Mr. Camillo was nowhere to be seen when I got back to the library. I was in a state of 'Holy fuck.'
"Where's the principal?" I asked Aiden.
He shrugged, "Excused himself," he leaned back and crossed his arms, "Personal stuff."
I nodded weakly, still unable to fully process what just happened. The meeting went on but I wasn't able to absorb a single thing. No, not when Camillo just 'gave a taste of my own medicine'. I wanted to overdose.
I hadn't seen Jared since the night Mom came. When I asked Wyatt about it, he said Jared requested time off from driving because, in Jared's words, he hurt his eye. Seeing him by my car right outside of school made me feel relieved.
But why would I feel relieved? I wanted him gone.
His face was blank. "Ms. Martin," he greeted way too formally as he took my bag and opened the door for me.
"Mr. Cohen," I mimicked, "Thank you."
I stepped into the vehicle and it was quiet for the first few minutes. I was still buzzed from a dose of Nikolas Camillo but I could spare some thoughts for Jared. I wasn't used to apologizing so I just explained myself, hoping that it could be enough.
"I went to a party that night with my friends," I started, "I just wanted to be free again. I didn't want my dad or Wyatt's leash on me."
Jared said nothing. He kept driving, one hand on the wheel.
"It's my fault," he spoke after a while. His voice was clear and blank, "I wasn't doing my job properly."
I still haven't talked to Wyatt about letting Jared go. Especially now that the Rhea Acklin situation presented itself, the man's barely home. It makes me slightly kinda partly a little bit sad to think of Jared being reassigned but I can't have him potentially ruining things for Nikolas and I. The very least, I'd feel better if we're okay again before he goes.
"I'm kinda sorry," I said before I could talk myself out of it.
"Kinda?" he looked at me through the rearview mirror.
"Yeah, kinda," I shrugged, "I may have lied but you believed it."
Before I could continue to mess up my apology, I added, "But I shouldn't have lied about something like that."
I was partly true. I should've just lied about being sick or having an emergency or whatever. The emotional mother-daughter relationship story was a bad choice.
"Yes, you shouldn't have."
We were quiet again. He hasn't really accepted my apology yet.
"You should've just lied about having the flu or something and snuck out," he said with a sly smile.
"Next time then." We looked at each other on the mirror again, "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"
"Do I have a choice?"
I smiled back. As soon as I got home, I headed straight to my room and locked the door. My bathroom was a good place to touch myself. The bed, too, but somehow, I was still sexually frustrated. I wanted Nikolas to take me however he wanted me, whenever he wanted me, and wherever he wanted me. But does he actually want me? Yes. He's just in denial.
Sighing, I let my hands wander to my chest. I grasped myself through the thin fabric of my nightgown, desperately trying to feel again what Nikolas made me feel in the restroom. Thinking of him had me wondering what he was doing at the moment.
Did he relieve the boner I gave him? Does a man like him still jerk off? Did he ignore it and suffer from blue balls? Did he fuck his wife? Made love to her with the thought of me? Surely he did not tell her. I hugged a pillow to my chest and waited for sleep to come, thinking of paying him a visit the next day.
Morning consisted of me avoiding my mother. I ate breakfast quickly, the joy of eating replaced by the lone need to have food in my stomach. Jared drove me to school after that, still no sign of Wyatt at home. Jared said that he saw him leave for work early—stupidly early, around 4am.
At school, nothing else but Nikolas was in my mind. All other happenings in class hours before lunch were commercials before primetime.
"Ms. Martin," Nikolas's voice was music to my ears. I locked the door behind me.
"Ms. Martin?" he spoke as I walked to him in his office chair. Each step added a ton to my stomach. I was having a sugar rush without the sugar. When I rounded his large oak desk, ants were fucking envious.
"Ms—" I straddled the man, "Okay," he sighed defeatedly and put his hands on the armrests.
With my chirpiest, most adorable voice, I greeted, "Good morning, Mr. Principal, sir."
My hands played with the collar of his dress shirt. Bianca should do a better job at ironing. Not that I've ever ironed a shirt before either.
"Good morning, Rosaleen."
He sighed. Sunlight seeped through the brown blinds of his office. Outside, I could hear the faint sound of the world continuing to revolve the way it does. Cars were passing, birds were chirping, and people beyond the campus—since Nick's office was located near the edge—were chattering. The rest of the world was oblivious to what was happening in the principal's office and the thought made me giddy.
"Have you eaten?" I asked, starting to unbutton my uniform.
Ah, nothing like casually getting naked in front of the man who makes my lady parts feel tingly.
"Yes," he said reluctantly, "Have you?"
Nikolas asked nonchalantly as if I were not a student in his school trying to seduce him and get both his marriage and job revoked. Well, that'll only happen if we get caught, yes? We won't.
"No," I revealed the baby pink bra underneath, "But I am hungry for a certain something." I pressed against his crotch.
"Well, it's lunchtime, so you should be out there eating and socializing with people your age, miss." His hands were still on the armrests, but his thumbs grazed my thighs. I don't know if he was aware of it. The slightest contact with the man turns me into a sex-craving maniac. With other it's just sex-craving.
"No thank you." I grabbed his hands and put them on my breasts, suddenly reminded that I did the same thing before already. This time, however, only a single thin barrier prevented skin-to-skin contact.
"Is the material familiar, sir?" He was cupping my chest but was not really moving his hands, to my dismay.
The realization hit him. "Yes, it is. They match the bottoms you left at..." he trailed off, probably confused as to where things were going.
He sighed loudly and talked again, this time slightly pissed, "The ones you left when you visited my home."
"And where are those bottoms?" I put my hands on top of his and squeezed.
He did not sound entertained but his response was a tease—he was taking his turn in this sick game as his thumb circled my nipples through the fabric, "And why would I reveal my hiding place, Ms. Martin?"
"So they're with you, huh?" I kissed his jaw, stubble prickly to my soft lips, and brought my mouth to his ear. "Thing is, Mr. Camillo, I only wear matching underwear. The bottoms are with you. What do you think is underneath my skirt?"
Mr. Camillo tensed. When I pulled away, he was glaring at me. My fingers grasped the hem of my skirt, about to pull it up and flash him when his hands stopped me.
"Stop," he spoke coldly, "I have a wife, get off me."
Now you tell me?
"Yeah, no shit," I rolled my eyes, "I've met your wife, Nikolas, and I bet I can fuck you better."
I attempted to pull the skirt up again only to be stopped in the same prior manner.
"Get off me."
"If I hadn't revealed my little surprise, you would've let me stay." I pouted and ground my bare sex against him, feeling him harden beneath me, "Is that really what you want? For me to get off?"
I trailed kisses down his neck, "Sir?"
"Rosaleen, get off," he growled as he held my wrist and pried me off. I stood between his open legs and his desk.
"You touched me already." I put his hands on my waist, "What difference will it make?" I toyed with the ring on his finger.
"It was stupid of me."
"Yes, how stupid of you," I sat on his desk, "Because now I want more."
I opened my legs and perched my feet on his lap, my kitten heels poking his knees. Nikolas's eyes remained on my face. His breathing turned ragged and the honey-brown pools in his eyes darkened with—surprise—lust. Maintaining eye contact, I let my fingers trail from my neck, to the swell of my breasts, to the space in between, to my stomach, and finally to my sex.
"Stop," he said clearly, but his actions told otherwise. His fingers grasped my ankles and his thumbs circled the muscles. I was, with no doubt, extremely wet. My middle finger and ring finger circled the hood, drawing a soft moan through my parted lips. No straight man would be able to stand the sight before Nikolas Camillo. Lucky bastard.
He ground his teeth together. I've noticed that he does that a lot. Having enough fun with my clit, I brought the two fingers to my mouth, wetting them. Nick's grip on my legs tightened. He was still refusing to peek. It was then I decided to slip my fingers inside me, drawing a sharp gasp from myself.
Fingering myself is not usually this pleasurable. I'm guessing that the man in front of me had something to do with the heightened sensual sensation.
"Watch me," I rasped as I moved my fingers in and out.
His eyes were glued to my face as if the world would end for him when he brings his gaze down.
"You should stop." His voice was strained.
"You're not stopping me though."
I hooked the two fingers to a sweet spot, furiously rubbing it. His attention flitted to my lips and the way I was panting. My fingers had never felt this good.
My eyes rolled into my skull as my back arched. I knew myself well enough to know where to touch and stimulate for a quick release. The tightening of my flesh against my fingers were enough indication that I was close.
"Watch me come," I spoke, my own voice unrecognizable.
Camillo glanced down just in time for my orgasm to take place. I groaned as my legs twitched, my feet almost sliding off his lap if he hadn't held them in place. My hips rolled forward and back as I rode my peak—its intensity hitting me like a slap to my lungs. The tight shut of my eyes, one sense taken away, had my full attention drifting to none other than the euphoric feeling below my belly. When I did open my eyes, I caught Mr. Camillo watching: watching my juices stream down, watching as I brought my fingers to my lips, watching when I sucked and tasted myself.
Giggling, I hopped off the desk and stood in between his legs once again. I held his cheeks with both hands and kissed him on his forehead.
"Have a nice day, sir."
And with that, I left.
-
Aiden Phillips's eyes widened into—cliché as it sounds—saucers. I guess that's what happens when your friend confesses to have had sexual encounters with the principal you respect dearly.
"What the fuck?"
"I tell you what I've been up to and that's all I get? 'What the fuck'?"
I could not deny that it was appropriate, but I needed his solid opinion more than a violent reaction.
His brows rose, "What do you expect me to say? 'Oh, really? You and Mr. Camillo have been rubbing your genitals against each other? Cute!'"
I looked at him—stared at him, blinking once, twice, thrice. Then, I shrugged.
"Who else knows?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"Sean knows." I took a bite of his cinnamon roll.
"Sean? What? You and Sean are fucking but he knows that you're out to get the principal?" he was close to yelling.
"Yes, Aiden, exactly. It's not as impossible as unicorns."
He slumped back on his chair. A pair of green Aiden eyes settled in the distance, staring at nothing in particular.
"Gosh, Rose," he said as he comprehended everything I told him, "I'm glad you told me though," he said after a while.
Aiden's living room wasn't as big as ours, but the Victorian interior was grand with gold, white, reds, and browns. It's Thursday, and instead of coming home to my brother and mother, I had dinner at the Phillips residence. Wyatt has been loose about where I've been going lately. He knew I was avoiding the shark in our home. Jared was outside waiting despite the Phillips family's insistence that he eat.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're twisted, but you already know that."
He shrugged as if we were only talking about chess games and golf clubs, "Do you really care about my opinion? Because if you're already doing things like that, then I doubt you care about anyone's say on you, Rose."
He was right. I took a few seconds to think and somehow, Aiden's presence made those seconds comfortable instead of awkward, "Maybe a part of me... like... really deep inside me was hoping that you'd talk sense into me. Not that I want you to. Complicated, I know."
"Should I try?" he mumbled, hugging his pillow tighter, once again looking childlike, "Will it do anything?"
Will it do anything? Even my brother was not enough to get me to change. Although I appreciated his concern and offer for effort, I shook my head.
By ten at night, I was home. I sighed in relief when I made it to my room without running into Rhea. After spending an hour finishing homework, I took a steamy shower and crawled into bed. I dreamt of him again. I dreamt of the situation I put us in earlier, but in my dream, we went further.
Perched on his desk, he stood up after I came and unbuckled his belt. He pierced into me, my walls clenching around him. Just when I thought it was all in, he pushed further.
"Fuck," Nikolas hissed, one hand gripping my hip so hard it hurt. My hands locked behind his neck and I pulled him in for a kiss. His lips tasted better than I expected. It made me feel a lot of things at once: happiness, mainly, and all things rainbows and flowers. Though focusing more, there was an odd one out. Sadness? Guilt?
"Rose," he breathed out, slamming so hard into me that I was seeing stars, "Rosa," he said.
Rosa? Why would he call me that. Only mom calls me that.
"Rosa, Rosa," he repeated, "Rosa!"
My eyes snapped open to see Mother in her silky peach robe. Her hands were on her hips and the smell of waffles overtook my senses. Yes, waffles. Not desk wood, not cum, not sweat, not Camillo's perfume.
"What are you doing here?" I groaned, shielding my face with a pillow.
"I'm here to wake you up. I made breakfast," she walked to the edge of my mattress, "Well, the cook made breakfast but I was around to watch. You have school today, right?"
I glanced at the digital clock on my nightstand, "You woke me thirty minutes early."
"I wanted to spend time with my daughter," she hugged the robe around her body, "You've been avoiding me all week."
Duh.
Rosaleen Martin is a bad bitch but bad bitches get hungry too. My stomach grumbled.
"Fine, let's eat."
I stood. Once my own robe was around me, I walked past Rhea to head downstairs. Let's get this over with.
Wyatt was already dressed in a crisp gray suit with no tie. His beam was as bright as the rude fucking sun as I pulled a chair back to sit beside him. Breakfast was far from uneventful. Mom tried to converse with us but only Wyatt gave in. I limited myself to monosyllabic replies, hoping to send Rhea the message. She caught it, no doubt, but kept talking about random things. Wasting no seconds, I ate as fast as I could, leaving the dining table with no excuse afterward.
Finally, I was in my uniform. With my bag over my shoulder, I went for the door.
"Wait," feminine fingers grasped my arm, and I looked down to see freshly-manicured nails. Mom wore a white top and a maxi skirt with a Versace-inspired print. Her heels were high, much like the others she's used to wearing. Hope she trips.
"Yes?" I turned to face her, eager to run to Jared and make him speed to the school and eventually come home late so I wouldn't have to interact with the Acklin.
"I can drive you to school," she offered. It was too early for jokes.
"No thank you."
"Rosa, please," she begged in a voice that could've passed as sincere if I were gullible. She wants to be a mom? Fine, she can try. One chance for the week is enough.
She followed me outside where Jared was already waiting, keys in hand.
"My mother said she wants to drive me to school," I announced. Jared's face gave nothing away but I knew he was either entertained or awkward.
Rhea walked to Jared, eyeing him first in a way that would make me puke if I were him, then took the keys to my car. I hated how she'd be driving my car.
"Let's please get this over with," I mumbled to myself, getting inside the vehicle. Through the window, Jared shot me a look that said good luck.
Like any other teen avoiding a car conversation, I plugged my earphones on as soon as I boarded. I could feel Rhea's brief glances from the corner of my eye but I wanted nothing else than to get to my destination without having to talk about anything. I must admit, it was weird seeing her drive, knowing that she pays people to do it for her. Among other things. She looked like a mother—the mother I did not get in times I needed one. Before my emotions could make a comeback, I directed my attention instead to a man named Nikolas. He was a good distraction.
"Bye, thanks for the ride."
I stormed out of my car and into the main entrance before she could say anything. My locker was the first I greeted. I shoved my textbooks into my bag.
"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Mi rosa?"
"My mom's staying with us," I thrust my bag to Sean and he held it up as I forced things into it, "and I don't like her. I've been avoiding her all week, but this morning she drove me to school."
Sean looked around until something caught his attention, "Hm, do you look a lot like her?"
"Yeah, I do."
I zipped the bag up. Rhea is beautiful and William is handsome but they do have their so-called flaws. Luckily, I caught only good features of both. Still, I looked more like my mother and Wyatt looked more like Dad.
"Black hair?"
"Yes"
"Light brown skin?"
"Yup"
"Hm... Top-heavy lips?"
"Oddly specific, but yes..."
"Is she wearing a white tank top?"
"Uh-huh"
"A skirt?"
"Yes," I said, but it sounded like a question.
"High heels?"
"Why?"
Sean cringed, "Look."
I looked to where he was looking. Through the window, my mother was talking to none other than a Nikolas Camillo, her hand grabbing his arm as she threw her head back and laughed at something that was probably not even funny.
"Rose?" Sean called out as I stormed to the door, "Rose! Wait!"
Nikolas stood in dark blue pants and a white button-up. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot full of students. One, because he's grown. Two, because his handsomeness was otherworldly. In front of him was Rhea standing inappropriately close. Camillo did not look comfortable with the proximity but my guess was that the man didn't wanna be rude. I wonder if she'd introduced herself as my mom yet.
"Mr. Camillo!" I walked to them, forcing a smile on my lips—a talent, "I see you've met my mother."
"Good morning, Rosaleen."
He took the chance to put distance between him and Rhea. Saved your ass, Nicky-boy. He should let me blow me for that one.
"Mom, this is our principal, Mr. Camillo," I stood beside Camillo, swooning at the thought of us looking good side-by-side. Much better than him and her. Much better than him and Bianca.
"Yes, done with the introductions, dear," she beamed at the man, her back more arched than usual.
"I almost hit this man's car, can you believe it?"
Yes I can, you reckless fucker.
"It's okay, Mrs—" Camillo paused, remembering that my brother was my guardian for a reason. I bet he was going to say Martin.
"Oh, please, call me Rhea." She fluttered her eyelashes with the most ratchet-ass extensions I had ever seen.
"Rhea," Nikolas smiled kindly. I had to use all my self-control not to roll my eyes. Rhea my ass.
"Again, I am so sorry." She reached for his hands and grasped them. I noticed that she wasn't wearing her wedding ring. Makes one of them.
"It's fine, Rhea. It was a humane mistake." He pulled his hands away but patted my mother's arm which only made her beam brighter.
"So you're the principal, huh?" Rhea flipped her hair over her shoulder and unfortunately, she reminded me of me.
"He is," I stepped closer to Nick.
"How's my, uh, daughter as a student? I hear she's an achiever," she threw her head back and laughed, "the apple doesn't fall far from its tree."
Lord, help me.
I laid my eyes on Nikolas, anxious for his answer. Nick turned, amused. What's he amused for? My mother looked stupid.
"She's..." he searched my face for... for what? "She's persistent, I'll give her that. And full of surprises."
Looking at my favorite features on his face, his brown orbs glinted of mischief. It made him look young. There was a flutter in my stomach, its reason none other than his words for me. Persistent. Full of surprises. I wanted to giggle.
"That's good to hear," she told him. Camillo's head turned to my mother but I kept staring at him, dumbfounded. Persistent. Full of surprises. Might wanna add pretty, hot, and absolutely delicious.
"Handling hundreds of students must be tiring, Mr. Camillo," I heard my mother say, "I adore your patience."
"It's nothing," he waved it off. By the way his body was facing more to me, I got its psychological equivalence.
"You should spare time for yourself. How about coffee?" said mom.
My head snapped to Rhea. I opened my mouth, about to tell her that he's married when another voice spoke up.
"Rose!" turning, I saw Sean beside me, "Mr. Camillo! Good morning!"
"Morning, Mr. Caron."
Nikolas nodded at Sean, undoubtedly grateful for another save by a student. Where's the extra credit?
"And who's this?" I didn't miss the hint of annoyance in Rhea's voice.
"Mom, this is Sean," I grabbed Sean's arm, "Sean, this is mom."
The boy held my mother's hand and instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and laid a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Charming as always.
"Ah, a handsome young man."
She smiled but it wasn't full. Her eyes flickered between me and my curly-haired friend, and I just knew she was forming theories.
"Thank you, Ma'am," Sean bowed, "The bell's about to ring, Rose, I think we should get inside."
"You're right, Sean," Camillo butted in. His acting was off when he glanced at his watch, "We better go. It was nice meeting you, Rhea."
-
I'm starting to get used to barging into Mr. Camillo's office with no warning. It's kinda cute. Invasion of privacy, yeah, but cute. I grabbed the handles of his double doors and pulled it back, force strong. I would've been more gentle if I wasn't so pissed.
I strode to his desk and crossed my arms in front of my chest. My weight shifted to one foot as I tapped the other against the floor. I voiced my problem, my announcement, and my embarrassment all in one, "My mom wants me to invite you for dinner at our house."
Nikolas hummed, index finger to his lips as if he was thinking deeply.
"That thing has a lock and I really should start using it," he muttered to himself, pointing at the door.
"My mom wants me to invite you for dinner," I repeated.
Nikolas coming to my house for dinner sounded amazing, but only if my mom was out of the picture. Sure, it gives me a chance to flirt with my principal, but that means Rhea also gets a chance. That woman's my mother, and that's just weird as if me seducing my principal wasn't already weird enough.
"Tell Rhea I said thank you but no," he smirked. I wanted to wipe it off. Wipe it off with my vagina.
"Thing is, Nikolas, that woman doesn't take no for an answer."
"What do you mean?"
I placed the sheet of paper on the table. Nick leaned forward, inspecting it with a crease in between his brows.
"A donation to the school?" he scoffed at the amount, "that's thoughtful of her."
"Thoughtful, yeah, whatever."
"This'll be a big help for the clean-up drive next month, Rosaleen. And even for the one next year."
He fell back in his chair. Nikolas was starting to reconsider, as his expression told me. I did not like it.
"Will your brother be joining?"
"My brother and Sean. Rh—Mom invited Sean."
He was quiet after that, making the most out of his thoughts. My impatience peeked, "Is that a yes?"
Best Husband On Earth Nikolas sighed and squared his broad shoulders. He smiled tightly.
"Yeah," he said and stared at me for quite a while. The frown on my face made him raise a brow, "I thought you'd be happy."
"She's trying to lure you into her bed," like I could not help it, my eyes rolled to the side again. I busied myself with my nails.
The look he gave me said 'Isn't that what you're trying to do?'
"It's disgusting because she's fifty and you're like thirty-something."
He gave me another look. This time, it said 'But aren't you only eighteen?'
I disregarded that.
"You have a wife, Mr. Camillo. You shouldn't be giving other women opportunities to snag you."
He gave me another look. I frowned.
"Do you really think I'll give in to her when I've already managed to..." he stopped himself, cleared his throat, and carried on, using a word that confirmed that yes, I do have effects on him, "to... resist you?"
He had a point, but who knows? Maybe my mom had some tricks up her sleeves—her very expensive sleeves. It was my turn to reconsider.
"I should be more worried about you," Nikolas began, eyes on me intensely, "Of course I'll tell Bianca that I'm going to your house for dinner because your mother has a... crush on me, as well as a donation offer. She'll find it funny. But if I were to tell her that you, Rosaleen Martin, has been doing all sorts to get me, then no doubt she'll go ballistic."
"You're still going?" I asked.
"Yes."
I lifted my chin, undecided if I liked where things were going, "And how are you confident that you won't fall into my..." it was starting to sound corny, "traps?"
"The true question is," he stood up and stared me down. Camillo seemed at ease. He was confident about something, "Are you sure that I don't have any of my own?"