Tiago
"Who the fuck makes it to senior year thinking Columbus is a goddamn movie company? It's Columbia fucking Pictures, you dipshit!"
"I said it was an accident," I excuse myself, the pencil in my hand scribbling the answers to the test Yannik printed for me. "You know, it's hard to think when you're constantly buzzing in my ear."
When I glance at Yannik, she's rolling her eyes at my words. Then, in a moment, she's back to casually flipping through pages of the history book, her chin resting on her hand, her face wearing the most bored expression possible.
I look right at the question. Read it several times. Analyze it word by word, but my mind wanders somewhere elseâto the right, where she's sitting.
It's unbearableâthe satisfaction swirling in my head. Just hours ago, she was perched on the desk, flirting with Cormac. Now, she's beside me, rambling, eyeing me like a hunter sizing up her prey.
And wearing the most indecent top I've ever seen. She knows exactly what she's doing.
Every time she takes a breath, I can't detach my eyes from her chest rising, covered by her laced top, fabric so thin I can see the silhouette of her bra.
Is it laced too?
"You're surprisingly cute when focused."
"What?" I feel my heart skip a beat when I'm nearly caught, but then I see Yannik as relaxed as before, except now her eyes are on me.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
And there it is: her undying grin.
"It means you're cute, Big Boy."
"Just stay quiet, I need to focus," I say, feeling my body stiffen at her words. I try to hide the possible blush on my face by going back to the test.
I feel drugged. Here, in the dining room, the smell of Yannik's perfume is stronger, to the point it invades all my senses. Worst of all, here I can't escape her presence like I can at school.
Maybe that's why I feel cornered.
"I don't know why you're acting so serious," Yannik leans back, her breasts jiggling with every move she makes. It's hard not to look at her when she's that close, smelling like fruits and looking like a serious problem that will haunt me even if I look away.
"What are you talking about?" I try my best to act unconcerned. A smirk dances on Yannik's lips when she looks at me.
"We both know you wouldn't come if it was just for tutoring." Her voice is lower, poisoning me as she speaks.
I hate the way she's always twisting into my mind, and I also hate the effect it has on me.
I should keep my distance. Stay unbothered even if Yannik knows exactly how to press my buttons.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, my voice tense. My whole body is stiff, trying its best not to react as my mind flashes back to the locker room.
I remember this feeling of anticipation, no matter how hard I try to forget it. The way her naughty smile made me imagine all the indecent scenes possible. And how close she wasâso close I would've kissed her if I'd had the courage to lean forward.
Oh God, I can't keep thinking about this, but the more I try to avoid it, the more it comes to mind.
"You do, Santiago."
I try to keep my eyes on the paper in front of me when I hear Yannik's chair sliding closer.
"You just don't want to admit it."
I hate how my full name sounds, but the way she says it is so... tempting.
Like caramel melting on her tongue.
"I'm trying to study," I cut her speech before her teasing sinks into my head deep enough. I start scribbling in the circle next to the random answer I chose.
"Are you?" I hear a chuckle in her voice.
All my body is so tense I can see my knuckles go pale as I squeeze the pencil.
"Or are you trying to stop looking at me?"
We both hear the paper tear as my pencil presses too hard. I try to swallow the sticky lava in my throat and chest, but it doesn't help much.
"Stop it, Yannik." I sound stiff when I speak, my tone thicker than before. When I look at her, she's closer than she was earlier. So close I can feel her knee brushing mine under the table, and my eyes jump to her lips before I know it.
They look so soft and glossy, their shape beautiful and appealing. It's so overwhelming it makes me wonder if she tastes like fruits, too.
I expect Yannik to say something wicked, to find any other way to tease me. But the only thing she does is take the torn quiz and replace it with another one she finds among all the books and notes scattered across the table.
"Here," she whispers, and I can't stop the chills she sends over my body when her fingers lightly brush my hand.
I take a deep breath, the pencil again in my fingers. Skimming the questions, I can't truly focus on the quiz, no matter how hard I try. The push-and-pull Yannik's up to is setting me on edge, but I don't know what I want to do more: rush out of her house as fast as I can or stay and let her do whatever she wants to do with me.
The first one. Definitely the first one. Must be the first one.
"You're too quiet," her tone is calm, but mischief sneaks in. "Don't tell me I got you flustered."
"I'm not flustered," I mutter, circling another random answer just to keep up the impression of focus.
"Okay." Yannik chuckles, and suddenly my entire body feels like it's been hit by a wave of heat. Her fingers lightly graze the fabric of my pants just above my knee. "Then you won't mind this, will you?"
I freeze as her fingers slowly slide up my thigh, teasing. My jaw is so tense I can't even open my mouth to reply. I can feel Yannik's eyes on me, crawling under my skin as if she's reading every reaction her touch is pulling out of me.
She's persistent, and her persistence makes me slip every time I promise myself I'll stay focused.
It's impossibly hard since she's right here next to me, so dangerously pretty and tempting, pressing the exact buttons that turn me into her personal puppet.
"Yannik, don't," I demand, but it sounds more like a plea, my voice cracking when she softly squeezes my thigh. I keep circling the same answer, the paper now covered in a thick trace of graphite.
She leans closer to me, the heat of her body radiating, her breasts brushing my shoulder. Her scent is intoxicating, driving me insane.
"You can lie to me, but don't lie to yourself," her voice is a whisper, her breath tickling my skin. The mocking tone in her words makes me drop the pencil and lean back, closing my eyes to hold on to whatever shred of self-control I have left. "You're asking me to stop, but your voice is shaky. You know why?"
Her hand slides higher up my thigh in one abrupt movement, and my body flinches involuntarily as her hand brushes against my swollen cock.
"You're horny, Tiago."
"Stop messing with my head," I attempt miserably to push her away, but it only makes Yannik chuckle, her lips grazing my ear.
"But you're so easy to mess with," she whispers, making me gasp for air as her fingers continue their slow, torturous ascent.
This time, I don't try to stop her. My heart pounds against my ribs as her presence invades every part of me, taking over my senses.
I know I shouldn't, but the craving inside me grows bigger, stronger, until it becomes unbearable. Before I can stop myself, my hips move toward her hand, desperate for her touch.
All my body shudders when her fingers wrap around my throbbing cock through my pants. A groan escapes me, a fleeting wave of satisfaction washing over me.
"You're insane," I breathe, my voice hoarse and low, thick with arousal.
"And you fucking love it," she replies, her whisper lingering in my head as her warm breath grazes my neck.
Her grip tightens, her hand moving slowly, so achingly slow it feels like sweet torture.
I can't stifle a groan as her lips burn my neck with a wet, searing kiss. Her tongue traces my skin, the ball of her piercing adding an electrifying contrast to the silk of her tongue.
"Naughty boy," she murmurs, her husky, seductive voice drawing my gaze to her.
She's so unbelievably prettyâflushed cheeks, dilated pupils of her hazel eyes with a predatory glint, and lips wet and red from all her teasing.
For a moment, I think of kissing her, leaning forward instinctively, but Yannik tilts her head, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck again.
"What's wrong?" she asks playfully. I catch myself waiting, craving for another kiss against my neck. And when it comes, the sensation merges with the tingling pleasure of her hand squeezing me.
"What, don't want me to stop now, do you?"
"Yannikâ" My words dissolve into a muffled moan as her strokes become more deliberate, more firm.
"Do you want me to stop, Big Boy?" she asks again.
"No," I force the word out, my voice strained.
God, this is humiliating. I'm practically begging her to keep going, to touch me and never stop.
But now that she has all the control, all I want is herâcompletely. To let her take over my thoughts, my body, everything. To taste her, to find out if she's really as intoxicating as she feels.
I want her to consume me.
My eyes wander over her body, lingering on her curves, her every movement driving me closer to the edge. I bite my lip, hard, trying to keep quiet, but I can't stop my sharp, shaky breaths, faltering with each stroke.
Her breasts jiggle slightly with each motion of her hand, making it impossible to think straight. I'm losing myself in her, in this moment, and there's nothing left of my dignity anymore.
"Yannikâ" I stutter when she squeezes harder, her eyes locked on my face, tracking every flicker of emotion. "Yannik, wait..."
Yannik bites her lip, trying to smother the wicked grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Why? You're clearly enjoying it." Her voice is a dangerous mix of teasing and seduction, and when she leans in, her lips find my neck again, igniting a burning trail that makes my head spin.
Her fingers release my cock, and the loss sends an ache of desperation through me. I feel like I might whimper, craving the sensation she's just taken away, the tension knotting hot and tight in my stomach.
Then I feel itâher hand sliding into my pants.
"Shit, noânoâno, Yannik, don'tâ" I stammer, my voice shaky as I try to stop her, but the warm, soft touch of her fingers wrapping around my dick leaves me utterly defenseless.
"Just let me make you feel good," she whispers, her voice dripping with stretched-out seduction, giving me goosebumps that rush across my skin.
Now, with nothing in the way, her touch is smoother, more deliberate. Her thumb circles the tip, spreading the precum down my length, her strokes soft and maddeningly slow.
"You really are a big boy," Yannik murmurs, her words muffled as she buries her face in my neck.
I feel her mouth against my skin, sucking carefully yet rough, but the sensation in my lower stomachâthis unbearable, tightening pleasureâis all I can focus on.
A strained sound escapes me, almost a moan, and only then do I realize my hand is gripping her thigh, my hips moving unconsciously into her touch.
She's so soft. Every part of her. I can feel her toned muscles under my fingers, but there's this delicate, squishy warmth in her flesh that makes her even more intoxicating.
I can feel it nowâmy orgasm building fast, deep in between my stomach and the base of my length, surging through me with every stroke.
"Think about this the next time you ask me to stop," Yannik whispers, her words cooling the spot on my neck she just kissed.
And then, just like that, she's gone.
Her hand slips out of my pants, taking every ounce of contact with it. My grip on her thigh loosens, the fire she stoked now smoldering and unsatisfied, leaving me frozen and utterly stunned.
She stands, the corner of her lips curling into a grin she barely bothers to hide. I watch, speechless, as she lifts her fingers to her mouth, licking the remnants of precum off them while holding my gaze.
Then she walks toward the arch of the dining room as if nothing happened.
"I'm thirsty. Do you want a drink?" she calls back, her tone so casual it makes my head spin. "I'll bring some pineapple juiceâit's my favorite."
I don't answer. My eyes stay fixed on the table as she leaves the room, her voice echoing in my head.
I try to take a deep breath, but my heart's hammering too hard, pounding against my ribcage, leaving no room for my lungs to expand.
She just left.
As if nothing happened.
As if she wasn't seconds away from making me come.
As if she didn't just seduce me and leave me on the edge of bliss, only to pull away like it was nothing.
The foggy, dizzy feeling she left behind reminds me of the first time she pushed me to the brinkâthe time she gave me weed, and I swore I'd never feel that hazy disconnection from reality again.
But this time, the proof of what just happened is undeniable: the aching, unsatisfied pulse in my cock that refuses to let me forget.
I want you.
Do you have a price?
I do. Success is my price.
I sold her my dignity in exchange for her power, but knowing that doesn't bring me any relief.
Because I actually wanted it.
I actually wanted herâin a way that was far more intimate than a simple deal.