Page 30 of Take My Place

He pulls his fingers out and plays with my clit some more.

“Turn around,” he whispers in my ear, moving his hand away to let me swivel around on the stool. He moved so that he is on his knees between my legs. Putting his hands behind my thighs, he pulled me close, burying his face between my legs. I lean back, thankful the piano lid is shut so I wouldn’t randomly bash the keys and give away the fact that the only instrument being played right now is my body.

His tongue flicks across my clit, teasing and tantalising me. I grab a handful of his hair, holding his head in place as I urge him to keep doing what he is doing.

Putting his hand between my legs, he slides his finger in and out of me. I can’t keep quiet any more. (OR I struggle to keep quiet)

“Yes!” My cries mingle with the music, and asBolero comesto its inevitable conclusion, I explode into bliss, coming harder than I ever thought possible.

“Oh fuck,” I murmur, as Declan emerges from between my legs, a smug smile on his face.

“I take it that’s what you needed?” He grins.

“And then some.” I pull him to me and kiss him passionately. His cock is hard and I can feel the bulge in his trousers rubbing against me. “We need to fuck.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

I fumble at his fly, but we are interrupted by the bell giving the signal that afternoon registration is about to start.

“Oh, shit!” I say, my head dropping against his chest as Declan puts his arms around me and laughs. “We have to skip class. There’s no way I can focus on anything when I’m still so worked up.”

“What–you mean that orgasm wasn’t enough for you?” Declan shakes his head in wonder. “Wow, Ivy. I had no idea you were so insatiable.”

“It’s all you,” I tell him. “This is how you make me feel.”

“Well, much as I definitely need to finish,” Declan gestures to his erection, “you’ve got another assessment to sit through this afternoon if I’m not mistaken and I can’t afford to miss my math class. I’m struggling enough as it is.”

“And you think you’ll be able to focus on the teacher when you’re all worked up?”

“I need to try,” Declan groans apologetically, bending to retrieve my underwear from the floor. “But we’re not done. Not by a long shot. There’s no way that’s the last time I get to make you come.”

He kisses me again and I moan in frustration. “You’re right.” I sigh. “Pilkington will kill me if I don’t show up for that assessment. Why is it everyone else seems to care more about my education than I do?”

“Because we see your potential,” Declan says. “Now, come on. We better go. If anyone spots us leaving, we were working on a song. And since wedohave to write something for the fundraiser, what say we set another date for music ‘practice’?”

I grin, knowing exactly what he is suggesting. “Works for me.”

* * *

My business studiesassessment goes about as well as can be expected. Not only do I hate the subject anyway, memories of Declan between my legs haunt me. Mr Robson asks me a question and a flashback of Declan touching me comes flooding back.

“I can see you’re as focused as ever, Ms Archaic,” Mr Robson says grimly at the end of the session. “It’s a pity. Nothing bothers me more than wasted potential. If you would only apply yourself, you could pass this subject standing on your head. As it currently stands, you’ll be lucky to scrape a pass–and that’s with the extra year’s tutoring I’m advising.”

“You can’t be serious!” I gasp.

“Of course I can. I would be doing you a disservice as well as whoever is currently paying your school fees. A place at the Academy does not come cheap, and you’d do well to remember that. If you cannot be motivated to work on your own behalf, perhaps you might consider who it is that’s working so hard to put you through your exams to give you the best possible future. You cannot rely on being an Archaic to coast through life. Not all of us had your privileged start.”

I could laugh in his face, but I know it isn’t worth the grief, so instead, I cast my gaze to the floor so he wouldn’t notice me rolling my eyes so hard they practically fell out of their sockets.

“Yes, Mr Robson. But I really don’t want to have to repeat a year. Mr Metcalf said I can continue in his class. If I promise to work extra hard to catch up, would you reconsider putting me back? It would be horrible to be a year behind all my friends.”

“I’m afraid a little last minute on your part will be too little too late,” says Mr Robson. “However, out of sympathy for your position and not in the slightest bit because the head has emphasized how generous a donor your father is to the Academy, I am willing to allow you to continue in your current position.”

“Thank you!” I could have hugged him.

“On one condition.” Mr Robson holds up one finger to warn me not to celebrate too soon. “Your place in my class is on a probationary basis. You will attend extra revision classes with me and I will subject you to regular testing. If over the next two months I do not see sufficient progress, I will have no choice but to put you back a year. So it is entirely up to you what happens next, Ivy. Your future is in your hands.”

Ms Dupree has offered me a similar deal which is the best I could hope for, so I smile and nod.

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