Page 6 of Pleasure Lessons

RHETT

I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t worked out. I feel like a soggy pancake sitting on a plate, slowly falling to pieces. The sun is already climbing up again as I stare out the window. I don’t even think I’ve blinked in the last half-hour.

My apartment is quiet. Too quiet. Only sporadic sounds of creaking wood or my own slow breaths distract me from her voice running around in my head.

“What do men want in a wife?”

Jesus Christ.

I drag my hand across my jaw, feeling two days’ worth of stubble scrape my palm as I get to my feet and pace into the living room. The space is spartan, minimal. I have a couch, a coffee table, a television, and a treadmill in the corner. It’s always been fine. I’ve never needed anything more.

Until now…

Now she’s everywhere. I see her face in the blank white walls, in the mirror when I wash my face, in the blank screen of the powered-off television.

Cassandra. Her sweet lips pressed to mine.

Her slim waist in my hand. Her scent, still clinging to my skin like heavenly fire.

I haven’t showered. I taste her every time I breathe.

My cock has been pulsing with lust for hours, aching like it’s bruised, as the sweetness of her delicate, innocent voice just will not leave me alone.

I almost gave in. I almost took her completely, snatched her clothes off and broke her in with a good fucking like she was begging for. And maybe I would have if Clarisse hadn’t shown up at just the right time to interrupt us.

Cassandra is everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman, and more. I’ve been absolutely dying to have her since the moment she walked onto the tennis court, shining like temptation personified.

But she’s promised to another man. A rich and powerful man.

Arthur.

The son of a bitch who owns the estate where I work and signs the checks that let me pay my rent. He’s the kind of man who moves the world, and me? I’m just the help. A blue-collar workhorse unfit for a woman like Cassandra.

I slam my fist against the windowsill and drop my head, my body a whirlwind of turmoil and guilt. I’m doing my best to take the high road–keep my hands off her. But I also promised her I wouldn’t skip out on her again.

And I did.

She must hate me. Think I’m some kind of loser who can’t even keep a simple promise to the woman he’s falling madly in love with. But that’s just it. It’s because I’m so desperate for her that I must stay away. Because if I get close again, who knows what will happen?

I want to drive over there now and confess my love for her, but I can’t.

So I do the only thing I know to do when I’m in a tough spot–I go running.

I lace up my shoes and head out to the trails behind my apartment.

Five miles, then six, then seven… then ten.

Every stride a whisper of an echo in my mind as Cassandra refuses to get out of my brain.

All I want is a moment of clarity so I can process a way forward.

But it doesn’t work. All I can think about is her.

When I finally make it back to the apartment, I see my resignation letter sitting on the table where I left it.

“It’s time,” I say out loud. “You know it is.”

I want to fight for her, but there’s no fight to be had.

How can a guy like me go up against Arthur?

He could buy my entire block and burn it all to the goddamn ground.

I’ve never felt so helpless or directionless in my entire life.

This is not the kind of man I am. If I want something, I go for it.

But when it comes to Cassandra, I don’t see that I have any other choice.

The air on the estate grounds is shimmering with the late-afternoon heat when I pull up in my truck and park in the lot.

My legs are still burning from the run, and I’m drenched in sweat.

I gaze around the grounds, hoping for once to not see Cassandra out for a walk.

This is the one time I don’t want to see her.

I mean–I do, but it would only make what I’m about to do infinitely harder. If not impossible.

As I step out of the truck, I see Arthur’s Bentley by the front. I’ve always thought it was a gorgeous car, but today, it just makes me grimace. I walk past it on my way to the door, and as I glance to my right, that’s when I see her.

Through the ornate wood framing of the drawing room window, Cassandra sits on the edge of a velvet couch that probably costs more than my truck.

She’s not wearing athletic gear today; she’s in a tight off-white dress with lace and pearls that makes her look like a doll.

Her hands are folded in her lap and her back is straight, as though she has strings pulling her up by the shoulders.

And in front of her, leaning in too close for me, is Arthur.

He moves closer, resting his hand on the couch beside her like he owns her.

Even from here, I can see her jaw tighten, the motion in her throat as she swallows nervously.

She looks frozen in place, like she’s terrified of this man who has no right to be near her.

I can tell she wants to get up and run, but she’s doing what’s expected of her. She’s performing.

My right hand aches, and I look down and see it’s clenched into a fist. My knuckles are white. I take a breath and try to relax, but it doesn’t help. I want to bust through the window and tear him away from her, throw him across the room, and carry her back to my apartment.

But I can’t. If I do that, I’ll lose my job, my freedom, and her. At least as her coach, I get to see her now and then. And if that’s the best I get, well, it’s better than nothing.

I tear my resignation letter in half and turn away, but as I do, I catch a flicker of her eye turning to me. Did she see me? If she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. She can’t. Arthur would see, and he’s no dummy. He’d realize something was going on, and shit would hit the fan.

So teeth grinded together, fists clenched, adrenaline pumping through my veins, I walk off like a coward, back to my truck, while the man I despise most in the world–the man who signs my paychecks–looks at her like she’s his.

“You’re pathetic,” I growl at myself, driving my fist into my thigh. The pain distracts me, but only for a moment. Besides, I deserve it. “You’re a miserable little fool. Can’t even go out and get the woman you want. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The sun is down. I’ve been sitting in my chair at the kitchen table since I got back from the estate, wallowing in misery and self-pity like an absolute nothing of a man.

The vision of her beauty sweeps through my mind like a fireworks display. I’m all boned up, lusting over a woman I want but can’t bring myself to take.

“You coward,” I growl, punching my thigh again. There’s definitely going to be a bruise. “What would she think of you if she saw you sitting here like this?”

Another punch. I don’t even feel the pain anymore.

I glance at the dark sky out the window–at the door leading out of my apartment.

No, I can’t stay here like this. I have to go to her.

I can’t let her wonder where I’ve been, why I bailed on our lesson yesterday, and why she hasn’t heard from me.

She’s going to start thinking I don’t like her–that she’s the problem. And I can’t let that happen.

With a snarl, I snatch my keys from the counter and rip the door open, nearly tearing it off its hinges. Cassandra squeals and nearly comes out of her shoes, her tiny fist raised as though she was about to knock on my unit.

“Rhett!” she exclaims, her cheeks going instantly red. “You–you’re here!”

She’s absolutely gorgeous, in nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants and a crop-top that shows off her flat stomach. This girl doesn’t need makeup and fancy clothes to make her beautiful. She is the definition of it.

“ You’re here,” I reply, my cock swelling instantly beneath my pants. “How did you–what are you doing here, Cassandra? Does Arthur know?”

She quickly shakes her head. “No. I–I got a ride from one of the groundskeepers so Arthur wouldn’t suspect.”

A devilish smile twists over her lips. “I snuck into Arthur’s office and checked his receipts. Saw your information in his files.”

I nod, impressed. “That was very naughty of you, Cassandra.”

Her hair is messy, like she walked through the wind to get here. Her cheeks are pink, and her lips are parted slightly–she’s breathing heavily already, causing her breasts to rise and fall, revealing the fact that she’s braless.

My mouth begins to water.

“I waited for you,” she says, her voice soft. “You didn’t show up.” It begins to tremble. Her eyes are on the floor but snap up to mine, filled with anger and pain. “You promised!”

Her words are like a dagger to the chest. All I’ve done is push this gorgeous angel away, but no longer.

“Cassandra, I–”

“You know what I did, Rhett?” She steps forward, getting right up in my face. It’s out of character for her. Far more aggressive than I ever thought she could be. “I touched myself thinking about you.”

That’s it. I lose all control. I grab her face and pull her lips to mine, kissing her like a desperate man whose life depends on her touch.

I slide my hands beneath her, grabbing her by her perfect little ass, and pull her across the threshold and into my apartment, kicking the door closed behind her.

My cock swells like it’s about to burst as our tongues dance passionately across each other. I carry her into my room and lay her down on the bed beneath me. Her crop-top lifts slightly, exposing the teardrop curves of her breasts.

“This is your last chance,” I tell her, my voice tense with restraint.

“My last chance for what?”

“Your last chance to leave.”

She answers immediately. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you make me.”

A groan rises up from my stomach, and I reach for the waistband of her pajamas, pulling them down over her hips.

She lifts her butt off the bed, helping me tug them down to her ankles, then kicks them off.

She’s wearing just a tiny little red thong–a lace thong that is nearly see-through.

And even from here, I can see the line of her little virgin pussy.

And I can see that she’s perfectly bare.

“You shaved,” I say.

Her voice quivers as she replies. “Isn’t that what men want?”

I smile, brushing her hair from her face. “Every man has different tastes, Cassandra.”

Her eyes search my face, as though trying to decipher what I just said. “I did it for… him . I thought he’d like it.” My body goes tense. Massive adrenaline dump. “I’ve been told it’s my job to please him, so…”

I nod, cutting her off. “Yeah, yeah. I understand. You want to please your husband. I get it.”

“He’s not my husband yet,” she replies, a coy little tone to her voice. My eyes meet hers, and I see something there–something teasing at me. Pulling at me. “But, Rhett…will you teach me?”

My heart is nearly pounding through my chest as the words fight to escape my mouth. “Teach you…how to…please him?”

Just the suggestion makes me want to tear the world apart, but the way she’s looking up at me, through those long lashes, her face so innocent and sweet, I know there’s no possible way I can resist.

“Yes,” I say. “Of course I will teach you.”

She almost smiles, but her lips do something different.

They almost hide from me, like she’s embarrassed–or afraid.

Which makes sense, considering her lack of experience.

And as I run my hands across her body, my whole body goes on fire with the thought that no other man has ever touched her like this.

“First, you have to let him strip you down,” I tell her, taking the hem of her crop-top. “Let him feel like he’s in control as he undresses you. He’ll like that.”

He.

Me .

Her eyes twinkle, and she raises her arms above her head, helping me pull off her shirt.

Her breasts rebound and sway with perfection, two hard pink nipples just begging for my lips.

My cock throbs at the sight. She’s perfect.

High and tight, perfectly plump tits, with an hourglass shape to die for.

I might actually die taking her.

“That’s the first rule of pleasing a man. Give him everything he wants.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“And this,” I tell her, hooking a thumb into the strap of her thong. She shifts her hips, letting me strip her bare. Her tiny little slit glistens with arousal. My heart is pounding with desire. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous in my life.

She shifts slightly, moving her thigh to cover herself, but I stop her. “No, angel. A man loves to look. Let him.”

Again, she nods, blushing like a ripe apple. Then she relaxes, putting her beauty on full display. I drag the back of my middle finger up her tummy, then take her by the wrists and sit her up in front of me.

“A man also likes it when you undress him,” I tell her. “Make him feel wanted too. Understand?”

“Yes,” she whispers, taking my shirt by the hem and lifting. I’m a sweaty mess from the run and the heat of the day, so the fabric clings to my abs and shoulders, but she manages to get it off without too much trouble.

Her eyes move to the cuts in my muscles. She tries to hide it, but I see, and all it does is amp up my already desperate desire.

“And the pants,” I tell her, arching my hips forward. She looks up at me with slight hesitation but obeys, using her thin fingers to pop the buttons of my fly. My cock twitches as her fingers barely brush across it. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to hold out with any kind of actual contact.

She struggles trying to get them down over my hips–over my massive bulge–so I help her out, and when my briefs come down and my cock springs out like a spear, she can’t hide it. She gasps.

“Rhett…”

“That’s right, angel.” I smile, twisting out of my pants. I take her by the wrist and pull her arm down and compare–show her that my cock is the length of her entire forearm.

“You’re–”

“Enormous?” She nods. “I know, angel. I know. You like it, don’t you?”

“Y–yes,” she stammers, clearly speaking a truth. Not just telling me what I want to hear.

I take her gently by the throat and pull her close, letting my lips graze gently across hers. She goes for a kiss, but I deny her.

“You have no idea what else I have in store for you, beautiful.”