“Who could you have possibly hooked up with in this neighborhood? It’s all soccer dads and retired people.”
“And Chad,” I say, raising an eyebrow. I’m only guessing he lives in this neighborhood. It’s the only neighborhood of its kind in this town, and by the expensive clothes Chad wears, I doubt he’s living in the slums.
Her smile immediately shifts into a snarl and I know that I’m right. “Chad wouldn’t touch trailer trash like you with a ten-foot pole.”
“Are you sure about that?” I say. She glares at me as I walk away. I can feel the heat of her gaze burning a hole into my back until I’m finally off that street.
It probably wasn’t a good idea to poke a coiled snake, but I’m in no mood for her crap this early in the morning without caffeine.
When Loche was just my teacher, I never really thought about him outside of the classroom except to wonder what he would think about the work I’ve turned in. But now, after everything, I can’t get him off my mind. This is why I don’t date. It’s distracting. There’s a pile of work on my desk that needs to be finished for my English and math classes. But instead, I find myself pacing the floor, wishing he would call. Takes me a while to realize that he doesn’t even have my number and I don’t have his. The only number on file at school belongs to my parents, and if a teacher were to call looking for me, they’d get worried, and then they might go through my bills wondering if I’m in some sort of trouble, which would lead them to my credit card statement and my recent pornography purchase. Now I’m pacing the floor, hoping that he doesn’t call.
I need to get him off my mind. I do that by spending the weekend cleaning my dorm, and catching up on my to-be-read list of books I’ve been putting off. It helps a little. I meet up with my study group and finally whittle down my pile of homework. Things are getting accomplished. There’s hope for me yet. Maybe I could actually focus on school and date someone at the same time.
Stop thinking like that, I scold myself. I cannot start something with my teacher. Besides, he probably wouldn’t want to anyway. He has his shit together. What would he want with some struggling student when there are probably a ton of women out there with great jobs and no student loans to contend with, and no nagging parents waiting in the wings? I would be a handful. A burden. Those thoughts take the fire out of me for a while. But it doesn’t last long.
By the time Monday rolls around I’m more excited for school than I’ve been since I started kindergarten. I have to suffer though my other classes before it’s time for chemistry. Loche isn’t there yet, so I go to my desk.
Serena and her minion boyfriend are in front of me. They twist in their seats, making it impossible for me to ignore them.
“So,” Serena says. “Did you manage to sneak a peek at Mr. Johnson’s Rocket Cock, or what?”
I look down at my book so they can’t see me flush. “No, I didn’t. And I’m not interested in your dare anymore. It’s obviously not him in that video.”
“I think you did,” Serena says, with a taunting lilt in her voice that instantly puts me on edge. She takes my pencil, rolling it around on the desk. “I was thinking about you this weekend, wondering whose house you could’ve been leaving that morning. You trying to make me think you might’ve been with Chad was so obviously a diversion tactic to get me off the scent of who you were really with.” Chad smiles at me and waggles his brows. I cringe and look at Serena, who watches me carefully.
She continues, “My mom knows everyone in our neighborhood, and my dad is the head of the neighborhood watch. At first I thought maybe you were hooking up with some married man, but that doesn’t really seem like your style.” Her expression flirts somewhere between mischief and curiosity. She’s so clearly the predator and I’m her prey, like I’m trapped in some kind of web but don’t know it yet, and won’t until I realize there’s no escape.
“And since I know everyone our age living in the neighborhood, and they would never keep their dumpster-diving exploits a secret from the rest of us, I know it wasn’t them. Imagine my surprise when I learned that Mr. Johnson lives in my neighborhood. Weird, right?” she says, feigning surprise. “Who would have thought a teacher would live among the elite?”
My stomach drops onto the floor, then bounces right back up into my throat.
“I don’t care what you think, Serena. I wasn’t with Mr. Johnson,” I say.
It’s so obviously a lie, but I refuse to give in to her. She can’t prove it, and I’m not about to throw Loche under the bus.
Just then he walks into the class. He immediately looks in my direction. I keep my head down, not wanting Serena to see the emotion impossible to hide when I see his face, the longing I’ve felt since I left his home Saturday morning.
Her laughter trails behind her as she turns around to face forward, and I’m finally able to exhale.
I’m able to ignore Loche for the entire period, even though I want nothing more than to see his face again. I just can’t risk it. The way Serena keeps looking back, I know she’s trying to catch me in the lie, witness me giving him some longing look or a furtive smile. I look at her from time to time and I finally see some doubt in her expression. I give her the universal wide-eyed look of “what the hell do you want?” before she turns around to face forward.
At first I think we’ve gotten away with it. That is until the end of class while people are starting to leave and Loche says, “Georgia, could you stay behind, please? I have some questions about Friday’s assignment.”
My shoulders fold downward and I hang my head.
“I knew it,” Serena says, chuckling. “Have fun with your boy toy. I can’t imagine what Dean Meyer will think about this.”
My head snaps up. “Don’t say a fucking word, Serena. No one will believe you. I’ll deny everything and it’ll look like you’re just some evil bitch spreading vicious rumors.”
She shrugs with a smirk spread across her face. “We’ll see about that.”
When everyone is gone, Loche closes and locks the door and shuts the blinds.
“You shouldn’t do that,” I tell him.
He closes the last of the blinds. “Why not.”
“Serena knows about us. She saw me walking through your neighborhood, back to the dorms after we—you know.” My face heats up with the mention of that night.
He winks at me, seeming completely unperturbed by the threat. “I don’t think she’ll say anything once she sees the glowing A-plus she got on last week’s test.”
“I don’t trust her,” I tell him.
He comes closer to me until there’s no space left between us. His fingers comb through my hair and I just want to fall into his arms. A muscle ripples along the edge of his jaw. “You let me worry about Serena. What I want to know is why you snuck out Saturday morning without saying goodbye.”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t want things to be awkward between us.”
“Like it is now, you mean?”
Things don’t feel all that awkward at the moment. Right now
I just feel the heat rising between my legs as he presses the stiff lump beneath his khakis against my stomach.
My breathing comes in short bursts. I can’t help it. I reach out and touch his stomach and feel that his breathing is rushed too.
He presses his lips to mine. The touch of his tongue is all it takes for me to open my mouth and invite him in. There’s nothing gentle about his kiss. I feel his anguish, his desire, in every stroke of his tongue against mine as they coil together, tasting and exploring.
He reaches beneath my shirt, finding his way beneath my bra, and grabs my breasts, kneading and pinching my nipples, which sends a torrent of lubricant rushing down my leg. He lifts up my shirt, sucking one of my breasts into his mouth. His tongue flicks my nipple. Each time he does this I feel a jolt that starts in my belly button and races down to my clit.
I bite down on the sleeve of his shirt to keep from being too noisy. With one of my nipples occupied by his mouth, he uses his hands to unbutton my jeans. He dives right in, finding my cleft. “You’re already wet for me?” he says, sounding somewhat surprised, as if he weren’t the most beautiful god-like creature I’ve ever seen in my life that could summon my lust without a word.
Two fingers ease their way into me. I can tell I’m still swollen from our marathon fuck last Friday, and there’s still a hint of soreness, but all of that is nothing compared to the intense pleasure being thrust upon me.
“I’m gonna fuck you right here on this table,” he says, voice throaty and deep with want. You want my big cock inside you?”
I nod vigorously, pushing my hips forward, urging his fingers to go deeper.
“I want to hear you say it,” he demands.
I let go of his shirt with my teeth. I’m barely able to get the words out, I’m breathing so hard. “I want you to fuck me with your big cock,” I tell him, putting emphasis on the word fuck so there’s no denying that I want it fast and hard.
Again, talking dirty feels kind of strange, but I’m getting the hang of it. Plus, it makes me wetter and more uninhibited.