Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Okay, maybe Jamison’s slightly better than me. I mean the guy never pulled the shit I did back before. He never went to a place like Lenox Hill. But still. Neither of us is exactly the polo-shirt-wearing, Audi-driving, varsity-football-jacket-wearing, trust-fund prick that tends to go to Winchester.
I knew this year was going to be interesting. But shit, as of last night?
Well, “interesting” might be the understatement of the fucking century. Because apparently, last night I had the best sex I’ve ever had in that alley with my new fucking art teacher.
“What are you doing here?!” she hisses under her breath.
I grin.
Oh, she’s not putting this together yet. Or she is, and she’s refusing to believe it. I mean, I might be in denial if I were in her shoes too. But then, I’ve been in a lot more than her shoes…
Teachers are supposed to be strait-laced. I mean they’re not real people, they’re your teacher. But her? Oh, she’s real alright. I know she wears lacy black thong panties. I know she’s got a little tattoo on her hip. I know she’s got her pussy hair trimmed into this cute little triangle right above her lips, pointing right down to that sweet heaven.
She still looks nerdy as hell with those glasses, but goddamn is it hot. Especially when she’s looking at me with that mix of accusation, nervousness, and heat.
I hand her the sheet from the main office again.
“I’m your new student.”
She swallows, shaking her head and blushing. Her eyes dart all over me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m really standing here.
“You—no, you’re not.”
I grin. “Yeah, I am.”
“No, you’re—”
Her face pales.
“How old are you?!” she hisses quietly and urgently through trembling lips.
My smile widens.
“You sure you want to know that?”
Okay, I’m fucking with her, but how can I not?
“You—” Her face turns white as snow. “Oh God….”
“I mean if you know, it might be worse for you,” I say with a sigh.
“But I didn’t know!” she hisses, her eyes wide. “Oh my God, oh my God…” she whirls, panting, her breath coming fast and her feet unsteady.
I frown as I move in.
“Whoa, hang—”
She whirls, and when she starts to trip and fall, I lunge in and catch her, propping her up.
“I’m eighteen, relax,” I say quietly.
She swallows, looking up at me with a scowl on her face.
“Oh, yes, that’s so much better,” she mutters.
“I mean, it is, legally.”
She blushes fiercely.
“I gotta say, teach,” I sigh, grinning as I rake my fingers through my hair. “You gave a way better school intro than I was expecting.”
Her face turns bright red as she sputters.
“I was not—!”
Her mouth tightens.
“I did not know who you were”
“Clearly—”
“And I never do that!”
“Well, you did.” I grin as I move closer to her, my eyes locked on hers. “We did.”
My hand reaches out to her, and when it slides over her hip—the very hip I grabbed last night while I plunged my cock deep in her eager little cunt—she trembles before freezing and suddenly stepping back from me.
“Don’t—” she swallows. “Take your hand off of me.”
“You sure?”
There’s a half second of hesitation from her that brings a grin to my face.
“Yes,” she spits out, glancing past me at the other students taking their seats.
“We’re in class.”
I shrug. “How about after class.”
The heat blooms in her cheeks, and she swallows.
“Take a seat.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“This is inappropriate.”
“I think we’ve established that.”
I move closer to her again, and she stiffens, blushing as her eyes dart over my face.
“People are looking,” she whispers.
“I’m just giving you my new student papers, teach.”
She blushes, shivering.
“Have a seat—”
She stammers and falters, and I grin.
“You don’t know my name, do you.”
She stiffens. “Do you know mine?”
“Ms. Hayes.”
She swallows, her eyes darting over mine.
“Or do you prefer teach? Professor?” I frown. “It’s not Mrs. Hayes, is it?”
“No”, she mutters. “It’s not. Just Miss.”
She chews at her bottom lip before she stiffens.
“You can call me Ms. Hayes.”
“Teach might be more fun.”
She glares at me as the color rises in her cheeks.
“Or how about Emily?”
The blush grows darker on her cheeks.
“Have a seat Mister…”
She snatches paper from my hand and glances at it.
“Mr. Scott.”
“Ethan,” I growl.
“Ethan,” she says quietly, her eyes dragging up to mine and lingering longer than they should.
“Sit down.”
“So, is that a yes or no?”
She frowns. “For?”
“For after class?” I grin. “You, me?” I shrug. “Maybe we can pick up where we left—”
“Have a seat, Mr. Scott,” she snaps hastily, glancing nervously behind me at the milling students before pulling her eyes back to mine as she leans close.
“That is never happening again,” she hisses quietly. “It never did happen.”
“It did.”
“It did not.”
I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair. “Huh, you mean I made it up? I made up feeling your tight little pussy sinking down on my big cock and you begging me to fuck you harder?”