Taken

Mason

My clothes are in disarray on the floor. My pale complexion open to my assailant. His eyes graze over my body again, his hands carelessly run through his thick chestnut hair. His stubble casting a sensual shadow over his defined jawline. I'm immediately aware of my taut nipples, and my shaky breathing. I pull my lip into my teeth in an attempt to anchor myself. He's just looking at me and I'm barely holding on.
"By the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk." His husky voice is laced with desire. His comment isn't a suggestion, it's a promise, and I feel my walls clenching at the mere thought. A shaky sigh escapes me
I go to reach him, hoping to drive him where I need him to be, however his one hand pins my wrists down and he removes his belt with the other. His eyes search my room for something, stopping at my discarded robe.
"Stay." He sternly orders. He snags the robe and removes the cotton cloth used to tie it together.
I bite my lip again. He told me to stay but I just want a little friction...
I bend my legs up and curl them together in any attempt to reach some form of release. Tan rough hands greedily grip my thighs and slam them to the bed. I gasp out in surprise.
"What did I tell you?"
"To stay... sir" I meekly find the words. My voice is higher pitched and lust filled.
"Did you listen?" Darkness crawls into his eyes as shear dominance consumes his demeanor.
"No," I squeak.
"Why not?"
"Because I just want. I just-" I can't seem to find the words, and I can't move my legs to show him what it is I want. His dusty blue eyes hold amusement, a sly grin on his lips. He knows what I want, but he wants to tease me. I can't contain the raspy gasp that escapes when he trails a finger through my folds.
"Is this what you want?" He asks bringing his finger to his thin lips and sucking it .....

My dumb dream from last night would not stop playing through my head. I smoothed out my thin long sleeve blue shirt and dark jeans before I step out of my car and slung my heavy backpack over my shoulder. Another school year. Another reminder of how much I hate people, and teamwork, and my non-existent friends. Another reminder of how happy all my acquaintances are with they're sure to collapse relationships and selfie induced habits.
     In all reality, I could have that if I really wanted to. But I don't. I'm very much content with who I am. Sometimes I think, maybe it'd be nice to have someone to go to when I'm upset, or someone to cuddle with and call mine. But people who boarded the Titanic thought that was a good idea too, and look what happened.
     I shuffled my high heel boots across the grass and up the steps to high school. Environmental Science, room 278, last year in this place, last high school science class. In all reality I don't need another science credit. I have all but three elective credits. But by taking an extra math, and science, I qualify for extra scholarships. Since I'm exceptionally poor, I take any shot at extra money. I'm well aware that you don't need a degree to get by in today's world, but still, it helps. Besides, it'd mean alot to my grandfather.
     Where to sit.... hate contemplating this. Not in the corner, that's where weirdos sit, not in the front, I don't want to be caught doing things I'm not supposed to. Right side, against the wall.
     I walk across the tiles, my heels clicking. I confuse a lot of people with my heels. Rest assured I'm far from popular, and I'm far from goth. I'm just confident. I wear heels for the same reason most people wear sneakers. They're comfortable. Plus they bring out my faded leather jacket, which is not coming off, on account of how freezing it is in here.
     I put my backpack down and yank out my sketchbook and pencil. Three months to finish these costume designs for State competition. I only have three of fifteen. And that's just the super rough drafts. I suck at art.
     I trace the dress of this model for the hundredth time. Kids came in, followed by friends and picking seats positioned the farthest from the location of the teacher.
     "Can I sit here?" The voice is from a boy I've never seen. He has a tall athletic build. Longer dark shaggy hair that sits sexily above his brow. His dark jeans sit on his hips, hugging his muscular legs perfectly. His dark grey shirt wraps around his torso leaving little to the imagination. His tanned arms extend from the sleeves and carry a orange backpack. His eyes are a mix between blue and brown and I honestly can't stop staring. "Cause if not, I mean, i'm sure I can find somewhere else,"
     "No, no, I mean yes, please sit, sorry, I was uh, staring off into space," wow really self, staring into space, I'm such an idiot, now there's no way he'll sit here.
      "Yeah, I gathered," his voice is so smooth. Like Nutella and honey. It distracts me beyond belief.
       I giggle in hopes of putting this encounter behind me. Maybe I should pull out a book and just disappear from this world. He sits down next to me and runs a hand through his already messy hair. His strong jaw is made as though it's sculpted for a Greek god. His lips fold into an expressive line that has me biting my own.
      "What're you working on?" He asks me, glaring at my sketchbook.
      "Oh, uh, costume designs," I answer, trying to pull my senses back to environmental science, and away from this god.
      "So you're a theater kid? Just tech events or do you act as well?"
      I can't help but to grin. No one ever shows an interest in my drawings. "I do a little bit of acting."
      "That's cool," his smile is breathtaking
      "Thanks. What about you, any hobbies?"
      "A few. I like swimming," so that's where he got all those muscles.
      "Oh c'mon, I know there's more than that,"
      "Okay fine, but you have to promise you won't laugh,"
      "Promise,"
      "I like cooking," I swear if this guy gets anymore perfect, I'm going to need some new panties.
      "That's the best,"
      "Really?"
      "Yeah, ladies love a guy who can cook, especially one who's as well built and handsome as you," I did not just say that! I should bash my head against this table I swear!
      "Oh, is that so," there was definitely a blush on my cheeks. I am such an idiot. "I uh, don't suppose I can know your name,"
      "Carley," I mutter in embarrassment. "You?"
      "Mason,"
At that exact moment a short heavyset woman marches into the room and I'm not sure weather to be thankful or angry.
     "I am Ms. Finner, I will be teaching environmental science, if your schedule says something different, you are in the wrong place, there's the door!" Gee, she seems like a peach. Mason snagged a pencil and notebook from his orange backpack and scribbled something down as Ms. Finner continued her rant. Then he passed the notebook to me.

Carley's #-___________

I quickly read the headline about three times before understanding that he was asking for my phone number. I felt a blush creep back into my cheeks as I scribbled it down and passed it back. Making it through this class is going to be a challenge. Much less this year.