15. Rhys

Mybodyisfuelled by nothing but anticipation. I barely slept last night after another full-on day of spiralling out-of-control yesterday, and after my chat with Garrett last night, I couldn’t even sum up the energy to accept Marcus’ FaceTime call when he rang.

I can’t believe I actually cried. Not that I think crying is weak. It isn’t. I’ve just never let myself get to that point before. So, sleep evaded me, and now I’m going through the motions of another school day with the only thing to look forward to is tonight’s Feast night.

I skipped breakfast, ignored Cynthia on the way to school, and then met Tillie and Bell behind the stadium, where I smoked too much weed. With squinting red eyes, I tried to convince Ms Holland, my Viscom teacher, that I was fine. But she took one look at me and sent me to the principal. AKA my foster mum. Ugh. So annoying. So then, I kind of slept for a bit on the couch in Cin’s office, and when I woke up, she had a slice of vanilla mud cake and a hot chocolate for me.

Then, she tried to talk to me.

What’s going on, Rhys?

Why won’t you talk to me, Rhys?

This is unacceptable behaviour in school, Rhys.

Do I have to send you back to the retreat, Rhys?

That one pulled my head out of my arse, and I apologised. I still didn’t divulge the chaos in my head, though.

When I finally promise my foster mum that I’ll behave, she sends me back out into the bustling school, where I reluctantly drag my feet to my Health class, which I’m about thirty minutes late for.

Mr Foster ignores my tardiness as I stroll to the back of the room and pull up a chair at the end of the table next to Dale. After a few minutes of listening to Dale catch me up on the classwork, I feel eyes on me.

Glancing up, I shift my gaze to the front of the room where Mr Foster’s eyes meet mine. There’s a glimmer of concern in his expression as he studies me, and heat rushes to my cheeks. I turn back to Dale because I’m a coward. Normally I’d have a standoff with Mr Foster or any teacher who is eyeballing me. Not today, though. Today I just can’t.

“Do I look like shit or something?”

Dale glances up from his laptop at my question, raking his big blue eyes over my face.

“Girl, you look hot.”

I grin and shimmy my shoulders. “Why, thank you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Not that sort of hot. More like you’re running a fever type of hot. You’re all flushed.” He leans back a little, raking his gaze from my face down my body and back again, his expression a mix of worry and disgust. “Please tell me you weren’t just bumping uglies with some herpes infested high schooler? Ew girl! That’s gross!” To emphasise his disgust, Dale shoots his hand out, turning his head in the other direction before bringing his hand back to his chest.

I giggle.

“What if I did? What if my Kitty just got some action?”

He gags. “Stop. You’re making me ill. Don’t speak about your…” He gags again.

“My? VAGINA?” I tease, and he gags again. “What’s wrong, Dale? You don’t like seafood?”

“Ew!” Dale leaps up from his seat, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Sit back down, Mr Martin.” Mr Foster grumbles from the front of the room; meanwhile, me and Tillie are in fits, while Bell just raises a brow at us lowly creatures, and Allister cringes.

“Can I switch seats, Mr Foster?” Dale asks, all whiney, making me laugh harder. Dale does this all the time. It’s like he forgets that I’m a chick, and when I remind him, usually through some sort of torment, of course, he freaks out. It’s the funniest thing ever.

“No, Dale, you can stay right there. Miss George is going to come and sit at the front.” Mr Foster approaches our row of tables and gives me a stern look as he rests his hands on his hips.

Oh, he’s all authority-like right now, which just wakes Kitty up more. I know I should pretend like I’m annoyed, but I’m feeling extra bratty after waking up from my Mary Jane nap, and I want someone to play with. It looks like Mr Foster will have to do.

“I’d rather stay here, Mr F.” I flutter my lashes, and he rolls his eyes this time.

“I don’t care if that’s what you’d rather, Miss George. Pick up your things and move to the front of the class.” He points towards the front, and I deliberately let my eyes travel the length of his arm, loving the sight of the way his muscles strain from the action. When I return my eyes to his, he doesn’t look impressed, so I smirk, peering up at him through my lashes like I’m nothing but innocent. He raises a brow.

“I tell you what, Mr F. If you give me one of those lollipops you keep for the year seven students in your desk, I’ll move, and I’ll stay quiet for the rest of the lesson.”

“This isn’t a negotiation Rhys.” He grumbles low, so I smile and lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest in defiance.

“Isn’t it?”

His nostrils flare, and his face reddens, and I can tell he wants to yell at me. Hell, if I were any other student, he would. So why isn’t he?

“Fine.” He grits out between his teeth, and this time my brow shoots up.

Wow. That was easy.

I flash my friends a victorious smile before gathering up my things and walking to the front of the room to the only free table, which just happens to be directly in front of Mr Foster’s desk. I can feel him walking a few steps behind me, so I add a little extra sway to my hips as I walk. There’s no way he’s not watching. I’m going to be in so much trouble after this.

Hopefully, he punishes me.

In the best way.

I lay my things out on the table as I sense him pass by. I’m hyperaware of him now, more than ever. It must be my pretty dick radar kicking in. Or it could be Kitty able to smell the pheromones he’s excreting. Either way, I feel him all around me, consuming and addictive.

In my peripheral, I see Mr Foster sit down at his desk. A quick glance around the room shows me that everyone is busy working. No one is paying me any attention, so before I take my new seat, I, oh so accidentally, nudge my pencil case off the front of the table.

“Whoops,” I say quietly, quickly flicking my gaze to see Mr Foster’s eyes on me, just as I hoped.

Moving around the table, I face the class, giving Mr Foster my back, and bend at the waist to slowly pick up my pencil case. My face heats, probably turning red as I hold in my laugh because right now, Mr Foster, my Skipper, is getting a very intimate view. My shorter than regulation skirt is doing anything but hiding my red cotton panties with the words, ‘Fuck Me’ painted over the arse.

Oh damn, this pencil case is hard to pick up. I try once, twice, three times before I get a good grip on it, each time moving my arse a little. Then, ever so slowly, I stand upright and make my way around the table to my seat. I take a few moments to continue my charade of innocence before looking back up.

Holy shit, Mr Foster looks mad. Furious.

I grin and mouth, ‘punish me.’

His face turns redder.

Fucking hell, I think I just got pregnant!

With his eyes still glaring at me, I flutter my lashes and slowly raise my hand to ask a question. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I think he’s going to leave me hanging, but then he glances back down at his laptop and mutters.

“What is it, Miss George?”

“Oh, um, I was just wondering when you are going to give me the lollipop?”

I pop the p on the end of lollipop, and his eyes dart up to mine again, his frustration evident. Then he huffs, moving back in his chair to open his drawer before standing and walking to my table with a lollipop. I smile up at him, playing the role of innocent schoolgirl, and watch as he places the lollipop on the table, his deep blue eyes darting to mine in the briefest of glances.

I don’t know why, but Mr Foster looks hotter than usual. Probably because I know how good he fucks. Actually, good is an understatement. I can’t even find a good enough word to describe how truly epic it was to have him pleasure me. To have him pumping inside me. Fuck, even knowing I walked around with his cum dripping from me has me squirming in my seat.

Hot. As. Fuck.

As I unwrap the lollipop, I watch the way his strong muscles ripple under his shirt as he moves, and by the time he takes his seat again, my panties are wet. I don’t even bother with doing any work. I just sit there, dragging the lollipop in and out of my mouth, imagining that it’s the head of his big, hard cock.

He must feel my eyes on him because a few minutes later, he looks up from his laptop and lounges back in his corporate style office chair, pressing the end of his pen to his bottom lip. His eyes travel the classroom for a moment before they land on me, and then I let him watch how I work the lollipop in and out of my mouth. When I spread my legs further apart under my table, he notices, his eyes darting lower.

I don’t know if he can see right under the table, but he knows enough to use his imagination, and I can see his eyes darken, even from where I’m sitting. It takes everything in me not to slide my hand under the table and touch myself. My Kitty is wide awake and practically hissing at me for some action. I haven’t had any today. In fact, I haven’t come since my time with Shaun in the darkroom yesterday afternoon. That’s… odd.

Before I know it, the bell rings for lunch, and Mr Foster is dishing out homework instructions before everyone flees. I take my time because I already know what’s coming, so I’m not surprised when he asks me to stay behind.

I smile and wave to my friends as they file out of the room while I stay seated and finish off the last bit of the lollipop.

“Miss George, will you have your overdue work in by tonight?” Mr Foster’s question is code for “Are you coming to the Feast night tonight?” It’s how he has asked every Wednesday since I started going. On Sunday nights, he simply sends me a text message with a question mark, and I send a thumbs up or thumbs down. The fact that he’s asking like this means there must be people still loitering around.

“Yes, Mr Foster. I’ll have it in tonight.” I smirk knowingly at him, but his eyes don’t linger. Instead, he walks to the classroom door and closes it before turning back to me.

“You are walking a fine fucking line, Kitten.” The deep rasp in his voice has my Kitty pulsing with need. I keep my smirk in place and start fiddling with the white plastic stick left behind from the lollipop.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I purr innocently, and he shoots me a dagger as he moves to his desk, placing one perfectly taut arse cheek on the edge.

“Who are you wearing those panties for?”

Oh, so he did see them. Nice.

My grin spreads wide, and I’m sure I look smug as fuck.

“For whoever wants to play.” I shrug like it’s nothing.

He grunts, almost possessively, and OMG, why does that turn me on so much?

“Your foster mum is worried about you.”

His words wipe the smuggery right off my face.

“What?”

“I know why you were late to class, Rhys. What’s going on?”

I frown. What the fuck?

“What do you mean? Why was I late?” I stand from my chair, apprehension creeping its way in.

“I believe you were pretty baked when you arrived to first period this morning.” He smirks a little, like he’s trying not to laugh, but I’m not smiling.

“Did she tell you that?” I hiss, clenching my fists by my side. I can’t believe Cynthia would blab about that.

Mr Foster stands from his desk and takes a step closer but stops, knowing someone could be watching through the window in the door.

“No, but she gave Emily a serving when she overheard her snitching about it in the staff room at recess.”

“Who the fuck is Emily?” I grit through my teeth as I watch him continue to try and suppress his smile.

“Emily Holland. Your Viscom teacher.”

“Oh.” I drop my head, staring at Tyler’s sneakers. They are black Nike’s. Expensive looking. My eyes travel up his bare legs to the hem of his shorts. Nike as well. He even has a Nike t-shirt on. Nike really should pay him to model their clothes. He’d make them millions.

“Earth to Rhys.” A hand waves past my vision, and I look up to see Tyler trying to get my attention. “Where did you go?”

I shake my head, looking down again. “Somewhere that’s not here.”

“Hey.” It’s the care in his tone that has me looking back up. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t talk.” I want to say I just fuck, but I can’t even bring myself to say that right now.

“Maybe you should try. If not to me, then someone else.”

“You really wanna know what goes on inside this head?” I poke my finger to my temple and widen my eyes in challenge.

“Would it surprise you if I said yes?”

I can’t speak because hell yes, that surprises me.

“I should go.” I turn back to the table and scoop up my things, stepping around Tyler when he doesn’t move out of my way. Just as I’m about to reach the door, Tyler grabs my free arm and pulls me to the side, pushing me up against the wall, a little way from the door where we are out of view.

“Prepare for that punishment, Kitten. Because I am delivering it tonight.”

And… I’m gushing.

The husky rasp in his voice is primal and possessive, and fuck me; I want to drop to my knees right here, right now. I don’t, of course, because we are at school, and I also don’t want him to go to jail. Also, for some reason, since we did the deed on Sunday night, our relationship has changed. Tyler has never acknowledged me much at the Feast nights and typically pays me little attention here at school. Sure, I know he keeps an eye on me at the Lodge, and there are times he has watched me fuck others when he didn’t think I noticed. Yet now, since we were blackmailed into stepping over that line we both drew, he’s not backing off or bolting in the other direction. If anything, he’s showing more interest. He’s showing more concern.

“Are you going to spank me, daddy?”

His strong hand wraps around my throat as he pushes up against me, sending searing heat to every part that counts.

“Don’t call me that!” His growl is nearly a whisper. His lips are close, and I can feel the heat of his breath dance across my skin.

“But I know how much you really love it. Daddy.”

I’m playing with fire, and I don’t care if I get burned. He says he doesn’t like me calling him daddy, yet his hard cock doesn’t lie.

His breathing quickens as he presses against my body, and I feel every inch of his hardness against my front.

“Kitten. You need to leave now. Before I take this too far.”

Fuck! I want him to take it too far. Desperately so. What I don’t want is to ruin his career or his life. Which is big for a sex-tracked mind like me. I deserve a fucking medal.

“Promise you’ll punish me tonight?” I practically beg.

“Yes.” He grits out through clenched teeth. “You can be sure of it.”

My black lips spread wide.

“Thank you, Daddy.”