Invisible String: An Enemies to Lovers Teacher Spicy Contemporary Romance
Invisible String: Chapter 17

Glitch – Taylor Swift

The second time I woke up in Ben Bennett’s bed was the complete opposite from the first. This time, I wasn’t alone, as indicated by the strong arms wrapped around my waist.

And I found myself smiling through the morning grog. Actually grinning, that post multiple orgasm fuzz hitting me hard. The things that man had done to me. With his hands, cock… God, his tongue. Had sex ever felt this good? Probably, but I couldn’t recall a specific time.

I’d lost count, actually lost count of the number of times he’d made me come. And despite the exhaustion I could already feel in my heavy limbs, I’d easily go another few rounds.

“I know you’re awake,” his gruff voice murmured from behind me, the arm tightening around my waist, pulling my body into his.

“Just five more minutes,” I groaned, turning around to face him. The sight of him caught me off guard. Nobody, and I mean nobody, should look so good first thing in the morning. His hair was messy, but God, perfectly so, the wisps of curls at the front just a little more wild than usual. And the way the morning light caught his gold eyes wasn’t at all fair; there was not a single sign of sleep. Meanwhile I’d put good money on the fact that I looked horrific. Eyes puffy, hair unmentionable.

“I take it you aren’t much of a morning person,” he said, the slight chuckle in his voice making me weak in the legs.

I shook my head vehemently. Mornings had never been my thing. Not ever. Even in college, I had to be dragged out of my bed for early morning classes, forever stumbling into every class in the nick of time. Coffee in hand, of course.

“Should I take that to mean you are?” My voice still held that morning rasp.

“5am, every morning,” he stated plainly.

I groaned. “You’re the worst.” A yawn caught me out as the last reminders of tiredness tried to drag me back to my slumber. How early was it anyway?

“And you’re lazy,” he smiled, a full grin playing on those perfect lips. God, since when did he have such nice lips, such kissable, pink lips?

“I just love to sleep.” I glanced around the bedroom in search of a clock or any indication of the time really. Despite my protests, I had woken up feeling pretty well rested for once. And maybe it was the extracurricular activities, or the warm tangle of limbs I’d woken up in, but the soft ache or weariness I’d been waking up with for the past few months felt… lifted, slightly. Enough for me to not wake up feeling so heavy and already exhausted.

“And snoring.” I whipped my head around to him to replace his eyes on me, a playful glint clear.

“I don’t,” I grimaced, but the embarrassment was too much as I turned my head into my pillow, praying I could smother myself to death.

“Oh but you do,” he continued. “Like a trucker.” I wanted to die. “But it’s cute.”

“It’s really not,” I said, peeking out from where I had buried my head. I had been known to be a loud sleeper before. I hadn’t believed anyone at first, outright denying the fact. But then when your college roommate is continually waking you up at four am, then again at six, you eventually must face facts.

“What time is it?” I grumbled into the pillow.

“Eight.”

I sighed loudly. “God, why are we even awake?”

“This is sleeping in for me, you’re a bad influence.” His voice was like velvet, smooth with a rough edge. I didn’t move until he wrapped his arms around my hips, pulling my head up from the pillow and pulling me into his body, an undeniable hardness between his legs. “We could always do more than just sleeping.”

His arms kept me hard against him, not that I was complaining. I moved around, enjoying the feeling of him pressed up against me far too much, my mind going to much dirtier places as his arms loosened around my waist, one beginning to snake under the shirt of his I had stolen, before taking my boob and playfully running a finger around my nipple in the way he’d learnt I was entirely too weak for.

I closed my eyes, a small moan at the back of my throat at the movement as I kept grinding myself against him, utterly addicted to feeling him against me. His head dipped, touching the sensitive skin where my neck met my collarbone, and kissed softly, his lips barely grazing the skin but instantly sending shivers down my spine.

“Why can’t I resist you, Ms. Davis?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper as his lips ran up my neck, replaceing my ear. I was lost, absolutely lost, to his touch. Like I needed it more than air, craved it more than food. “All I do is fight the urge to touch you.”

“Just wait till I start to get annoying,” I said, the words barely escaping me as my mind was a complete mess, words forgotten, sentences impossible to structure correctly. Especially as his other hand began to creep down to the lace of my underwear, lingering at the top and running smooth circles around the skin there, teasing me endlessly.

How was it possible to both hate and love this feeling? This burning need to be touched, to feel him against me, the wait between now and when he’d be inside me feeling so incredibly long. I knew he’d take his time, savor every moment of torture he could illicit against me. And I had no will power to stop him.

He wanted me to beg, wanted to have me plead for him to dip his hand even lower, to push between my legs and finally relieve the need that was building and building, pulling me under until I finally got the release I was desperate for.

But I refused. Refused to give him that pleasure. The rivalry between us might be on hold but I still refused to give in to him, give him that weakness he wanted from me. He was still holding out on me, no matter how hard I tried.

I moved my hand around, feeling the outline of his dick against the thin material of his underwear. God, how could something feel so good? As my hand wrapped around it, I wondered if he’d give in to me if I touched him bare.

He groaned behind me, his breath ragged against my neck. I smirked at the win, the noises I was getting from him now. I wondered what he’d do if I turned around and lowered down his body again, swapping my hand for my mouth. I wondered what dirty things he’d say to me now, if he’d describe how badly he wanted to fuck me, and how. I wondered if he’d be slow, keeping the control I so badly wanted to strip him of and keep me from losing my mind.

But no matter how I touched him, no matter the groans he was making, his fingers remained above the material of my panties–lowered yes, now circling against the wet patch that clung to my center, but still out right refusing to dip any further.

“Fuck, Ben.” The words escaped me through gritted teeth, his touch on my nipple turning hard, forcing the words from me. His lips pressed against my neck again, feeling red hot as he sucked the skin softly, before biting ever so slightly, running his teeth over the skin and pulling another undeniable groan from me. I tried to bite my lip to stop, stop myself begging his name as that thin thread of control truly began to fray. The word he wanted was on my lips, but went no further. Not yet.

“Say the word, Olive.” His lips were turned up in a grin as the nails of my spare hand dug into my palm, my brain buzzed on the feeling of him, buzzed on the tiny circles he was pressing against my clit. So soft and so gentle I could barely feel them.

I wanted to disappear into the bed, disappear into this deep ocean of pleasure but the feel of his teeth grazing my neck grounded me, the pull of his fingertips on my nipple making sure I didn’t fade away completely.

“You know what you need to say. What I want to hear. Just say it and I’ll give it to you. Just beg and I’ll give you everything that filthy mind of yours wants.”

Fuck. Fuck. His dick. His fingers. His tongue. I wanted it all. Needed it all. Craved it fucking all. I could feel myself caving, that last bit of strength to stay strong leaving me completely. I hated myself as my lips parted, losing the control I’d been desperate to hold onto and hold against him forever.

“Please.” The word was a whimper, barely even a sound, as it traitorously left my lips. His teeth grazed against my neck, running back up to my ear. His breath was hot against my bare skin.

Mad. He was driving me mad.

“Good girl.” I nearly came. “Now tell me what you want.”