Page 51 of Taming His Teacher

“Come here, lamb.”

She scrambles into my lap, blanket and all, and buries her head in my shoulder. I hold her tight but it’s not long before she’s pulling away. Is this too much?

“I shouldn’t be—crying. I’m—sorry.” Her sobs are terrible, halting. They’re choking her and she’s trying to swallow them.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not sorry. You cry all you need to, I’m not afraid of some tears.” I’ve watched enough scenes go down for tears of all sorts to be commonplace, and to know how cathartic they can be. One woman I’d played with cried every single time. At first it had freaked me out, but Mordecai had assured me I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I’d seen her use her safeword—she wasn’t shy with it—so she wasn’t afraid. It was a release. Whoever made Erin ashamed for crying… I take a deep breath. “I mean it.”

She looks up for a brief questioning moment and because she needs more reassurance, I give it to her. “I do.”

That’s when the floodgates open, and she clutches at me like a jungle vine keeping her from drowning in quicksand. It takes her a while to wear herself out. When was the last time anyone held her while she cried? When she’s quieted, I let myself enjoy the warm weight of her in my lap, the sweet flowery smell of her hair, the way her hand rests on my chest now that she’s not clinging to a fistful of my shirt. When I look down, I’m not surprised she’s fallen asleep. She’s not a hundred percent better and a crying jag can really take it out of you.

I slide my arm under her knees and stand up, trying to be as smooth as possible, but I shouldn’t worry. Even when I almost trip over her blanket halfway down the hall she doesn’t stir. I lay her down on the bed and make sure she’s covered up before I drop back into the chair.

Is it possible Erin is even more perfect than I thought? I’ve had these delusions, fantasies, about her and her mildness. Wondered what it would be like to have her at my mercy, and her loving every second of being there. She’s notperfect, perfect. No one is. But she might be perfect for me.

I let my curiosity get the better of me and hike up the ruffly thing at the bottom of her bed. There they are. Those books. Piles of them. Maybe I could be the one to turn Erin’s fantasies into reality.

Chapter 16

Erin

We barely leave my apartment for the next several days. We watch TV, and we eat peanut butter and jelly, and macaroni and cheese because that’s what I keep on hand in my apartment. No need to cook much since I eat in the dining hall all the time. Cooking’s never been my strong suit anyway, and I will not be making gnocchi ever again. Shep doesn’t seem to mind my kindergarten culinary skills, nor does he remark on my plates and glasses that have animals on them. Will made me put them away.

I’m still sleeping off what’s left of my cold or whatever that was, and Shep has me rest a lot. But sometimes resting means being tucked under his arm on the couch and I don’t mind. It’s my own slice of heaven. Though I try to stay awake to enjoy it, the heavy comfort of his arm around me is better than a shot of melatonin, and it never takes me long to fall asleep.

Sometimes I lie on my back with my head in his lap and ask him more questions about the club: the things he did there, things he saw, what he liked, what he didn’t. He plays with my hair while he answers, studying my reaction to every word.

We’re eating more oatmeal this morning and after we’ve tangled feet a few times under the table, Shep says, “So, I’ve answered your questions. How would you feel about answering some of mine?”

“That sounds fair. What do you want to know?”

“You haven’t experimented with BDSM, but you’ve read a lot. You must have some idea of things you’d like to try or things you definitely don’t want to do. That’s what I want to know.”

My eyes bug at the potential for embarrassment. I don’t know that I could say those things out loud. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not? I’m not going to make fun of you, Erin. I promise.”

“I don’t think you would. But what if you think what I want is gross? What if you don’t want those things, too?”

So much of what he’d talked about made me so weak in the knees I’d been glad I was lying down. He was matter-of-fact about it, professional almost, which shouldn’t be surprising. It was his job, for goodness sake. But it made me want to be ravished, made specific areas of my body ache for him. Can’t I say “Me, too” and be done with it?

“What we want isn’t going to match up perfectly, but I’m willing to bet there’s some overlap. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of a huge perv and I’ve hung out with a lot of other pervs. Mordecai is one of the filthiest people on the planet, and he’s told me all about his exploits, whether I wanted to hear about them or not. It’s pretty hard to shock me or gross me out. In fact, I challenge you to do your worst.”

That makes me giggle. “No. But even the things I might like to do, I don’t have the words to talk about it.”

He sucks the last bite of oatmeal off his spoon, mouthing it thoughtfully, and I can’t take my eyes off his lips. I would give anything in a bucket to be that spoon. When it clatters into the bowl, I’m shocked back to attention. “Yes, you do.”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

“Look. Communication, talking about this, is huge. It won’t work if we can’t talk to each other. It’s the only way to keep you safe, and I want to keep you safe. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do, and the only way I’ll know is if you tell me. I pay attention to your body language and your responses, but I’m not a mind reader. I know it’s hard. It’s not something that comes naturally. It’ll take time. I’ll wait as long as I need to. But while you get comfortable using your own words, maybe we can talk about this by borrowing someone else’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got a whole stack of dirty words under your bed.” Right. All those times I’d wished I could give Will an annotated copy of one of my books and here Shep is asking for exactly that. “You must’ve gotten some ideas from there, right? How would you feel about showing me?”

“Now?”

He shrugs. “If you want. There’s no rush. I’ve waited for you for four years, I don’t mind waiting longer. But now works, if you’re ready.”

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