The Wicked

I scream as his hips smack against mine, my back curling off the bed and my head pushing into the pillows. Everything lights on fire, every single fucking inch of my body. I’m embers and burning hot explosions, my skin tingling and my muscles straining to keep up.

Hayden’s fingers dig into the skin of my hips, using me to gain the leverage he needs to keep fucking into me like mad, and I can’t control the noises pouring from my mouth like I’m being exorcised of all the doubts I had about this in the first place. Nothing else matters, it’s him and I – our bodies talking for us, pleasure spreading from him to me and then back again.

“Harder,” I scream, my hands clawing up my stomach and chest.

He moans as he complies, fucking me so hard that my bed slams against the wall, the loud noise mixing with our moans. My lungs constrict, making it impossible to breathe through the pleasure rippling through me, and I slam my eyes closed.

After a minute, he slows, and I take the opportunity to suck down oxygen. As he rolls his hips slowly, I look at him, finding his porcelain skin coated in sweat that shines off the black art covering his gorgeous body. He grins at my ogling, running a hand through his messy hair. Reaching forward, he traces a line down the center of my stomach until he reaches the apex of my thighs. “Let me feel you come around me, beautiful.”

I moan as he thrusts a little faster, his fingers sliding to my clit to make tight circles that set my world on fire.

“Oh, God, yes,” I moan, my head falling back on the pillows again as my core lights up.

He groans as the first wave of my orgasm passes through me, and my cunt holds on to his cock for dear life, and then I explode around him, my thighs squeezing his hips as my hands grab for the sheets.

“There you go, baby,” he grunts out, moving his fingers faster as I fall apart. His hips thrust the best he can while I’m tight around him like a vice, and he moans. “You feel so fucking good.”

My nails dig into the bedding as I cry out into the room, my lungs tight and my legs twitching. His name is a prayer on my lips, coming out in a chant so loud I can barely recognize my own voice.

“That’s it, scream my name loud enough that your neighbors know who fucking owns you,” he growls, bucking his hips over and over until I finally start to come down.

Before my body completely falls lax, he picks me up by the waist and flips me over onto my stomach, slamming back inside me hard and quick.

My arms fail and my face falls to the bed as he thrusts into me from behind.

I feel him reach over me, then he grabs my wrists and lifts me back up.

“Hold on to this for me, baby,” he groans, placing my hands on the top post of my headboard so I’m bent before him.

I moan as he pulls out and slams back into me, hitting me deeper than before. “Holy shit, Hayden.”

He grabs me by the hips. “Hold on tight.”

I squeeze my hands around the headboard in time for him to start bucking like mad, pounding in and out like he can’t help it. My core lights up again, another orgasm burning and building inside me already, and he groans when I tense my inner muscles around him.

“Fuck,” he moans, gripping my flesh with his fingers so hard that it hurts. “Such a greedy fucking pussy, squeezing me so tight.”

I scream as he fucks me, straightening my arms and holding myself up by the headboard so I can look back at him while he comes. There’s nothing in the world I want to see more than Hayden falling apart behind me, and when I crane my neck around to catch his gaze, I feel every inch of me burn for him.

His eyes stay on mine as he slams into me, and it’s difficult to keep my eyes open through the waves of pleasure that are coursing through me, but when his mouth drops open and he groans loud and low, I tense up and squeeze his cock with my pussy.

He shouts, his head falling back as his hips become erratic and ruthless as his climax passes through him.

One of his hands reaches out for me, his fingers threading into my hair and pulling. His voice is gravel, scraping along his throat. “Say my name.”

I moan, my neck bending back and my mouth opening. “Hayden.”

He pulls my hair tighter. “Now tell me I fucking own you, tell me I’m your fucking god.”

I cry out from the pressure on my scalp and the pulsing between my legs. “You’re my god,” I breathe. “You own me.”

Moaning, he lets go of my hair and I drop back to the bed. Then he slaps me on the ass as his orgasm fizzles out. “That’s right, baby. You’re mine.”

My bedroom smells like sex after three rounds with Hayden, and I’m reveling in it, curled inside the warmth of my blankets while he’s fast asleep next to me, his chest rising and falling carefully while he travels through dreamland.

The thoughts in my mind are calm, making me feel at peace for the first time in a really long time, and I don’t want anything to ruin it. I want to stay inside this bubble we’ve created forever, breathing in the smells of our fucking and bonding and love making. It’s as if nothing can hurt me in here, there is no pressure or negativity, like my blankets are protecting me from the outside world.

I study his face under the shadow of the streetlight creeping through my curtains, trying to sear into memory the sight of him so serene and taken under sleep. The dark circles that haunt his eyes during the day seem lighter now, like within his slumber, all the demons that exist within his mind are at bay.

His eyes twitch, like he’s dreaming of something, and I hold my breath, like the lightest movement of me breathing might disturb him. Something tells me he hasn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep for a while, and I don’t want to spoil it. I continue staring at him, wondering if subconsciously he can feel me watching him, as if maybe even in the trance of sleep, he still has eyes on me, still has that sixth sense where he’s constantly observing everything around him.

Hayden breathes through his nose, his chest filling with oxygen, then his mouth drops open to blow it out. His voice is hoarse and rough when he speaks, startling me.

“You watching me, Miss Leyton?”

I release the air from my lungs and chuckle through my teeth, whispering back to him. “Yes.”

His eyes remain closed, but he rolls over on his side to face me. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” I whisper, curling my arm under my head and moving my face closer to his, and he takes the opportunity to close the space between us and kiss me. I smile against his mouth, unable to stop myself, and he wraps his arms around my waist under the blankets.

When we break apart, he opens his dark eyes to look at me.

“You’re beautiful.”

I run my nose along his, and he squeezes my waist. “Tell me something about you.”

Kissing down my neck, he speaks against my skin. “What do you want to know, baby?”

I press my eyes closed and moan between my lips when he kisses over my breastbone. “Something you’ve never told anyone before.”

He laughs against my skin, rolling me over onto my back and positioning himself between my legs. There’s nothing sexual about the position. Instead, I think it makes him more comfortable sharing a secret with me, except he doesn’t speak once he’s stilled.

I peer up at him, directly into the blackness of his gaze. “You trust me.”

He grins. “Yeah.”

I kiss his lips once, then smile at him, deciding to share one of my own nightmares instead – mainly to show him that I trust him as well. “My dad is going to die.”

“He could get better, baby,” he says, brushing a thumb over my cheek.

“He’s not going to. The cancer is getting worse. They told my mom today he has six months… if that.”

He stares at me through the darkness, and a few moments pass between us in silence before I feel his muscles relax and his chest deflate. “If my dad died, I probably wouldn’t care.”

I openly flinch at the words, feeling the pain behind them, and he stiffens again. “Why?”

He shakes his head, looking away. “He’s a bad person.”

Running my hands down his back, I try to comfort him into relaxing again. “Hayden – you can talk to me.”

He rolls from on top of me, lying on his side again to face me. “I know.”

“It’s worth the risk,” I whisper, putting my nose on his again as I repeat his words from earlier tonight. I feel his mouth spread into a smile, then he leans forward to kiss me. His hands find my hair, and he controls my head as he moves his lips with mine, pulling it back so I open my mouth for him.

With his tongue in my mouth, he grips the strands to elicit moans from me, gathering them with his own lips while we feast on each other.

When he pulls back, we’re both breathless.

Closing his eyes, he speaks. “When I was eight, I watched my father kill my mother.”

My lungs burn painfully as I hold my breath, waiting for him to keep talking. But he doesn’t; he just exhales and inhales shakily, his hands digging into my hair while they shake.

“He was drunk. They were fighting. We were heading home from some function, and he lost control of the car. She was in the front and went through the windshield. I was in the back. I crawled over the broken glass and watched her take her last breath while he made a phone call – covering it all up, probably. He just ignored the fact she was dying, that she was bleeding out on the side of the road while his son held her. Cops showed up, and it was ruled an accident.”

We lie there, breathing each other’s air for a few minutes, then he finally opens his eyes and speaks again. “When I was twelve, he went on a work trip to New York and never came back. I found out when my nanny was fired via email that he had moved, left me here in Luxington to take care of myself. He’s only come back a handful of times for appearances, to make the world see the narrative he’s written – that he loves and cares for his only son, when he doesn’t, that he’s present, when he isn’t, that he’s my father, when really, he’s a deadbeat who abandoned me.

“I confronted him when I was fifteen. He had come to town because I got suspended from school and the headmistress needed to have a meeting with him. I asked him why. Why did you leave? Why do you pretend you don’t have a son?” He exhales a shaky laugh. “Do you know what he said? He said every time he looked at my face, he saw my mother, and then he beat my ass.”

I tense, feeling my eyes watering with emotion.

“I don’t care anymore – that would mean having any emotion toward him at all. I just accept the fact that I’m alone.”

I think the cloak of darkness makes him a little more comfortable, so I’m glad this conversation is happening in the dead of night, curled up in the warmth of my sheets, where nothing can hurt us.

“Hayden,” I say, running a hand up his face to pull his attention to mine. “You aren’t alone.”

His tattooed chest presses against mine, and he uses the hands he still has buried in my hair to pull me into him.

“This is real, right?” he asks, his voice a shaking whisper. “I know it’s fucking crazy, I know we just met, I know that you’re my teacher, and I know it feels fucking impulsive, but this is real, right?”

“It feels real,” I say, the hand I have on his face cupping his cheek.

He nods, then chuckles. “I’ve never been with anyone before.”

My brows pull down. “What?”

He laughs a little harder, his chest shaking against mine. “I’ve never done this. I’ve never had feelings for someone before.”

“How’s that possible?” I question, not quite understanding his words.

“I don’t know. I figured I just wasn’t wired that way. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone, I’ve never felt claim over someone like I do with you, I’ve never felt happy because of another person outside of the moments of pleasure they can give me.”

“So, what if that’s what this is, what if this is just pleasure and you’re confused?” I ask, nervous for the answer, even though I know in my bones that it isn’t true.

His gaze bores into mine. “No one on earth has heard the words I said to you tonight. Not my best friends, not my fucking family. I’m not going to sit here and pretend this all makes sense to me, and I’m not going to lie to you about the fact I’m fucking scared, but I know this is more.”

Before I can speak again, he continues.

“I’m not a good guy, P. I won’t pretend to be. I’ve made mistakes – lots of them. I’m mean, cold, and selfish. I use people for whatever they can give me, and nothing comes before myself.” He drops his eyes closed. “That’s how I know… because I want to be tender with you, I want to give you pleasure instead of milking you dry and taking whatever you can give me. I want to put you first.”

Something in my chest ignites, burning so hot with pride and power at knowing I have influence over someone who sits at the top of the ladder. Leaning forward, I kiss along his throat. “So, I’ll be the first.”

He rolls his head back, giving me more room to assault his neck. “First. Only.”

I smirk between open-mouthed kisses across his skin. “Tell me I own you.”

His cock inflates between us, so I reach down and grab it, making him groan.

“H,” I breathe against his throat whilst pumping my fist down his length. “Say it.”

He moans out the words. “You own me.”

I use both hands to push his chest, and when he’s lying on his back, I climb on top of him. Positioning him at my entrance, I sink down until he’s fully seated inside me, pressing my palms against his stomach to hold myself up. “Say it again.”

His hands grab my thighs and squeeze, and he sits up to press his mouth to mine. “You fucking own me, P.”

Grinding my hips, I moan as his cock hits my G-spot again and again, and he groans into my mouth. I curl my arms around him, digging my fingers into his back while I ride him. “Oh my god.”

“Yes, baby,” he answers with a smirk against my mouth. “Find your fucking salvation on my cock, pray to me with your moans, and remember that I’m your god.”

His hand finds my throat, and then he squeezes it, and I see stars.

When his gaze meets mine, there’s control and dominance sparkling in his eyes as his hips buck up against me. I grind down onto him, making wide circles with my pelvis to create the friction I need against my clit to reach my climax.

Our bodies have grown slick with sweat, pressed together so tight that even air can’t get between us, and every time we move with one another, my skin pulls and burns. My fingernails press into his skin as pleasure runs through me like currents, and with every roll of my hips, my orgasm grows more intense. I’m so close to going off like a bomb that I want to throw my head back and scream for release.

When my core finally coils tight enough, I explode around him, my body jerking and shaking. He tightens his hold on me, bucking upwards so his cock keeps slamming into that sweet spot inside of me, and then he’s meeting me at the finish line and yelling out his release.

When I wake up the next morning, I reach my arm across my bed for Hayden, but I’m alone.

Sitting up, I look around my room for him.

“Hayden?” I call out, hoping he’s just run off to the bathroom and I didn’t dream the whole night. When he doesn’t answer me, I throw my blankets off and step out of bed to search for him.

I push into the bathroom, even though the room is dark, and to no surprise, it’s empty. Making my way out through the living room, I find that the clothes he shed in there are gone, and my head starts to spin.

He isn’t here – that’s obvious. Was he ever? Did I imagine the entire thing? Or did he just run off so he didn’t have to stay true to all the sweet words he whispered to me in the dark last night?

I scoff out loud, then walk to the kitchen.

Of course he ran off. He stayed true to the person I knew he was when we first met – a fuckboy. Why would I have been convinced any different, when the first time I met him, he was hooking up with someone in the back room of Amethyst?

My gut doesn’t lie, and my gut said he was trouble.

I’m an idiot for thinking any differently.

I throw the kitchen cabinet open, grabbing the jar of coffee grounds and slamming it down on the counter. I go through the steps of making coffee in the same aggressive way, slamming everything around and making a mess. When the machine is dripping into the coffee pot, I storm back to the bathroom and take a shower.

Under the burning spray of water, I wash my body in a fit of rage. I’m so angry with myself that it feels as if I blink and I’m done, my hair shampooed and conditioned, my body scrubbed and my face clean. I stand under the hot spray for a minute, letting the water rush over me to see if it will calm me at all.

It doesn’t, so by the time I’m stepping out onto the bathmat, I’m still annoyed as a motherfucker.

The sun is rising outside my window when I get back into my bedroom. I grab my phone to check how much time I have until I need to be at work.

It’s already 6, so I ignore the few notifications I have and toss my phone back to the table. After I get dressed quickly, I run to the kitchen to make my coffee, and then head to the bathroom to get ready.

By 6:30, my hair and makeup are done, and I’m pouring my third cup of coffee into a travel mug and grabbing my purse to leave.

It isn’t until I’m at the first intersection with a red light that I check my phone again.

There’s a text message from Hayden, so I hit that notification first.

HAYDEN:

I had somewhere to be before school. I’ll see you in class.

I roll my eyes. He had to be somewhere? Somewhere so important he couldn’t wake me up to say goodbye?

I lock my phone in frustration and toss it in the empty cupholder, put my hands on the steering wheel, and stare at the red light. He had somewhere to be. I laugh, gripping the steering wheel tighter in frustration. What a crock of shit. It takes two seconds to wake someone up and say ‘hey, I have somewhere to be, gotta go, see ya later, thanks for the life-changing sex.’

What a fucking asshole.