I would have bet my savings that the reason I couldn’t do it was because, every time I closed my eyes, his kiss was right there.
It was why I still had my e-mail open on another tab as I closed out of the show I was doing.
The cam client screen went blank, and I hit the X in the top corner, ignoring the other open tab. That was my last show of the weekend, and now, Sunday night, I would get to think.
I wrapped the vibrator in a towel on my bed to clean later and grabbed my robe. My freshly laundered towels were sitting in a pile on my desk, so I grabbed two and headed for the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and turned the shower knob for the hot water.
Steam filled the room as the hot water rushed down to the shower floor, and I took my robe off. Hanging it up before I turned, I let out a long, heavy sigh. I stepped into the shower, and that sigh became a gasp as the red-hot water burned against my skin.
It felt good.
I let it beat down on me for a minute before I reached back and turned the temperature down a little. Each pound of the water against my back felt like the ticking of the clock, and each one took me a step closer to not being able to back out of this agreement.
I didn’t like the uncertainty of it. It threw me. I was almost anal about my schedule. I knew where I had to be and when I had to be there, and it was that simple. It was how I balanced my school life, my work life, and my personal life. My planner was my best friend—next to my journal, of course.
It didn’t pass me by that my planner would be essentially useless if I was now a booty call.
I washed my hair and my body and then stepped out of the hot water. I wrapped myself in the fluffy towels and meandered back to my bedroom. It was eerily quiet through the house, but as I paused in the doorway, I heard the unmistakable sound of a moan.
Must be cam time.
I scurried into my room and shut the door. The quicker I could bring up Spotify, the better. I opened my laptop with a little too much excitement and clicked on the bright-green icon as soon as I could. Another moan echoed through the walls—and fuck it. This was why I always made a point to be out when Lou was doing a show. She wasn’t only a loud snorer; she was a loud every-fucking-thing.
I shuddered as the sound of “Irresistible” by Fall Out Boy and Demi Lovato filled my room. It drowned out the awful sounds from next door, and I found myself singing along as though I were part of the band. I stopped myself short of grabbing a hairbrush because I wasn’t six anymore.
I dried myself, put clean underwear on, then stopped. The break in the music had me slowly turning toward my laptop. It was only a second of silence, but long enough to tell me that I had an e-mail.
I glanced at the clock.
Fuck.
My “fuck off, fuck you” e-mail was no longer valid.
I swallowed hard and grabbed my laptop. The underside was cold except for the battery as it landed on my bare thighs, and I clicked on the Internet browser. It was clear for me to see.
Email (1).
I took a deep breath and refreshed the page. As I did, the message showed up in highlighted, bold text at the top of my inbox.
Jordan Keaton: Are you ready?
My heart thumped erratically as I clicked on it and my screen filled with his words.
From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Subject: Are you ready?
Darcy,
I assume by your silence for the last forty-eight hours that you’re in full agreement with the contract. I’d appreciate your confirmation now.
J
I ran my tongue across my lips, knowing there was no way out. I was screwed. That was it—I had to fuck my teacher.#p#分页标题#e#
That sentence. It was like a ten-ton truck full of fucking solid brick as it hit me. It was over. Any kind of resistance, any refusal—I couldn’t do it now. The legally binding contract I’d signed made sure of it. He was playing with me, I was sure. But, for all of his years of experience on me, he hadn’t learned the most important rule of the game.
Don’t fuck with the girl who makes the rules.
I was ready to play, and play I would. I was certain this man had a skeleton of his own, ready to be unearthed, and if we were going to do this, we’d be doing it fucking properly.
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Subject: Are you?
Dear Professor,
Yes, I accept. Although I would appreciate clarification on one point: in clause two, where you detail in not so many words the sexual obligations. I’d like you to expand on the point regarding a third party.
Xoxo, Darcy.
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Subject: Really?
Darcy,
I do believe it’s fairly self-explanatory.
J
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]