Chapter Seven
Lennon
My intention was to feed her and then she’d leave, but things didn’t go that way and three hours later we’re still sitting on the couch, talking. Hell, maybe it was never my intention to feed her and kick her out. Maybe I knew this was exactly how things would go.
I know I’m making this whole thing even more complicated, but I just can’t help myself. The more time I spend with her, the more I like her. And if I block out the fact that I’m her teacher, everything about us feels right. So long as I don’t let things progress beyond talking, there’s no harm in getting to know her a little better…right?
“So, how come you ended up at Findon?” she asks. “Aside from being hired.”
“Believe it or not, I actually used to go there,” I grin.
“No way?” she says with a laugh that makes my stomach flip. “Isn’t it kind of awkward working with people who used to be your teachers?”
“Very awkward,” I confirm.
“Almost as awkward as finding out that I’m in your class, huh?” she teases.
“Almost,” I agree.
Once again, I’m thinking about things I shouldn’t be—involving someone I shouldn’t be thinking about at all. She studies me intently, her lips pressed together, her blue eyes piercing mine. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. It’s like she can read my thoughts—and knows they’re dirty.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this…” She creeps onto her knees and shifts across the couch until she’s sitting next to me before she continues. I tense, loving, yet hating, the feel of her so close to me. I don’t trust myself to stay in control around her, and it’s a very confronting feeling. “But I keep thinking about the other night and wondering if we hadn’t been interrupted, where we would’ve ended up.”
“Probably in a lot more trouble than we are now,” I reply, my voice strained. I want to move away, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s like I’m frozen on the spot, waiting for her to make a move.
She laughs, her eyes lighting up. “Probably,” she agrees. “Or maybe our fate was decided the moment you stepped into that car with me.”
“Are you in the habit of... doing what you did?” Jesus, I can’t even say it. I hate asking her, but I have to know. The thought of her on her knees for anyone other than me makes me so angry and jealous.
“Do I really seem like that type of person?” she asks, obviously offended that I’d even think that about her. I cringe, embarrassed and ashamed that I asked her. Like it’s any of my business, anyway.
“No, you don’t,” I mumble. “I guess that’s why I was so shocked when it happened…”
“But not disappointed?” she says, cocking her head to one side. I flush and she smirks at me.
“I shouldn’t even be talking about this with you,” I mutter.
It’s like I’m trying to set myself up to fail. When I opened the front door and saw her standing there, I should’ve sent her away, but I invited her in. I gave her a drink. I asked her to stay for dinner. And now, at nearly midnight—on a school night, no less—she’s still here and I’m inching closer to making another stupid decision, one I will really regret.
Am I hoping this leads to something? Is that what I want?
Of course that’s what I want.
The question is, am I stupid enough to let it happen again?
I can put last time down to a mistake because I didn’t know what the circumstances were. But this time, I know everything and anything we do is my responsibility. It will be my mistake in judgment because I’m the one in the position of power here. Whether she’s eighteen or not, doesn’t matter. I’m her teacher, and she’s my student. I’d be breaking every ethical and moral rule by being with her. Yet that’s still not enough to make me pull away.
“You seem deep in thought,” she comments. “Thinking about anything in particular?”
“Yes,” I sigh, sitting forward. “I’m thinking that you should go now.”
Her eyes widen, like that was the last thing she expected me to say, but she nods and gets to her feet. I do the same, surprised and a little suspicious that she’s giving up so easily. She doesn’t seem the type to sit back and not get what she wants, and right now I get the feeling that she wants me. What makes it harder is the feeling is definitely mutual.
“Right. Okay then.” She smiles almost sheepishly. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Guess you will,” I say with a tight smile.
She opens the door and walks out, turning around at the last moment to smile at me again. She bites down on the edge of her lip and tilts her head slightly to the side. I stare at those lips, my cock aching. I clench my jaw, doing my best not to show how much she’s affecting me. It’s like she’s deliberately trying to mess with my head.
“Sweet dreams, Mr. Anderson.” I smile at her, and then she’s gone.
***
I lay in bed, engulfed in darkness. I’m staring at the ceiling with nothing but her on my mind. My hand instinctively wraps around my cock as I think of those eyes and that sexy little smile. She probably knew the second she said goodbye to me that it would come to this—me, lying alone in my bed, tugging at my shaft, thinking about her.
I let out a growl, annoyed she’s put these thoughts into my head. Without making a move, or doing anything she shouldn’t have, she’s got me acting like this. Desperate for relief, but not wanting to do what I know I have to do in order to achieve it, I try again to remove her from my thoughts.
Pushing the covers back, I climb out of bed and head into the bathroom. Maybe a shower will help me feel better. I run the water and wait for it to reach temperature before I stand under the hot stream, with one hand resting against the tiled wall.
All my attempts to diffuse the hold she has on me are futile. I’m still hard as fuck, my dick is still throbbing, and all I can think about is her, on her knees in front of me, sucking me off. The fact that I know how fucking unreal it feels makes this whole thing a thousand times worse, because it’s not just a fantasy. I’m reliving reality—and I’m reliving it repeatedly.
My fist moves up and down my length furiously as I lean my head against my other hand and close my eyes. I groan, biting my knuckle as my climax builds. All I need to do is think of those lips closing around my shaft, and I’m almost at the point of exploding. I pump my dick harder and faster through my hand, holding my breath until my orgasm hits me. Gasping, I spill my load all over the shower wall, panting, as I try and catch my breath.
Still shaking as I come down from my high, I aim the showerhead at the wall, rinsing away the evidence of my forbidden fantasy. I quickly shower, as if washing away my sinful thoughts and step out, wrapping a towel around my waist. I’m ashamed of what I just did, yet too tired to give it much more thought. I just hope I can get some sleep now.