SubscribeStar Story: The Tutor, Part 42

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Part 42

I don’t know what it was about kissing Annabelle.

Sure, she was attractive. She had an impossible to define air about her. Perhaps I even secretly enjoyed the taboo of her age and our initial relationship, paired with indulging my more curious side when it came to the fairer sex. But none of those things could explain how a kiss with her felt perfect, from a strictly physical perspective. It’s like her lips were in absolute sync with mine from the moment they touched; she matched my pressure, seemed to fit flawlessly with me every second of the way, and basically always left me wanting more.

No one, and I mean no one, was like that. There were always awkward moments when it came to making out with someone, especially when they were new to you and you were new to them. Everyone kissed a little bit differently, so of course there would be times where something didn’t quite work. And since I had experienced a couple girl kisses in university from dares and the like, I knew whatever Annabelle was giving me wasn’t unique to her gender or something.

I actually found myself leaning in, pushing in, deepening both the kiss and the embrace as I still ultimately ended up being the one chasing in terms of wanting more. All the same reasons that this was wrong were very much still present, but they had been successfully clouded by the fog of Annabelle’s temptations.

She pulled back just enough to exhale a question onto my lips, but I had been too distracted by her lips and her body to register the words in the slightest. “Mmm?” I hummed in response. Not realizing that I was falling for the familiar bait I had just gotten frustrated about leading up to all of this, I shifted forward in an attempt to kiss her again when I felt her lips brushing against mine.

Barely a whisper, she repeated herself. “You’re my pet.” Tilting back in, she pressed into my lips again before adding on, “Kiss me if it’s true.”

I couldn’t help myself. Hardly even listening, or maybe just not caring when wrapped up in what I didn’t realize was a clever way to keep me distracted enough to basically agree with anything, I parted my lips and melted back into her kiss. Perfect. So perfect. I didn’t understand.

She went through the same process with the other phrase I had rejected the first time around. Pulling back, calling me her maid, and getting me to affirm as much with another deep kiss. I didn’t hesitate in the slightest, although it’s not like my brain was processing like it usually was so capable of doing. While I definitely heard her, I was more interested in the physical side of things than anything else.

When she separated from me again, it was more than another teasing pause. Annabelle nudged my nose with hers, then softly spoke when I didn’t open my eyes right away from what I belatedly realized was her gesturing for me to do so. “Come with me, Mere,” she said.

It took me a few seconds to shake off the make-out mode I had been caught up in. Her voice was quiet enough that she could have simply been saying something else between kisses, until I belatedly caught the words. Open . . . my eyes? The instruction alone wasn’t enough, but then I felt her stepping back. Suddenly losing all the warmth from the way her body had been pressed into mine, I furrowed my expression in confusing and subtle disappointment before allowing my eyes to flutter open again.

Annabelle was standing right in front of me, still more closely than I’d normally be facing someone else, with her same idle smirk. Waiting a moment for me to adjust, she said, “Let’s go.” Then she took my hand and laced her fingers through mine.

Her step forward was enough of a tug for me to follow along. A little bit disoriented, I walked side by side with her in silence until we reached the door to her suite that I realized had been open the entire time. We had been- had been doing that, when anyone could have seen if they had come down to check on her? Then again, her parents never seemed to be here, and Trixie was probably paid to ignore whatever she saw during her service. Still, it was those kinds of thoughts that started to bring me back to reality.

I had kissed Annabelle. Again. Honestly, this time had been better than all the others. The first had been sprung on me and I had freaked out. Justifiably, but still. The second had been initiated by me, technically, but she had pulled back after a single deep lip lock. That was when I had come to my senses and left shortly afterwards. This time, however, I had truly made out with the girl. It was so counterintuitive to my original goals, but also amazing to the point that I wasn’t sure I cared any more.

I mean, it’s not like I was getting paid to tutor her. I was literally doing the job for free to keep my old rival away. Was it really so horrible to mess around with Annabelle like this? She was eighteen, after all, but her lifestyle made her seem more proper and mature than some classmates that were my age. A couple teenage tendencies aside, maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she and I kept this up.

No, I couldn’t think like that until I had a chance to clear my head. With one foot in reality and the other still hoping Annabelle would pounce on me for another kiss before we stepped out into the hallway, I was definitely not in a place to be making decisions. And even though I had some confusing and impulsive urges coursing through me, I kept coming back to my biggest hang-up–she was still in high school. Even though she carried herself like an adult in plenty of ways, and eighteen made her perfectly legal, I wasn’t quite sure if I could get over that little detail.

Except when I was making out with her, of course.

When she led me into the hallway, my mind managed to clear up enough to slightly drag my feet. Where were we going? One way or another, we needed to talk about what just happened. “Umm, Annabelle-”

“Ms. Annabelle.” She gave my hand a sharp squeeze, followed by an assertive tug as she continued walking forward without breaking her stride. “Don’t fuck it up again, Mere. I will punish you if you misbehave.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, then blushed. The apology had slipped out before I could stop it, and I was right back to feeling flustered, confused, and a bit self conscious. Still off balance from the fact that she and I were just pressed up against each other and sharing a deep kiss that I enjoyed way more than I cared to admit, I had no idea how to handle it when she went right back to her bossy and entitled self. Her snappy response was even more harsh than usual, and it took a moment for me to connect that she was referencing the collar, and the ‘pet’ thing.

‘Pretty girls behave.’

Little by little, it started coming back to me. Her phrases regarding me, and . . . that I had kind of agreed with my reciprocated kisses.

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