Dirty Detention
513 Words
The door to Room 3C clicked shut behind her.
The air inside was stale and hot — the kind that clung to skin and made your clothes feel tighter.
Arabelle clutched her bag to her chest.
Aiden was already sprawled across the desk, his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, muscles flexing like he knew she was looking — and of course, he did.
He always knew.
> “Close the blinds,” he said lazily.
She froze. “Why?”
> “So we don’t get distracted,” he smirked. “Or interrupted.”
Her breath caught.
Was this real?
Was he really going to—
> “I said, close them, nerd.”
She obeyed, heart racing.
The blinds snapped shut one by one, turning the room from uncomfortable to dangerous.
---
When she turned around, he was right behind her.
Close.
Too close.
She backed up against the window.
> “What do you want, Aiden?”
He tilted his head.
> “That’s the problem, Arabelle,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know what I want from you.”
> “Sometimes I wanna make you cry.”
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.
> “And sometimes I wanna make you moan.”
Her knees buckled.
He didn’t touch her.
But he didn’t need to.
---
🔥 The First Touch
He reached out, fingers brushing the waistband of her skirt.
Not lifting it.
Just… lingering.
> “You ever had someone touch you here?” he whispered.
She pushed his hand away — weakly.
> “N-No.”
He smirked.
> “Didn’t think so.”
He backed away slowly, letting the heat of the moment sink in.
> “But you think about it, don’t you?”
Silence.
> “About me. About how it would feel.”
She looked down, shaking.
And he loved it.
---
🔥 The Breakdown
> “I hate you,” she whispered.
He walked back toward her, grabbing her chin between his fingers.
> “No, you don’t.”
His thumb brushed her bottom lip.
> “You hate that I know what turns you on.”
He leaned closer, breath teasing her mouth.
> “You want me to kiss you, Arabelle?”
> “No.”
> “Say it again. Look me in the eye and say you don’t want it.”
She didn’t speak.
Couldn’t.
> “Exactly,” he whispered.
Then he kissed her.
Hard.
Fast.
Unforgiving.
Like punishment and pleasure wrapped into one.
---
She whimpered against his mouth — shocked at how quickly her body betrayed her.
His tongue pushed past her lips like he owned her mouth.
Her books dropped to the floor.
His hand slid under her hoodie, finding bare skin.
And just as her fingers clutched his shirt—
He pulled away.
---
> “Next time,” he said, chest heaving, “don’t wear vanilla lip balm. It makes me wanna do bad things.”
He walked out of the room.
Left her panting.
Shaking.
Wanting more.
- Writer
