Wrecked (The Blackened Window) (4 page)

Getting into my light nightie, I skipped panties because I knew they’d just get soaked anyway. I felt every muscle fiber as I climbed into bed, imagining him watching me, then on me. My wetness slicked my fingers easily and my puffy lips spread apart with little pressure. Dipping into myself, I started stroking the way I liked it, soft at first but getting harder. I pulled my hair where he had touched it, smelling myself on my skin, a musky, purely female scent. My clit was throbbing and responded to the brushing as I stroked the rest of my pussy. I played with pressure on my clit in circles then directly, harder and harder. My cell phone text message alert chimed, only slightly distracting me as I came, hard, panting, rocking my hips on my hand, wishing it was his body on me.

I panted for a few moments, half-heartedly wishing I was more forward and had invited him up.
How great would it be to be panting with him now, instead of alone?
When my breathing slowed, I got up for some water and to check the text message. A number I didn’t recognize.

I’ll pick you up at 7:15. Be ready and outside—X

He must have gotten my number off the tutoring sign-up. Maybe it was just the lack of tone in text, but he kind of sounded like a dick. I was still in post-orgasm glow though and didn’t want there to be shittiness between us.

Hey—thx again for the ride tonight. If picking me up is a hassle, don’t worry about it—L

His response was immediate.

I will pick you up at 7:15. Go to sleep—X

OK, Boss! See you in the morning. Standing outside. Ready to go. Any other instructions tonight?—Leda

Go to sleep, smart ass—X

OK, Boss, night-night—Leda

There was no immediate response, so I wrapped up my bedtime routine. Since moving to Texas, I had been sleeping with my wet hair braided to help stay cool, so it was just brushing teeth, face cream, body cream and checking my locks. My text alert chimed again.

Sweet dreams, little girl—X

That was kind of sweet, but ‘little girl’?

Chapter Three

Xander

Metric,
Help, I’m Alive

Friday morning, I called Rodriguez, the head of the private security team the senator my dad worked for used.

“Xander, what’s up, man?” he answered on the second ring.

“I need a threat assessment on someone down here. Leda Collins. Early to mid twenties. White, brown hair. Wisconsin for undergrad. That’s all I’ve got so far. She’s a student at my school.” I wasn’t going to explain myself, wasn’t going to ask for the bullshit teasing that I knew would come if he knew why I wanted the information.

“No problem, you want a full background check, security clearance?”

“You should probably get it, but just hang onto it. I don’t want it. Just a threat assessment. I want to learn all the other shit on my own.”

There was a pause and I could imagine the slow smile on his face. He was good at his job, good at reading people. And I knew he was putting the pieces together. “Oh…I see how it is, little man. You finally found a girl you might keep.”

“She’s cute and I’m going to tutor her. I just need to know.”

“
Tutor
her, man? That sounds kinky.” He laughed. Rodriguez had worked for the senator for at least a decade, and I knew him pretty well. I had shadowed him when I was considering the military. He was former Marines. After the military, I’d worked for him for a while as well. He knew the way I was and knew that tutoring was the least kinky shit in my life. “Maybe I’ll see if Mirabella wants to get tutored too?” he added, referring to his wife, who might have been the only person who could possibly kick his ass.

“Okay, dude, come on. Just the threat assessment.” I smiled in spite of myself. He didn’t give a shit about giving me a hard time, and I liked that about him.

“No problem, man, I’ll priority mail to you when I’ve got it. But, FYI—she’s pretty easy to find, and damn. I totally get it.” He was already finding her shit. I smiled again, knowing he would get the info.

“Thanks, man.” I hung up and shook some tension out of my shoulders. Now, my dad and, therefore, my mom would hear that I was interested in a girl.
That’ll be fun.

I took a quick shower and got dressed. I ate a protein bar as I jogged down to the car. I dropped the top on the C70, and took a moment to just enjoy my life. I had almost everything a guy like me might want. And anticipation was the best part. I liked to drag it out with subs usually, leave them waiting, wondering when it was coming—whatever it was, a slap on the ass, a slap on the face, my cock in her pussy. I liked it when they got to the point that they were practically shivering with how much they wanted it. It was better than the actual sex. It was a serious head trip, taking an otherwise sweet girl and making her beg you for your cock, tears in her eyes.

She lived surprisingly close to me, about a ten minute drive. The devil in my heart smiled at that as I pulled up to her building. She was walking out of the door, right on time.
Points to you, little girl.
I got out of the car, opened the door for her and tossed her bag in the back seat. She gave me an odd look as I helped her into the car, as if she wasn’t used to men doing that.

“Good morning, little girl,” I said once she was in the seat. I couldn’t keep the little smile of glee off my face. Rewards could be as fun to give as punishments.

“Good morning, Boss.”

She smiled as I got in and I got a rush at the pet name. Because I was who I was,
what
I was, I would push the ‘little girl’ title on her till she made it clear she wasn’t a little, or didn’t want to be
my
little. That Daddy/little girl play hadn’t ever been my thing, but she stirred something new in me. Something I didn’t want to think about yet.

My playlist advanced to the next song, a band that was relatively new to me, Metric. She smiled big and wide, then began murmuring along with the song. Her little cream-colored sweater, tight Capri pants and stacked shoes had a sexy retro feel that I liked.

I flipped a U-turn and she paused, glancing back the other way.

“Where are you going? I have lecture at eight.”

“Little girl, trust me. I’ll get you where you need to be, but I want something first.” I couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop myself and I knew it was a little growly. My blood was pounding through me and I wanted to just pull over and claim her in whatever lawn we stumbled into. But I knew I had to keep it chill. At some point, I’d be able to do that, just stop anywhere and get her on her knees for me. But not yet. I had to earn her total devotion. I knew that.

I pulled into a little mom-and-pop drive-through coffee place I hit up most mornings. I turned and smiled at her. “How about that drink? Cappuccino, iced latte? What’s your poison? My treat.”

She flushed and, God, it was sexy. “Um, just an iced coffee with a little cream. Thanks.” She sounded all small, like she was embarrassed that she drank coffee. I ordered our coffees and the rest of the drive was spent in relative quiet, wind blowing, messing her hair up and it was sexier that way. We got to school sooner than I wanted, but responsibility beckoned.

Before we got out of the car, I asked, “What do you have going on this weekend?”

She answered with a dull tone in her voice, “Studying mostly, some errands and laundry. Nothing exciting.”

“I want to take you out tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Sure, we can get that drink.” She smiled a little, but her eyes were distant. Working on conditioning, the way I did with all subs, I gave her a smile, and for a moment her face blanked completely. I turned and got out of the car, then came around to get her, but she was already stepping out.

I knew my face was hard, but that shit drives me crazy. Southern girls and all women involved in politics let…
expect
…a man to open the door for them. Yankee girls just don’t get it. It’s not for
them
. It’s for us. I want to protect and provide and that just falls under that category somehow.
We’ll have to fix that.

I felt my face get scowly and turned to walk into school before I commented on it. She at least let me open the door for her and usher her through with my hand on the small of her back.

“Have a good day, Leda.” I had to walk away. I wanted to spank her so badly. I shook my head at how fucked up I already was with this little girl—how much all my tight control was already cracking. There was a blaze of trepidation, but I blew it off, wanting there to be someone who could make me lose control, make me feel too much.

Chapter Four

Leda

Lana Del Rey
, Ride

While Xander’s shifting mood that morning was unsettling, my whole day was actually kind of strange. Other people seemed to be looking at me weirdly, or at least I thought they were. By the end of the day, I was full-on paranoid that people were talking about me. I was in the lab, looking in my microscope, and two bitchy girls from my class approached me. Well, maybe bitchy was a bit harsh. I barely knew either of them, but they were both uber-perky, perfect clothes, pre-Stepford wife kind of girls that just seemed bitchy before you even spoke to them. I sighed, preparing for whatever bullshit they were about to bring into my world.

“Hi, Stacy, Barbie”—those really were their names—“what’s up?” I asked distractedly as I identified goblet cells on my slide. But they didn’t really say anything, so I looked up and was hit with how much they looked like the stuck up sorority bitches in college.

“Heard you went out with Xander last night,” Stacy said with a sickly sweet fake smile on her face. I was genuinely surprised that she knew that anything happened with him and that she cared at all. I was so caught off guard that I didn’t even consider my response, but just gave it.

“Oh, it was late and I only had my bike here so he drove me home.”

“Did he stay over?”

“Excuse me?” I looked up at her sharply. “No, and not really any of your business.”

“Really, why’d he drive you
to
school today then?”

“Not your concern, Stacy. I’m just finishing up here. Do you need this slide set still?” I asked, as I started to pack my stuff. But, I was thinking—
what a stalker!

“No, Leda, I don’t need anything from you,” Stacy sneered and walked away, as Barbie trailed her.

Why do bitches always run in packs?

My sour thoughts kept my attention as I left the building.
I rode my bike home and the emotional rollercoaster of the day hit me. And all I could think was that I just didn’t want any part of any of any stupid drama. School was too important.

Did Xander tell people he stayed over?

What the fuck got up his ass on the drive to the school?
I didn’t know what had caused the abrupt change in his attitude when we got to school, but I didn’t like it. Then there was Stacy and her ridiculous, shitty questions at the end of the day.

Stacy can fuck herself.

I got to my apartment and ran up the stairs, my thoughts still tumbling over each other. I changed into shorts and a T-shirt with my biking shoes and went for a long ride to clear my head. It was hot in September in Texas. Not really a news flash, but back in Chicago, it might have been in the eighties at the worst then an awesome thunderstorm would come through and cool everything down.

The thought of late summer storms set me thinking about a favorite memory. I used to dance in thunderstorms when I was a kid. Right then, I just wanted that feeling of freedom from worrying about other people and what they wanted or thought, so I could just do what felt good to me, what felt pleasant. No matter how hot the weather was before the storm, the rain water was always cool and bracing, almost too cold to breathe through. It took me away from thinking of anything else. There was just the clean feeling of water straight from the sky washing me.

An hour of riding later, I was drenched with sweat and thirsty. My water bottle was empty and I looked around, intending to find somewhere to refill it, and realized that I didn’t recognize anything around me.

Shit.

I turned around again. It was an area of businesses and low rent strip malls. I felt my pockets and sickening realization hit me. In my rush out of the apartment, I hadn’t grabbed my cell phone.

Fuck.

Who would I have called anyway? I didn’t know anyone here other than Xander and I barely knew him Besides, he was too much to deal with—too sexy, too distracting, too moody. Too uncharted. My reaction to him too unexplored. I decided to ride until I saw something I recognized or someone who looked reasonable to ask for directions.

It took me another two hours to get home and, despite stopping to refill my water, I was sick by the time I did.

I got up the stairs and filled a huge glass of water. As I chugged it down, I was shaking and my head was pounding. I immediately vomited it all back up in the sink. I was overheated and dehydrated
.

Shit
was the only thing I could clearly think, as I stumbled to the bathroom and puked again. The cool tile of the floor felt good on my cheek.
I have no one to help me
. My family was hours away, even by plane. I ran a cool bath and sat in it, letting my body cool down until I started shaking again. I got out of the tub and got some ice in a cup while it drained
.

Oh my God, I feel weird and floaty. The ice tastes good. Some juice too. Okay maybe a little better.

I had the presence of mind to get one of my medical texts and look up heat sickness. I didn’t have a heat stroke. I drank more ice water and some more juice.

I feel better. Maybe I’m okay. Just a little dehydrated.

I was so wrung out from the day and I was annoyed at myself for getting lost and for not bringing my cell.