The Housemistress (24 page)

“That’s better.” Carriveau rewards her with two fingers, flipping her over onto her back, eliciting a squeal and howl when she directs her fingers deep inside Rylie’s cunt.

“Yes!” Rylie bucks her hips, driving Carriveau into her harder. “Fuck me!”

“
En français
,” Carriveau insists. “
Parle français pour moi
.”

“
Baise-moi
!” Rylie mewls, gripping the bed sheets. “More!”

Carriveau halts. “You really want more?” She probes the young teen with long, slow strokes. “How much more?”

“I want everything.” Rylie spreads her legs wider, bringing her knees up.

Dutifully, Carriveau retrieves a strapless dildo from a drawer in her bedside table.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

For Rylie, morning brings the smell of fresh coffee and imported French perfume. There’s no screeching alarm, and no cubicle wall to accidentally bash her head on when she rolls over. The sheets are soft, the pillow cool against her cheek, and she can feel the warmth of another body behind her.

Carriveau.

Suddenly remembering where she is, she rolls onto her back, still sated from last night’s passions. Her core is burning and throbbing from repeated rounds of lovemaking, her chest aching from the strain of topping Carriveau, attempting to use a strapless dildo for the first time.

As she’d feared it might, her first try resulted in three thrusts and a bout of giggles when the toy slipped out of her. She was definitely tight enough, and well in control of her pelvic muscles, but she was so wet that it was difficult to keep a grip on the end of the dildo that was lodged inside her.

“
Encore
,” Carriveau encouraged her to try again, helping her to reinsert the dildo, but the second effort didn’t end with much more success than the first.

After the third slip, and Rylie’s escalating frustration, they’d switched positions. With a comforting kiss, Carriveau climbed on top and rode her like a circus pony, breathlessly hushing her apologies and reassuring her that it gets easier with practice.

Now, after only a few hours sleep, Rylie’s ready to go for attempt number four. She flips onto her side, expecting to find a naked French goddess lying next to her, but to her great disappointment, Carriveau’s already dressed for work. She’s sitting on top of the covers, her legs outstretched, her back against the headboard, a laptop open on her thighs.

“
Bonjour, ma chérie
.” The French woman dips her head to smile at Rylie over her reading glasses.

“What time is it?” Rylie looks around for a clock, wondering if she overslept.

“Early.” Carriveau sips from a mug of coffee, scrolling through a webpage. “You can sleep a little longer, but I have to go in for a meeting, and then I have classes until lunch.”

“Another meeting?” Rylie yawns, stretching.

“With Missus Bursnell.” Carriveau nurses her mug thoughtfully. “She probably wants to talk to me about Friday’s concert. I can’t think why else she’d want to see me.” She looks down at her naked lover, grabbing a quick feel of a freely available breast. “We won’t be able to do this very often, you know. Spend the whole night together.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Rylie shuffles into a sitting position. “I can get exeats, right? I read about them in the student handbook: permission slips to leave school premises on weekends. The book says sixth form students can get exeats to go into town and see a movie, or have dinner, or … stay somewhere overnight.”

Carriveau sets her mug aside, placing it on the bedside table, the heart-shaped picture of Kaitlyn no longer anywhere to be seen. “Are you suggesting that you use your exeats to have sex with me in the Travelodge Inn down the road?”

“It’s the best thing, no? During the week, we’ll have to suffer as we have been: nothing more than the occasional grope here and there. But on the weekends, we can have each other properly.”

“You’ll need to get permission,” Carriveau warns. “Exeats are a privilege, not a right.”

Rylie shrugs. “So who do I have to ask?”

“Your Housemistress.”

With laughter, Rylie nestles against her. “Sorted, then.” She looks down at the laptop. “Are you online? Let’s book a room for next weekend.” She clicks on a minimized web browser window, bringing up the last page Carriveau was looking at.

Local job listings.

Specifically, teaching positions, the field narrowed to modern languages.

Rylie stares at the screen, her heartbeat accelerating, adrenalin pumping. “You’re leaving?” Her voice is whisper soft.

“I think I have to, don’t you?” Carriveau strokes Rylie’s hair. “Not to be away from you, but to be
with
you. As long as we both remain at this school, what we’re doing is against the law.” She forces Rylie to look at her. “Please don’t be angry.” She teases a kiss from Rylie’s slightly trembling lips.

“We can make this work,” Rylie pleads. “It’s only for a short time, anyway. I’ll be eighteen in six months, and—”

“No, Rylie,” Carriveau shuts her down. “I can’t keep teaching here; I can’t keep teaching
you
. I don’t want it to be like this. I’ve been down this road once before, and it didn’t end well.”

“You never thought about leaving when you were with Kaitlyn?”

Carriveau shakes her head. “I didn’t have to: she was eighteen, and I wasn’t her teacher. But still, my staying here was a mistake. I hid my feelings for her, but I won’t hide my feelings for you.” She closes up the laptop and pushes it to the foot of the bed, turning to face her unconvinced lover. “I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.” She lays her head on Rylie’s shoulder, sweeping the teen into an awkwardly positioned embrace. “I denied everything and it destroyed her.” She pushes her face into Rylie’s hair, kissing the side of her head. “I can’t do that again.”

She holds Rylie in her arms until the teen can’t take it anymore.

“You’re gonna collapse my lung,” Rylie wheezes.

“Sorry!” Carriveau pulls back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She cups Rylie’s face. “
Je ne veux jamais te faire de mal
.
Tu me comprends
?”

Rylie nods, believing every word of the “I never want to hurt you,” knowing well that Carriveau wouldn’t consider making such a drastic change in her life unless she truly felt it was for the best.

“What am I to do today?” she asks then, getting off the subject.

“Missus Bursnell wants you to do some quiet reading in the library. I told her she can expect you there at ten o’clock promptly, after you’ve finished your house chores.”

Rylie screws up her face. “Chores? Ugh.”

“Not to worry. If she asks, tell her I had you darning loose skirt hems or something.” Carriveau lays a kiss on her before sliding off the bed. “I thought you might like a lie in, since you didn’t get much in the way of sleep last night.”

“
Merci
.” Rylie flops back under the covers.

“I’ll meet you in the library at lunchtime.” Carriveau slips on her shoes. “Maybe I’ll let you give me a pelvic exam in the biology aisle.” Wink.

She grabs one of her silk scarves off the mirror and wraps it twice around her neck, hiding the marks of passion left behind on her milky skin, some of the bruises so severe they’ll take days to heal.

Rylie’s nipping and biting had been relentless, as if she were trying to devour her prey from head to toe, claiming every inch of flesh for her own possession. Over the course of the night, Carriveau’s neck, shoulders, belly, and ass all became painfully acquainted with her teeth, but she’d carefully avoided any tender areas where the sensation might be unpleasurable.

She was hungry. From the minute they tumbled into bed together, she was ravenous for sexual contact and eager to please. She listened to Carriveau’s cues and adjusted herself accordingly, never once needing to be redirected or cautioned.

Indeed, the oral sex had been far beyond anything Carriveau had ever imagined. The first time Rylie went down on her, she’d been delicate and tender, licking her and probing her with the utmost care, peppering her sensitive pink flesh with kisses. This time, she’d buried her face against Carriveau’s opening, attacking her with tongue and fingers simultaneously, making her clit swell, her engorged g-spot ready to pop.

Carriveau invoked the lord’s name over and over again, sometimes sandwiched in between coarse expletives—all cried out in French, of course.

Never had someone worked her cunt so vigorously, deliberately holding her on the cusp of an orgasm for so long it felt like every muscle in her body was on fire, causing her to shake uncontrollably for a good ten minutes before Rylie finally pushed her over the edge.

And when it finally came, the climax Rylie gave her was the strongest she’d ever felt. She gushed all over the bed sheets, drenching the young teen’s face, her entire body racked with convulsions, and she howled at the top of her lungs, wailing so loudly that she probably woke up students in the neighboring house.

That was round one.

More followed.

After lapping her up and giving her a brief respite, Rylie tongued her clit again, bringing her to another peak that was more subdued than the first, but no less exquisite.

Then Carriveau took over.

Unable to go even one more second without tasting the beautiful young woman lying beside her, she spread Rylie’s legs and dived in between, groaning with delight at the unbelievable sweetness that greeted her tongue. Rylie was dripping with arousal, the valley between her labia so flushed and wet, her opening slick enough to allow three fingers to push slowly inside her, but so tight that Carriveau’s slender digits were wedged in her hot sex, barely able to move.

Experimenting with different sensations, she withdrew to one finger and moved it in fast circles while tonguing her clit, then added a second finger and began tapping that special button of skin inside her, causing her to pant and grip fistfuls of the sheets. Her orgasm was less volcanic than Carriveau’s, but resulted in just as much noise.

Wiping the cat-that-got-the-cream smile off her face before entering the main school building, Carriveau checks her appearance in the ‘Are you presentable?’ mirror, making sure none of Rylie’s exuberance is showing before heading toward Missus Bursnell’s office. Along the way, she passes three of her peers.

While she smiles and greets them in passing, they flash her wary looks, their conversations dropping to low whispers. Their reactions are so abnormal that, by the time she knocks on the door to the Headmistress’s office, she has the distinct impression that she’s about to be punished for something very, very bad.

“Please, Vivienne, have a seat,” Missus Bursnell commands from behind her sturdy oak desk, not a single wisp of her tightly-bunned gray hair out of place. “Have you checked your school e-mails this morning?”

Carriveau’s never known her to be quite this abrupt. Usually a fan of pointless small talk, she often has to be prompted to get to the point of her conversations. But not today.

In answer to the question, Carriveau shakes her head. “I normally do that in my office before my first class.
Pourquoi
?” She reminds herself to speak English. “Why?”

“It seems an e-mail intended for you was accidentally sent out to the entire faculty.” She hands a sheet of paper across the desk. “Damn that pesky ‘send all’ button.”

Having no clue what she could’ve done to incur such hostility, Carriveau begins reading the e-mail with a look of mild annoyance … but that soon fades.

Purportedly from Rylie, the e-mail peppers proclamations of love with increasingly graphic details of their few sexual encounters. Namely, their midnight fuck in the Lower Sixth dormitory, and their brief but tender lovemaking in Carriveau’s private quarters on Sunday night.

Carriveau’s chest tightens as she reaches the end of the note, her hands shaking. Could Rylie be this stupid? Could she be this careless? Why would she write it in English? Surely she’d make the effort to pen something this intimate in French. Of course she would. And she’d write it on a piece of notepaper and stick it in a bowl of Skittles. She’d never … ever …