Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
A smile touches my lips. “I can do that.”
“Good.”
“But.” I shoot her a look. “I’m not going to stop the verbal beatdowns against Nikki Taysom if she talks shit about you.”
“Well, obviously.” Casey snorts out loud. “You’re Sloane Tresscott. You’re going to cut a bitch. You can’t not.”
“I can’t not,” I agree solemnly. And then we both start giggling, and for one blessed moment in time, I’m able to forget about my broken, mangled heart.
Chapter 49
Lawson
The brief window of time that exists between the moment I enter Mr. Goodwyn’s class and the next student’s arrival has become some of my favorite eight minutes of the day. I feel him waiting for me before I’ve walked into the room. His hunger and anticipation. The relief when he sees I haven’t gotten bored of him yet. Because as much as he wants to hate himself for what we do, he won’t let himself stop. Jack’s too afraid to admit his conscience is unbothered. Out loud he says otherwise, pretending it’s wrong, it can’t happen again, it’s bad, as if someone’s keeping score of all the times he’s had my dick in his mouth while promising it was the last time.
His wife does the same thing. Not just the taking my dick in her mouth part, although I’m not complaining about Gwen’s skills. Yesterday after art class, for example, was one for the blowjob books. But, like Jack, she’s constantly telling me how wrong it is, how we can’t, even while her tongue is in my mouth and I’ve got my fingers inside her.
They’re my favorite couple, these two.
“I hope you’ve done the reading.” Jack holds a flimsy paperback in one hand while he writes quotations and page numbers on the board. “I’d prefer it if your participation in class discussion stays on the topic today. We have a lot to cover.”
“I might have skimmed it.” I toss my bag down at my seat and come around to admire the solid wood desk at the front of the room. It’s replaced the seventies-style dented metal hunk that used to sit in its place. “New desk, huh? Looks sturdy.”
“Apparently, my petitions have been getting through to the administration after all.” He turns around and coyly slips past me to pull his attendance notebook and stacks of homework assignments out of his bag.
“We could break it in,” I drawl.
Jack turns to lean on the corner of the desk with an impatient glare. “Take your seat. Your classmates will walk in any—”
“How hot would it be…” I push his legs open to stand between them and run my hands up his thighs. There’s a narrow window beside the door that at any moment could send buckshot through his entire life if anyone passing by cared to look. “If I was sucking you off right here for everyone to see when they walked in.”
“Lawson.” My name is a whispered groan. He grabs my wrists but doesn’t push me away. Instead, he slides his hands up my arms to squeeze my biceps. “Not all of us have your endless desire for self-destruction.”
“Where’s your imagination, professor?”
“Firmly seated in the reality that you’re still my student. So take a seat.”
I grin at him and return to my desk to sit down. I keep my legs splayed open so he can see the erection pressing against my zipper.
His throat dips as he swallows. Oh, he sees it.
Jack dumps himself into his chair behind the desk, which tells me he’s suffering from a similar affliction.
I lick my lips. “How hard are you right now?”
There’s a long beat. Then he locks his gaze to mine. “As a fucking rock.”
A laugh tickles my throat. “Good. Put your hand on it. Just for a second.”
My gaze tracks the downward motion of his arm. The desk hides his lower body, but I don’t miss the way he trembles when he does what I ask.
“Squeeze,” I tell him.
His arm moves, almost imperceptibly. He lets out a soft groan. Then a loud one, as he yanks his arm up and fixes me with a dark scowl. “Enough, Lawson. This really can’t continue.”
“Right. Of course not. You’re a happily married man with a lovely wife whom I’m sure adores you. So naturally my involvement in that equation would be completely unneeded.”
“Your tactless sarcasm aside, lately I’ve had a suspicion she might be cheating on me,” he says with a grimace.
He says this without the slightest hint of irony. Unfortunately, we don’t get to further explore his concerns of the mysterious other man when others loudly clatter into the room.
I’d almost muster some sympathy for the poor, handsome fool if his wounds weren’t so pathetically self-inflicted. The man has a voracious sexual creature at home desperate to please him in all the ways he could imagine, if only he’d dislodge his head from his ass. Not that I’m complaining or anything. If Gwen and Jack want to exercise their carnal frustrations with me, I’m happy to oblige. For as long as it takes for these two to compare notes, at least.