."

My eyes close, my breathing turning erratic. "All of those options sound like a good time to me."

He plants a light kiss on the side of my neck before he lets me go, tearing himself away and casually walking to the other side of the room to fix us up a drink. "What would you like?"

I know why he did that. We were about to lose it and jump each other. And I'm guessing that he's planning on taking me to his Red Room. Wouldn't want to waste this moment by casually fucking on the couch. No, we're going all out.

"Have any good whisky?" I ask, following him, then leaning against the windowsill.

"Sure." Giving me an appreciative nod, he grabs a bottle of Glen Grant whisky. He pours us both a glass before handing it to me.

Taking a sip, I smile. "This is good stuff."

He's dressed in a nice pair of brown slacks with a cream-colored blouse, the collar almost as pointy as my finest switchblade. Running his hand through his long hair, he brushes it back, taking a sip of whisky as he assesses me again from head to toe.

It makes me smile like a lunatic. The man is undressing me with his eyes, basically fucking me already. Lester Gilbert is a thrill. I can't fucking believe that this is happening.

Hard work pays off.

"So where are you planning on fucking me, Mr. Gilbert? You don't seem like the type for casual bedroom sex. What was it you that told me you wanted to do to me when I held a gun to your head? Whips, ropes, and paddles?"

His eyes turn a shade darker as they fill with desire and promises of pain and pleasure. "Is that something you want?"

I cross my arms, the glass still in my hand. "Are you doubting that?"

"This is not how I do this. Sex, for me… It's almost like a business arrangement. I need written consent, a list of dos and don'ts. A contract. Obviously, we can't do it like that between us." He sighs. "I want to do it all, Daisy. But we need some kind of boundaries. I wouldn't feel right otherwise. I need to know your limits."

"Tangerine," I say, tilting my head with a grin.

"What?" His eyebrows furrow. "The fruit? What do you―"

"The song," I say amusedly. "That's my safe word. And that's all we'll need." I walk closer to him, this time surrounding him just like he did to me a few minutes ago. "You must have realized by now that I'm a sex addict, Professor. Don't think you're going to scar me for life or open up a world of crazy fetishes, scare me off like an innocent little deer. I know what I can handle, and I'm not afraid to speak my mind, which is also something you must know pretty well by now. If I'm not down for something, I'll let you know."

Trailing my fingertips over his arm, then his back, and finally his stomach when I finish my circle, I look up at him. "Rock ‘n' roll, baby. Take a walk on the wild side." I give him a wink. "Show me every depraved thing that gets you hot and hear me scream out for more."

"Christ," he curses. "You're going to be the end of me, Miss Burton."

"Nah." I shake my head, then poke my finger against his chest. "I'm not the end. I'm the beginning. Now show me the good stuff. I'm so wet from thinking about it I feel it drip down my legs."

His irises widen as if I just shot drugs into his veins by saying those words, his lip curling up. He grabs my hand and yanks me with him toward the hallway. We make way through his big house until we reach his special room.

I've been here before, but he doesn't know that. So I'll do my best to act surprised, try to see it through fresh eyes.

As soon as he opens the door and steps aside, my mouth opens on a gasp. I slowly get inside, letting my eyes shift to everything inside the room. He closes the door behind us and I make it to the wall across the room, where all of his toys and devices are displayed.

So, when I say Red Room, the first thing that comes to mind is this frightening sex dungeon fit for vampires and monsters. Something dark and unnerving. But Lester's room isn't like that at all.

Just like the rest of his house, it has class and it's quirky and creative. Just so him .

The walls in the room are a classy shade of burgundy and there are elements of creamy white, like crown molding on the ceiling, and even a wall in the back with the same color. Paintings made by himself hang on the walls, the colors matching the rest of the interior. The floor is dark wooden laminate, with a large rug in the middle that contains gorgeous colorful flowers.

There's a large bed on the opposite side of the room, with glimmering silk sheets in a gorgeous shade of gold. On the front and back of it are golden bars, with handcuffs attached.

Lester gives me a moment to take it all in, and when I glance at him, there's a certain calmness on his face, mixed with unsurety. This is a place where he feels safe, where he can let his inner deviant out without any repercussions or shame. The unsurety is there because there's still part of him that can't believe that a young girl like me wouldn't be scared off by it all.

He keeps forgetting that I let myself get gangbanged on a weekly basis. Nothing could scare me off or make me want to run. He doesn't have to worry, but I'm glad he does. It makes me feel safe, and I trust him wholly.

My fingertips trail over the hanging arrangement of his playthings. His leather whips, spanking paddles varying between wood and leather materials, floggers, toys like vibrators and butt plugs, among other fun things. On the other wall hangs a wide arrangement of ropes, in various colors and materials, with different girths. When I look up, I find wooden beams all around the ceiling with metal hoops for the ropes.

I meet his eyes. "You're going to give me the time of my life, aren't you?"

"I plan on it," he says with smugness, stepping closer to me. The tension between us is high, nearly crackling like electricity. He circles my waist with his arms from behind me, pulling me close against his chest.

We're both watching the wall full of equipment when I ask, "What are you planning to use on me?"

"I'm going to use everything," he says with confidence, and I tense as he grabs the fabric of my dress and pulls it up to expose my leg. His fingertips trail over my thigh, then disappear beneath the fabric, finding my soaked panties. "But everything is different with you, Daisy. The things we already did, you touching me…" He breathes painfully, tickling my neck. "I never let anyone touch me. That's what all this is for. A desire as much as a precaution."

"Why am I allowed to touch you?" I ask on a desperate whimper.

"I don't know. I've been wondering that for weeks. I don't know why your touch doesn't make me feel like I'm going to burst into flames."

I've stalked him for almost three years, yet there is still so much to uncover. I don't know why other people's touches make him feel like that. But all I'm going to focus on now is the fact that I'm the only one who can touch him.

"I'm yours tonight, Professor. All yours." I pull out of his hold and grab a red-colored rope from the wall, feeling it in my hands.

"I don't just want you tonight, little nymph. If we do this, there is no going back. I'm going to claim you and mark you as mine."

A whole army of butterflies erupt inside my stomach.

This is it. This is what I've always wanted. To feel . Something that's always been missing. Something I've subconsciously longed for.

My chest rises and falls with anticipation, and a few more seconds pass by before it's over. The invisible rope that was keeping us apart has been severed and in its place will be real ropes tightly binding me to present my body to him on a silver platter.

I jump up into his arms and he catches me with ease. My legs surround his waist and I slam my lips onto his. "I'm yours. It's all I want," I moan desperately as his tongue finds mine. "I want you. I need you."

I'm still holding the rope inside my hands and I brush it against his back. "Tie me up," I mumble against his lips. "Because if you don't, I'm going to claw your skin off. One second more of you not being inside me is going to be my death."

He doesn't waste time, walking us to the other side of the room and dropping me to the floor. "Take off your dress," he says, his voice authoritative as he takes the rope from my hands.

My mouth parts, and I immediately reach backward to catch my zipper. I pull it down, and the rest happens automatically. The dress slips from my shoulders, falling down onto the wooden floor in a puddle of green silk. Stepping out of it, I slide it to the side with my foot.

"Fuck…" he curses as he sees me. I'm not wearing a bra, only a pair of lace panties, with my heels still on my feet. "You're incomparable."

I watch him with a grin, confidence radiating off me like sunshine on a hot summer's day. My nipples pebble with arousal as he takes all of me in with a gaze so intense and enthralled, he's uncaring of how much time he takes.

Some women might feel uncomfortable, but not me. I keep standing straight, not an ounce of shyness in me. Let him get a thorough view of what he's about to fuck.

"Kneel." Those words take me out of the moment, and I sink to my knees instantly. "Hands on your lap," he orders.

I follow his every demand, nearly losing it already. My clit pulses and throbs, desperate for a touch. I feel empty, my body begging to be filled.

"I'm done being the good professor," he says darkly, sinking to the floor before he starts binding my wrists together with beautiful knots. "All those times I watched you, you fucking knew I was there. I watched your wandering eyes search for me between the trees. That goddamn taunting smile of yours has been the bane of my life for weeks. All those boys that you let inside you… I wished them the most horrific deaths known to mankind. I'm going to erase them from your skin, Daisy. Is that clear?"

"Yes." I nod desperately.

He tightens the rope roughly around my wrists and I yelp. "You'll address me in the proper ways, Miss Burton."

Swallowing, I choke out, "Yes… sir?"

"Is that a question?"

Fuck me sideways. It takes a lot to make me flustered and at a loss for words. But the power he radiates right now is enough to make me forget that I always have something sassy to say.

"No… not a question. I meant to say… yes, sir."

He nudges my chin with his finger. "Good girl."

Before those words make me combust inside my panties, he stands up and pulls the rope through a metal ring above me, yanking it upward until I have no choice but to stand up.

"Fucking hell," I curse on a lost breath. The sound of my heels tapping on the floor as I hang there rings through the room. He secures the rope, my arms straightening above my head, my feet on the ground.

"I'm asking you one last time. Do you want this?" I nod my head desperately. "Just one word, Diphylleia. And I'll make the pain stop." He sinks to his knees in front of me, looking up at my face as if he's ready to worship me at the altar.

Diphylleia ? Like… the flower?

I decide to ignore it and ask him about it later.

"You remember your safe word?" he asks in confirmation while he reaches for the sides of my underwear, rolling them down my legs.

"Yes, sir," I tell him. "Tangerine."

"Good." Once my panties are all the way off, he tosses them aside and grips the insides of my thighs to spread them apart. He groans when he watches me dripping for him, trailing his fingers over my wetness, coating them. "Such a pretty pussy. It's a shame I'm going to ruin it."

He slips two fingers in at once, and I cry out at the top of my lungs. "Fuck!"

"I forced you to come back to back three times the last time I touched this beautiful cunt. Do you think we can double it?"

I can only mumble unintelligible words as his thumb rubs over my clit, his fingers moving in and out of my pussy. I pull the ropes around my wrist taut, needing to do something― anything .

For the first time in my life, I think I've taken on more than I can handle. Not because I've never been forcefully finger-blasted before, but because it's Lester. How can I survive this if even the slightest touch of his is enough to drive me wild?

"Ah, little nymph…" He pushes deeper inside, making me yelp. "I do like it when you cry for me." He taunts me by not moving up the pace when I desperately want him to and I start thrusting my hips in the direction of his face.

His laugh is a sinister one, laced with amusement and smugness. "I decide when you get to come and I decide how many times you do. You have nowhere to go, angel. You're strung up tight. All you get to do is take it."

"Please…" I beg silently. "Lester, please. I'm going to explode. Please, give me more."

It's the first time I've called him by his first name, and that makes both of us halt. But it doesn't take long before he picks up where he left off, taunting me to the fucking edge of death.

"I'm haunted by the things you never should have let me do to you." He curls his fingers, and my eyes roll to the back of my head while tears stream down my cheeks, along with sweat. "Because now that I've had a taste, I cannot stop."

His words are dynamite, and my whole body clenches tight before he thrusts harder. "Let go, little nymph. You have my permission."

He doesn't have to tell me twice.

"Ah!" I moan when he keeps going harder and deeper and my vision blackens. My legs shake violently as he keeps going, forcing me to squeeze everything out just like last week in the library. My eyes close, sparks detonating behind my lids, the feeling like falling into a boiling bath of pleasure.

I hold onto the rope above my head for dear life as my cum splatters on the ground, tipping my head down to look at Lester working my body with expert precision. He reads my body like braille, knowing exactly where to push to send my body and mind spiraling.

"Look at that," he hums, watching my pussy pulsing. "A work of art."

Despite floating around in space or wherever the hell, I can't help but burst out laughing. "Me having an orgasm is a work of art?"

"Damn straight." He slowly takes his fingers out, not taking his eyes off my core. "The way you come undone, the way that tight little cunt clutches onto my fingers. The way you squeeze out every drop…" He sticks his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, closing his eyes to wallow in the taste. "Just look at the floor, angel. There's a puddle beneath you. Look at the wetness on your thighs and the way your pretty pussy drips."

I clench my thighs together because those words light another fire inside me. "Please, Professor," I beg. "I need more. I need to feel you inside me. I can't take it anymore."

"So desperate." He tsks as he gets up off the floor, his height towering over me as his face tips down to meet my eyes. "You want me so bad…"

"I've wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you."

It's the truth. Only as far as he knows the first time I saw him was inside the classroom at school, when it in reality it was years ago at the art exhibition.

"Now that I have you here, tied up with nowhere to go… tell me something real. Tell me why you stole my cardigan." I pull the ropes again, trying to pull free, but to no avail. "I'm a master at Kinbaku, Daisy. You're not going to get out."

"Fuck, shit. Goddamn it," I curse, moving my legs. It's a good thing that I'm strung up, because I would've slipped in my own pool of cum. My shoes even make a squeak.

"You want to know the truth, Professor? I stole it from your desk, then took it to the bathroom, where I used it to get myself off. I wet it with my cum, stained the soft fabric until it was soaked. Ha ! How's that for honesty?" I let out a manic laugh, and I can only imagine my psychotic eyes.

I don't care. I'm not ashamed.

"Are you fucking with me?" he asks, his eyes wide with bewilderment and… arousal.

"Nope." The word comes out with an audible pop, and I lift my eyebrows in challenge.

His mouth parts, his breath tickling on my face. An intoxicating mix of whisky and smoke finds its way into my nostrils, and I let out a whimper. I want his tongue inside my mouth so bad.

"You're insane." He shakes his head, his finger trailing a path over my bare stomach, watching it as he seems to be lost in his thoughts. A pang of hurt stabs into my gut. He's not wrong, but I want him to see the beauty in my insanity.

When our eyes lock again, his expression has changed. Not bewilderment or confusion… but admiration and lust.

Recognition.

I think in this moment, he catches a glimpse of himself in me. It's as if our insanity connects at once, our souls tangling together like the threads of a rope.

"You're insane," he repeats. "And I've never felt so lost while feeling like I've been found. Like I've been pulled out of the dark by someone equally mad."

He slams his lips against mine, and I nearly swing backward from the force of it. Lowering himself, he grabs the backs of my thighs and pulls me up into his arms. His teeth dig painfully into my lower lip, splitting the skin.

I've never welcomed the pain more.

Blood mingles on our tongues, and it drives both of us even wilder than we already were. It's animalistic, it's real . His hands knead my ass, his nails digging into my flesh.

I can't touch him because I'm still tied by the ropes, so I just grind my pussy against his cock by thrusting my hips upward. "I―" he tries to get out. "I need to be inside you. Fuck. I can't wait anymore."

"Finally," I moan. "Fucking do it. Please fuck me, Professor."

"We need condoms," he groans into my mouth. "Goddamn it. I just can't let go of you."

"Then don't," I beg. "I'm clean. I got tested four days ago. There hasn't been anyone after that."

"No. We―we can't…" His mouth says no, but his cock says yes. I can feel how hard it is when he rubs it against me.

"I'm on the pill," I mumble as I try to convince him.

"God…" He bites my lip again, then pulls away to meet my droopy eyes. "I'm going to fuck the holy hell out of you, you know that, right?" I gasp as he holds me up with one arm while the other wraps around my throat. "You're in big trouble, Miss Burton."

I let out a desperate cry. "We both are."