Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) (29 page)

29

CLARA

It hurt ... hurt so much, knowing that Phelia
was with Dante now. Ever since that day they’d skipped out on rehearsal, she
hung out with him and Jasper, not leaving their sides. The day before my
husband was due back from London, I watched her running a hand up and down
Dante’s arm while they rehearsed their lines on stage, what she was doing upsetting
me more than usual. I knew I had no right to be angry, that I had no claim over
Dante. I was the one who’d rejected him, not the other way round. But as the
minutes ticked by, I found myself getting more and more wound up. Then she took
hold of his hand, that one small gesture finally causing me to snap.

“That’s enough!” I yelled from my seat.

They both turned towards me with
questioning looks.

“What’s wrong, miss?” Phelia asked,
letting go of Dante’s hand.

“I’m getting sick and tired of watching
you feel Dante up when you’re supposed to be rehearsing.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m not feeling him up!”

“Touching him, then.”

“What’s so wrong ’bout that?”

“There’s no touching in this scene, or the
last one, or the one prior to that, so if I catch you doing it one more time, I
will stop the rehearsal.”

“But, I was only holding his hand, and
he’s fine with it.”

I shifted my focus to Dante. “Are you fine
with it?” I asked, wishing he didn’t look so damn good. It was muftie day,
which meant he wasn’t in uniform. Instead, he was wearing scruffy jeans and a
Bob Marley shirt, which made him look sexy, the word fitting him down to his
ripped T.

“Of course I’m fuckin’
fine
with it,”
he answered me, his tone overly harsh.

“Don’t use that language with me.”

He grimaced. “What’s your issue? It wuzn’t
like she wuz
unzipping
my pants.”

I clamped my mouth shut, knowing I
deserved that comment. Phelia frowned, looking between Dante and me, probably
picking up on the intense vibe between us.

“Just stop the touching,” I quickly said, needing
to defuse the situation before her suspicions were piqued further.

“I wuzn’t touching her, she wuz touching
me.” He cocked his head to the side, giving me a look that said, ‘Like
you
touched me’.

“I meant Phelia, not you.”

“So, she can’t touch me?”

“Dante, please stop goading me.”

“No, I just needa get things straight so
you don’t blow your stack again.”

“I’m sorry I lost my temper, but I’m here
to help you with the musical, not to watch what she was doing up there.”

“Okay. I got it. She can’t touch me, but I
can touch her.” He slung an arm over her shoulders, resting his hand on her
breast.

“Dante! Get your hand off her...”

“Off her
what
, miss?”

I didn’t reply.

“It’s called a
tit
,” he said, his
voice dripping with contempt.

Phelia giggled, seemingly enjoying what
Dante was doing.

I stood up, unable to handle the situation
any longer. “I’m done,” I said, grabbing my jacket and bag. I headed for the double
doors at the back of the hall, so infuriated that I wanted to scream at him. It
was even harder that I had to see him every damn day at school, reminding me of
what I’d done, as well as what I wanted to do with him ... to him ... but
couldn’t. He was just too attractive, a temptation constantly taunting me,
playing with me, ripping my fucking mind apart. Not only did he distract me
from my work, he put tainted thoughts into my head that didn’t belong there,
ones that I constantly wanted to act upon.

I headed for my office, which was on the
other side of my classroom’s whiteboard. It was wedged in between another room,
a tiny box without windows. Shutting the door behind me, I switched on the
light and slumped into my chair, feeling like crying. I didn’t understand why I
wanted him so bad. Yes, he was gorgeous, yes, he was intensely sexual, but I’d
come across other gorgeous and sexual men before... No, I was wrong, because
I’d never come across anyone as sexual as Dante. It came off him in waves: the
way he looked, his expressions, the way he walked, his voice, his words—and it
was driving me insane. I wanted to scream, to rage at something, anything... No,
I wanted him to make me come, but all I could do was use my hand.

I slipped it under my dress and burrowed into
my knickers, desperate to let off some steam. I closed my eyes, imagining Dante
up on the stage: his looks, his muscles, the sweep of his jaw line, his
gorgeous hair... I squeezed my legs together and started rubbing myself.

Undoing a few buttons, I pulled one of my
breasts out of my bra and started rolling my nipple, imagining him doing it,
using it to get closer to an orgasm, to a closure, to anything, because I
couldn’t continue this way. He was turning me into a tight knot of frustrations,
so much so that I couldn’t think straight anymore.

Desperately needing release, I closed my
eyes and leaned my head back, panting as I rubbed myself, my mind on Dante
doing it for me. The pressure inside of me continued to grow, building up and
up until pleasure shot through me, my climax hitting me, taking me to a Heaven
I didn’t belong in, the name leaving my lips giving me a one-way ticket to
Hell.

A male voice gasped,
“Jesus!”

My eyes shot open, the realisation I’d
forgotten to lock the door slamming into me harder than a freight train. But
what hit me even more was who was standing in the doorway.

Dante
.

He was staring at me with wide, shocked
eyes. I stared back, also in shock, the both of us frozen in that moment, not
believing what we were seeing. Then, like a switch had been flicked, his
stunned expression turned to arousal. His eyes lowered to my bare breast, alerting
me to the fact it was still hanging out of my bra. But again, I couldn’t move.
Something was holding me in place, locking me to the chair, my hand not moving
from my knickers.

A smile formed across his lips. He closed
the door and flicked the lock, the resounding click finally breaking me out of
my stunned state. I let go of my breast and whipped my hand out of my knickers,
quickly righting my bra. My mind was in a whirl, my face burning, my heart
racing too fast for me to handle. I had to get away from him, because if I
stayed, I knew things weren’t going to end well.

“You just came saying my name,” he said,
his voice deeper than I’d ever heard it.

I remained silent, unable to deny it.
Though, his expression was starting to scare me. He looked like his father had
in the principal’s office: wanting to mount me. It was the only way I could
describe it, because his whole demeanour was animalistic, a tiger ready to
pounce on his prey. It was a stupid thought, an overly dramatic description, but
nonetheless it fitted the way he was looking at me.

His hand went to his pants, unzipping his
fly. “I can make you come harder with my cock,” he drawled, pulling it out.

I stared at it in disbelief. He gave his
dick a few strokes, then removed a condom from his pocket. The fact he had one
at the ready was startling in itself, but the way he rolled it on, slipping it
over his hard shaft with such fluidity was disconcerting. It was as though he’d
done it a million times before, the movement second nature to him. The uneasy
feeling grew, dragging me a little out of my shock, but I still couldn’t say a
word. Instead, an unwelcome thrum of excitement ran through my body, overriding
the unease and all other logical thought, my mind in a constant state of flux, shifting
between emotions faster than I could process.

Then he leaned down towards me, giving me
another smile.
He had me.
And he knew it.

I
had
to leave now, to push him away
like I did at the detention. I needed to get the hell out of the room, because
if I didn’t, I would regret it. But again, I did nothing, other than stare at
his beautiful face. Those dark eyes. The wicked curve of his lips. All so
captivating.

He lowered his face, his breath mingling
with my own. Then his lips were on mine. So soft, testing, teasing, tasting.
His tongue pressed against my lips, tentatively at first, then with more force.
I opened my mouth instinctively. He slid his tongue inside, tangling it with
mine, becoming more and more aggressive. His hand moved to my head, his fingers
digging into my hair as he ... no,
we
kissed, because I was now
returning what he was doing, no thought involved, only desire, the bloom below
becoming stronger. It was almost pulsing, aching for him, the built-up
frustration of seeing what I wanted and not being able to touch it ... to touch
him
, finally breaking free. I was doing what I wanted, tasting, biting,
gripping onto his head. I didn’t even remember lifting my hands. My body was several
steps ahead of my mind, moving of its own volition. And I revelled in it,
loving that I could finally bury my fingers into his hair, the soft waves
divine to touch.

Strong hands slid under me, lifting me with
ease out of the chair. Breaking our kiss, Dante settled me on the desk and
disentangled my fingers from his hair. Before I could react, he slipped a hand
under my dress and tugged my knickers down my legs, being overly rough in his
excitement. Part of the lace tore as he yanked them off. He tossed the ruined
knickers aside, the pink material drifting down to the floor beside him, almost
in slow motion.

He
grabbed my hips and yanked me forward, startling a cry out of me. He didn’t
look up at me, didn’t even react, because his eyes were locked onto my naked
crotch, lust dilating his pupils, making his irises look pitch black. A wicked
glint passed through them. The next second he was on his knees, placing his
mouth to my... I inhaled sharply, what he was doing unbelievable,
indescribable. I couldn’t even think about the actual act, too stunned, too
shocked, my mind a whirlwind of emotions, every single one battling for
attention.

Fear

Shame

Lust

Need

Pleasure

Want

And I
did
want this ... more than
anything. He was doing things with his mouth and fingers that were making me
squirm and tense all at the same time. The pleasure was overwhelming me, his
manipulations so perfect,
too
perfect for someone of his age. That last
thought filled me with apprehension, sending pinpricks of unease down my spine.
My mind started screaming that this wasn’t right ... so wrong, so fucking
wrong. He shouldn’t know how to give oral sex, to make my mind lose control
over my body. Even my husband didn’t do half of what Dante was doing. But
instead of giving into my apprehension and fear, allowing reason to wrench back
control, I grabbed his head, locking him in place, allowing him to continue, losing
a little piece of my sanity in that moment. My mind was tripping over itself, tumbling
down a rabbit hole, getting lost in his manipulations, the high he was giving
me, the pleasure, the ecstasy. Every lick and nip caused me to grip harder onto
his head, tangling my fingers in his gorgeous wavy, black hair. I started
keening and thrusting my pelvis forward, pressing myself against his face,
wanting more and more.

He made a grunting sound and took hold of
my hands, forcibly detaching them from his head again. He inhaled loudly, looking
a touch out of breath. He wiped a hand across his face and rose up over me, his
expression once more resembling his father’s, just a hundredfold, because he
didn’t look like he
wanted
to mount me—
he was going to
. He yanked
me forward, placing his dick at my entrance. I watched it with a feeling of
detachment, as though it was going into someone else’s body.

Then it penetrated me. For a moment I could
barely breathe, just lay there, panting, with him inside of me, his face flushed
with ecstasy.

“
Jesus
,” he groaned, pleasure
overwhelming his face, making him look even more stunning. “You feel so good.” He
closed his eyes, going still for a moment, the two of us locked together. Then
a second later, his eyes snapped open. He grabbed my hips and started fucking
me hard, what he was doing—again—only allowed in my fantasies.
Not
in
reality,
never
in reality, but I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t want to
either, what I was feeling winning over all of my concerns, causing my logic to
disintegrate, to implode upon itself, wiping out all thought of right and
wrong, only pleasure important, the feelings taking me somewhere I knew I couldn’t
return from.

I was damned.

I cried out as he hit something inside of
me just right. He placed a hand over my mouth, stifling more of my cries. My
mind fell further into disrepair, the pleasure he was causing overpowering my
body, making me breathe harder, to pant, to murmur his name, each sound getting
smothered by his hand. I couldn’t deal with this, or how it felt, which just amped
things up even more, yanking on my insides, causing my nerves, my lust, my
desires, everything to soar up and up and up, until I felt like exploding, the
pressure inside of me too much...