Wrapping my hand around her thigh, I held on as I sucked, kissed, pulled, bit, and penetrated her, tasting her clit and making her squirm and moan with every inch I teased. She wasn’t the first teacher I’d seen like this, but she was the first one I’d touched, and I looked up at her as I sucked on her, seeing how much she liked it. This was almost too easy. It was less of a turn on when it was easy.

“Pull down the top of your dress,” I ordered her, flicking her clit with my tongue.

She let out little moans again and again as she pulled down one side and then the other, baring her naked breasts. Better. She looked vulnerable. Half-naked, legs spread for one of her students, glasses…

“You’re so good at that,” she panted.

I bit her lightly, making her gasp. Don’t talk.

She started moving into my mouth and took my head in her hands. I shoved them away and pressed a hand on her stomach, keeping her ass on the desk. I licked and sucked again and again, liking her in my mouth, because I was in control and she was at my mercy. Everything was happening to her right now and whatever I wanted to give her.

“God, yeah,” she moaned. “That’s so good.”

I snapped out of my head for a moment, hearing another voice instead.

That’s a good boy. You’re getting so good at that, baby.

I stopped working Miss Jennings, needing to swallow, because my mouth was suddenly dry.

Forcing myself on, I pushed the voice out of my head and slid two fingers inside her as I played with her clit with my tongue.

“God, you’re doing so well,” Miss Jennings said, refusing to shut the fuck up. “Don’t stop. Keep going, baby.”

Baby? What the fuck?

I clenched my teeth and stood straight, breathing hard and damn near ripping at my belt buckle to unfasten it. She might have some duct tape in her desk. She needed to be shut up. Heat flooded my neck and chest as I fought to get back in my head where I was distracted.

But she rose up off the desk, trying to kiss me and take over unfastening the belt. “I want to suck you,” she breathed out. “I want to taste you.”

It gets hard when I do that. That means you like it.

The memory of those words knotted over and over again in my gut, and I pulled her hands away. “No.”

I didn’t like that.

“Do as your told,” she said, trying to play.

But I lost it. I grabbed her neck and held her still as I got in her face. “I don’t like that.”

Yeah, you like it, don’t you, baby? You’re such a good boy.

I shoved her away and backed up, refastening my belt. My pulse pounded in my ears, and my skin crawled as the walls closed in. I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t breathe.

Fuck.

“What?” I heard Miss Jennings say as she held up her arms, covering herself. “I want it, Damon. You knew I wanted you. This was so hot. Come on.” She reached for me and stood up, trying to wrap her arms around my body. “Finish me,” she whispered, her sticky, snake-arms like fire on my skin.

I pushed her off and ran a hand through my hair. “Stupid bitch.”

And I walked away from her, unlocking the door and throwing it open as I charged into the still mostly empty hallway. Nausea rolled through my stomach.

Why couldn’t she shut up? Why couldn’t she just shut her fucking mouth? Most people did what they were told.

I bolted down the stairs and then the next flight as well, turning the corner and pushing through the door into the men’s room.

I shouldn’t have touched her. I walked to the sink and spit, still tasting her and spit again. I turned on the water, filled my hands, and splashed my face to try to cool down. I did it again and again, wiping my face on my sleeve.

I stared at myself in the mirror as I ran my hand through my hair, dragging my nails over my scalp and down my neck. Down my neck, digging in, deeper and deeper.

Come sleep with me, my sweet. And the memory of climbing in her big bed with the thick comforter as she held me to her naked body.

I let my eyes close and my forehead fall into the mirror as I breathed. “I should have fucked her,” I mumbled to myself. “I should’ve taped her mouth, turned her over, and fucked her.”

Everything turned black behind my eyelids, and I was sinking into a black hole. I felt the needles prick at the back of my throat.

I dug out my phone and hit all the buttons without even looking. It started to ring, and I held it up to my ear.

“Damon?” Banks answered.

I paused, breathing hard. “Banks...”

“Do you need me?”

I blinked my eyes open, checking the door to make sure no one was coming in. “There’s no time.”

We had to do this over the phone.

But she started to argue. “Damon—”

“Fuck, what good are you?” I squeezed the phone so hard I heard it crack.

She fell silent, and I pictured her in my room where she was cleaning or reading or taking care of my snakes, and I wished she was here, because this would be so much quicker.

Do it. Just do it.

I heard her clear her throat and let out a sigh. “You know…” She gave me her best annoyed tone. “I got shit to do. Is this all you’re calling me for? Jesus, you’re such a fucking baby.”

My fingers twitched with the urge to fist. Good. Keep going. I slid into a stall and locked the door. “Go ahead,” I egged her on. “Say that again?”

“Or what?” she shot back. “What will you do? You’re so goddamn weak, you have to call me because someone hurt your feelings? Someone stepped on your toe, baby, is that it? Michael, Kai, and Will must be doing Jesus a favor to even consider breathing the same air as you.”

My jaw locked.

“The only reason I stick around here is for the money, but I don’t even care about that anymore,” she continued, “because I want to fucking vomit every time I have to look at your stupid face. Jesus, I really am sick of this shit.”

My chest shook, and I balled my fist over and over again. She’s lying. She’s doing what she’s supposed to do. I need her to hurt me, because pain covers up pain, and if I feel one, I won’t feel the other. I need her to push back down what tries to crop back up.

“What?” She smarted off. “What are you going to say? Nothing, that’s what. You can’t even manage an hour away from me before you’re having a Malibu-fucking-Barbie panic attack. No wonder Daddy likes me best. I’m the son he always wanted.”

And I feel a slice inside my stomach. That one cut.

Because I thought she might be right. My father wouldn’t even acknowledge her as his kid, but he trusted her. He entrusted her.

Her. A bastard gutter rat who would be turning tricks just like her junkie mother if I hadn’t literally bought her ass when she was twelve. She lived in a mansion, because of me. She had three meals a day, because of me. She was safe, because of me.

“What did you say?” I gritted out.

I could hear her breathing shake. She was losing the nerve. “Damon, please…”

“Say it again!”

She gasped, choking down her tears and forcing the words out. “We laugh about you every day while you’re gone.” Her voice grew harder. “He can’t trust you to grow up. He can’t give you any responsibility. Everyone laughs about you. Especially the guy doing me in your bed right now.”

I shook my head, gripping the top of the stall door. No one was supposed to touch her.

“God, you weren’t even out of the house before the first one was inside me,” she said, digging deep. “I’ve been getting pounded all morning. Why don’t you get to class and leave us the fuck alone?”

I clenched my teeth, seeing her in my bed with a line of my father’s men taking their turns. Smiling at her. Enjoying her. Using her. Treating her like trash.

And I kicked the door. I kicked it again and again, growling until it gave way and swung open, hitting the wall behind it.

Fuck, yes. And just like that…everything relaxed. My limbs felt exhausted, and I saw my sister, in my room at home right now, fully dressed with her collar up to her neck, crying, and her books spilled onto the floor, because she was innocent, pure, and the sweetest girl I would ever know.

Everything she said, I made her say, because we could only feel one pain at a time, and maybe if I could pile on enough dirt, I’d get so buried I wouldn’t be able to think.

And sometimes, I could overpower whatever was in my head by making my own victims.

Like Miss Jennings. Like Banks. Maybe I didn’t like being alone, and I wouldn’t be if everyone else was as dirty as me.

At home, there were other things I’d ask her to do to stop the pain, but when she wasn’t in front of me we had to improvise.

The memories that had sprung up in Jennings’ room were so far way now, I couldn’t even remember what had set me off. I walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and pooled some water in my hand before taking a drink, feeling the cool water soothe the heat in my head.

The last twenty minutes never happened.

“Damon?” I heard Banks call. “Damon!”

I stood up straight and held the phone back up to my ear.

“Better?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I checked my face and hair in the mirror, seeing the rage start to fade, and my skin turn pale again. “Yeah...”

“Please stop making me do that…”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up, ignoring her. What she wanted was ultimately unimportant. We would do what we had to do.

Straightening my clothes, I felt the phone vibrate in my hand again and looked to see who it was.

***Damon K. Torrance***

Please see Mr. Kincaid in the dean’s office before the first bell this morning.

cc: Gabriel Torrance

Thank you.

Goddammit.

I checked the time on my phone, seeing that I had eight minutes till bell. I wanted to smoke.

Sticking the phone in my back pocket, I let out a long breath and tilted my neck to each side, hearing it crack. Every time I got summoned, my father got the same text, keeping him abreast of whatever was going on as if he cared. He knew if it was important enough, they would call him directly. Which they had done plenty in my tenure at this school.